#REALLY need that gift box override guys | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

readingreylo · 3 years

Text

Is there something in the air?

Sex Pollen

Okay, you guys really didnt need to twist my arm for this list 😏👌

Content Warning: These fics contain situations where characters engage in sexual acts under the influence of an aphrodisiac pollen, that overrides their ability to consent. Usually these characters are more than happy to engage in these acts, but it is still dubious consent to be sure. If this makes you uncomfortable than these fics are not for you. Please read-responsibly and check out tags before engaging with any fic.

Canonverse

AU's

the treasures of secrets by LeperMessiah | Explicit | 7k | Oneshot | 1940s/WW2 AU | London | Co-workers | Sex Pollen | Rivals to Lovers | loss of virginity | there was only one bed | Rey POV | "Rey and Ben are archivists at the University of Chandrila in Devon during WW2. They are attempting to examine a book called the 'The book of the suns of lights and the treasures of secrets': a treatise on charms and talismans) by Ibn al-Hajj Muhammed ibn Muhammed (d1336 A.D.), printed in 1868. It was stored in a wooden box with pollen of an unknown flower inside. Ben accidentally inhales some of the pollen and falls to its unfortunate properties in the middle of an air-raid blackout. Ben and Rey take cover in the basement."

Nine in the Afternoon by RamboBrite | Explicit | 9k | One shot | Modern/Fantasy AU | Magic Realism | Rivals to lovers | Sex Pollen | Co-workers | Rey POV | "When Luke leaves Rey in charge of Tatooine, Tonics and Tinctures, his magical apothecary, she is absolutely ecstatic to run the shop alone. Alone, except for Luke's nephew of course. With a bad attitude and a total lack of work ethic, he is the thorn in Rey's side. But what happens when the two accidentally destroy a shipment of powerful Venerem pollen?"

Bloom by TheAlchemistsDaughter | Explicit | 7.5k | One shot | Modern AU | Sex Pollen | Fuck or Die | co-workers | Researcher!Rey | Scientist!Ben Solo | Ben POV | "After losing contact with Rey, who is on an expedition to investigate some unique flowers, shy and awkward Ben goes to retrieve her, and finds her acting very strangely. When he brings her back to the lab, she won't stop screaming for him, but he doesn't believe she really wants him. It's only when her life hangs in the balance that he can be convinced to act."

And because I was on a roll I also decided to include another darkly delicious trope....

Made to Fuck

or Bad Guys made them do it

Content Warning: These fics contain situations where characters are placed in circumstances where they are threatened or coerced into having sex. They usually are more than happy to engage in the act, but the situation is a violation of their consent and is therefore rape. If this makes you uncomfortable than these fics are not for you. Please read-responsibly and check out tags before engaging with any fic.

Enjoy! 🤤

#reylo fic rec #reylo #reylo fandom #reylo fic #reylo fanfiction #jess made something

161 notes · View notes

ohheyitsokay · 3 years

Note

Alright my sweet! I'm here with a soulmate request.

So I gotta go with Jack, because who doesn't love being soulmates with a secret agent man? As for the trope... There are so many to choose from and I love them all BUT let's go with "the first words you say to your soulmate are somewhere on their skin". I'm a sucker for that one.

Have fun darling!! 🥰🥰

helloo dear heart! have a fanfic about you n your man, you absolute ray of sunshine 💕

hope you enjoy!

warnings:fluff fluff fluff. enough fluff for a really nice waiting room chair.

soulmate requests / follower celebration

It was a weird day, but your dearest friend had insisted.

This will be a fun use of your day off, she promised. And...

If there was anywhere you were going to find your soulmate, it was here. Deep in the bowels of the distillery, there were secrets in each room, behind each lock, and sewn into every suit cuff as far as the eye could see.

Statesman Headquarters.

Sugar, that's supposed to be classified.

The words on your arm near tingled with each step you took, because you were being told with no uncertain terms, that everything you were seeing, hearing, and feeling was absolutely classified. Ginger rolled her eyes as her coworker chattered about privacy and the history of Statesman, smiling good-naturedly.

"I dont think I should be here," you murmured, tilting your head at your friend.

Her hands were stuffed in her lab coat pockets, and she shook her head. When the papers got signed and the tin on your hands was given a final suspicious look, she ushered off with you.

"Listen," she said, her strides long as she took you back through the labyrinth to her lab. "I'm allowed to bring my friend to my coworkers, so they can thank her properly for the best damn cookies they've ever eaten, just like anyone else."

You laughed, feeling lighter. The cookies had started out as an innocent gift for her to take to a holiday party, and according to her, became high demand. As often as time and ingredients allowed, she would beg you for enough to feed a small army, swearing up and down that they were like magic for her mysterious team.

She could be stubborn when she wanted to.

"You just want to show off your work to someone new."

And she winked. "Damn right I do."

After long moments entering passwords, she lead you through a heavy door, adding, "And it wouldnt hurt these guys to know that you're single."

You sputtered, wanting to protest that you were fine waiting for your soulmate, before deciding not to make a fool of yourself. Almost dropping your overfull tin was enough.

There was a handsome man sitting at what you could only assume was her main desk. And by ' a handsome man', you of course meant the most confidant, dreamy, gorgeous all-American gentleman you'd ever seen. When you snuck a glance at your friend, wondering if she was as rosey-eyed as you were, you were shocked to see a blend of annoyance and confusion instead. Any traces of teasing were gone, serious business overriding all of in a single second.

He stood, almost tripping as he looked at you, a little wide-eyed for his reputation. His mustache moved, and time slowed as you held eye contact before-

"No," Ginger's finger blocked your view. "Save the flirting, Whiskey." It was her best no-business tone, and both of you snapped back into reality. "What's going on? Why are you here?"

The man - Agent Whiskey - looked sheepish, hooking one hand in his belt and using the other to scratch the back of his neck.

"Stay here for just a moment?" Your friend looked apologetic and you nodded, nearly collapsing as they stepped away. Moments before, youd been given a brief tour of the government's most elaborate secret, but now, your knees felt weak.

What a weird day.

It got weirder.

You hovered nervously as lights blared and displays ran data faster than you could read and agents ran in and out.

Neck craning, searching for Ginger, you watched as she was pulled left and right, setting up a command center right in the conference room next door.

"I'm so sorry," she managed at one point, grabbing a cookie from your box, "You wont be able to leave until this mess gets cleaned up." And you nodded as she was whisked away again.

There was no one you knew in sight except... that Agent Whiskey. Jack someone called him. Hands on his hips he took control, steady and stern, neatly reigning in the chaos.

You told yourself you were watching him for guidance, comfort maybe. Not because he was handsome as a sunrise. Certainly not because his gaze kept meeting yours, no matter the crowds, and each time the clocks seemed to stall. Not because your whole body ached to be close to him and ... and you almost thought he looked like he wanted to be close to you, too.

When he caught you watching him, he'd smile, almost proud, fingers twitching at his side. He kept stepping your way, too, before a call of his name made him turn on his boot-heels, cursing under his breath.

You felt small.

A man they called Tequila kept tapping his hands on the table. You heard protests that the agents in the field needed backuo or at least guidance and headsets were tossed. He and Whiskey shared near-crazed grins and worried glances as the muttered urgently into their communication systems.

The tin of cookies near sang at your side, and you slipped forward, just placing it open between them.

You wanted to help.

And at their big bites and briefly closed eyes, and sagging shoulders, it was your turn to feel proud.

Then you retreated again, savoring a certain cowboy's nod of thanks, accompanied by a wink that warmed you to your toes.

Eventually, things seemed to calm.

There was no cheers, but deep sighs and clumps of people dispersing with claps of hands on backs and shoulders.

Headsets were hung to charge, and you walked back towards Gingers desk, hoping for your friend to reappear.

Instead, when you arrived, Jack was already standing in front of it, holding a box cleaned even of crumbs.

"I can give you the recipe," you offered, feeling suddenly shy. What they did here... it was so intense. All the little texts of thanks Ginger had sent you finally made sense - your cookies were extraordinarily normal, beautiful in their simplicity. Absolutely lifesavers in their chaotic world.

The man in fron of you shook his head, perfect brown hair ruffled slightly, the ends peaking out from beneath his head. Feeling like you already committed to the offer, you tried to reach around him for a wayward stack of sticky notes and a pen.

"It's just flour and butter and brown sugar and -"

"Sugar, that's supposed to be classified."

Oh.

He smiled more confidently, the realization in your eyes apparently spurring him on.

"Next time, whaddya say you just show me how it's done?"

Dark eyes, crinkling with genuity and twinkling with mischief.

"Can I? I mean - would you - I mean," He stepped forward, right in front of you, and you squeaked. "Sure."

He was so close and... and you felt like you were missing something.

"...Now?"

Not taking his eyes from yours, his hand found your hand, gently guiding it to his arm, where he had at some point pushed up a single sleeve.

I can give you the recipe.

Your eyes found his again, the confirmation almost moot. He had been pulling you in since the moment you laid eyes on him, he was just... right, he was... you would have to leave a note for Ginger.

It felt like you were the only two in the world that mattered right now. Jack could feel it too - you could see it, even as he smirked.

"Sounds like a mighty fine idea to me."

Now.

taglist: @fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @pbeatriz @saradika @zinzinina

Whiskey taglist: @0celestialbitch0

#finding my groove again #i think #jen lords a leaping #sweet friends #soulmate requests #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #maybe i dont know people

94 notes · View notes

jazminetoad · 3 years

Text

Nagayuki's Birthday!

Heyo! Author-chan here with a story to celebrate Nagayuki's birthday! Hope you enjoy! ^-^

(Click "Keep reading" to read the story)

"Man, it's hard getting something for your brother when he deserves an island but all you can find in the store are candles," Takeyasu said as he looked at the aisle contents.

"Heh, I know the feeling," Jazmine told him as she strolled alongside him. "Where would you purchase an island anyway?"

"I don't know," Takeyasu shrugged as they walked out of the aisle, going over to the next one.

"Well, islands are properties of land, so maybe it's like finding a house. Would we even need an island?" Jazmine questioned turning to Takeyasu. "I mean, it's exciting to have in theory but actually having it is different."

"Alright, now you made it sound boring." Takeyasu slumped, not wanting to do the work of finding and purchasing an island, remembering how boring it was when Nagayuki forced him to help find their apartment.

"Sorry..." Jazmine apologized, looking away.

"Hey, don't sweat it, even my brother can be boring sometimes," Takeyasu reassured her.

A small smile appeared on Jazmine, feeling the warmth of his comfort in her heart. These brothers really were something, moments like these she felt the cold barriers she trapped herself melt to their bright fires.

"I guess it's a good thing you brought me along to help plan for his birthday then," Jazmine joked.

"There's that smile." Takeyasu playfully nudged her side, making her smile grow. "Oh hey! That reminds me, Nagayuki always gets excited when he gets some new illegal device."

"Great, we can check the black market when we get back."

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

"Did you guys really make the hacker goose chase to bring me here?" Nagayuki asked Takeyasu and Jazmine who stood in front of the arcade. He had to admit it was fun but the final location seemed to be underwhelming.

"Surprise!" Takeyasu exclaimed, gesturing to the building.

"We thought it'd be the best place to test out your present," Jazmine explained to him, keeping her hands behind her back.

"What present?"

"This one right here." Takeyasu handed the confused Nagyuki a box wrapped up. "Happy birthday bro!"

Unwrapping the gift, Nagayuki paused when he first saw the whole device. "Wait, is this-"

"A gadget that allows you to override and mess the coding on any program, such as video games, yes," Takeyasu confirmed, holding himself high for remembering it all.

"I double-checked it for him to make sure," Jazmine told Nagayuki so he didn't have to worry it was actually something else. She moved her hand and gestured for Nagayuki to hold out his hand before placing something in it. "Here."

"What is it?" Nagayuki asked, holding up the small object. It appeared to be a crafted scaly, blue egg with a slit in the middle to show it can come in half.

"It's a USB drive," Jazmine answered as Nagayuki took the top half off to show it was just that. "I figured you could use one for the missions, I found the dragon egg one and thought it'd suit you best."

Nagayuki put the top half back on, glanced between the two gifts he received before looking at the two in front of him. He kept a straight face, Jazmine thought he wasn't thrilled with the gifts. Takeyasu, on the other hand, thought his brother was still mad at them for sending him on that goose chase, but when Nagayuki cracked a smile their doubts and worries went away.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you guys?" Nagayuki laughed as he wrapped his arms around their necks bringing them in for a hug.

"Hey, let me go!" Takeyasu demanded trying to squirm out of his brother's grasp. "You don't need to get all mushy about it."

Nagayuki didn't budge despite his little embarrassed brother's protests. Jazmine simply was cut off guard, but hearing Takeyasu struggle cause her to come out of her surprised state. Giggling, she smiled and enjoyed the hug. Seeing Jazmine happy made Takeyasu stop struggling and let his big brother hug both of them.

"Alright-" Nagayuki let go of the both of them and waved the hacker device. "How 'bout we go test this out. Wouldn't be much of a birthday if we didn't have fun."

#juuni taisen: zodiac war #juni taisen #juuni taisen #juuni taisen zodiac war #tatsumi brothers #tatsumi kyoudai #nagayuki tsumita #zodiac war #takeyasu tsumita #nagayuki #takeyasu #the tatsumi brothers #tatsumi kyoudai otouto #tatsumi kyoudai ani #jazmine x tatsumi brothers #jazmine x tatsumi kyoudai #jazmine t. adventures #happy birthday nagayuki

19 notes · View notes

akitokihojo · 5 years

Text

In Between: Chapter 4

Wow, I have nothing to say for myself. I lost inspiration for this for a little while there and actually completely forgot about this fic until I was scrolling through my wips folder. But hey! Look! It’s back and I sincerely hope you enjoy this chapter!

The previous chapters can be found in my fic masterlist, as well as on AO3 and ff.net

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

"I hope you aren't taking any of this personally."

She hadn't looked at the caller ID before answering the phone.

"Who is this?"

She'd blindly pressed the green answer button on her screen as soon as the call rolled in.

"It's not you I'm after, really."

She thought it was her mom. She'd been expecting her call, so of course she answered.

"But I sincerely hope you enjoy the gifts I sent as an apology. I know how much you love daisies."

She looked at the small table where a large box of chocolates and nicely wrapped bouquet of yellow daisies sat. She found them outside her door just before she'd gone to yoga this morning. Just before she'd changed her mind and stayed in. Suddenly, daisies were the most repugnant flower she'd ever set eyes on.

"That was... who are you?"

"Just know that none of this is your fault, Kagome."

"I don't understand."

"You're only involved for one specific reason."

"To hurt Inuyasha?"

"Precisely."

A clammy, uncomfortably thick sensation washed over her face, running down her throat and into her chest, a cold sweat dotting her forehead.

"Why?"

There was a breathy chuckle.

"You really should be more concerned about yourself."

"Answer me! Why are you using me to get to Inuyasha?"

"It's much more interesting this way. I like watching people break."

"You're sick."

"I'll see you soon, Kagome."

Three dull beeps in her ear let her know the call had ended.

Kagome stared at her phone in shock, the screen going black as she processed every riddling word just said to her. His voice sounded deeper than she'd initially imagined.

Even though it was just a phone call, she could feel her body wavering, her abdomen leadened and tingly, not a single part of her body holding the right amount of stability. She was scared, unnerved, flummoxed, and overriding all of that was the sudden surge of audacious fury. Kagome dropped her cell on the couch, stomping over to the table to scoop up the unwarranted gifts and toss them in the trashcan as aggressively as possible, the plastic bag losing its grip on the bin and dropping inward.

Who the hell did this guy think he was; calling her, pretending it was nothing but a courtesy, acting as if he was being kind by sending her chocolates and daisies, and giving a cheap explanation? He was scum. Horrible, terrifying, disgusting, worthless scum. What was Kagome supposed to do now? Tell the police? She had no valuable information to give them, and this time he took the liberty of blocking his number. He hadn't given any sort of idea to what "see you soon" meant, and she knew it would only be a waste of everyone's time.

She'd just have to swallow this one on her own.

Kagome paced back and forth in her living room, still donned in the yoga outfit she hadn't bothered to change out of. She'd figured that since she wasn't comfortable going outside today, thanks to the ugly flowers and distasteful candies, she'd just flow with her home practice, but then she'd received the call. Her nerves were flared, her muscles where trembling, an intolerable rush was coursing through her bloodstream causing her to be annoyingly antsy, and there was absolutely no hope of her staying still for more than twelve seconds at a time. Her apartment was suddenly too small and she wanted to go outside for a breath of fresh air, but then the world was too big. She was suffocating inside, and she was blind outside. Everything was a lose-lose, and Kagome wanted to yell, wanted to break something.

But what good would that do?

Why should she have to buy a new lamp just because some conniving creep thought he was cunning? She tried stilling for a moment, taking deep breaths to release at least a little stress, and very slowly she could feel herself coming together again. The cramps in her lungs were beginning to lessen, and her limbs began to feel closer to normal, a little gelatinous like they would after a workout, but better than they did moments ago. She wasn't there yet. She wasn't one-hundred percent okay. Maybe sixty-two percent, but it quickly snapped back down to ten the instant her phone's ringtone blared once more, her head whipping to view the illuminated screen laying on the cushions of her hand-me-down couch.

As if a signal was shot into her brain, Kagome began trembling all over again, an insurmountable amount of thoughts racing through her mind and holding her captive. He's calling again. Jesus Christ, he's calling again! He just called! Why is this happening? Stop calling me! Mom? It's mom. It's just mom. What if he has mom's phone? No, it's mom. It's okay. You're okay. Answer the phone. It's just mom.

She reached for the chiming device, constricting her chest muscles to control her heavy breathing and calm down. Who would have thought that a single attempt at contact, hearing his voice one time, would cause her to be such an inconsolable basket case? Her face was freezing from the dewy sweat glistening her face, some of it drying and tightening against her skin only to be dampened again with a new layer. Kagome lightly pressed her fingers over her sticky flesh, wiping the beads away, wiping away any physical evidence that she was not okay.

"Hi, mama." She'd barely managed to answer the phone before it went to voicemail, putting it on speaker so she wouldn't take the chance of dirtying the screen by pressing it to her ear.

"Hey." It was always easy to hear the smile in her mother's voice, a sense of smooth serenity flowing through. "How are you?"

"I'm okay. How are you? How's work?"

"You don't sound okay, Kagome. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, mom, I'm fine."

"Kagome..."

"I've just had a busier morning than I'd planned. How are you? How's Sota?" She tried again.

"I'm alright. Tired from the nightshifts, but it's nothing your mother can't handle. Sota's keeping his grades up and even seems to have a girlfriend, though he's in the too-cool-to-tell-your-mom stage. You know how that goes. When are you coming home to visit?"

"Soon. I can't wait to tease him for finally getting a girl to look in his direction."

"Kagome." She expected the tone to be more stern for her knock at her little brother, not one of concern. Was she that easy to read?

"Soon, mom. I promise. I just... I have a few things I need to take care of that've had me tied up on the weekends."

"Are you sure you're okay? I haven't heard much from you lately. I can't help but worry."

"I'm perfectly fine, mom. Just... busy."

"Alright. Well, we miss you."

"I miss you too. Tell Sota to use protection."

"Kagome!"

"Love you! Get some rest!"

"I love you too."

"Bye."

There was no way in hell Kagome would tell her mom what was going on. She couldn't take a chance of involving anyone else. If her mother knew, she'd insist she come stay at home until the police caught her stalker, but the creep already knew where her family lived. There was a photo taken of her and her brother the last time she'd gone to visit. This guy had invited himself into her home more than once, so who's to say he wouldn't do the same if she switched locations? There was absolutely no way she'd put her family in danger like that. They didn't need to know. She can't take those chances.

Still, Kagome was fidgeting in place. She needed to get out of her house. The windows had been closed up for too long and the stuffiness was getting to her. Although the conversation was brief, talking to her mom had calmed her down considerably. It was a super power of hers, and thanks to it, she felt stable enough to go outdoors. A quick walk would do her some good.

She didn't bother changing. She didn't want to give herself any time to talk herself out of it. The moment Kagome urged herself to go out for some fresh air, she grabbed her small backpack, something she opted for on the weekends that was easier to lug around than a purse, shoved her phone into the side pocket of it, squeezed her feet into an abused pair of sneakers she wore too often, and marched out the door, triple checking that it was locked like she'd done everyday since the break in.

The weather was substantially nicer than what they'd been enduring lately. The sun was out for the first time in at least two weeks, and she hoped the trace amount of vitamin D on her skin would be enough to lift her spirits. Even just a little. Still, it wasn't particularly warm, and Kagome was glad she never removed her thin, cotton sweatshirt or else she'd look like a shivering mess walking along her path. She didn't know where she was going. She let her feet lead the way. She had no place she needed to be, and no place she necessarily wanted to go. She just wanted everything to stop. For a small gap of time, she wanted absolutely nothing to happen.

Kagome tried keeping her mind busy to prevent it from floating back to the phone call she'd received this morning, and the ever-ominous, second, "see you soon," she'd gotten that held the potential of breaking her down again. She thought about future projects and lesson plans for her students, and thought about her brother going through his hilariously embarrassing, too relatable, teenage angst years, and thought about seeing her mom again, and thought about this funny-by-five-year-old-standards joke Shippo had told yesterday, and thought about some grading she needed to do, and then stopped altogether. She'd walked at least a mile, surprised at how successful she was in distracting herself, never once minding her whereabouts. Which could have also led her to trouble. From where she stood, she was probably asking for just that.

Feudal Knockout Gym

The air was dense, smelling of musty salt. For someone who had left the smothering state of her apartment so that she could breathe, she'd definitely come to the wrong place. In fact, Kagome didn't know why she'd come here at all. She had no business waltzing into the gym Inuyasha frequented, a gym she'd only been to a handful of times before only because he'd brought her along.

Inuyasha ducked, dodging the wrapped fist flying his way, guarding his face before throwing a punch of his own. There was sweat gliding down his forehead and over his brow, about to drip into his eye, and he could only hope the velocity of his kick would track the dangerous bead of salt away, even by a centimeter, just to delay the sting. He nailed his opponent, pushing him back just enough so he could use the wrapping around his knuckles to soak up the sweat, barely blocking his opponents quick moves as he came in swinging. The half demon took the punches as they came, blocking left and right, waiting for the assailant to show a sign of fatigue before making his move. At the first opportunity, Inuyasha punched at his opponent, knowing he'd easily block it, but also knowing the force of his throw would nudge him back, taking advantage of the space to nail him with a spinning heel kick.

As the guy stumbled to the side, Inuyasha caught a familiar scent, the sweet, warm aroma clashing with the stench of the gym that filled his nose, stealing his undivided attention as he turned to face the direction it wafted over from. Before he could say anything, or notice anything significant about her, the crack of knuckles to his face knocked him over, bringing him crashing to the ground.

"Here's a tip: you wouldn't have gotten decked if you kept your eyes on me."

"I didn't ask." Inuyasha grunted, taking the offered hand held out to him and rising to a stand, rubbing out the new ache in his jaw.

"I hope it bruises." He laughed, clapping the half demon on the shoulder before walking away. Inuyasha brushed it off, more concerned with the girl standing in the entrance. Kagome held herself awkwardly, undeniably uncomfortable, her shoulders slouching forward as she loosely wrapped her fingers around the straps of her bag. She was dressed in a grey sweatshirt, a loose t-shirt that used to be two sizes too large for her before she cut it, the new hemline of the thin cotton rolling up to meet her midriff, tight, rosy-colored leggings, and rundown, black sneakers. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail that gently wagged from side to side as she looked back and forth over the gym, every now and then meeting his gaze, but then glancing back over to a banister-draped wall.

On instinct, but with a cool control he forced himself to bring forth, he made his way over to her, stopping with a comfortable gap to mind the distance between them.

"What's up?"

Kagome took a deep breath, almost like she wasn't prepared for the question in the first place, her chest rising from the deep inhalation, lips twitching upward as she tried to force them into a prepared smile. "I-I... uh... I... wow, I'm sorry..." She said, chagrined, a pink hue tinting her cheeks as she looked away from him, chewing her bottom lip before trying to speak again. "I don't know what I'm... I-I...I think I just need to punch something."

Inuyasha could feel the twisted expression he wore, obviously worried. A dominant part of him wanted to press her into telling him what was wrong, because clearly something was, but shaking the truth out of her wouldn't get him what he wanted. There was no use in trying to talk about it right now. With the way she was fumbling over her words, her train of thought appearing scattered, if he even tried asking what was wrong there was a high chance that she'd snap. Instead, he stepped back, keeping up that control he couldn't help but be proud of himself for maintaining, holding his hand out to point her in the direction of the nearest punching bag. She gave a feeble smile, toeing her shoes off before stepping on the large blue mat and walking over to the thick, black punching bag weighted with water.

He glanced over at his gym buddy who was watching curiously as he packed his bag. It was quiet, mostly because classes didn't start until the evening on Saturdays. Surprisingly, mid-morning was the best time to fit in some peaceful and efficient practice with maybe a couple other people doing their own thing on the side. Until Kagome showed up, it was only the two of them. He gave a nod toward the door, hoping his friend would catch the hint, and thankfully he wasn't the prying type. He quickly finished shoving his shit into his duffle bag, zipped it up, and walked out.

Inuyasha looked back over to Kagome. She'd propped her small backpack against the wall nearby, standing idly in front of the bag, staring at it with weakly-formed fists laying at her sides. The air about her was heavy and tightly-wound. Something was wringing her dry, thieving away her positive and alluring energy, and she was doing a balancing act just trying to keep herself together. But what the hell was he supposed to do about it? She'd told him she wants nothing to do with him. She doesn't want his help, yet here she was stumbling into his gym looking thirty seconds away from a mental breakdown. He was jammed between a rock and a hard place. If he helped, or tried helping, there was a good chance she'd probably tell him to fuck off and mind his business. If he left her alone when she really needed him, she would probably tell him to fuck off for being an asshole.

He could handle mysteries. He could handle puzzles and riddles, algorithms and horribly long, tedious criminal cases that involved their psychologist having to come in and break everything down bit-by-bit, but by god, he struggled with the full spectrum of human emotions. More particularly, female emotions. Even more specifically, Kagome's emotions. So what was the right move here?

He was staring, she could feel it. No matter how hard she tried to ignore him, she was hyperaware of the sensation of those ember irises boring into her. The more he waited for her to do something, the more anxious she became. The last thing she needed was him witnessing her flimsy strikes against a bag that would probably end up inflicting more damage on her than she could ever do. With the pressure already resting on her shoulders, and the additional weight she'd just piled on top thanks to her dumb instincts and horrible speaking performance, she was feeling considerably more self conscious than normal.

"Can you not watch me do this, please?" Kagome asked sheepishly, glancing over her shoulder at him.

Inuyasha crossed his arms over his chest, giving her an ambivalent look before walking away to find his own duffel bag. He meagerly distracted himself by toweling off the drying sweat on his forehead, neck, and bare chest, listening to her fists smacking the material of the punching bag as he pulled a black tee over his head, drawing his ponytail through before the hemline could snag it and loosen the messy knot. She kept going, small grunts escaping her throat as she started punching harder and harder, the rough sounds of knuckles against the bag coming quicker as she finally felt comfortable incorporating her left hand. He could tell she wasn't hitting right. He knew her. He always had to remind her how to do it, and the harder she went, the more likely she was to get hurt.

"Hey, I'm not watching or anything, but keep your wrists tight. Like I taught you." He said before taking a swig of water from his bottle.

Kagome looked over, making sure Inuyasha was telling the truth, reassured that he was only figuratively looking out for her. She adjusted her fists, rolling them out real quick and then flexing the muscles to hold them straight like he'd shown her several times over, her punches coming much more solid.

It didn't take long for her to start imagining the bag was her stalker, punching him hard right in the gut. It wasn't good enough, though. Without a face, a body, a build, anything other than his deep, raspy voice to go off of, the fires in her stomach remained raging. So, she imagined the guy that paid a visit while she got coffee, and threw her fist right at his arrogant smile. Still not sufficient. He was the go-between, the delivery boy, but he wasn't the one that taunted her on the phone this morning. He obviously wasn't the mastermind to all of this; he just so happened to carry out the mastermind's orders. Even so, imagining him didn't feel half as good as she thought it would. What the hell was it gonna take? Kagome punched harder and harder, her throat burning from the ragged cries her body gave to provide more force. Her knuckles were stinging, but she kept pushing. Her biceps and shoulders were fatigued, but she continued to hit as violently as she could muster. She was exhausted and scared and hunted and alone. It was her fault. It was entirely her fault. She refused to bring any of her friends and family into the mix, and she pushed away the one person that could, and even wanted to help. She isolated herself, let her pride call the shots, threw a temper tantrum, and still had the impertinence to imagine the punching bag was now Inuyasha. Kagome swung one more time, gasping as her middle knuckle slid against the leather, clutching her fist to her chest just as she noticed the half demon standing next to her.

"I'm fine!" She snapped, throwing her hands up and turning away before he could say anything. There was a click in his breath as he stopped himself from speaking and it was enough to topple her barely-held restraint over the edge, so she turned back to him, lost in her reverie, her dark ponytail whipping her cheek from her spin. "No, you know what? Screw you, Inuyasha! I can't believe you'd just leave like that!"

"What the hell are you going on about?" He asked incredulously, trying to bite down the shock of her huffing and puffing before him.

"You always want to play the hero, so why would you throw this golden opportunity in the gutter, huh? Tell me the truth! I can handle it! I'm handling everything else just fine, so lay it on me!"

"Yeah, clearly."

"What ever happened to, "I won't let anyone hurt you, Kagome?”" She deepened her voice, giving her best attempt at mocking the half demon.

“Did something happen!?”

“Stop! You don't get to pretend like you care right now! You left my case!”

“How the hell did-"

"Was it because of what I said!?"

"Kagome!"

"I don't know what to do, Inuyasha!"

"Calming down is the first step!"

"I'm sorry! Is that what you wanted to hear? Because I am!"

He didn't rebuttal that time. Inuyasha dropped his hands to his sides, fists clenched, chest swelled, waiting for her to explain what the fuck was going on since he could sense her self-defeat. Kagome's breathing was labored and her cheeks were a furious red, lips almost the same color from the way she kept pressing them together and biting down on the bottom.

“I know I was out of line. It was wrong of me to treat you the way I did. The way I have been.” The tension radiating from her was finally easing, her anger waning, changing, shifting into sadness. No, guilt. Tears lined the brim of her tired eyes, spilling over as she blinked, her fingers gliding through her mess of bangs. “I was a jerk and I said things I shouldn't have. You were right, okay? I was still upset. I didn't expect any of this to happen, though! One minute, everything was fine, the next I've got both you and a stalker in my apartment! My ability to process things was, I don't know, shaken I guess. I know I probably deserve this, but a part of me never considered you’d hand over my case to anyone else.”

“Who the fuck told you I did?” Inuyasha asked, a fierce expression on his face, setting his jaw to silence his growl.

“I went to the station the other day and Hojo said you weren't on my case anymore.”

“So you just assumed I left it?”

“Well y-“

“You idiot.” He grunted, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t willingly leave it! I was kicked off! I’m involved in more ways than one, so our defense attorney said in order to make sure there’s a chance of a prosecution at the end of this, we had to do it by the book.”

Kagome stared at him, mouth sealing shut as she realized she never wanted to talk ever again, her belly gurgling with the unsettling humility she'd sheathed herself in. He hadn't abandoned her. Using the sleeve of her sweater, she hastily swiped away the tear stains on her cheeks, hoping that if she rubbed hard enough, she'd be able to erase her blowout from ever happening.

"You could have called me if you were that upset. I would have told you." Inuyasha said, crossing his arms over his chest, a subtle roll in his eyes.

"I was... I was mad at you."

"Face it, you still are." He said, holding his palm out so she'd give him her hand, wanting to see the knuckle she kept rubbing.

"No, that's not... I don't want to talk about that." Kagome looked away, unable to fight off her embarrassment, not wanting to meet his gaze.

"Me neither." He scoffed, grabbing her wrist when she didn't give it over, inspecting her reddened skin. Luckily, she didn't hit hard enough to split the delicate flesh, but she'd burned it pretty well. It'd be sensitive, but she'd be fine. "So, are you gonna tell me what happened, or are we gonna stand around in this awkward silence for a little while longer?"

Kagome took back her hand, gently massaging the tender area once more. She was right to assume the punching bag would do more harm than she ever could.

"I don't know... everything just became too much." She replied, giving a minute shrug. "Y'know, it took me two days to get my apartment back in working order, and I had to call out of work for one of those because I had to wash all of my bedding and clothes. Now, this morning, I wake up to gifts outside my door and a phone call from this guy saying he's sorry. Sorry." She chuckled cynically at the last word, too caught up in the audacity of her stalker to notice Inuyasha's stiffened reaction.

"What!?"

"No, it's-" Kagome caught herself, knowing that if she said it wasn't a big deal, Inuyasha would fight her into the cold ground. "There were chocolates and flowers, and I threw them in the garbage."

"He called you? Give me your phone!" Inuyasha ordered.

"It was with a blocked number this time." She turned to kneel in front of her backpack, doing as he said and fishing her phone out.

The hanyou snatched it up, glaring at her recent calls list in an attempt to scare the phone number into appearing. Even if it did, even if the perp hadn't bothered using star-sixty-seven like a little bitch, chances were it was just one of his burn phones. This guy just liked to appear all over the place to throw everyone off. The more you switch it up, the less there is to expect. "What did he say to you?"

"He gave me this cheap apology."

There was more. He could see it in the way she fluttered her lashes and continued to avoid eye contact. She was an awful liar.

"What else?"

She shook her head.

"Kagome, what else did he say?"

She looked up at him, her big, brown eyes riddled with perturbation, loosely wrapping her arms around her front. The discomfort spilling from her spiked, making it hard for Inuyasha to stand there idly until she was ready to speak. What had this fucker said to her? Something grotesque? A threat? He needed to know and he needed to know now before he lost his shit like she had. What the fuck did he say to make her mentally topple over this way? He opened his mouth to push her once more, his breath halting in his throat as she gave in.

"He said he's only using me to get to you." She said, her voice timid and small.

"Is that it?"

She nodded.

"Okay." He breathed, slightly relieved, allowing his shoulders to relax and his chest to deflate. He didn't like that the piece of shit was trying to play mind games with Kagome, but he couldn't help but be thankful that it didn't turn out to be anything worse. And in his line of work, he's heard so much worse. Inuyasha didn't blame her for her outrage. He didn't blame her for how exhausted she seemed, or how tiny she tried to make herself appear. The amount of stress she was under was incredible. It was only a matter of time before she broke down.

"Okay?"

"I kind of already figured that out."

"What? How?"

"Intuition. Look, don't worry about the nitty gritty right now." He tried to soften his tone, stepping forward an inch and hovering a hand beside her arm to see if she'd flinch away. She didn't. Instead, she seemed to ease her hold on herself, her fingers unfurling from the cotton of her sleeves. Slowly, gently, he gripped her shoulder, giving a small squeeze of reassurance. "That's my job, not yours. The only thing I need you to do is trust me. Once we have more substantial information, I'll let you know. Otherwise, premature details will only freak you out further."

"But you're off the case. How can you do anything if-"

"I'm helping, I just can't be in the immediate investigation. Everyone's still communicating with me. They let me know you stopped by and what happened. I was going to drop in and check on you, but I wasn't really in the mood to get yelled at." He retracted awkwardly, handing over her cellphone.

"Okay, yeah I kind of blew my top, but in all fairness, you egged me on." She stated, grabbing the phone and dropping it on top of her bag to be forgotten.

"I did not!"

"Can you get your head out of your ass for like twelve seconds and talk to me?" She mocked again, crossing her arms and cocking a brow to mimic his usual stature.

"First of all, you dick, I sound nothing like that."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Second, I said to talk to me. Not call me names and chew me out!"

"You just called me a dick."

"You called me an inconsiderate ass!"

"Maybe so." Kagome shrugged, not bothering to argue that one away. "You were pushing me to do it, though! You told me, and I quote, to get the pent-up aggravation off my chest!"

"You can't say "and I quote" if you're going to change my words around." He huffed.

"Oh my god, Inuyasha! You wanted reciprocation for your efforts, and that's all I had for you! You wanted to talk about a sensitive subject at the worst possible time! What did you expect, pleasantries!?"

"A civil conversation, maybe!" He barked.

"Oh, because you're captain of civility." Kagome responded sarcastically, almost laughing.

"I can be civil!"

"Mhm, like right now?" She smirked, shrugging her brows in a challenging expression. This was the most fun she'd had in weeks. Mostly because she knew she had him backed in a corner.

"What's your point?" Inuyasha asked, stiffening as he bit back his irritability in support of his argument.

"Only that you get all frustrated and pushy when things aren't going your way, and lose all traces of basic manners. Look, I take full responsibility for what I said, but you instigated my temper. There's a time and a place, Inuyasha, and that was not it."

"Maybe so." He echoed, the hint of sarcasm tainting the remark. "Would it have actually made a difference if I brought up the topic at a later opportunity? Because, I don't think it would have."

"You don't know that."

"Shut up!" Inuyasha groaned, shaking his head. "I know you. I fucking fear your temper. No matter what, you were bound to lose it."

"Not necessarily! There probably would have been less pillow throwing!"

Inuyasha inadvertently chuckled, nodding in agreement. She had him there. Kagome was never one for physically offending a person.

"In my meager defense, I wasn't prepared. For any of it; for my apartment to be turned upside down, for a screaming match in the middle of the night, or even to discuss what happened in the first place. It was kind of overwhelming." Kagome shrugged, partially conflicted with the whole matter. On the one hand, she knew she had the right to be upset with Inuyasha. He broke her trust. He'd crossed a line four months ago. On the other, she didn't deserve any sort of defense for what she'd said to him. She'd intended to hurt his ego. In turn, she'd crossed a line four days ago.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it." Inuyasha brushed off. "Neither was I. Hope you got it all off your chest, because what you need to learn to grasp now is that I'm here. I'm not fucking going anywhere, especially after this, so get used to it. Either we forget about what happened, or we hash it out. Those are our options." He knew he sounded brash, but he also knew he was getting his point across. He wasn't going to leave her.

Not now.

Not ever.

It was never supposed to happen at all. It was one giant clusterfuck of a situation, but at this point in time, he didn't give a damn. As frustrating as she was, as horrible of a fall out as they'd had, he loved Kagome too goddamn much to let her slip away again; to let her deal with this bullshit alone. Even if they never reestablished whatever they used to have, he was fine with that. That wasn't what mattered. Being her friend wasn't even what mattered right now. Everything came second to her well-being.

Eventually, Kagome gave an acknowledging nod, releasing a large sigh as she gave a feeble smile. He knew she wouldn't opt for talking about things right now, and a part of him couldn't help but be grateful. It wasn't necessary. Not at the moment. Her head wasn't on straight, which was more than understandable. While he knew the ins and outs of victimization, she didn't. This was new to her, and obviously she wasn't handling things very well anymore. Hell, she'd hung on longer than he'd expected, though, and credit was definitely due there.

While her skin may be delicate, her mindset and her heart were not. Kagome was tough, and in many ways, much stronger than Inuyasha. She didn't know this, and if he had his way she never would, but not too long ago one affectionate graze from her had him mentally, and almost physically, debilitated for hours. Pigs would fly the day he ever saw Kagome literally swoon the way he pathetically had.

"Look, um..." Inuyasha cleared his throat, clenching his fists to resist the thirst he had to run his fingers through her bangs. "Like I said, don't worry about anything else right now, okay? It's not important. You still need to hit something?" He asked, walking towards a large equipment closet at the other side of the gym.

"That's probably not a good idea with the show I just put on."

"It'll be fine. Catch."

She flinched, barely snagging a small punching pad before it slipped through the crack in her arms, looking up to see him on his way back over with another, similarly sized pad in his grasp. He gave a small chuckle at her clumsiness, taking the object from her as soon as he closed the distance, dropping them both to the floor. Inuyasha began undoing the wraps protecting his knuckles, the long, black material unfurling and reaching the mat.

"Come on." He gestured for her to put her hand out before him, and Kagome mindlessly followed suit, watching as he began to wrap her palm with the black lining in a design that covered both her knuckles and wrist.

"Gross, it's sweaty."

"Deal with it. I didn't bring any extra." Inuyasha murmured, securing the fit before undoing his next hand and wrapping her other one over. "Tight enough, or too tight?"

"No, it's good." She replied, curling and uncurling her fingers to test the padding he'd created.

"Make a fist." He said, waiting for her to show him so he could adjust her thumb and wrists. "Jeez. Every time, Kagome."

"It's been months!" She defended. Inuyasha retrieved the punching pads from the floor, sliding his palm into the gloved portion at the back and securing the strap around his wrist. He handed the other one over to Kagome as she aided him in getting it secured, watching him smack the two circular cushions together before holding them out in front of him.

"Okay, now remember to pivot into your- get in the stance. Come on."

She did as she was told, angling her form with her left hip and shoulder facing Inuyasha, knees slightly bent, bringing her fists up to protect her face. "Pivot my back foot for more force. I remember that much."

"You can remember that, but you can't remember to keep your wrists straight?"

"It's not-"

"Wrists straight, Kagome!"

She quickly adjusted her wrists, guarding her face from his flying, padded hand as he gently swatted her head. "Okay! I'm sorry!"

"Remember the combo?" Inuyasha asked.

"I think so."

"Good. I want you to go until you can't anymore. Aim for the pads, not my face."

"I wouldn't do any damage."

"You've damn near given me a concussion before."

"Hush. You're just a sissy."

"Yeah, yeah. Show me what you got, baby." Inuyasha slapped the pads together once more as he steeled his position, a loud smack bouncing off the walls of the gym.

#inuyasha #kagome #Kagome Higurashi #inukag #Inuyasha fanfiction #Inuyasha fanfic #Inuyasha fic #inukag fanfic #inukag fic #in between #my writing #akitokihojo

41 notes · View notes

ernmark · 6 years

Note

oh my god this new episode holy shit

Okay, folks, spoilers under the cut.

But before that: if you have triggers, check the episode notes before you listen. I know it’s basically the same list of triggers as in most episodes, but this time it gets pretty intense.

Q) Why did I not see the proliferation of the THEIA coming?

A) Because it seemed so absurdly, prohibitively expensive that you could only realistically buy one or two of the bionic eyes.

And that would have been a problem, except 1) Ramses is richer than God, and 2) I think the bionic interface itself is the expensive bit, not necessarily the software. Once he had the THEIA developed (and you know he commissioned that shit), you know he just found a way to slap it on people. And we saw that foreshadowed expertly in the sewer bots.

I’ve said it before: good writing feels like a good riddle: when it happens it completely catches you by surprise, but when you go back and think about it it seems completely obvious.

Here’s the thing about really, really good foreshadowing: it doesn’t feel like foreshadowing. Every piece of foreshadowing feels like its own end, rather than a means to prepare us for something else.

The THEIA Spectrum? Was totally just a thing to persuade Juno to come to Ramses’ side, right?

The THEIA Bots? Totally to clear the sewers. I was expecting more robots like them, but not like that.

Overriding Juno’s nervous system to the point of making him shoot better, controlling his pulse, giving him trauma-specific nightmares, and freezing his whole body on command? Fucked up enough to be a thing to be defeated on its own.

But it’s not just that. Look at Ramses himself:

He was a micromanager to an obscene degree.

JUNO: What I’d like is two minutes to collect myself.Little needy of you to call me on the car ride to you. (Lesson Learned)

But within days made himself indispensable, filling in every gap in workflow he could find, learning every job that needed doing, and, most importantly, playing emotional translator to some of the more ‘gifted’ artists on staff. We called him a writer, but really he was always more editor or manager… (Long Way Home)

He was a master manipulator– of Sarah, of Juno, of Yasmin Swift, of the entire population of Hyperion City

But every so often something would go wrong. His grand plot to give Sarah the profits fell through when she refused his hush money– and as a result he filed for a restraining order. Jocelyn got impatient for him to write a decent version of Andromeda 3, and erupted into a truly alarming screaming rant. They want to use NorthStar’s funds to make something that’ll the profit the company instead of forcing mass layoffs of the rest of their staff, and he cuts and runs.

JACK: Damn the deadline! You’re exactly the problem, Jocelyn, focusing on the smallest issues when you should be solving the big ones, taking the solution now over the solution that works— DO NOT SPEAK while I am speaking! (Long Way Home)

And notice the common thread there: this is when he has a vision for a Big Master Plan, and somebody else doesn’t want to go along with it, so he gets absolutely furious with them– and then throws them away altogether.

So how do you save people? You make sure that they always agree with you and never even have the option to go against your Master Plan. After all, you know best, don’t you? And his plans were always meticulous and perfect, so long as everybody else always behaved exactly as he wanted them to.

Rita points out that even the THEIA isn’t a proper AI– it can’t learn or change and grow, it’s just a thousand copies of the exact same complex program. And one that is very flawed and vulnerable to viruses.

Funny that. Expect to see Rita bring down the whole system the minute she gets a chance.

On the subject of really good foreshadowing: Khan’s fixation with stun blasts and heart conditions, plus what we saw of Vespa being nearly killed by a stun blast when she was high up.

Not gonna lie, before Juno narrated what happened, I assumed that Mick was standing on the balcony and got blasted off the fourteenth story. Thank god that wasn’t what happened, because there’s no bringing somebody back from that kind of fall.

I knew Mick would be the one they go to. I knew Mick would be the prime target that sends Juno over the edge. But God, I wasn’t expecting this. The whole sequence made my skin crawl.

And even when we were in Mick’s apartment, I didn’t see it coming. I honest to god thought it was the tea– that there are nanites in the water or something (to be fair, I just got done playing We Happy Few, where the water is drugged to fuck and back).

So I have feelings about Mick Mercury.

All this time, he’s been “setting the record for going nowhere fast”. People think of him as a loser, and a lot of times he thinks of himself as one.

And then comes the THEIA, and suddenly he’s put together, and refined, and capable of superhuman feats, and he makes tea and everything.

How’s he going to feel about giving that up? Will he be relieved to be rid of it, or will a part of him still miss what it made him?

I want to point out how very sick Ramses sounds here. I keep coming back to the theory that he’s dying, but I’m serious: He’s on death’s door.

“Time. Time. Just give me time. This will work. It has to.”

It speaks to Matthew Zahnzinger’s skill as a voice actor that Ramses actually starts to sound more lively when he’s with Juno, and then even more when he’s absolutely furious– and when he calms down he sounds even sicker than before. He’s got so little life left in him. I’d really feel for the guy if I didn’t want to beat his skull in with a tennis racket.

It’s not just confidence that has him offering to completely capitulate to Juno’s demands after 24 hours– I don’t think he has much more than that left to him, and who the hell cares where his money goes when he’s dead?

On that note, the THEIA is pre-programmed to be self-replicating.

“Only Newtown residents and certain select guests can enter Newtown until the city adjusts to our idea”. By which he means the Newtown residents will leave the city, infect other people, and those people will be ‘select guests’.

Once it’s stable and well-seated in Newtown’s populace, the people already infected with the THEIA Soul will make more and infect the rest of Hyperion City, and after that we’ve pretty much got a Borg situation.

As for Ramses’ conversation with Juno:

God, that was hard to listen to.

In the first eight minutes or so, Ramses is surprisingly endearing. We know enough by now to realize it’s a smokescreen, but it sounds sympathetic and real, because that’s how he works. He makes himself the good guy.

But then Juno shuts him down, cuts him off, assures him that he’s never going to forgive him, and Ramses switches tack. He showers Juno with facts– incomplete facts, facts that only show one very sketchy and incomplete version of the truth, but facts that Juno can’t refute and doesn’t have enough information to argue against.

And then he backs up his facts with emotional triggers– he’s “recycling” equipment from the police force that robbed Sarah blind all those years ago, and then he slips in the idea that that’s what drove her to abuse her kids, rather than his own actions.

Smoke and mirrors. Fucking smoke and mirrors.

But once again, Juno cuts him off and refuses to be baited, but his ire is up. Ramses is already under his skin and in his head, even if he isn’t entirely pulling the strings yet.

And then Ramses turns it around and starts asking him questions that Juno can’t answer. Now Juno feels stupid and unprepared, and Ramses knows it. And while Juno is struggling to put his thoughts into words, Ramses starts absolutely steamrolling him with emotionally loaded facts and ideas too quickly for Juno to argue with, and you can see Juno start to crumple under the onslaught.

And he plays with this insidious premise that what he’s already done is irrelevant, and only future action matters– ignoring the fact that he did all of this in secret specifically so he wouldn’t be stopped, and that he’s got even more of this plan up his sleeve in ways that Juno couldn’t possibly predict. And he spins it all in such a way that Juno can’t argue, because he puts all the burden of proof on Juno and writes off anything Juno says as too emotional.

The whole thing is so slimy it made me want to take a shower.

And Juno still holds on.

And he legitimately lands blow after blow that Ramses can’t deflect: He brings up the rabbits. He points out that Ramses keeps discarding his ideas out of hand. He dismantles Ramses’ narrative that Juno was “saving Ben” by letting Jack into Sarah’s office. And he takes Ramses’ attempts to use his feelings about Sarah against him, but he turns them about.

I’m so fucking proud of him for it.

If this is a verbal boxing match, Juno starts off strong, falls behind, and then hits Ramses with wallop after wallop until Ramses has to pull out entirely and find another way to beat him– by which he means sending him out into New Town to get himself infected with yet another THEIA.

Motherfucker.

So… Juno has money.

Just from Ramses, or has he been having lots of money coming in for a while now?

I mean, it’s not like he’s been spending it on anything except booze, has he?

#Anonymous #the penumbra podcast #100

84 notes · View notes

meliecho · 6 years

Text

Hearts and Heroes: One Shot - chpt: 10 - A Second Chance

The final chapter. (There may be an epilogue. This is 69 pages on my open office document, and I am so freaking proud of myself for that beautiful accident.)

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

Summary: An old teammate makes an appearance. Sun wakes up and learns what Blue’s team did to save her life. She’s given a second chance, and Mark realizes that in saving her, he’s given himself a second chance.

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

The Markihub – same night…

The portal opened in a colorful swirl of energy just ahead of the back wall behind the stage. 2 teams of 4 stepped out onto the stone floor and heaved collective sighs of relief. One of the older guys with dark blue eyes and gifted with an athletic-yet-trim 6’ tall frame carried the rescued mission target on his back.

A short girl who looked to be about 16 years old with cropped curly brown hair and wearing a dirty white dress rested her head against his shoulder at the fringe of his shaggy chestnut colored hair. The leaves speckling her locks, and the dirt smudges on her clothes and skin suggested her nightmare took place in a forest setting.

The two teams thanked each other for the help, and went to restock their supplies and to take care of injuries. The leader of team 1 adjusted his square black framed glasses and carried the mission target to the infirmary.

A few passerby in the hallway give him a warm 'welcome back,' which he returned. They were also other oldies to dream rescues. The hub still looked like a barely-populated NPC village. He knew time zones were a thing, and if kept track of time right, the USA west coast should be starting to rouse.

People were gradually finding their way back from the hubs of other various personalities peoples’ hearts followed, but it still saddened him to see the place he'd called a second home speckled with small holes in the surfaces, and cracks spidering along the walls. He, himself, had only found his way back three weeks ago. He knew something was wrong when he couldn’t access the hub, so he did what many of the oldies did: helped coordinate people of this hub who’d been sent to others. It sucked that he couldn’t remember much when he woke up.

Whatever had hit Mark had done enough damage to leave this place in derelict condition. Even after a month and a half, it was still in the process of repairs.

And that meant so was Mark.

He had faith that the leader of his home hub would come back even stronger from whatever it was that took him down. He was sorry he hadn't been there to help, but at least he knew who was.

He laid the rescued girl on the bed next to Blue, who continued to stare at the ceiling. “S'up, Blue?”

“You're mom.”

“Sass game: strong.”

“Always.”

“Good.”

She didn’t want to leave until her team had awakened. So far, Purple and Jade were the only two to return to the waking world. She watched Red’s body disappear in a rush of blue light as he woke up. Good. Now all that remained were Peach and Mark.

She also wanted to make sure Sun would be ok. She understood Mark's need to save her more than ever, now. Had that been Teal, she'd have been in Mark's place, gladly giving whatever she could to save her life.

But now they were home, recovering, and everything would be ok.

Tim bobbled over and hopped up to treat the wounded girl.

The one who’d brought her in moved across the aisle to where Mark sat watching over a girl in a blue hoodie and red scarf.

He tapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Hey, nerd.”

Mark finally moved for the first time since the energy transfer ended –not because he was upset, or moody, but because he was drained, dead-exhausted, and really didn’t have the strength to do more than breathe. “Hey.”

“Whoa. You look like shit.”

“Nice to see you, too, Nate.” Mark stretched.

“What used you as a pinata? I haven't seen you this beat up from a mission in forever.”

“It was...involved. You’re up in Vancouver for that thing right now, right? Shouldn’t you be awake?”

Nathan shrugged. “Eh. I woke up once already to pee and fell back asleep to finish the mission. We just got back.”

“How’d it go?”

“We got her,” he glanced across the aisle. “Rescued her from a survival game called 'The Forest'. We found our mission target hiding in a tree house from Terrorlings who looked like cannibals.” The bed springs creaked as he sat next to his friend. “Her name is Liz. She’s just a kid, but she’s a fighter. I think she’ll be able to do some good here once she finds her bearings. I already know who should be here when she recovers to show her around. Marly could use someone else on her team. She has 7, but 8 is a good number.”

Mark nodded and turned lazily back to watching Sun. “Good. Yeah. Marly. Good call. She's a solid leader.”

“What, no witty retort?” When he received no reply, his eyes moved from the girl to him and back, and the tenor of his voice turned more sympathetic. “Was it really that bad?”

Mark exhaled and worried his face. “Yeah. She, uh...” He didn't want to bring up the lost teammate's name, or invoke that memory. Sun's nightmare came too close to being a repeat experience.

Nate’s chest clenched from a shot of dread when he noticed his friend’s dim hero mark. “Dude, your heartlight…” he swiveled quickly toward the other row of beds across the aisle. “Tim!” He called over to the little box.

“Calm your tits, Mom. Tim already got to me. I’m recovering before I leave.”

His friend settled down. “Yeah, it’s just…call me paranoid, ok? What the hell happened to you, anyway? You look…no joke, man, you look terrible.”

“It’s a long story,” Mark muttered.

“You're being avoid-y. I don't like it when you do that.”

“I just don't want to talk about it right now, k?”

“Fair enough.” He pursed his lips. Something had transpired between him and this girl—perhaps his mission target—that brought up painful reminders that only existed here in the dream world. He was thankful most memories of this world left him and the others alone while awake. He cleared his throat and tried to lighten the mood. “She’s kind of cute. I bet she has a cute laugh. I wonder if she’s single…” he rubbed his chin.

A light snort left Mark. That was just like this friend, the womanizing ladies man. He wanted to tell him that this girl carried a Somni that could bust his balls, but he wasn’t in the mood to explain anything now, even if it was to an old teammate. “Just go wake up, ya bastard.” He lost the mirth. “I’ll explain everything later.”

He watched as a girl in a peach colored hijab on a bed in the row ahead of them returned to the waking world. “Was your entire team in here?”

Mark nodded.

“Damn. Maybe you guys should take tonight off.”

He shook his head. “I know my team.”

“Yeah. It sounds like you do,” Nathan smirked and squeezed his friend’s shoulder in support and reassurance. “Take care of yourself, pal.”

His friend left the infirmary and disappeared back to the waking world.

Mark exhaled. Once more, he was alone –save for Blue, whom he knew would stay until he disappeared back to physicality. He’d do the same; in fact he was doing just that. Call it a curse of the Team Leader. As hub leader, he never lost that habit.

He remained as a guard over Sun for the next ten minutes. She would crack open her eyes occasionally, then close them. Tim had explained that her spirit was adjusting to the massive amount of life energy within her. It had to settle down and join her own, but he didn’t know how long it would take since that particular method of saving someone had never been applied before.

Blue's, Red's, Purple's, Peach's, Jade's, and his life energy were all a part of her, now.

A soft repetitive sound tickled his ears and his vision began to fade. He recognized it instantly as the one thing that could override his willpower: the ringtone set as his alarm to go off at 8am.

The sound grew louder. He saw Sun’s eyes open again and tilt toward him just as his world faded out. “I’ll come back,” he whispered.

And then he woke up.

Their mission lasted the entire night.

* * * *

The Infirmary – around 10pm PST the next night…

The din of the infirmary reached her ears. She heard footsteps as the rare person walked by along with the tell-tale thump thump thump of Tiny Box Tim's hopping motion in a doppler effect.

She inhaled the sweet, faint aroma of flowers. It smelled like lavender. That was always a scent that soothed her. She didn't know if it was real or sense memory tricking her. Either way, she enjoyed it. It smelled so nice.

She remembered being taken from the tower through a portal that looked like someone swirled colored dye with oil in water, and then the rush of people moving swiftly around her as she was carried through a large room into one with multiple beds. Everything was a blur of faces, emotions, and then darkness.

Hear heart slowed. The pink light at her sleeve faded away. For a very brief moment, she heard a high-pitched mechanical beep like from medical monitoring equipment, followed by an unfamiliar woman's voice so quiet, she could have imagined it; 'We're losing her. Call the doctor!'

However, something stronger replaced it.

It pulled her out of the void back to her body, and she felt the pink energy pulse through her, igniting the heartlight. It pulled her into it and surrounded her.

The stranger's distant voice returned; 'She's stabilizing? How?' another spoke; 'I don't know, but thank god.'

It faded out of her hearing just as quickly as it came.

Five new colors joined it. The new torrent of energy refused to let her go. It contained familiar voices, images, and the presence of people she knew that formed phantoms within the void; it was the team that saved her.

She'd heard them, and made a promise to them and to herself to live.

All six colors of energy braided through her so tightly, it became hers. The first and last of it, a steady stream of pink iridescence, tied it all together.

Shadow retreated and stayed quiet, locked away.

After running forever, she could finally rest.

She existed within that cocoon where time had no meaning, and dreamed within her dream. Images of places that felt familiar flashed through her mind long enough for her to process what they were, but not enough to be identified as specific locations: the ocean, the setting sun, a Ferris wheel, a city. The team was with her. They were there, all of them, and she was happy.

The sounds of shifting fabric nearby urged her to pay attention. The greater fraction of her made of the pink energy flashed for no longer than an eye blink, and for some reason, she knew she didn't have to worry about who'd just arrived. In fact, she was curious to see whom that energy belonged to. Her perception of those colors dissipated and she was left with the darkness of the backs of her eyelids.

Sun opened her eyes and blinked to bring a languidly revolving ceiling fan into focus. She sat up slowly. There were beds in a row ahead of her, and a 'Keep Calm' kitty poster on the wall. A few cracks adorned the smooth surfaces, like this room had gone through an earthquake, and someone was in the process of filling all the breaks with plaster. An empty bed next to the wall set to her right, and to her left sat the most familiar person in her dream world life, and the source of that pink energy.

She blinked. “Mark?” Her voice—like herself—felt raw.

Mark sat on the bed with his hands clasped between his knees and smiled. “Welcome back, Sun.”

She looked around. “Where am I?”

“Home. You're in the infirmary of the Markihub.”

She regarded him curiously, “What’s a Markihub?”

“It's,” he searched for the right words, “Like a safe zone. It's our HQ.”

“Oh,” she rubbed a warm point just below her clavicle, but paused and took the end of the red scarf in hand. “I guess everything was real after all.”

He nodded. “Yup. Extremely. How are you feeling?”

She ran a quick mental check of her senses. “A little tired, numb, kinda cold, and eviscerated. And confused.”

“That sounds about right.” He knew what she was suffering through right now without any further explanation. “It'll hurt for a while. You basically ripped open a wound and dumped rubbing alcohol on it. You're going to feel like you have no skin for a few days.”

She shuddered. “Because of Shadow?”

He nodded. “You're going to feel it clawing at your psyche. It damaged you pretty good, but you've got it under control. Believe it or not, you won. It might not feel like it, but you did. You'll be ok, though. You'll figure out which voice is yours and which is hers.”

“How?”

“I'll help you.”

Her head bobbled lightly in acceptance. “How long have you been here?”

“I just got back. It's technically night, at least where I am.” He scratched at his hair. “You remember what I told you, right? About you being in a coma?”

She took a deep breath. She felt alive, like this was her body, and it wasn't lying in a hospital somewhere on life support. “Yeah, I remember. I remember everything from the past year, but still nothing before it.”

“Give it time.”

Sun recalled his face whenever she'd open her eyes after the others had gone. He'd stayed within her line of sight. He'd said he'd come back, so that must have been when he woke up. She'd believed him.

“Ya know what was weird? My wrist hurt the entire day. I had to wear that damn brace the whole time.”

“From when Shadow grabbed you?”

“Yup.”

Her gaze dropped to her hands in her lap. “I sorry I couldn't stop her. I tried, but I wasn't strong enough. She had full control and all I could do was watch as she forced me to hurt you and I hated it. I felt so helpless and terrified. I didn’t want to hurt any of you guys. I kept screaming at her to stop, but...”

“That's not your fault. Believe me, I know how hard it is to fight that thing.”

She looked back at him, into his sincere expression, and knew he told the truth. She now had someone on the sidelines that she could look to, see him nod, and know he understood. He was perhaps the only one who did.

“I mean,” he continued, “this isn't the first time I've felt the after effects of a difficult mission, but it was up there in ‘pain-in-the-ass’ annoyance.”

She tried to stand up, but lost her balance and braced herself against the bed. The new energy left her stronger than before, but it wasn't native to her, so she had to compensate. She felt light headed.

“Easy. You should take it slow for a while.”

Her legs felt heavy, but she forced them to work anyway. The more steps she took, the simpler control became. To her relief, Shadow stayed locked behind her wall. Sun's body was hers again without interference.

She moved up the aisle to the middle of the waiting area.

Mark walked casually behind her, hands in his pockets.

A couple of people entered the infirmary, making her step aside to give them room. One of them limped as their friend helped them sit on the bed Mark just vacated.

A high-pitched, small voice caught her attention from the floor at her feet. “Hi, Sun!”

Sun looked down at her sneakers to a small wooden box with a smiling face, big blue eyes, and skinny arms sticking out from the sides. It waved at her. She stepped back almost into Mark. “Y-you're a tiny box.”

“Yup, I am,” Tim's grin remained.

“And you're talking,” She blinked.

“Sometimes you can't get him to shut up,” Mark joked.

“Hey,” Tim looked up at his friend, “You have no room to talk.”

He held up one hand. “I...pfffft....whatever, blah blah, Tim, blah blah.”

She crouched down on one knee to get a better look at the little animated guy. “I haven't seen anything like you before.”

Mark shifted to his other foot. “You don't know who he is?”

Sun shook her head. “No idea.”

“And you don’t know who I am at all?”

She shook her head, ashamed at the feeling that she should implied by his question. “Sorry.”

“Nah, nothing to be sorry for. I'm just a guy.” He felt a swell of relief. Sun had accepted him for who he was not based on any previous knowledge of his public life. He realized the only 'Mark' that she knew was the one she met here. He wondered if that would change if her memory came back. It surprised him that a small part of him didn't want it to.

That eased her concern. “So, where’d you find him? Out there somewhere?”

“Oh, I came from Mark,” Tim stated calmly. “I'm a Somni. My job is to heal the heroes who come back from missions, like you guys.”

Sun's face snapped to instant fear and she fell backward. “A Somni?!” She scooted back on her hands until she hit the wall, and held up her right forearm in defense, suddenly wary of this adorable box boy.

Tim pouted and reached out. “No, I’m not like that.”

Mark knelt down to scoop up the little box in his hands. “You don't have to worry about Tim. He's one of three Somni here, but he's not like Shadow, or—“

“Or that giant jerk, Dark,” Tim growled.

“…Or that giant jerk, Dark,” Mark accepted that answer. Why not? Seemed accurate enough.

“He knows about Shadow?” Her hand covered her mouth in embarrassment. “Oh no.” She stood and flopped down in the nearest seats.

He sat next to her. “Listen. If there's anyone in this place you can trust, it's Tim. Your secret's safe with him.”

“That's right,” Tim saluted and smiled.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” he assured her.

“Well, I trust you, so,” Sun reached out and flinched a little when Tim took hold of her hand. “I guess he is pretty cute.”

The little box blushed, “Ah, jeeze, Sun. Thanks.” He hopped back to the floor. “I wouldn't recommend you leave the hub yet. It took a lot to bring you back. Healing from that and from a Demonling possession won't happen over night.”

“What do you mean by that?” She asked.

Mark found his shoes to be more interesting at that moment. “He means you were kind of...almost damned close to...well, dead.” He noticed her surprise and continued before she could blurt anything out. He kept his voice low. “We had to pull some drastic measures to save you, and it worked, and here you are. So...Yay.”

“What he's trying to say is that they gave you their life energy. Yours was pretty much gone. They saved your life by replacing it with theirs,” Tim clarified.

“We didn't even know if it would work, but we're all glad it did.”

Her eyes widened. So, she hadn't imagined it. What she'd felt truly was them. “How...” she cleared her throat. “How much of me was left?”

Tim answered softly. “From what I could tell, about 5%.”

Shock at her almost-reality zapped through her. “5%?” she whispered. “Then I really was... And everything else isn't me. It's...”

Tim gave her a 'no' motion. “No, it's yours now. Captain Overkill, here, and the others gave you a ton. You just have to wait for it to settle down. This hasn't been done before, so whatever happens from now on that you don't understand, you can talk to me about it. I'm here for you, Sun.”

Mark rubbed at his eyebrow, not able to look her in the eye. She was quiet, and when he did turn to lock eyes with her, he saw disbelief, and confusion, but mostly gratefulness. She recognized what they had given her. She was still stuck in a coma, but alive because of them.

Oddly enough, he felt that connection, as well as the sense of the Somni within her. Now that Shadow and Dark has interacted...ish...that part of him could tell it was there the same way Shadow detected Dark at the Glen when they'd found her.

He cleared his throat. “That was a bitch to do, let me tell ya. Don't want to do that again.”

“A-are you ok from that?” She still couldn't believe it. “It sounds super serious.”

Tim interrupted the awkward moment. “I checked Mark when he got here. He's not at full power yet, but he's fine—up to about 65%.

“69. Don't sugar coat it for her.”

“The others should be ok, too. It'll probably take a couple of days for everyone to get back up to 100, so don't worry about them.”

He stretched. “Felt like 30 when I woke up.”

Tim poked him in the shin. “I had to tell you to stop.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know.”

Sun leaned forward, trying to come to terms with the fact that only 5% of her own life energy remained.

“Well, I gotta patch up some heroes, so I'll see you later,” Tim waved. “Good luck out there!”

She watched him bobble down the aisle to help with the two who'd walked in moments ago.

Mark stood. “I need to get going, too. The team should be here soon and we need to prep for the next mission.”

She looked up, worried. “You're going back out there already? Those things are out there, and Tim said—”

“Hey, no life draining procedure ever stopped me from doing something that's potentially stupid.”

His humor reached her and she smiled slightly. “That made no sense. Are you sure you're ok?”

“This is nothing kicking some Terrorling ass won't fix.” He shrugged. “If you're up to it, you should explore the hub,” he offered. “But I’d steer clear of the Weaponry for a while, if I were you.”

“Why? What's wrong with the Weaponry?”

“It's not so much what’s wrong with the place as it is the guy,” he dragged the last syllable out to emphasize the instability of Wilford. “Look, just trust me, ok? If you see a guy with a pink mustache, do not approach. In fact, come back to the infirmary. He doesn't like it in here.”

“Is he dangerous?”

“Eh,” he pitched up his voice and it cracked, “To a degree, but he won't hurt anybody here. I made sure of that.”

“Oh-kay...” That wasn't very reassuring. She got to her feet. “Hey, when you see your team, please tell them I said thank you.”

“Nope,” he said. “They'll want to see you before we head out. You can tell them yourself.”

That sounded reasonable, and more preferable. She wanted to see them again, too.

He opened the door.

“Mark?”

He paused in the threshold to look back.

“I know who you are.”

He paused with that knot of concern in his chest. Shadow has said his voice was the last one she heard before she fell into her coma. Maybe her memory had started to return. The possibility of her perception of him changing due to his profession gave him a twinge of loss.

“You’re the one who called me back. When Shadow had full control, I heard you. I held onto that. So, …you’re…you're a…friend.” This man was no longer just a random stranger she came across in this world. She felt comfortable around him. He was important to her. After everything he'd gone through to save her, she thought he should at least know that much.

For the first time since they'd found her in the dream world, he saw her smile genuinely and completely. It brightened her spirit, and poured into the depths of her words that only a feeling could convey. He picked up on all of it. A thousand pages would never be enough.

“Thank you.”

He returned it in kind. “You're welcome.”

Sun watched him leave and exhaled.

She walked up to stand in front of the ‘Keep Calm’ kitty poster. “Now what?” she whispered to the adorable kitten in its scuba suit and clear round helmet. It gave a thousand-mile happy stare as an answer.

A few veins of cracks etched into the walls from beneath the poster. She'd noticed there were random areas like this all over the room. A couple of larger ones, some medium breaks, but mostly hairline fractures in clusters, or alone in jagged lightning strike lines. She touched the edge of a crack near the poster, and jerked her hand back when it suddenly sutured itself together. The damage healed completely. “Whoa.” She was pretty sure she’d never witnessed a building self-repair.

She felt like she was suddenly inside a massive creature that went through a gruesome battle and was slowly regenerating from getting its ass kicked. Was this another aspect of the dream world?

Shadow’s whispers—her negativity—tried to surface, but she shut her eyes against it and wrapped her arms around herself, shivering from an internal cold. She had 7 reasons to fight it, now, even if she didn’t really know what she was doing yet.

“Sun!” An exuberant squeal of delight resounded through the room.

Sun turned around just as Purple dashed down the center aisle and glomped her in a tight hug. The force of the hug-attack made her stumble back, but neither of them fell. “Wuh.”

“You’re awake and you’re ok!” Purple’s cheek squished against the scarf.

“Purple?” She recognized her, even though they hadn’t had a conversation before. Whether that familiarity was due to the mix of energy gradually becoming hers or not, she accepted it. This little girl with two-toned colored hair was part of the team that saved her. She'd bravely fought the horde of Terrorlings that Shadow summoned to take down the group. Though small, she was definitely not powerless. She was precious. Sun hugged her back. “Purple.”

“We were so scared. You fought so hard, and we went through all that, and we were scared to lose you, and... I’m so happy you’re ok!” A tear of elation slipped down her cheek.

“I’m up, aren’t I?” She held on tightly. “It’s because of you. Thank you, Purple.”

Purple��s grin reached ear to ear and she smooshed her face harder into the fabric. She wasn't useless, and now she knew she had saved a life, and that life mattered to her.

“Sheesh, Purple, don’t put her back in the hospital bed,” a taller boy in a beanie and warm hued flannel strolled over with his hands lazily in his jeans pockets. “As soon as she heard you were up, she took off.”

“Red,” Sun didn’t want to take her eyes off of him. He was beautiful. He came across as coarse and brash, but what he’d given her was strength and loyalty.

“Sorry,” the white mage apologized, but didn’t let go.

Four others followed behind their companion.

“Sun, you’re all right!” Peach jogged up and hugged her from the other side, since Purple refused to give up her spot in the middle. “We were so worried. I couldn’t concentrate at all today.”

“Peach,” she smiled.

“It’s about time you woke up!” Jade bounced down the aisle and gave Purple a run for her money when it came to hugs. “What were you going for, a world record?”

“Maybe, Jade.”

“Guys, come on, she just woke up,” Blue chuckled as she and Mark tailed the group. Though she couldn’t help herself and joined in on the group hug. “Let her breathe.”

“Says the team leader adding to the problem,” Red smirked. He felt the same joy at seeing her up and around, since the 6 of them had given her a part of themselves to bring her back. “Ah what the hell.” He wrapped his arms around her from Peach’s side. It was rare that he’d choose to be this open about his feelings, but he and his team had gone through enough together that they were some of the few people he was ok with. Besides, it’s not every day you give up part of your life energy to save someone else.

“Guys…” Sun sniffled as the immense amount of caring from those surrounding her poured out as tears. She knew all of their names. She didn't know how, but that mystery didn't matter. Shadow’s whispers faded away. Even if she wanted to drop to her knees, she couldn’t. These people were holding her up.

Mark folded his arms and just watched. He remembered this from Sun’s position, and knew how therapeutic that moment between him and his team had been. It stayed with him as part of the lock that kept Dark behind his wall.

“Hey, Mark, get in here. You’re the only one missing,” Blue held out her hand.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, keeping his voice light. “We had our moment.”

Sun looked over Purple’s head and gave an understanding nod. It was fine if he didn’t. She was ok with that. She’d said what she needed to earlier anyway.

Purple shuffled slightly sideways and held out her hand. Jade, Peach, and Red did the same. They all knew their teammate was still healing.

“You’re the main reason we even got her out of there,” Purple’s smile came out in her soft voice. “Blue put it together that you’d be the only one who could get through to her and you did. And Tim wouldn’t have been able to max out his healing spell without you. I don’t think any other team here could have rescued her. We fought our hardest, but if it wasn’t for you, Sun wouldn’t be here.“

“Yeah, being crushed by a bunch of nerds,” Jade added with a grin.

“The best nerds,” Peach wrapped her other arm around Red.

He knew they were right. He was the only one in this hub to experience possession of a Somni-Demonling, but he also knew if he’d gone into Sun’s dream alone, despite his story, skill, or history, he wouldn’t have been able to rescue her. He may even have fallen into darkness again trying.

Blue's team was a bunch of sensitive, ass-kicking memers—himself included—and dick jokes were the norm. Then again, he had a collection of tear-filled vlogs the world could view at any time, so he really didn’t have room to talk—like Tim said.

Sun was surprised when Purple relinquished her precious spot to let him in, but more surprised when he accepted it. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Purple squeezed back in between him and Blue and the group filled in the circle.

He was only a few inches taller than her. This was part of the dream world. They were spirits. But they were so warm. Tears of joy spilled from Sun's eyes. If only to these 6 people, she held value.

The pink glow from her hero mark remained steady—a constant reminder that a part of this team lived within her. She may fall down as she healed, but she wasn’t alone anymore. She could pull from their strength to continue, and maybe even wake up from her coma. The only thing she wanted was to always remember them. She would do the best she could to never betray that gift.

They let her go one by one, renewed and ready to go save someone from the Terrorlings.

“Come on, guys, we’re burning nightlight,” Jade bounced on the balls of their feet. Though they weren’t back up to 100% yet, they were psyched.

“I’m not sure that’s the right expression,” Purple giggled, “But I guess it fits, since it’s currently night time.”

“I’m going full throttle on this one,” Peach clenched her fists, ready for action. “We’ll rescue our mission target in record time.”

“And then we’ll be dragging your exhausted ass back,” Red stated.

“Red has a point. Let’s take it easy on the next couple, ok, guys?” Blue said.

The team accepted their leader’s ruling. They bid Sun farewell, said they’d be back soon, and talked to each other as they headed to the door.

…All except Mark.

She glanced back.

He remained hugging Sun tightly. He didn’t speak, and neither did she. It was an intimate, wordless conversation no one else would know the details to.

Blue caught the glint of a tear slipping down from behind his glasses. At first she was concerned that he was slipping backward—as had happened before—, but then she noticed his expression. It wasn't sadness, regret, or guilt. It was acceptance, and the evaporation of a very old weight.

Sun's expression changed to kind support and her arms tightened around his waist. Tears slid down her cheeks as she rested her head on his shoulder. Whatever she picked up, it had turned from 'I'm glad you're alive' from his end, and 'thank you,' from hers, to 'I understand. You'll be ok' from her, and 'I'm sorry. Forgive me' from him.

Her new knowledge of his past let her understand a fraction of that conversation.

He wasn’t embracing only Sun.

He was also embracing the one he couldn’t save.

Blue felt herself smile. Saving Sun had let him fully forgive himself and accept that the death of his teammate wasn't his fault. ‘You kept your promise,’ she told him in her heart, ‘Your teammate would be proud.’

“Hey, you comin', Blue?” Red caught her attention.

“Yeah,”

“What about him?”

Blue rested her hand on his upper arm. “He'll catch up. We're not leaving without him. Come on, let's stock up on ultra balls.” Hopefully soon, one of their missions would lead to Teal, and a second chance. She and Red left their two friends to take their time.

He had found closure in the most circuitous, introspective, unique way possible.

After 5 years, Mark could finally let go of the guilt and truly say good-bye.

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

TBC

Prologue: A Light in the Darkness

Chapter 1: Weekend Warriors

Chapter 2: Something’s Suspishy

Chapter 3: Chasing the Sun

Chapter 4: The Nightmare’s Truth

Chapter 5: Light and Shadow

Chapter 6: Lifeline - part 1

Chapter 7: Lifeline - part 2

Chapter 8: Phantom Power

Chapter 9: Mark’s Past

Chapter 10: A Second Chance

Chapter 11: Learning to Breathe

Epilogue: Ad Infinitum

#hearts and heroes #markiplier #fanfic #fanfiction #sun #second chance #we come full circle #Sun is not the only one to heal #Mark finds closure #a new beginning #meliecho #This took me almost two months to write. Now I'm finished #I feel empty #now what?#You'll come back when they call you.#one shot #Nathan's such a bro. He hasn't been in a team with Mark for 5 years #but he cares about him enough to make sure the team he joined is made of good people

8 notes · View notes

corvid-knight · 6 years

Text

Alright

Bro shows up again, but this time he's got an excuse. Dave's still not really okay with it.

(Read it on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12987579)

(part two of Post-canon Striders)

Your name is Dave Strider, and you're in some kind of goddamn predicament. A fucking situation. A pickle, you might say. Predicklement—okay, when you start coming up with words like that it's really time to stop hanging around Jake, plain and simple.

That's right, blame it on Jake and not your own stupid anxiety over being in the same room as Bro. It's cool, you're cool, you're fucking fine. Definitely not holding yourself as tense as is humanly possible just so you don't flinch every time he moves. You're doing fine. This is fine.

He hasn't done anything wrong right now, after all. Yeah, he's not supposed to be here, Dirk chased him off once already, but Bro showed up twenty minutes ago with Dirk's bro—the version of you from his timeline—and it was a coincidence that you happened to be over at Dirk's place when they showed. A coincidence.

(Never mind that this is the one day out of the last two months that you ended up at Dirk's apartment, instead of him coming to hang with you and Karkat. Never mind that he showed right after you got here. Bro didn't plan this. It's a goddamn coincidence.)

Coincidence or no, Dirk and his bro—the guy said to call him D when he came in, grinned and nodded at Bro and said something about less chance for confusion but you weren't totally listening—Dirk and D moved into the main room a couple minutes ago and you've been left in the kitchen with Bro. And Hal. You keep forgetting about Hal because he's doing that thing where he sits still enough that he's somehow inconspicuous (despite being perched cross-legged on the counter) and just watches behind those familiar pointy shades.

Actually, Hal is both a contributing factor to your state of anxiety and the only reason you're as calm as you are right now. You trust him, but god damn do you wish he'd move. Like, at all.

Even though he's literally sitting two feet from you, you decide to text him. Mostly because you feel like speaking is going to invite Bro to do something other than just stand there looking...well, looking like he can't be bothered to take any notice of you or anything other than his phone.

TG: okay hal i love you but its time to quit doing an impression of a fucking statue unless you want me to see if you keep it up when i smack you

You can't see the notification pop up on his shades, but as soon as you send the message Hal looks over at you, nods slightly, and uncoils himself to sit on the counter more like a normal person and less like some weird yogi.

That movement's enough to attract Bro's attention. (You don't know what else you expected.) He just stares at Hal for a minute, though, and you actually start to hope he's not going to start shit. Then he nods at the T-shirt Hal's got on—a gift from Roxy, you're pretty sure; it's striped pink, yellow, and blue, with jagged black letters that spell out "Pansexual And Fabulous" across his chest. "So, what? You wanna date cookware?"

You actually want to die a little right now. You know Bro, he's got a strategy here and it's going to end up with him getting Hal wound up enough to walk out of the room and leaving the two of you alone—

But Hal just grins. "Well, I'm not attracted to pans," he says, sliding a few inches to the left and causally holding out one hand towards the stove. You can hear the faint hum as he activates the electromagnets in his palm, and Bro must hear it too because he flash-steps out of the way a second before the frying pan Dirk's left on the stovetop first rattles, then flies up to smack into Hal's hand with a satisfying clang. "They're attracted to me under the right conditions, though, so..."

Before you think about what the fuck you're doing, you laugh, and almost immediately choke it back as Bro looks over at you. Fuck. Before he can say or do anything, though, two things happen.

One, you hear Dirk from the other room— "Yo, Dave, c'mere for a sec?"

Two, a text notification from Hal comes up in the corner of your shades. As you turn to head into the other room and open the notif, Hal says smoothly, "So you're from the version of Houston that wasn't destroyed and underwater, right? I don't have as much data as I'd like about it—"

Hal's message is short and simple, and you finish reading before you reach the door.

AI: I'm going to just give you an out here, since you're obviously not going to walk out on your own before you have a panic attack. I don't mind keeping this douchebag busy.

Holy fuck you owe Hal big time.

Dirk and D are both sitting on the floor by the coffee table. D's going through what looks like a box of loose photos, a goofy-ass grin on his face, and Dirk's tapping his fingers against the floor, with the familiar abstracted look that means he's reading messages off his shades. D turns that grin on you as you walk in, holding up a fan of pics. Pics of your kids, mostly, and the fact that Dirk's got that many photos of them on hand almost overrides the shitty half of your emotions for a second.

"They're so fucking cute," D says as you come to sit down and snag a random handful of pics off his lap. "Like holy fuck, I don't know if it's just the whole alternate-selves shit acting up, like I just have the same tastes you do, but these guys? Amazing. Perfection. And your guy, the alien, Karkat, if you haven't put his picture in the dictionary next to 'hot as hell' yet I'm not sure what you think you're doing."

"Believe me, I'd do that in a heartbeat if he wouldn't murder me for it." Okay, looking at the pics of your family definitely works as a calming measure. And the ones of Dirk looking like an idiot help too, honestly. "So Dirk filled you in on everything?"

D nods, but it's Dirk that actually answers. "He didn't really need all that much filling in. Bro actually did an okay job of something for once." He pushes his shades up to rest on top of his hair, giving you a somewhat-guilty smile. "Hal just got done chewing me out for leaving you in there with him. You alright?"

Damn, it's that obvious? You can't help but glance over at D, who's still leafing through photos, before you answer. "Fine. I'm fine. Of course I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be alright?" Yeah, that's defensive enough that they totally won't question it. Great job at staying cool, Dave.

Dirk just blinks.

"Because he's an asshole, maybe?" D doesn't look up, but he does pass you a couple more pics of Karkat and the kids. "I mean, I spent a week with him and I can tell he's not fucking right, if he raised you I can totally see how you might have. Issues."

Despite the pause, he manages to keep his tone surprisingly casual. If it was anybody but you listening, that tiny edge of anger might not be noticeable.

So D knows about how Bro is, to some extent. From him, not from you or Dirk, even if your mind immediately points out that Bro would definitely blame you if he found out that D knew.

"Anyway," D says, looking up from the photos spread across his lap and offering you a quick, reassuring smile, "I'm just gonna ask again, just in case I might get a different answer than lil' bro here—you sure you're alright?"

Dirk huffs when D calls him lil' bro, but he sits back on his heels and waits for you to answer instead of contesting it. And this time you do actually think before you answer, even if you come up with a variant on the same response.

"I, uh...yeah. I'm okay." Little shaken up. Nothing happened, though, he didn't say a word to you, didn't fucking look at you for more than sixty seconds total, you don't have a fucking reason to not be okay. "Just as long as I don't gotta be in the same room with him again, I'm fine."

Dirk just barely smiles. "Hal's working on getting rid of him. I give him five minutes before he snaps, and that's a generous estimate."

Bro snapping is really fucking high on the list of things you don't want to be anywhere near, though. You open your mouth to tell Dirk as much, and snap it shut hard enough to hurt your jaw as the door to the hall slams. "Fuck—"

It's a good thing you don't carry your sword everywhere anymore. You're halfway through the flinch and your hands are trying to close around a hilt that isn't there when D touches your shoulder, and if you had a weapon you would've fucking hurt him. As it is, you balance between hitting him and not hitting him for a second and a half, manage to choose the latter, and try really hard not to just curl up in a fucking ball.

"Holy shit," D mutters, and Dirk reaches over to pull his hand off you as Hal comes in.

At least Hal looks pleased with himself. "Yeah, he's just a little easier to get mad than you," he says as he sits down on the coffee table, tossing the frying pan from hand to hand. "Then again, I don't think he realized what I was doing, so that might have had something to do with it." He cocks his head, frowns, and adds, "Kind of looks like I should've wound him up a little less, though. Sorry, Dave."

"I'm fine." He's gone, so you really are. Or will be. Same difference.

Dirk slides his shades down and starts tapping his fingers again. "I'll make sure he gets that we're still not all that interested in him, don't worry..."

You could point out that you're not worried, not even a little bit, you're totally fine. Or... "Thanks, man." And you pull the box of pics over and start digging out the very best ones, the stupidest, most adorable ones of Dirk that're always at the bottom, and handing them to D for inspection.

By the time Dirk figures out what's happening D's almost in tears from trying not to laugh at them, and Hal's leaned over almost enough to be worrying, grinning down in obvious approval.

God, you love these guys. Holy fucking shit.

#Dave #hal #bro #Dirk #d strider #Striders #post canon Striders series

2 notes · View notes

writingismyhappytime · 7 years

Text

There is no Ryder without Jaal Ama Darav: Part 4

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3,

“Approximant Remnant ship dynamics, SAM?” Kallo asked the ever helpful AI.

We did it. Sara thought, heart beating rapidly against her chest. They found enough points in the surge to find Meridian.

“Building predictive mode.” SAM answered. She felt a surge through their connection, he was as excited for this as she was

“Between the Remnant city, Meridian, and however the Scourge fits in...pardon my Martian, but it's all weird as shit.”

Sara gave Suvi a tired laugh. “Weird doesn't even cover it, but do we have everything we need?”

“You certainly got us enough, all right: the key to it all. In here.” Suvi’s voice held its own excitement.

“The mother of all navigational aids.” Kallo added.

“Take that back to the Remnant city, find the override, and their ships will fly the same vector as Meridian.” Suvi.

“With correction for the Scourge, you’ll have its exact location.” SAM corrected but his robotic voice was full of confidence.

Sara clenched her fist, “The heart of the vault network. We can do this.” Though that last part was more for herself then Kallo or Suvi.

“Kallo.”

“Already ahead of you pathfinder.” He said as he began plotting a course to the Remnant city.”

Sara didn’t move from her spot as they speed toward the Civki system. SAM informed the crew to prepare to leave, to make any last messages they needed just incase they didn't make it back.

“It feels different coming back here now.” Kallo words were uncertain as he spoke.

“It is different.” Sara replied.

Her heart pounded faster as the Remnant city came into view. This was really happening. After the fighting and the loses, they were finally going to be able to fix the worlds, to bring the Kett to there knees.

Suvi interrupted Sara's thoughts. “SAM’s marked a potential override for the Remnant ship control. A tower with its own energy grid.”

“It may be one of the controls hat deployed Meridian. And the means to find it again.”

“Keep her steady.” Sara ordered Kallo before turning to the airlock to grab her gear. She normally wore her Initiative armor but she looked over at the locker where a gift from Kandros laid.

Opening the locker she pulled out the heavy box giving it a hug before opening it up.

Shiney, black, N7 armor along with a handwritten card stared up at her.

Kandros, that secretly thoughtful Turian, had taken her father's armour that the Hyperion had thrown in storage and changed it to fit her.

She picked up the card.

Dear Sara,

I hope I haven't crossed a line by doing this but it seemed a waste to leave your father's armor in storage collecting dust. At least now he will be with you, protecting you and his grandchild, even if he can't be here in body.

He will be here in spirit.

If you ever need to talk, remember i'm here pathfinder.

Tirian Kandros

Sara wiped a tear away, before setting the card down and grabbing the helmet grabbing the helmet and pressing it to her forehead.

“I miss you, dad.” Taking a deep breath, Sara gave a shake of her head before putting the armour on.

Kallo dropped Sara, Jaal, and Drack off at the entres of the Remnant city.

“Everything looks right Pathfinder. Find the override, apply the hardware, and the Remnant will fly the same vector as Meridian.”

Jaal turned to her as they stepped onto the Remnant ship. “And all our work together will pay off.” He looked down at her stomach. The armour hid the small bump. “Ready, dearest?”

“Born ready, love.” Sara tried to sound confident but her stomach was turning.

Drack pulled out his weapon. “Then let’s do this.”

Taking a deep breath, Sara pulled out her sniper rifle and began walking forward. “Tempest, we're going in.”

The trio was cautious as they enter the ship. They had expected the Kett to be crawling around the ship but they were nowhere to be seen. Even the remnant seem to have all but disappeared. It was much to quiet.

“Quiet so far, but something is off.”

“Orbital scan identified a separate energy grid within the tower. ” SAM announced to the group.

“So that means?” Drack asked taking his potions at Sara’s left while Jaal began looking around.

“Defences here may not be on our side anylonger.” Using her omnitool, Sara called out her own white Remnant bot, Tiger she had named it after her old cat from earth, that she and Peebee had been working on. It squealed when it saw her and began hovering above the group, ready to strike.

They made their way forward. Jaal staying as close as he could without getting in the way of Sara’s gun.

“155 meters to over ride controls.”

Sara motioned to the door ahead of them. “Through that door and stay alert.”

They got 20 feet in before Remnant descended upon them.

“Tiger, cover Drack!” Sara commanded the bot as she jumped to the highest ledge taking out the Observers that were flying trying to shoot at Jaal.

A loud whoop drew her attention directly below her as she saw Drack smash one Assembler into another one. “Take that you stupid remnant.”

She scoffed as she watched Tiger shoot down a Breacher before it could shoot in on the old Krogan. “Don’t get excited you almost went to an early grave old man!”

Jaal jumped to the ledge opposite of her, taking out another Breacher, this one however was out for her. “Both of you! Pay more attention!”

Before she could respond, She was forced back into cover as two Nullifiers pinned her down. “Drack get the attention of the one on the left, Jaal right! Tiger and I will take them out.”

As they moved into position, Sara pulled out her one clip, destroy everything in its path, sniper aiming at the Nullifiers head. Once they had the remnants attention Sara fired, her bullet going right through its head, the Nullifier dropping the the ground with a loud thunk, sparks flying out of the whole in its head.

Seeing that Tiger hadn't yet finished off the other one, she quickly reload her gun and shot it through its glowing red ‘eye’. It dropped with a hard thunk as well.

“Everyone alive?” She yell jumping down beside the boys.

Tiger gave her a happy squeaked, as the boys nodded reloading their guns.

“Good, we must be close to the controls we need to move.”

They made their way up the ramp and into a gigantic room that held a single control module right in the center.

“Controls are a head. Projections suggested multiple lunch bays and possible links to Meridians deployment.” SAM’s voice was filled with more excitement then she knew the AI could muster.

Jaal was excited as well. “We are so close, after so much fighting.”

Heart threatening to beat out of her chest, Sara put away her gun as she placed her free hand over stomach. “Here it is boys, and girl. If we find the override then the remnant will show us the way.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Sara asked her AI. “SAM, everything ready?”

“All relevant data is queued for uplink.”

“Thank you. I couldn’t do it without you SAM.”

There was a pause. “Nor I you, Sara.”

She smiled, turning to her comrades, who were close to her, protective, always there. “Alright guys, lets get this shit a going.”

Sara placed her hand on the console, closing her eyes as she began to feel the ever-so-strange pull of the remnant on her mind.

“Remnant ships have lifted off. They are following the override vector.”

She opened her eyes to see the map in front of her, places began to glow as ships began to go toward one location that looked to be on the edge of Andromeda. “The surge is moving, but their going through it so easily. Could the Jardan have made the Surge as some safety measure that only allows Remnant to go through incase they ever were to return.”

“Unknown Pathfinder, but they seem to be going to Meridian. If we follow it may lead to some insite into the matter.”

Sara nodded, pushing her curiosity aside. Questions can be asked later for now getting to Meridian was priority.

“That's Meridian?” Drack asked sounding less than impressed by the old looking black sperh. “Look’s strange.”

Jaal, on the other hand sounded sceptical. “Can this be correct? The data says It’s hollow.”

“A self contained seed world.” SAM explained to them. “It is the heart of the vault network, and when reactivated, every connected planet will be affected. It is the means to making Helaus home, Pathfinder.”

Sara felt the tears pool as she turned to her friends. “This is the day that everyone has hoped and worked so hard for.”

“Congratulations, Pathfinder.”

Sara eyes widened at the sound of that voice.

No. No. NO!

THe Archon had found them.

She felt a jolt of pain in her neck where SAM was located, sending her to her knees.

“A great day for us all.”

“Sara!” Jaal grabbed her before she hit the ground, pulling her close to him. “What's happening Sara?”

“SAM? Tempest, What's happening?” She gasped pain blowing up everywhere on her body. Holding tightly onto Jaal, Sara tried making her way to the open door while the Archon spoke in her head.

“I believed you a fitting rival, but you are a false thing. A lie.”

Sara let out a whimper as a sudden, and painful, shock come from her stomach traveling through her body.

“Sara.” Jaal voice filled with worry as he pressed a gentle hand to her stomach. Drake came around letting Sara lean all her weight on the both of them her feet barely lifting off the floor.

“Tempest. Now.” She gasped through a clenched jaw as another bolt fired around her insides.

“Once I saw what made you special,” The Archon continued. “Your connection. I know how and when to take it from you. I let you find Meridian. And now i'll take your SAM to weaponize it. All Haleus will be exalted, or, one by one your worlds will die - starting with Eos.”

They were so close to the door now. Only 7 more feet.

“All I need to start is an implant like yous.”

6 feet.

“And thanks to you memories.”

5 feet.

“I know who else has one.”

4 feet.

“Another reason to take the Hyperion.” As he finished there only way out closed before them.

“No, no, no.” Sara cried as Drack carefully released her before running over to bet on the door

Jaal laid her against the wall, chanting over and over again, you're going to be okay.

But the last thing Sara head before she fell into darkness was the Archon.

“Fall into darkness, Pathfinder. You were almost worthy.”

-Lady The Monster

#mass effect jaal #mass effect #mass effect andromeda #Jaal #jaal ama darav #jaal x ryder #jaal romance #sara ryder #sara #kett #archon #tiran kandros #nakmor drack #drack #sam #tempest #i really #really #hate tages

27 notes · View notes

del-fi · 7 years

Text

Eulogy for my father

I wrote this two months ago, as my dad died on January 29. but attending yesterday’s climate march pushed me to post it publicly (dad was a co-laureate on the IPCC Nobel for his work on climate adaptation). This one’s for you, Dad.

Dad told me, a long time ago, that he didn’t want a funeral. That if he had anything, he wanted to have a party - that a good party was much cheaper than even a cheap casket. And that it better have good music, good food, and good drink, and it shouldn’t have any speeches.

Now, we’re violating that last request. Because he also told me, the same day, that these kinds of events are for the living. That what we hope to achieve at an event like this is to help us, not to help the deceased. To help us process the loss, to help us integrate the incredibly sudden, and completely final, absence of someone we loved into our new lives.

That was the day of his mom’s – my grandmother’s – funeral. I was in my mid twenties. I’d missed my maternal grandmother’s funeral, living in France at the time, and I never met any of my male grandparents, so that was the first time I had to confront a close death. He was trying to help me, even as he suffered. And those words have stuck with me to this day, and I’m going to try to honor him in this eulogy, but I’m also trying to pass along that gift of assistance. To help all of us through that process.

This was very hard to write. In the end, we realized that for a lot of people, Dad was a certain type of person. A work colleague, a husband, a parent, a friend. But not that many people knew all the sides of Dad. For a lot of reasons, he often kept those pieces separate from one another. But the thing about Dad is that the more you knew of him, the better it got. So I’m going to tell some stories about Dad, so that we can all walk out of here tonight with a more complete picture of him. So that we can integrate the fullness of him into our memories, and keep him there as we process his absence here on earth.

Uncle Dana just gave you a sense of what Dad was like as a big brother. And I have some sense of that time in his life as well. I loved to pester him with questions about where he came from, what shaped him. And he was usually elliptical – he’d answer personal questions with philosophy, most of the time. But I got enough out of him over the years, especially after I became a father as well, to tell you a few things.

First, he loved greenery. I mean, he loved it. He loved the mountains, and the woods. Hated the damn beach, but would do anything to spend summer weeks in Colorado in the high alpine forests, and he loved the green drive to the lab from west Knoxville. It bugged him that Middelbrook Pike got built up, because it took away from the absolutely all-surrounding green. I got him a little lit up on wine one night in Boston, early in my relationship with Carolina, and pushed him on it a little.

He told me that he lived for a long time in dry, dusty places, in a dry and dusty time after the Depression. He talked about being a night worker at the Ace Motel, a disreputable place on the south side of Oklahoma City, and the dust blowing constantly in the wind, he talked about Canyon Texas, he talked about building a cabin high on a mountaintop in Taos (the one thing he loved out of the dry, it seemed), and more. And then he said when he came to Tennessee for the first time, it was almost overwhelming how green it was. That it reminded him of Mason OH, which was the closest thing he had in his mind to “home” as a child, even though he never lived there. That it reminded him of spending a summer in a work camp in Switzerland, which had been an escape from other summers working as an elevator repairman, or at a Sears warehouse. That the simple pleasure of green was actually a piece of his decision to join the Lab back in the late 70s.

He wasn’t as purely rational as he liked to seem, you see. He was just good at hiding his emotions.

Another thing is that Dad was tough as hell. Physically and mentally. I’m guessing that a lot of his work colleagues saw the mental toughness, in his ability to produce work at a rate that seems almost impossible for one person. But it wasn’t just mental.

Dad went through college on an ROTC scholarship, which meant he had to muster into the regular Army on graduation to pay it back with service. He was not a typist, it’s safe to say – he joined the infantry as an officer, he went through Airborne school successfully, and then through Ranger school successfully. Five people died in the Ranger course he took – mostly through drowning while carrying heavy loads and dangerously deprived of sleep.

Dad didn’t like to talk about that experience much. I did get a great story out of him once though: each Ranger candidate was going to be assigned leadership of a commando unit once over the course of seven days, and if you made any mistakes when you were leading the unit, you washed out. Thanks to other candidates making mistakes, Dad got taken prisoner at one point, hogtied and his mouth filled with mud – this was in a swamp, and the regular army guys holding the high ground would get a week’s leave if they kept the Ranger candidates away. When he got his shot, he hadn’t slept in four days. But he was able to keep it together and they took the high ground.

What he talked about was how you could force your mind to override your body, to a certain extent. How that ability was something that distinguished success from failure all across life – to show up when others didn’t, to perform when others were tired, to perform under pressure when others cracked. How that ability came from practice, from willpower, and to a certain extent, from good luck – the luck to be physically and mentally stable. How if you had that luck, it was your job to use it.

We saw that throughout life with Dad, for things as simple as driving through the night to get to the beach. But it was very evident after he got sick. He fought through three surgeries, atrial fibrillation, multiple bouts with pneumonia, a stomach tube that constantly fell out and leaked gastric juices onto his skin, hospital-induced dementia, and indignities that I won’t go into in public. He lost his ability to speak, to eat, to drink – all things he loved desperately. And yet he fought on. He spent the last year of his life writing a new book, called Living With Climate Change, which will be published soon – the beginning of the prologue is in your programs. He finished it just a few weeks before his death.

A lot of people pretend to be tough. Dad taught us that really tough people don’t need to advertise. That you can figure out who they are just by watching and seeing – do they show up? Do they crack? Are they reliable?

Dad always showed up, and Dad didn’t crack. He was tough as nails. The old paratrooper fought and worked til the very damn end.

A third thing about Dad was that he could contain in his head an incredible number of ways to see. He could look at a problem and not be boxed in by one way of seeing it – he was the opposite of a lot of what we have in politics today, in that way, on either side.

When he wanted to learn about something, he would read everything he could get his hands on. He’d read the stuff that everyone read, but he’d also go to extremes to find other points of view, including ones he disagreed with. When I was young I learned my way around a library by helping him chase down books, papers, chapters, cartoons, you name it – and I learned at the same time that being able to hold several positions in my head at once meant I could see way more dimensions than people who got trained to hold one position.

This is the skill that let him see the long game, which let him marry complex theoretical work to real world implications. That’s what let him look at the Green Revolution in India – a revolution about food crops – and see a future world full of crises for energy and land and sustainability. That’s what let him look at climate change and immediately jump to thinking about what it meant for humans to adapt to that change. That’s what led him to think about how geography impacts terrorism, and a full decade of deep work with the Defense Department.

Because he didn’t want to just think about a single position and write a paper about it. He wanted to use his understanding to improve people’s lives. To anticipate problems and have solutions sitting, ready, when they were needed.

He would have cackled at the news in the past two weeks of the infrastructure failures at the Oroville Dam in California. That’s precisely the kind of thing he anticipated, the way that climate change meant normal things like droughts would get more extreme, and that the end of the drought would mean even more extreme rains, and that infrastructure built for non-extreme events would therefore fail in predictable ways that could be planned for. And he loved being right – it meant that he had stared through the problem and seen its bones.

Dad was also a deeply artistic guy. He channeled a lot of that into work – you can see it in his writing, especially his writing for broad audiences. But there was a deeper artistic sense in there, one that not everyone maybe knew about. He consumed more music and more books than anyone I’ve ever met – across a dizzying array of genres and styles. He read high literature and low literature, fancy books and dimestore mysteries. He loved latin jazz, bluegrass, new Orleans music, rock and roll, classical music, anything you could imagine.

I think if he’d been a little more willing to risk himself he’d have been a lot more of an artist. He had perfect pitch (if he hadn’t gotten stuck playing trombone he might have stuck with performing). And he was an incredible writer. He wrote a small history of his family tree for Lisa and me nearly twenty years ago and it’s full of just incredible sentences, like this one about a small town called Pikeville KY, where they lived when he was young:

“I remember Saturday movies, (with suspenseful serials, sort of young-male-oriented-soap-operas), sledding in wintertime, coal fires in the fireplace in the winter, Christmas time in the local Presbyterian church (the minister’s daughter was my fourth-grade girlfriend!), Kentucky basketball on the radio, and the taste of honeysuckle.”

That’s the way a writer remembers a place. I wish he’d written more about non work things. He told me once that he wanted to write novels but was afraid of being as honest as he’d need to be for them to be good.

He loved fine dining – for the past 25 years, he reveled in taking me and Lisa out to dinner in DC and elsewhere, always showing up with detailed ideas and research on restaurants, dishes, even routes for the taxicabs. He loved to eat. Losing that ability was one of the great insults of the past three years. And boy did he love wine. He’d be glad we have it tonight. Some of my best memories with dad involve food and wine, and I’m deeply sad that Noah won’t get to know him that way as he grows up. It’s weird to think I’ll play that role for him, because Dad played it so well.

He was incredible with kids. He was a very physical grand-dad – down on the floor, rolling around, playing the fool, doing anything for a laugh. One of his favorite yearly traditions was to spend November collecting details about what everyone was into that year, and assembling incredibly personal stockings for each of us on the couch, full of personal touches. He spent a hundred hours a year on it, easily.

Now, he wasn’t perfect. He was human, and no human is perfect. I won’t dwell on his flaws, but I will say that God help you if you got in the way of his trips to WalMart. He’d start snorting – he always did that when he was good and mad – sounding like a congested dragon. And his very toughness and emotions could sometimes blind him a little bit to the struggles that characterize our own lived experiences – he told me that himself once.

But that toughness was on the balance something that was a good trait for Dad. It carried him through the fight with cancer. He was always grateful to his care team – Dr Carlson, Dr Stephenson, Dr Locasio, Dr Mancini, just to name a few – and the entire universe of everyone who supported him as he tried to find his way back from the abyss of summer 2014. Even in the hospital, stripped of his ability to speak or eat or drink, he would grab the white board to ask a nurse how he or she was doing in writing.

OK, I’m pretty sure that if he’s somewhere watching, he’s making the dragon breathing. He didn’t want long speeches, or a funeral. He wanted a party with live music and I’m now officially in the way. So I’ll wrap up.

I don’t know how Dad would have felt about this. I hope he would have liked it. But, as I said at the start, he also told me these events are about the living. We retell the story of the one we have lost, and fit our own stories into that story, as part of how we process and integrate their loss into our ongoing lives. And in that memory, we can keep a piece of them alive, in us, by connecting our stories to their stories. By telling those stories over time, looking at those photographs, watching those videos, eating those foods, reliving the memories.

So thanks to all of you for coming. Don’t stop telling stories about Dad. Don’t stop looking at photos, or watching videos, or eating those foods. Because as long as you keep him alive in your mind and your heart, he’s not gone. And that’s the best possible way for us to honor him – to say his name, and to live like he lived.

2 notes · View notes

nebris · 5 years

Text

How Cleaning Out My Hoarder Mother-in-Law’s Junk Caused My Own Marriage to Crumble

As we plowed through decades of her extreme clutter, I began to notice similar tendencies in my husband. And once I saw the hoarder in him, there was no turning back.

There’s a snapshot Aiden took of me a few days after our wedding on Christmas Eve, 2009. I’m standing outside his mother’s house wearing disposable coveralls, gloves, and a particulate mask. In the background is a dumpster. The ground is thick with dead, brown palm fronds. I am beaming at the camera.

I wished so much that I could have met Ruth, my mother in law. I knew she was a bright, adventurous woman who never found work to suit her lively intelligence. She was a 1960’s housewife fascinated by history and art and ideas. She loved dogs. She suffered from untreated depression and agoraphobia.

The day Ruth died, her family just locked up the house and walked away. Now, five years later, it’s still standing empty. Aiden worries about it. I worry about him. No one, I think, should have to clear out a parent’s house alone. His brothers are no help at all.

“You and I can do it together,” I say. “It’ll be our honeymoon. We’ll take a month and just get it done.”

And now we’re here.

The front door opens into the living room — an ironic name for such an uninhabitable place. I’ve never seen anything like this. There are LPs, stained mattresses, mountains of canned food, ripped cushions, dog crates, and hundreds upon hundreds of boxes. All fading back into the darkness. The smell is beyond staleness or rot. It’s the stench of sickness, of time lost.

I’d fantasized about meeting my mother in law. Now I’m getting my wish, but in the most macabre way. As I dig through her belongings, I feel I’m excavating Ruth herself. Every room in that house — every pile of garbage, every broken sofa, every packed closet — seems saturated with her spirit. Each stratum we uncover reveals more of the woman who raised my husband — a woman whom I will otherwise never know.

I haven’t yet heard of obsessive-compulsive hoarding. I have no idea that there’s a clinical name for what I’m looking at. I only know that Ruth’s house feels like a map of a disturbed mind.

Why, I wonder, is the floor of the den covered in newspapers three feet deep?

“That’s for the dogs,” Aiden explains, as if it makes perfect sense. We start hacking the newspaper out, a job that requires pickaxes and shovels. Clouds of powdered filth fill the air. The whole thing is a petrified matt of paper, urine and excrement. Decades ago, Ruth crammed her ever-growing collection of dogs — eighteen? twenty? — into this single modest-sized room and left them to do their thing. When the floor got bad, she simply added another layer of paper.

In another room, I find notebooks. Boxes of them, all densely crammed with faint, microscopic handwriting. They’re lists of words.

“Oh, Mom was always learning languages,” Aiden tells me. Some of the word-lists are in English. Others are in Spanish, German, Polish, Norwegian. Clearly the work of an intelligent and gifted person. The thing is, I can’t see anyone actually using them for anything. They’re barely legible. It’s as if Ruth was collecting words just for the sake of having them.

Further in, there’s a stack of maybe thirty cardboard boxes, wrapped in paper and swathed in packing tape. What was Ruth storing with such special care? Even with my mat knife, it takes a long time to get the first one open. I tear off the paper. Underneath there’s more tape. Then tissue paper. Gently, I turn back the layers.

Palm fronds. The box is full of dead palm fronds from the yard outside, carefully folded and packed.

I spend the next hour cutting open more boxes. They all contain more of the same. As I work, I keep twisting to glance behind me.

Back in the den I find Aiden crouched down, frowning at the heaps of crud that we’ve hacked out of the floor.

“We need to go through all this by hand,” he says earnestly.

I stare. “You mean the whole room? All of it?”

“There could be something important buried here,” he says. “Get a bag.”

I get a bag. As I start sifting, I try to think of something to say. We can’t do this. We’ll never get through it all. This is crazy.

I pry up a wad of rat-chewed newsprint. Underneath, gazing up at me, are Aiden’s eyes.

It’s a photograph, half buried in the muck. It can’t be Aiden, though.

The picture is old, taken maybe around 1920. But the resemblance is eerie. Same curly brown hair, same beautiful eyes. The guy is obviously a relative. Aiden has no idea who he is.

Later on, we show the picture to Aiden’s dad. “That’s your Great Uncle Norman,” he says. “He had some problems.” Problems? Apparently, Ruth’s uncle committed suicide sometime before the Second World War.

I’m sorry to hear it. But what really disturbs me is the vision of my sweetie buried under a pile of garbage in that house. Those eyes, hidden down there for decades. Sad eyes. A genetic heritage.

At the end of January, after about a month of excavation, we run out of time. The whole process has been traumatic for Aiden, and to what end? We’ve filled one corner of the dumpster, which means we’ve thrown away the equivalent of about one closet’s worth of stuff. The rest of the house we leave as it was, relocking the door behind us. I feel defeated. Aiden is silent.

Back in London, our cluttered apartment is starting to worry me.

“I’m remodeling, so everything’s kind of up in the air,” Aiden had told me months before, the first time I saw where he lived: before it became where we lived. I’d been impressed to learn that he was doing all the work himself. Naturally the place was messy now, I thought. I could see it was going to be beautiful when it was done.

But time passed, and the remodel began to seem like the labor of Sisyphus: a project that could absorb any amount of time and work without ever reaching completion.

Now we’ve returned from California and moved into a construction site. It’s uncomfortable. There’s no room for my stuff. Aiden urges patience as he keeps accumulating tools and crates and building materials salvaged from neighborhood trash cans. One night, I come home and am bewildered to see what looks like a pile of car parts in the living room.

I’m starting to understand that, for my husband, the chaos of the remodel is not a temporary stage on the way to a cozy shared living space. It’s the way he lives.

When I shake out a blanket, clouds of dust and mold fly up. We have fleabites. Without consulting me, Aiden adopts two dogs, which are never housebroken. Now I have to wear clogs all day, stepping over puddles on my way to the kitchen.

I offer to do all the cleaning myself. “This is not your project,” Aiden responds. I try to negotiate for one clutter-free room. For the first time, I see my husband truly furious. Once, I rearrange a couple of pictures on the wall. After that, Aiden doesn’t speak to me for a week. He feels that I’m a feckless control freak. I feel unwelcome and unvalued. Much as I love him, I’m sliding into chronic depression. Angry depression.

Through it all I can’t get Ruth, or her house, out of my mind.

Finally, two years later, our marriage ends. I’ve been fighting hard to clear away the obstacles — physical and emotional — that stand between us. To Aiden, I’ve realized at last, my efforts feel like an attack on the core of his being.

The hoarder crowds his life with rubbish in an effort to keep other things out of his life. Things like spontaneity, and the spiritual intimacy reflected in a shared living space. Love and friendship don’t stand a chance. The need to barricade oneself — literally and psychologically — overrides everything else.

I grieved our loss for a long time. But today I’m sitting in a tranquil room full of clean surfaces. There’s open space. There’s sunlight. I luxuriate in having exactly what I need and no more — my books, my teakwood desk, my glass pen jar. Best of all, my thoughts have room to spread and blossom.

Freya Shipley is a writer, editor, and speech coach in the San Francisco Bay Area, where she works with a wide range of freelance clients in all three fields. Freya loves helping individuals and organizations develop communication skills that do justice to their ideas.

https://getpocket.com/explore/item/how-cleaning-out-my-hoarder-mother-in-law-s-junk-caused-my-own-marriage-to-crumble?utm_source=pocket-newtab

0 notes