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imadetheline · 4 years

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if we love, we must learn to forgive

Fandom: The Old Guard

Pairing: Joe/Nicky

Title is a quote by Jennifer M. (refinnej)

Summary: Joe needs time to forgive Booker. Nicky knows this and makes sure he has that time.

...

Nicky notices Joe’s restlessness soon after Booker’s banishment. He’ll sit down on a lazy day to watch the game and he’ll ask Nile if she wants to watch with him. And sometimes she’ll shoot Andy a look, but will sit down and watch. Other times, she’s busy and will politely decline. When that happens Nicky sees Joe’s eyes dart sideways when a goal is scored, or a player is injured, only to be met with an empty chair.

Nicky too, is saddened at the absence. He misses the loud and friendly rivalry that had sprung from their love of soccer, the easy camaraderie they had all been lacking.

But more than any of them, Booker had been Joe’s best friend. His betrayal had hit Joe the hardest. Which had only made Nicky angrier.

Joe is the kindest of all of them. Nicky makes sure to practice kindness, but it seems to come naturally to Joe. His affection is like sunlight pouring from him, overflowing, without thought of how much he gives away. He is generous without thinking, the first to laugh, the first to understand.

This capacity for warmth also means he is the first to anger, the first to yell, when that warmth grows into a burning fire. He cannot help his kindness as he cannot help his anger. He is a beautiful mix of emotions and Nicky revels in the warmth, no matter the amount of heat.

He is also the quickest to forgive, another wonderful contradiction. The fire in his soul burns bright as a bonfire in anger but it soon burns itself out, left only with smoldering embers and forgiveness.

Nicky knows his anger is far less kind and forgiving, especially where Joe’s wellbeing is concerned. His anger turns to ice in his chest, enduring and practical. It would eventually thaw but he has lifetimes to feel the bracing chill.

He had seen the burning embers of understanding in Joe’s dark eyes in that pub with Booker standing outside, had listened to Nile’s easy forgiveness, had seen Joe’s shoulders slump in defeat. He knew Joe would give him far better than he deserved if only for the sake of Andy and Nile.

But Nicky also knew Joe had not yet fully forgiven Booker’s betrayal. Joe would allow him back into their lives and would ignore the still smoldering anger in his heart and their relationship would never fully repair. Nicky’s own anger also remained and he knew it was visible in his eyes as Andy glanced at him.

Then he spoke. “200 years.”

Joe’s head jerked up. “We can’t… that’s too long.”

The discussion continued and Nicky allowed them to talk him down as he knew they would. Joe needed time, to think, to truly forgive, before they all reunited and so did Nicky. This would grant them that.

They finally settled on 100 years of solitude. Joe glanced at Nicky as Andy left to tell Booker and nodded, smiling tightly, and Nicky knew it was a thank you. Nicky knew the 100 years wouldn’t last but it would last long enough for a fire to extinguish.

«««»»»

Over the years, Nile picks up writing letters to Booker regularly. She doesn’t hide it but she doesn’t discuss it either. Joe stops glancing to the side when he watches the game. Nicky watches Joe watch Nile writing letters. He watches Joe pick up his phone and put it down again too many times. He watches and waits.

And one day some 15 years later, it seems the fire in Joe’s heart has truly burned down enough to seek reconciliation.

Nicky looks up from his book to see Joe pacing, phone ringing in his hand. Joe’s fingers twitch as he raises the phone to his ear. Nicky can see the worry in his eyes. The phone stops ringing and it’s as if the air in the room has been sucked out. Joe stops pacing, rooted to the floor. Neither of them breathe. And then Nicky can hear a faint ‘Hey’ floating faintly out of the phones speakers.

“Hey, Book,” Joe half sighs, half chuckles. And then he’s walking out the front door of the safe house, phone clutched tightly to his ear.

Nicky softly shuts his book but doesn’t move from the couch. With Joe’s phone call he knows everyone except himself has forgiven Booker. He won’t let that stop Booker’s return. Just because he hasn’t forgiven him doesn’t mean he hasn’t missed him. And he had never been as close with Booker as Joe had. As long as Joe has forgiven him and wants him back, Nicky will acquiesce. His forgiveness will come in time. In the meantime, they can be a family again.

Joe comes back through the front door startling Nicky from his musings. Nicky just gestures to the couch next to him. Joe quickly throws himself down on it, sprawling across the couch and jostling Nicky as his head comes down to land in Nicky’s lap, just barely avoiding the book Nicky had quickly snatched up when he realized Joe’s intentions. He places it on the side table before letting his hand rest in Joe’s curls, slowly carding through them. Joe sighs and places the phone down on his stomach, resting his hand on top of it.

“How did it go?”

“Well I said I’d meet him in Paris in a week. Just to talk. But don’t tell Andy or Nile yet”

Nicky nods, “I won’t” and whispers softly, “Have you forgiven him?”

Joe tilts his head back so he can see Nicky’s face as he says, “I think I have.” Upon seeing the conflict in Nicky’s bright eyes he quickly adds, “But I won’t bring him back here. I… We made a decision.”

Nicky sees the sadness and resignation in his eyes. Booker hurt Joe, deeply. But if his return would make Joe happy Nicky would drag him back by his collar himself. “It’s fine with me,” then he smiles teasingly, “And I think you know where Nile and Andy stand.”

Joe grins wide but quickly sobers. “Have you forgiven him?” he asks. But Nicky knows Joe knows the answer. He can see it in the way Joe’s forehead tightens, the way his lips twitch down, the way they’ve both known each other for a millennium.

Nicky says it anyway, “No.” He shakes his head smiling softly, “But I will. And why deprive us all of a brother. It will take time but we will be a family again.” Nicky’s sure of it. And he knows it’s all worth it when Joe beams. It’s born of happiness but also relief.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you, Nicolò?” Joe chuckles as his hand snakes around Nicky’s neck, pulling him down to meet him.

“I believe you have,” Nicky laughs as he willingly leans down, “But once more never hurts.”

Joe laughs and then they’re kissing softly. And then the back door opens and the clatter of Nile and Andy returning from sparring fills the house. They don’t move even though Nicky’s back is starting to cramp from being hunched over. Joe seems to notice and pulls himself up so he’s sitting in Nicky’s lap, his lips never once leaving Nicky’s.

“Get a room, guys.”

Nicky glances up to see Nile standing in the doorway smiling.

Joe just huffs and says, “This is a room, Nile,” and proceeds to pull Nicky into another kiss.

Nile laughs and turns back to the kitchen yelling something about idiots in love to Andy.

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zodiyack · 4 years

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Lost On You

Requested by @jenepleurespasbaby: LP- Lost on you with Bill Skarsgard (angst) please! ❤️

(She changed her request to Tommy!)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x reader

Warnings: Angst, swearing, drinking, suggested smut, mature themes

Song: Lost On You by LP

Note: Lyrics = Bold + Italic | Memories Emphasis (just for this fic) = Italic

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace, @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @stydia4ever

masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

When you get older, plainer, saner, When you remember all the danger we came from. Burning like embers, falling, tender, Long before the days of no surrender, Years ago and well you know.

Smoke 'em if you got 'em, 'Cause it's going down, All I ever wanted was you. I'll never get to heaven; 'Cause I don't know how.

At first, Thomas seemed like a tough nut to crack. Probably someone who thought they were “too good” for a love life, to tough for soft and romantic moments, too good and perfect for any of that shit. But Y/n soon changed her mind when she was the one locking lips with Thomas Shelby. She was the one sitting on his lap at the Garrison. She was the one breathing heavily and cuddling into his side as soft aftercare once he came home for the betting shop.

He called it official.

He said it would last forever.

He said he loved her more than anything in the world.

Key words are important ya know. Said? That’s the key word here. He said all of those things, but failed to live up to them. Failed to keep them true.

It was a childish love to be honest. She was living the life of crime with him, and crime should never have a place in a child’s life. They grew up. Saw the things their child-like-admiration hid from them. She realized the wrongs that she let him get away with, though she loved him anyway, it was only when he ended it that she finally thought about any of it with her full mind.

The times she could’ve been killed. Just by associating with the man. But being his lover? Far more people wanted to kill her. But they couldn’t. They couldn’t touch Tommy’s woman or else he’d make sure half of fucking England would hear of a new death.

He called her his angel.

Told her he was the most beautiful woman he’d ever layed eyes on.

“Looks like your angel decided she’d rather journey to Hell than return to Heaven.” John joked, pointing to Y/n holding a gun to another man’s head as she winked at him seductively. He waved his extra glass to the woman, “Oi, Y/n!”

She walked over to them, tucking her gun away and clicking her tongue at the sight of Tommy with a new woman. She took the drink, downed it and smirked, “What? He was hiding things, and I wasn’t about to let my heart break...again.”

The woman furrowed her eyebrows and tilted her head at the sudden eye contact between Y/n and Tommy. The woman in front of her was absolutely gorgeous, flawlessly created, just as she really had been some kind of angel. She didn’t know how this woman was, or why she was staring at Tommy like she wanted to rip his head off, but her experience with Tom told her to ignore that pull of curiosity.

“I’ll be taking my leave now. Thanks for the drink, Johnny-boy.” And with that last drawled sentence, she walked out the Garrison and returned each night with even more beauty than before.

At least in Tommy’s opinion.

Let's raise a glass or two! To all the things I've lost on you, Oh oh! Tell me are they lost on you? Oh oh! Just that you could cut me loose, Oh oh! After everything I've lost on you! Is that lost on you? Oh oh! Is that lost on you? Oh oh! Baby, is that lost on you? Is that lost on you?

“Y/n.”

“Tommy.”

She came, expecting John to give her a usual drink, but this time it was just Tommy. Both their jaws clenched, they attempted to keep their composure.

“You’re an asshole, you know?”

“For what? Go on, darling, tell me how you’ve ruined every one of my relationships by coming here and giving me looks of hatred. Tell me how you flirt with my brother to get free drinks. Tell me how you can’t seem to get over m-”

She broke the glass in her hand with how hard she was gripping it. “You fucking bastard.” Her head lifted, Tommy finally able to see the puffy red eyes and shivering mouth she was hiding. “I lost everything. On you. I lost my ability to love myself. Because Tommy fucking Shelby stopped loving me. I lost my virginity to you asshole! I lost everything! And seeing you with new girls, I think I damn near lost my sanity.”

Tom couldn’t speak, not with how fast Y/n was to interrupt him.

“And you think, just for one fucking second, I’m ruining anything? I give you those looks because I long to be each woman who sits next to you in this bloody place. I don’t flirt with John. He fucking gives me free drinks because I told him what happened. I can’t seem to get over you because it’s true, I really can’t. You- ...you were my everything Tommy. And I lost my everything on you.”

She slammed the broken pieces of her shotglass onto the counter and flipped Tommy off, muttering a final, “Go to hell, you prick” and leaving the building, picking shards of glass out of her hand.

Wishing I could see the machinations, Understand the toil of expectations in your mind. Hold me like you never lost your patience, Tell me that you love me more than hate me all the time, And you're still mine.

So smoke 'em if you've got 'em, 'Cause it's going down. All I ever wanted was you. Let's take a drink of heaven, This can turn around.

She still returned to the bar.

Why?

Tommy didn’t know.

But she continued to return and return. However, this time? She was drunker than she’d ever been. Tommy was still left with the thoughts of their last conversation. It made his heart ache. And seeing her drunk out of her mind made it so much worse.

“T-Tom. Tommmyyy. Thomas. Y-you’ve got preeeeeetty eyes.” she drunkenly drawled. “Would you ple-please hold me?” Ju-just like you did before you decided I was t-too much.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“You s-said I t-took up too much of y-your time and that you didn’t have e-enough patience for my shit.”

Flashbacks to their last day as a couple swarmed Tommy’s mind. He realized how harsh and how much of an asshole he had been. He realized how wrong he was. He realized how in love with her he still was.

“So could y-you hold me? And m-maybe tell me that you love me, even i-if it’s not true. But please...please make it true Tommmmyy.”

Drunken words were sober thoughts.

But was she being honest?

Or was she sober saying random bullshit just to rub his mistakes in his face?

“Y/n...”

Her eyes glanced up to his, and her eyebrows furrowed with curiosity. “Yes Tom?”

He had so much on the line. He could lose everything. But... She said she lost everything. So why not make it up; by risking his everything. He decided “fuck it” and grabbed her chin, stealing a kiss from the pretty pump lips he never knew missed so much.

Their lips danced together. A dance they knew all too well. Her pink lips fit just perfectly with his. Soon it became heated; one tongue swiping another, hands where they would never be soberly, hidden feelings being revealed thanks to the drink of Heaven Tommy called Y/n’s lips.

They pushed through Tommy’s bedroom door, lips still connected. His hands remained on her hips, while her hands explored his hair. Call it hate sex if you want, but both of them admitted that they missed it and would do anything to experience it again.

After desperate grinding groping and pulling, Y/n pushed Tommy away from the dresser he sat her on. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “Tom... I can’t. Not if you don’t feel the same way. I’m not about to lose my fucking reputation on you too. There’s no way I’m gonna lose anything else to your beauty and charm.”

“W-what do you mean?” He was still catching his breath, standing only in his boxers and socks, admiring the sight of Y/n, barely even covered by her undergarments.

“This! I can’t fuck you and have you throw me to the side again. So if you want this as much as I do, then make sure you actually love me. Make sure I didn’t actually lose shit on you. Prove to me nothing’s actually lost on you.”

The man in front of her looked down at the floor, itching the back of his neck with a gaze that searched the floor for a few more seconds. Y/n sighed and got ready to hop of the wooden surface, spotting her dress and knowing it was her new mission to grab it and never see Tommy again.

That was.

Until he redirected the ship’s course back to him.

He grunted as his lips pressed to hers again, his tongue fighting for and winning the dominance he knew he already had. Y/n let out a small moan and Tommy ate it right up. His hands gripped the underside of her thighs, surely going to leave bruises, but this time, Tommy wasn’t gonna let anyone else see them. This time, the only bruises people would be able to see, were the ones those perfect lips of his leave on her neck. The only bruises other women would see, were the matching ones Y/n left behind on his.

Let's raise a glass or two! To all the things I've lost on you, Oh oh! Tell me are they lost on you? Oh oh! Just that you could cut me loose, Oh oh! After everything I've lost on you. Is that lost on you? Is that lost on you?

Their giggles rang through Tommy’s room as their heads hit his pillows. The room around her quickly became a place she was comfortable in, and being in Tommy’s arms quickly made her go through the memories they had together. “Tommy?”

“Yes?”

“Tell me, are they lost on you?”

He took a second, possibly to think, and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. “No. No they’re not. I fucking love you Y/n L/n, and I’m such a dumbass for ever hurting you or thinking that it was you who made me be the one to lose everything.”

“Thomas Shelby were a virgin and you just didn’t want me to know?”

“I-”

“You really were!”

“Still. Y/n, I thought I’d lost it at the wrong time...that was until tonight. I really do love you. I wanted you for a while too... All I ever wanted was you.”

“That’s my line, asshole...but I love you too. I always have...”

“I know.”

“Asshole.”

“I know that too.”

“I love you, even if you bully me...I think it’s cute.”

“I love you too. Now sleep, my sweet angel. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

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observedchaos · 4 years

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Fic: Favors the Brave (1/1) [Jaime x Brienne, Tyrion]

Posting so that I don’t chicken out of cleaning it up and posting to AO3 later

“WHAT DID YOU DO???”

Tyrion lifted his head muzzily from his desk to see Fury incarnate hovering over him.

Like every true sinner, a part of Tyrion had known that there would be a day of reckoning. What was a thrill without the threat of danger?

Though he had rather imagined his headsman resembling his father, not this...gargoyle having a bad hair day? Tyrion squinted with heroic effort but the haze of a proper hangover won.

"TYRION, WAKE UP, DAMN IT!"

Hmm, the sound of the Fury seemed familiar. Was it an ex? Gods, he hoped he wasn't so cliche. That would be humiliating. Wasn't his type more backstabber than frontstabber?

Who else, who else? He had always thought there was something off about Varys…

No, wait it was Brienne Tarth.

Tyrion patted her muscled arm in relief. Brienne was mighty but merciful. She would rescue him from the consequences of his ale-soaked misdeeds.

Whatever they may be.

Tyrion found he couldn't remember much at the moment. Only the most unshakeable pieces of identity remained: his name, the view straight up Father's flared nostrils when Tyrion delivered a perfect bon mot, and every curve of the '77 Playwench centerfold.

"WHAT DID YOU DO, TYRION?"

The question sank in that time. Sank in like an arrow right into his aching head. Words. He must find words to fend off Brienne's vicious volley.

Words, his old friends. He had dedicated his life to sowing adjectives, japes and invectives across the land. Rude of them not to bear fruit in his time of need.

Finally, a lone weed wound its way to the surface.

"Offended the gods," he croaked.

There. Those were words that resembled a sentence. Take that, foul Fury! Of course, his tongue was so dry it may have sounded more like "often the goths." In vino, visigoths, Tyrion chuckled to himself.

"There’s no time for this! What did you say to that woman??”

Brienne was implacable. It had been amusing when Jaime was the one to tease her into anger. Like watching a gladiator poke at a saintly lion. To think, his brother *liked* her this way. Jaime was a braver idiot than Tyrion had given him credit for.

"Woman?"

"The one time I need you to talk!" Brienne groaned in despair. She might have clutched her tragic hair. Tyrion was too busy trying not to puke to be sure. Brienne regrouped and fetched him a glass of water. Bliss.

"Tyrion, focus. Last night. You went inside that tent and when you came out you said that you 'fixed it.' What did you fix? What did you do to Jaime???"

"Jaime? Tent?"

"That stupid red tent at the carnival you MADE me go to last night! THINK, TYRION!!!"

How had he never noticed that her voice was more forceful than a battering ram? Merciful Mother.

"Not so loud, woman, please."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Does your head hurt? BECAUSE I WILL TAKE IT OFF YOUR NECK IF YOU DON'T TELL ME WHAT YOU DID!"

Shock that she was capable of sarcasm jolted his brain into gear. A very rusty third gear.

“Brienne, if you are going to be dramatic, then I will have to be sensible and no one wants that.”

Brienne hauled him forward by his shirt with such force that Tyrion felt his wing tipped shoes take flight. Their disparate sizes meant her hand nearly spread collar to cock. Fear shook him sober.

"Yes, ok. I am trying to remember. I swear it." Tyrion scrambled for purchase and details that would jog his memory. "We went to a carnival? Why in the world would you and I go to a carnival?"

"You were moping! You said we had to go where we belong!" Brienne's fist clenched. Unfortunately, so did his windpipe.

Less unfortunately, gurgling her name fueled enough guilt to loosen her grip.

Tyrion had never been so glad to have his feet on the ground. Rolling his shoulders in relief, he felt his freshly oxygenated mind rev with curiosity. He *did* like a puzzle.

A carnival. That might explain the calliope music merrying around his head.

"Walk me through last night, Brienne. From the beginning. If I have the big picture, maybe I can remember the details."

She took a deep breath. Brienne slipped into the cadence of an officer delivering a shift report, something she and Jaime had surely done hundreds of times when they served together in Essos. Calm was Brienne’s specialty. Jaime often called her a robot, with mirth in his eyes. Outside of her hearing, Jaime had told him that her stoicism was the only reason he still had two fingers on his right hand. Tyrion didn’t have words for the look in Jaime’s eyes, then.

"You and I left work at the same time. Jaime was picking you up because you were sad after… Chai?"

"Shae." Tyrion's throat was dry again.

"After she dumped you. Jaime insisted that I come have a drink with you. We went to a bar you hated."

Tyrion rubbed his head. "Were there...there were hubcaps on the wall. And they dyed the ale green."

"Yes! You told Jaime it was like playing a symphony with a kazoo.” Brienne smiled fondly. “He laughed so hard he…"

Tyrion took a swig of water as his interrogator trailed off. She had a bad habit of sharing details that made her affections too apparent. It was hard to watch.

"We had an appetizer but then Jaime got a call." She blinked too quickly as she stumbled on. Another tell.

"From Cersei. She called and he came running." An all too familiar pit formed in Tyrion’s stomach.

Sympathy briefly returned to Brienne’s face. "You were upset. You ordered shots and...people were looking. Then you dragged me to the carnival. Mostly I tried to keep you from falling on your face as you told me that Jaime would always choose Cersei.”

Truth was bitter. Tyrion had run out of wine to sweeten his tongue.

“He will, you know,” he snapped. “I’ve watched him do it a dozen times. You dragged him out of the pits of hell in Essos and not even you can save him from her. She ruined him the day she met him. She’s the main attraction and we’re the sideshow!”

Brienne flinched. Her left hand smoothed the skin of her right thumb in an absent gesture of anxiety. Tyrion cleared his throat in apology.

“He feels responsible for her somehow,” he said gently. “She trusted him when he needed someone to need him. We were never good enough for our father but he was exactly what Cersei wanted. Because he did everything she wanted. Terrible deeds did not feel terrible if he did them for her. Then he saw what she was but he couldn’t take back what he had done. Jaime thinks he doesn’t deserve...anything better.”

Seeing his sorrow reflected on her face was unbearable. Deflection, then.

“And how else did I charm you last night, my lady?”

“You cursed fate for making you beautiful but unloved. Then you literally flung yourself onto several women and screamed ‘once more unto the breach!’"

"Ah, yes. Well, I suppose I do get a bit theatrical when I’m drunk."

Brienne glared at him. "You disappeared when I was helping one of your poor victims up. I found you an hour later coming out of that red tent with the burning heart. "

A burning heart. Tyrion’s pulse quickened. “Jaime. I wanted to help Jaime.”

I tell desires, not fortunes. An impossible memory. A woman’s eyes flashing red. Smoke stinging his eyes. A voice from the embers....We all must choose.

“Please, Tyrion. You said you ‘fixed it.’ I thought you were just drunk but then this morning…”

Tyrion clutched Brienne for balance. He spoke without hearing the words. “I wished for Jaime to have a second chance.”

A clang from the outer office jarred him from his stupor. He toppled over as Brienne rushed to the blinds. The slats crumpled like paper in her hand as she peered through the window of his office door.

“He’s here.” She looked scared. Tyrion had never seen Brienne look scared before.

His assistant’s voice drifted in. “M-m-m-Mr. Lannister?”

The door opened. It was reckoning day, after all.

From the floor, Tyrion saw the face of the man he had looked up to his whole life. A face that he hadn’t seen in over 20 years.

Blond hair untouched by grey. Trouble-free eyes. 10 fingers.

Jaime was 16 again and his heart burned bright gold.

#jaime x brienne #fic #game of thrones #tyrion lannister #my fic #writing wrongs #brienne of tarth #I need to learn formatting #braime #I feel like I said their names 8 million times #wishes #modern au #writing this fic made me realize that I am a tyrion (sans booze) and I will have to live w that knowledge #be gentle

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selleisart · 5 years

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Put Your Head In My Hands - Whizzvin (Falsettos AU)

Link on ao3

art by @okaminator

Shuffling to his apartment door, Marvin felt his anger slowly fade away as he turned the key. God! How long he’s been waiting for this all day. All he wanted was to sleep all day on the couch.

Swinging the door open, he was greeted by the aroma of freshly cooked chicken. He could feel it pulling him off the ground and levitating him to thin air. Closed eyes gave him the best experience. He was floating on a cloud; The world disappearing around him. He smiled, lost in his mind as he felt a pair of arms curl around his leg.

“Daddy!”

Marvin’s eyes shot open as he looked down and saw a toothy smile and a head full of curls. “Hey, buddy!” He scooped the toddler up and started tickling him. “How was today with Dada?”

“It was fun! Ah! Stop!” The child squirmed in his hands as Marvin walked to the couch, sitting in its dead center. “Wha-what did….. you do Daddy?”

He sighed. “It’s awful, Jason.” He faked frowned. “Being an adult is awful, so don’t ever grow up!” Marvin nuzzled the boy.

“Ahhhh! St-stop Daddy! Dada! Help me!” The toddler hopped off Marvin’s lap, running into the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around the legs of Whizzer, who was standing over the stove.

“Not now Jase; Dada’s cooking.” He said in a very monotone way, devoured by his craft.

Marvin left the couch and picked up Jason once more. Giving Whizzer a quick peck on the cheek, he looked at what he was cooking in the pan. “Sauteed chicken?”

Whizzer smiled: “I’d figure you’d enjoy something new.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead.

“If you need to, I’ll take over for you.” Marvin sat Jason on the floor and wrapped his arms around the taller.

“No, Marv,” He chuckled, placing his hand on the former’s. “I got it.” They turned their head for a kiss. Marvin felt the stress from work unraveling, much faster than it had before.

“Stressful day at work?”

“Yeah.” Marvin left his lover and went to the fridge, pulling out a Pepsi. ”The boss is really handing it to me.” He chugged it from the two-liter bottle. Whizzer looked on in disbelief.

“Mav,” he sighed in disbelief, “this is why we have cups.”

“To hell with cups!” He drunk some more. “Not today, Whizz.”

Whizzer rolled his eyes. “You also said you were giving up dark sodas this year.”

“Well to hell with that too!”

Whizzer laughed. He moved the chicken from the pan to a plate. “By the way, dinner’s almost ready.”

“I’ll get Jason then.”

Marvin did as asked and found Jason in on his bed talking to his beloved stuffed chess piece, Queenie.

“Hey, buddy!” Jason looked up and a smile quickly spread across his face.

“Daddy!” He dropped Queenie and ran to Marvin, quickly wrapping his arms around his legs. “Daddy! Carry me!”

Marvin tried walking, feeling the weight of the two-year-old on his left leg. But as tired as he was, he still waddled out the room to the table.

Jason giggled when he saw Whizzer. “Dada! Look at m-me!”

Whizzer quickly looked at Marvin, laughing and smiling, while pulling a chair out: “You hungry, Jason?”

“Yes!” Jason quickly let go of his father’s leg and ran to his chair, trying to get into his chair.

Whizzer picked him up and buckled him in the booster seat. “You hungry for chicken?”

His head tilted, like a confused dog. “What that?”

Whizzer chuckled, grabbing a smaller plate of chicken bites and vegetables. Jason looked at his plate, still confused.

“It’s good for you Jason. See!” Marvin took a piece of his chicken and putting it in his mouth. Jason followed his father’s actions, clearly thinking about the taste while he chewed.

“So,” Whizzer asked, “How was it?”

Jason responded by stuffing another piece in his mouth.

Marvin laughed: “Jason, remember to use your fork.”

“But I don’t like it!” This time Jason was eating a baby carrot.

Whizzer rolled his eyes at the antics of his husband and son, enjoying their “fight” as much as they did. He thought to where he’d be if it weren’t for Marvin.

‘Probably high off my ass in an abandoned building.’ Even though his attitude said something else, he deeply loved and appreciated Marvin; It was his persistence that got him sober and ultimately saved his life.

‘What I wouldn't do to keep this.’

Later that night

Whizzer’s phone began to ring.

“Coming! Coming! Wait….. Who am I talking to?” Whizzer breathed as he answered it: “Hello!”

“Whizzer, what the hell is going on over there?”

“Oh, hi Charlotte. Yeah, Jason’s in the bath.”

“NOO!!”

“YES!” Marvin held a naked Jason over the tub, slowly putting him in the water. To the toddler, the water that was meant to clean him was like hot lava, melting his skin. The boy kicked his feet as they touched the water, splashing water all over Marvin’s shirt.

“Jason,” he sternly said. The latter looked at him with teary eyes. He felt a slight pinch on his heart.

Marvin hated seeing those he loved cry, no matter the situation: his breakup with Trina and Whizzer, his wedding day, Jason’s first…. Well…. His first everything.

Jason’s cries escalated as he was fully seated in the tub, somehow worsening when Marvin ran a sudsy towel over him. He didn’t know which was worse: his boss and job or Jason in the bath.

Fed up with the screaming, Marvin sighed: “C’mon Jase, it’s not that bad.” He grabbed a rubber chess piece. “See, look who it is! It’s Queenie!”

The boys brown, watery eyes lit up. He gasped, quickly reaching for the toy.

“Here you go.” Marvin smiled, handed Queenie to him. Jason wiped the tears and started talking to the piece, the bath flung far to the back of mind.

The rest of the bath continued without any complaints.

“Yay! Movie night!” Jason ran from his bedroom to the couch, flinging himself on the cushions. Dressed in a striped footie and holding Queenie (not from the bath), Jason settled on the couch for family movie night, bouncing up and down.

“What we watching?” Whizzer sat down, patting Jason’s head.

“We’re watching Beauty and The Beast.” Marvin pushed said DVD in.

When the blue Disney logo appeared on screen, he heard two squeals: one from his two-year-old other from his thirty-year-old husband. There was that magic of Disney movies that stayed, no matter how old you were. At least, that’s what Whizzer told him.

‘That’s just your excuse to be a kid again.’ He remembered that’s what he told Whizzer.

By the time the wolves attack Belle, Marvin noticed that Jason had fallen asleep in Whizzer’s side, who wasn’t far from being asleep either. He smiled and grabbed his phone, snapping a picture of the two.

Whizzer stirred. “Mh….. Marv…. What are you doing?”

“Taking a picture of my favorite two boys.” Marvin took another quick pic before, Whizzer got up, holding Jason.

“You're my favorite.”

“Well, what about Jason?” Marvin was handed the

Whizzer looked back and gave Marvin a deadpanned look. “Of course dummy.”

As Whizzer walked to his bedroom, Marvin saw the time.

‘10:30,’ He thought.

Seeing that it was well past the younger’s bedtime, he turned the TV off and walked to Jason’s room. Marvin kissed his forehead while tucking the boy under the covers of his bed. “Goodnight Jason,” he whispered, turning the night light on and cracking the door open.

In his own room, he found Whizzer, laid out on the bed, curled in that turquoise bathrobe.

Marvin wrapped his arms around his husband, giving him a peck on the cheek. “Whizz…. Whizz? ….. Whizzer …..” God! Marvin loved the way Whizzer’s name flew off his tongue. “Whizzer, Whizzer, Whizzer Brown?” He felt him stir.

“Marv, you clearly see I’m sleepy…” He “awoke”, rubbing his eyes and turning to face Marvin.

“Yeah, I know.” Marvin pulled Whizzer into his lap, their foreheads touching. “I’ve been waiting on this all day.”

“Marvin, you’ve been home for about six hours, three of which was spent with our son. You had more than enough time to cuddle me.”

Marvin huffed. “I’ll never get tired of your real-ness.”

“Not until I tell you to pick up after yourself.” Whizzer caught Marvin in a kiss, who was rolling his eyes at me former's comment

Usually, their kisses were passionate and filled with desire. But on nights like this, their flame was a little ember, burning brightly, just not as strong.

“I still love you though,” Marvin ran his lips over Whizzer's neck, “Andrew.”

“Say that name again and I'll kick you out this apartment.”

Marvin chuckled. “Why do you hate your name? Andrew sounds like the name of a famous singer.”

Whizzer grimaced and pushed Marvin off of him. “Sure. And Marvin sounds the like name of a man who cheats on his wife with another man.”

Marvin laughed and crawled off the bed. “But that didn't happen, now did it?” He grabbed a shirt and some boxers. “I'm off tomorrow.”

“And I work at the school tomorrow.” He mumbled, already rolling back to his pillow.

“And I hope you're a good assistant tomorrow, Mr. Andrew.” Whizzer’s head sharply turned.

In a split second, a pillow flew to Marvin’s face.

“You can start packing your stuff now! Now gimme my pillow back!” Marvin threw it back, hitting the headboard beside him. “Ha! You missed!”

Marvin smirked. “I didn’t miss this.” He climbed back on the bed and on top of Whizzer, catching his lips. The fire burned brighter; Marvin moving his hands down the taller’s waist. He ran his hands through his brown, thick hair, pulling apart every stand as Marvin’s hands went for the already loose robe.

But then, Whizzer stopped Marvin. “Mhm… No, not tonight.”

Marvin visibly pouted. “When though?”

“Tomorrow,” he smiled and pecked Marvin on his forehead. “Now get in your shower.”

By the time Marvin got out the shower, Whizzer was fast asleep, his side of the room as dark a night. He kissed him on the lips, brushing his bangs out his face. “Love you.” He whispered, climbing in bed beside him, hugging him

Marvin could slowly feel sleep come towards him, and that when he knew everything would be alright.

#whizzvin #whizzer falsettos #marvin x whizzer #marvin #falsettos #falsettos revival #falsettoland #march of the falsettos #whizzer x marvin #jason falsettos #domestic #fluff #falsettos au

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meetthetank · 6 years

Text

Peccatum Chapter 4: The Hounds and their Master

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14454675/chapters/36861228

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category: F/M

Fandom: NieR: Automata (Video Game)

Relationships: 2B/9S (NieR: Automata), A2/A4 (NieR: Automata), Jackass/The Commander (NieR: Automata)

Characters: 2B (NieR: Automata), 9S (NieR: Automata), A2 (NieR: Automata, A4 (NieR: Automata)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe, genre typical violence, long fic, Slow Burn, War

Despite his reservations, traveling with 2B is relatively painless. Enjoyable even. When she isn’t soaring on the gentle mountain breezes above him, she keeps stride beside him and listens to him talk about one thing or another. Most of the time it’s just 9S rambling about something idle and meaningless, such as 2B’s mainly fish diet and 9S’ love of cherry flavored ice cream. Sometimes 9S explores tangents that are only vaguely related to what they were talking about, like the subtle exploitation of trade routes that allow for the transportation of foreign goods such as cherries. He’ll go into the economic ramifications of this, but the bewildered look on 2B’s face brings him back to reality. Not everyone finds these topics as interesting as he does.

When she isn’t next to 9S letting him talk her ear off, 2B transforms and circles around him in the sky. That far in the air, he sometimes mistakes her for a large vulture with the way she soars for long stretches without beating her wings at all. Her flight patterns are so graceful 9S has a hard time believing that this is the same floundering idiot bird he pulled out of the ocean. 9S has a theory about why this is and makes a mental note to ask her where she’s from whenever they stop to rest next.

It’s a strange feeling to enjoy a trek in the wilderness since 9S typically makes these months-long journeys alone. Having someone to talk to, to listen and respond to him, makes it not only bearable but pleasant. Even though he loves verbally dissecting any topic to a willing ear, trying to figure out the quirks and behaviors that make up 2B is far more interesting.

She prefers to listen, rather than speak it seems. Even when prompted by 9S to elaborate on an aspect of her culture or her home, 2B responds with a simple one or two word answer and the two of them lapse into a long bout of silence. Eventually, 9S resigns to inane questions that don’t seem to put her on edge. It does surprise him that she is so closed off when it comes to herself and her home. He isn’t sure why she is or why he assumes her to be open with her life.

At 9S’ recommendation, the pair avoids the main road. It’s a rule of his to only use it if he needs a warm place to sleep for the night or if the surrounding wilderness is too dangerous. With 2B either keeping pace beside him or circling above there isn’t much local wildlife that can take the both of them on. Occasionally they do venture onto the road when it transforms from a well kept cobbled path to little more than a dirt trail.

9S comes across a small group of people camped out on the dirt path while 2B soars above them. A ragged bunch that 9S mistakes for beggars at first, but then he sees the despondent look on their faces, the way a mother clings to her whimpering child, and the small cart filled with haphazard belongings. The image of the smoldering remains of a village flash into his mind. He casts a sorrowful glance back at the refugees as he passes them by. The only one who looks up at him is a young girl clutching a scorched doll.

The desolate villages come as no surprise to 9S; many smaller towns have been abandoned and left to rot in recent years. Towns that used to be hubs of activity or places to rest while on the road are now nothing more than piles of wood and burned farmland.

2B returns to her human form beside 9S as they pass the remains of a village.

“...I hadn’t realized how bad things had gotten,” she mutters to him.

“Yeah…”

9S continues down the road for a few paces before he realizes that 2B isn’t next to him. He whips around in a momentary panic to find her staring at the smoking ruins a couple of yards away.

“Why do they do this...What can the demons gain from ravaging defenseless towns.”

“It’s a tactic of theirs…” he responds with venom dripping from his voice, “Force everyone into one place and then…”

“Oh…”

The pair continues in a heavy silence, the destruction around them sobering any kind of light-hearted banter that might have crossed either of their minds. 2B seems to be even more closed off than she was before, her arms crossed over her chest and her gaze cast somewhere off in the distance. 9S assumes that she had never left her home before setting out on her own, and wherever home was must not have been targeted by demons. Or at least not often.

They pass more and more displaced families, each one from a different town. A father from the west mentions that many people from destroyed villages are heading to the sprawling port town of Vigo. According to him, it’s one of the few walled cities still taking refugees. A mother clutching an infant warns them of living shadows that tore her family to pieces as she fled. A boy no older than fifteen grimaces like a veteran soldier as he recounts how he defended his young sister from the horse-like creature that skewered their parents.

2B remains silent through all of this, unnerving what few people bother to pay her any mind. She stares off into the distance from time to time, like an animal that’s heard a sudden loud noise. 9S has to snap her out of her daze by calling her name or tapping her shoulder. She only gives cryptic answers when he asks if something is wrong.

“I don’t know…”

About an hour or so later, 2B transforms and launches into the air. 9S doesn’t pay it any mind at first, but then she soars further into the distance to the point where she’s merely a speck.

“Wh- Hey!!” he shouts.

He knows there’s no hope of catching up to her on foot, but the strange pang in his chest as she flies away from him spurs him forward as fast as he can. Why would she just abandon him like this? There must be something wrong, right? 2B wouldn’t leave him without a word.

But he doesn’t know 2B. Not well enough to quell the anxious churning in his gut.

9S calls out to her again and again in hopes of his voice reaching her, but she’s so far in the distance that he loses hope quickly. His frantic sprint slows to a stop as 2B disappears from view behind the treeline. His new friend, gone from sight without so much as a goodbye.

As he gazes almost mournfully at the sky, he sees the smoke.

Great billowing clouds of black smoke rise above the trees, through which he sees 2B’s white wings soaring. She seems to bank towards him then back around into the smoke, as if she’s beckoning him towards whatever is burning. His legs move on their own, powering him on in her direction.

He shoves his way through forest and underbrush, following the thick black clouds in the sky and the growing roar of a massive fire. A number of forest-dwelling creatures sprint past him in the opposite direction. A horse in full saddle and riding tack bursts out of the foliage, nearly crashing into 9S before galloping away. Blood splatters across the ground from long, heinous claw marks that leave tatters of flesh dangling off the beast’s chest.

The roar of flames is drowned out by what sounds like countless horses screaming, along with the sound of something heavy being thrown against wood. 9S bursts out of the thick woods into a pasture. It might have been an idyllic scene if not for the burning stables just beyond the fences and the great plumes of smoke emerging from the small town behind them.

“2B!” 9S calls out to the white beast soaring above.

She lands nearby, scattering ash into the air with each beat of her wings. In a flash of light, she reverts to her human form, her flat sword already drawn.

“I saw something moving inside the town,” 2B says and motions for 9S to follow.

“There are still people here?!”

“No, something else...It looked like a pack of black wolves.”

Dread coils in 9S’ stomach. He’s read reports from the other scouts about black, wolf-like creatures that appear around great fires along with...something else.

The acrid, stomach-churning smell of burning flesh carried on searing wind nearly makes 9S double over and vomit. It confirms the fear that had been brewing in the back of his mind since seeing the stables, which have gone eerily quiet apart from the crackling of burning wood and bone.

Again, 2B wanders away from him. This time she seems drawn to the largest pillar of smoke rising from the center of town. Instead of pleading with her to stay nearby, 9S decides he’d have better luck simply keeping pace with her. Jogging after a Coatyl with tunnel vision is a more sound plan than getting left behind anyway.

What’s left of the town is nothing but smoldering embers, the fires that consumed most of the buildings seem to have gone out hours ago. 9S lags behind his companion as he sidesteps puddles of drying blood and piles of unmentionable gore. The scene is so violent, so cruel, that there isn’t any doubt in 9S’ mind of what could have caused this.

2B covers her face with the long sleeve of her robe as she searches for any sign of life in the crumbling buildings. She jumps at the slightest movement, each shift in the wood as it disintegrates could be a poor unfortunate crawling their way to freedom. Of course, she finds nothing but ash and embers each time.

They make their way to the center of town, and towards the largest of the pillars of smoke. The closer they get, the roar of a still-raging fire grows louder and louder along with the horrid smell of burning flesh.

What they find at the center of town makes scout and swordswoman alike recoil in horror.

A mass grave, over two hundred bodies large, still burning as if it were just lit. Each body is anonymous, faceless, all features having burnt away hours ago; yet they can make out the shapes of men, women, and children alike.

“Gods…” 9S whispers, bile rising in his throat.

He’s read the reports, heard first-hand accounts of this sort of thing, but they pale in comparison to seeing it for himself. He can’t bring himself to look at the pile for too long. 2B doesn’t seem much better, though she looks less on the verge of collapsing than he does. She just stands there, jaw clenched tight and lips pressed in a thin line. Her fingers curl around the grip of her sword so tightly that her knuckles turn stark white. 9S can even see the slight elevation of the scales on her fingers.

A low droning noise, almost inaudible above the roar of the flames, drags 9S out of his horrified trance. His hand instinctively reaches for the lance secured to his back as something chatters a response.

“2B…” he mutters, drawing his lance, “We have to go.”

She jumps at the sound of a house crumbling under its own weight, drawing her sword as well. The golden inlays on the weapon glisten in the light of the flames each time she turns it in her hands.

The chattering of unknown creatures grows into a cacophonous laughter that seems to surround them. It’s impossible for 9S to discern just how many beasts were closing in on them. At first, he hears just four, then five, then seven, until they all meld together into one. All uniqueness in pitch and cadence fade away into a single dissonant voice. 9S clutches at the side of his head and groans as that horrible noise tears through his mind.

Just when the laughter became near unbearable for him, it stops. Everything stops. If it weren’t for the sound of 2B’s tense breathing, 9S might have thought he had gone deaf. They share a look, a brief confirmation that this wasn’t a strange hallucination and that they’re both in very real danger.

With a quick tap on her arm 9S and 2B break into a sprint in the direction of the pasture and the woods beyond. The rapid footfalls of pursuing monsters close in on them, but neither dare look back at the creatures practically nipping at their heels. They chatter in some beastial language that’s reminiscent of the uncanny laughter of a hyena. Shadows shift and waver in the corner of 9S’ vision, and a particularly large one darts out in front of them.

It stands in front of still burning stables, stopping the pair in their tracks. The pitch black creature, about the size of a wolf, remains unmoving even as 2B and 9S skid to a halt in front of it. It watches them despite having no eyes or any facial features for that matter. Vapors the same void-like color as its skin emit from its “skin”, swaying with its body and giving the beast an ethereal quality as if it were a simple shadow. Behind them five more of the creatures close in, blocking any easy paths out. 2B growls and slashes her sword at one of the creatures that creep too close for comfort, but the beast easily dodges backward and lets out a low hissing sound that makes her skin crawl.

The top of the lone monster’s head unhinges revealing rows and rows of needle-like teeth that point towards the back of its throat. Saliva that sears the ground it lands on dribbles from its maw, any plant life that it comes into contact with begins to wilt instantly. It snaps at the air just in front of 9S, causing him to stumble back into 2B. The beasts close in on their left, snarling and gnashing their jaws.

9S keeps his lance trained on the creature closest to him, his palms growing clammy and tense. He jabs at the beast, which simply shifts its weight to the side. A strange afterimage of itself lingers a half step next to it, which quickly dissipates into black mist. It laughs at him, or at least it seems to, with short wheezing huffs. Each one expels more of that mist that is released by its skin and saliva.

One creature lunges at 2B, who reacts immediately with a powerful downward strike of her sword. The flat blade easily cleaves through the monster’s almost gaseous body, yet the sound of metal meeting “flesh” is just as sickening. The strike separates its head from its neck in a clean-cut, its body falling to the ground near their feet with a wet thud. Thick, black blood pours from the stump of its neck, searing the earth as if it were liquid fire. 2B backs away from the growing pool, pulling 9S with her.

Two more monsters on their left push closer to them, ignoring their fallen pack mate. There’s a momentary break in their formation on the right, large enough to 9S to take advantage of the gap.

“2B!” he shouts, tugging at her sleeve.

She reacts immediately, breaking into a sprint alongside 9S. The creatures follow behind and keep pace beside them. Blackened jaws snap at their legs forcing them to turn back towards the ruined village once again. They might be able to outmaneuver whatever these things are within the burnt out buildings. If they can separate the pack and take them out one at a time, then maybe there’s a chance of victory.

The distance grows between the creatures and the pair, though it doesn’t seem to 9S that they are outrunning them. He chances a look over his shoulder and catches a few of those beasts break off from the pack, leaving only two actively pursuing them. 2B notices this as well and stops dead in her tracks to prepare an attack.

9S stops a few feet away and readies his lance, taking the grounding stance he was taught as soon as he could hold a stick. One beast charges 2B, juking to the side as she strikes at it. 9S rushes while the monster’s back is turned, leaping at the last moment and using the momentum to stab his lance right between its shoulders. It screams as it struggles against both his weight and the lance’s blade holding it down, eventually falling to a pitiful whimper and then silence. 2B kicks the second creature square in the chest as it leaps at her, her powerful legs sending it flying backward. It scrambles to its feet, but it does little to stop the might of 2B’s blade. In one incredible swing, she brings the flat sword down onto its back, splitting its spine in two.

They stand back to back once 9S wrenches his lance free from the monster’s body. The black blood he thought to be acidic slides off of the treated metal that makes up the blade. 2B casts a nervous glance at his weapon and edges herself away, disguising it as simply standing and brandishing her sword at three more demons.

2B is about to attack when the air crackles with energy, making the downy feathers that lie beneath her hair stand on end. She leaps into action, tackling 9S to the ground just as a piercing whistle echoes through the ruined town. Something sails over their heads with an ear-splitting screech and embeds itself in the dirt. 2B only gets a brief look at the glowing yellow oblong shape before it explodes. She covers 9S’ body with hers as hellfire licks at her back, singeing her robes before fading away. As she pulls the young scout to his feet, brushing off his concerns for her, she hears the distant pounding of hooves growing closer and closer. A great looming shadow peeks around the corner of one of the ruined houses as another explosion ignites the dried grass, setting the ground itself ablaze.

She tugs her still disoriented companion away from the rapidly growing flames and away from the heavy hoofbeats of whatever new monster is bearing down on them. 9S stumbles along at first, using his lance to support himself when he feels he is in danger of falling, but it slows them down. A darker part of 2B’s mind urges her to leave him to his fate. He’s a hindrance. If it weren’t for him, she would just be able to take to the skies and escape.

And yet…

He leaps in front of her when the three dog-like demons block their escape route, brandishing his lance with a bravado she didn’t think possible of one so small. There’s a fire in his icy blue eyes that 2B has only a brief look at before a horrific scream rips through the air, and the thunderous beating of hooves comes to a stop behind them.

A creature that appears to be a monstrous horse and rider merged into one towers over the pair. The “horse” part of the creature seems to stare at 2B despite having only sharp-edged plates of metal where any facial features might be. Rows of flat teeth take up most of the head, twisting into a crude smile down to its thick neck. Instead of fur, an off-color leather substance functions as the creature’s skin, and from this skin, the rider is formed like a malignant growth. The humanoid shape is fused to the body of the beast just behind the shoulder, its thighs melding into the beast’s body somewhere above the knee. In one hand it grips a bizarrely shaped pike, and in the other, a yellowish flame flickers between its fingers. That same yellow flame seems to emanate from its abnormally large eyes, the only features on the face of the humanoid growth.

The beast head grinds its teeth, a hideous wet sound accompanied by flecks of spit that escape its maw. A voice similar to the one that assaulted his mind in the cave pierces through 9S’ mind. It grinds and gnashes in his brain, forcing him to double over and clutch his head in a feeble effort to dull the pain. Through the tears forming in the corners of his eyes, he sees 2B stave off one of the black hounds that attempts to attack him in his weakened state.

The voice surges through his blood, “F̛͎͎͎̰̗͍͔̆̎͂̚e̵̯̭̦̗̗̥̺̱͂̑̐̄͘͞͞ͅe̡̖͔̮̬͉͔̤͒͒̄̈́̐͋͘ͅb̦̹̫͉͇͚̦́́͑̄͜͡l̢͎̜͍̭͖͍̼̱̉̒̍̄̓͋̊e̙͕̭̮̟̹̅̽̃̊͒ ắ̴̧̻̳̪̠̹̌̑̄̀b̷̮̻̪͉͗̐̅̅͊͟͟͝o̵̥̻͔̘̻̟̬̍̏̎̚͘͢m̴̞̗̤̮͔̘̦̲̞̝̆̈́̿̉̊̕̕ỉ̵̧̛̠̖̘͙͙͚͆̉̈́͜n̶͉̗͙̫̐̅̉̓̾̍͑ͅa̲͙̙͓͇͈̼̱̯̲̎̔̇̈́͡t̵̨̧͍̫̱̹̣̜̯́̅̀̆̃̃͋̽͝ͅi̵̱͔̭͔̞͔̓̎̑̀̐̃͜ͅo̶̹̞͔̥̥̻̗̦͋͗̿͛́͐́̈́͘n̛̗̤̦͙̘̤͇͚͙̞̐̽͆̄̑͋̕͝.͕̙̰̠͓͔̮̰̥͌̌́̀̔̄̃̒̏͗.”

9S is forcibly pulled from his stupor when 2B shoves him out of the way of another volley of fireballs from the rider. He forces himself to his feet as fast as his aching body will allow to be sure his friend is okay. Luckily, aside from the hem of her robes looking a bit scorched, she appears to be fine. She bares her teeth, sharp and inhuman, and charges with a bellowing roar that matches the monster. The rider swipes at 2B with its twisted pike, while the horse rears up on its hind legs. The pike is easily deflected, but one of the beast’s warped hooves lands an audible blow to her chest. She flies backward and crashes into a pile of scorched wood, sending clouds of ash into the air.

Just as 9S is about to rush to her side, wicked teeth sink into the meat of his calf. One of the black dog creatures had snuck up on him and now tears at the muscles of his leg. He howls yet barely registers the pain. Battle trance, he recalls. Something that his superior officer mentioned long ago. Where soldiers with grievous wounds would continue fighting without pause. What an odd time to be remembering this…

He thrusts the ornate lance forward into the beast’s neck. It screams, eerily similar to his own cries and reels backward. Though his leg burns and bleeds, 9S is more concerned with 2B struggling against the horse demon. He scrambles to his feet and bolts towards her, his breath catching in his throat as she deflects a strike powerful enough to break her stance.

2B stumbles, the repeated strikes and stabs narrowly missing her. 9S shoves her out of the way of the horse head’s teeth the moment he reaches her side, but in his panic, he neglects to realize the demon has two portions. The rider raises its lance, its gnarled blade aimed squarely at his head.

2B’s hand reaches out to him, snagging whatever she can grab. Her fingers curl around his pendant and she yanks as hard as she can.

“No-!”

He staggers forward, but the small chain necklace snaps from the force, coming loose in 2B’s hand. The rider’s spear embeds itself in the ground between them, giving 2B space to take in 9S’ true appearance.

The pendant in 2B’s hand must have some sort of masking spell attached to it. A glamor, if she remembers correctly. Looking at him now it’s painfully obvious what he’s trying to hide. Two horns, barely developed beyond nubs an inch long emerge from his forehead. Black claws tip his fingers, and a thin tail of similar color twitches behind him, ending in a pointed spade. His eyes, wide with terror, are now ringed with pure white irises instead of icy blue, and two fangs peek out from behind his lips. Most damning of all, a small ring of unstable white energy crackles between the two stubby horns on his head. He is, unmistakably, a demon. Or of demonic heritage at least.

One of the hounds bites onto 2B’s arm while she’s distracted, another one tackling her to the ground a moment later. A small pack descends on her, while 9S struggles to fight the horse demon. His leg gives out as he dodges back and forth, crippling his strikes and bringing him dangerously close to the demon’s blade.

2B roars and thrashes against the hounds. Their fangs pierce through the thin scales that appear to be skin, pulling and yanking in different directions. One pulls on her arm, another her leg, and one tear at her shoulder with its clawed feet digging into her chest. She pulls a leg free just long enough to kick the hound on top of her squarely in the chest. The solid and powerful blow sends it flying into 9S, knocking him prone and leaving him vulnerable.

The warped hoof of the horse pins him down, crushing his ribs under its weight while the rider raises its pike. 9S tries to scream and fight, to do something but all he can do is wheeze and beat his fist feebly against the beast’s leg.

He locks eyes with the rider as the pike comes down on his head-

“Hey, shithorse! Over here!”

Suddenly, there’s a flash of movement and a deafening explosion engulfs the rider’s head the moment a black blur slams into its face. 9S’ hands fly up to shield his face from the rain of viscera, but a familiar string of profanities and the sight of oily black hair makes his heart soar.

“Jackass?!”

The grungy officer flashes her signature toothy smirk at him while a bellowing scream from the horse demon drowns out whatever quip she fires his way. A handful of lightly armored soldiers charge forward in a simple formation, scattering the remaining hound demons in various directions. One is unfortunate enough to pass to close to the now unbound horse demon, which effortlessly snaps up the lesser creature in its powerful jaws and gulps it down in only a couple bites.

“On your feet kiddo!” Jackass shouts as she hoists 9S up by his arm, “You ain’t out of this mess yet!”

Sure enough, the horse demon throws a devastating kick with its hind legs to the troops. They break formation, attempting to confuse the creature with staggered attacks to draw its attention away from a single person. Jackass strikes her large black hammer against the ground, the force pulling back a lever like contraption that ignites the furnace built within. The creature snarls as it turns its massive head to face the lieutenant, an incoherent message of screams and vulgarities forcing its way into 9S’ head.

“You’re a talkative beastie, ain’t ya.” Jackass replies, seemingly unfazed by those unholy sounds.

The air around 9S crackles with energy as Jackass charges at the horse demon, her flaming hammer leaving a trail of smoke and embers. But just as she is about to strike, a shrill roar followed by a rush of wind stops the lieutenant dead in her tracks. 2B, now in her natural form, rakes at the horse with her talons, her wings beating furiously to keep balance. She flays the beast’s back as it wails and attempts to throw her off balance. It throws its head back trying to catch any part of 2B in its uncanny jaws, yet she remains just out of its reach.

Jackass and the other soldiers remain poised, ready to strike if either beast draws too close. She commands them to stay on guard and opts to let this newcomer do their work for them. A soldier yelps as 2B hoists both herself and the demon into the air for a moment, then slams it onto the ground with a sickening crunch. Its piercing screams are cut short when the dragoness clamps her beak around its throat and thrashes her head back and forth until the head is ripped from its neck. Even 9S backs away from his companion as she roars, standing tall above the corpse. Blood splashes onto the ground, though it’s unclear if its origin is demonic or dragonic.

The soldiers glance between Jackass and the bloodstained Coatyl hissing at anyone who dares get too close. One swipes at her beak with their sword which only aggravates 2B further.

“Stop! Wait!” 9S shouts as he limps past Jackass and the squadron to stand in front of his companion, “She’s with….me!” He coughs and sputters between his words, clutching his bruised chest.

Jackass cocks an eyebrow but lowers her hammer regardless, “...Friend of yours?”

“We’ve….been traveling together for a while, she won’t hurt anyone.” he shoots a glare back at 2B who responds with an indignant huff.

The lieutenant motions for the soldiers to stand down and sheath their weapons, which they do with some hesitation. Once the danger to her has passed, 2B returns to her human state much to the surprise of Jackass and the soldiers.

She shifts her gaze between 9S and these strangers in uniform.

“...My name is 2B.” she says after wiping away the blood that lingered on her face.

“Jackass.”

“Excuse me?!”

“That's...that's just what we call her,” 9S mutters to 2B, noticing her tense stance.

Jackass holds her hand out to 2B with a lazy smile, “Thanks for the help.”

2B, having learned a little from her time with 9S, meets the officer with a sturdy yet awkward handshake.

With pleasantries out of the way, Jackass goes over details of his recent scouting exploits. Now that the danger had passed, the pain takes its toll on 9S, forcing him to sit on a stray log and nurse his leg. The other soldiers break off to hunt down the remaining hounds and comb the area for any survivors. 2B settles down nearby to tend to her wounds herself, shooing away any well-meaning soldiers offering to help. She licks at the gashes on her arms to stimulate her body’s natural healing properties and within moments the punctures begin to knit back together.

With her injuries healing nicely, 2B takes the time to meander around the ruined village while she waits for 9S to finish talking to his superior. She stops in her tracks when a piece of jewelry catches her eye as it glints in the sunlight. The pendant that she accidentally tore from 9S… She turns the simple necklace in her hands, running her thumb over the dull red jewel. It’s nothing special, just silver and an uncut piece of garnet, but there’s a subtle but unmistakable magical energy to it, indicating its true value.

For the first time since meeting him, 2B feels uncertainty towards 9S. He had kept this part of himself, this potentially dangerous part of himself from her. There’s a part of her that feels she should kill him before he kills her before she’s lulled further into the false sense of security that would be her downfall.

And yet…

She watches as 9S talks with Jackass. Not much about his demeanor has changed aside from the formal speech of a trained soldier, even while wrapping a crude bandage around his calf and trying to steady his breathing. The only new thing she notices is how his thin tail curls and uncurls itself from around his undamaged leg. He’s still the same person, and if he wanted to kill her there were much better opportunities to do so in the past. Her fist curls around the pendant as she approaches 9S the moment Jackass dismisses him.

There’s fear on his face. His eyes, now almost pure white aside from his pupils and the faint flecks of blue, dart around as if they’re searching her neutral expression. She can hear his heart thundering in his chest, and his tail flicks back and forth in a manner reminiscent of an agitated feline.

No words pass between them as 2B holds the pendant out to him.

#nier automata #2B #9S #Nier Jackass #fanfic #Tanks fics

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honkhonkrichard · 6 years

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Okay better version of Chapter 2 where everyone lives under the cut; I’m tagging @belbys becos I need you to know that Andrew mushroom is a coward and this is how it should have gone

Let it be known I’ve never actually read the book, So I’m correcting rewriting the parts I know.

So, Everything up to Stan starting to cut himself, he stops and, much like when the losers have to send Mike their strength while he’s in the hospital, Stan feels a surge of energy rush through him, and his childhood memories of the loser’s club come back to him. He grabs long thick bandages and wraps them around his hands and arms until his forearms are covered layer upon layer with bandages. He collects some small things, and hastily tells his wife that he will be gone for an unprecedented mount of time, but Patty trusts Stan more than anyone else in the world, so she lets him go.

Skip to when the losers meet up, Mike paces the library until Bill shows up, they are quite happy seeing each other. Then, Ben shows up. Neither Mike nor Bill recognize him at first. Then Bev shows and Ben is clearly still blown away by her beauty. She doesn’t recognize him either. Then Eddie shows up, they’re all very happy. Eddie doesn’t recognize Ben.

Then Richie shows up, singing Billy Joel and being Richie. He brings the mood up, everyone is happy and havin a good time. Richie recognizes Ben immediately, and praises his final form “Haystack? more like Hayjacked amirite????”

Richie, after being kinda gay with Eddie notices there’s only 6 of them and asks Mike where stan is. Mike tells him that he got a call from Patricia Uris stating He slit his wrists in the bathroom before leaving with nothing more than a few cigarettes and a lighter. The room tenses and sighs, everyone assumes that Stan is dead.

HOWEVER, because Stan is an overdramatic Fuck, he uses this moment to knock on the door, Camera pan from Stan’s feet up his body where he is casually leaning on the frame in a nice suit, except his hands are still clearly wrapped in bandages.

Richie fails to notice this, and loses his mind with happiness knowing the lot of them are back together.

the Bill/Bev cheating-on-audra-bill-u-fuck scene is taken completely.

Skip fast fast fast forward to the fight against IT. Stan stops at the sewers and breaks down crying, stating he can’t go in. He can’t. The club, thinking it’s for the best, Leave stan where he is, telling him they’ll be back.

In the fight, When Bill and Richie have gone catatonic, Eddie shoves his arm down IT’s throat. In this moment, no one is remotely satisfied, but IT gets knocked to the ground (Eddie then loses his arm when this happens) and behind him is Stan with a base ball bat.

IT dies. yaaaay.

Cut to the group losing their minds about Eddie. Stan takes off his bandages and begins to wrap up Eddie’s wound. He then takes his jacket, Richie’s coat, any extra layers, etc, to help stop the bleeding. Ben, after destroying the eggs (?) says that they should take him to the hospital.

In the hospital, Bill is coming up with some bullshit excuse as to how Eddie lost an entire arm, the others have a heart to heart.

Richie admits to Stan that he’s been having an identity crisis, and losing Eddie won’t help that. He says there’s this term “the kids” have been using- Bisexual.

Stan starts to tell Richie about how he almost killed himself. He breaks down crying, admitting he wished he had never forgotten about Richie, and tells him how much their friendship (and the loser’s club) means to him.

Meanwhile, Ben and Bev catch up. Bev admits to Tom’s actions, and Ben tells her that she deserves the world, someone who treats her like the fucking mona lisa, etc. Ben carefully admits he wished he could show her what love and romance could be. Bev kisses him and says then why don’t you? January embers? Ben looks at her with heart eyes and says my heart still burns there. it never stopped. and they keep kissing.

Eddie wakes up, and richie asks to be alone with Eddie for a bit. it’s Bev who winks and ushers them all out.

Richie cries as he tells Eddie that he would never forgive himself if he was the reason Eddie died. Eddie, drugged out of his fucking mind, tells Richie he would die for him, because he loves him.

“but your married?” “yes.” “but you love me?” “m supr’sd too.”

They kiss while Eddie is still in the hospital bed. Eddie makes Richie promise to kiss him when he’s sobered up, and promises Richie he’ll never be alone again.

The movie ends with Richie and Eddie driving Stan back to Georgia, where Richie and Patty get along famously (and richie coos at Stan calling her Plum)

Ben and Bev live in Chicago together, slow dancing to a nice Billy Joel song (eh? Ehhhhh??) where Bev tells Ben that he has the heart of a poet.

Audra, who recovered nicely, rushes to tell her husband something very special. She waits for Bill to get off the phone with Mike before telling him she’s pregnant. Bill is overjoyed.

The final shot is the seven drinking around the table, with bev showing off her engagement ring, Bill telling them Audra’s pregnant (Whom they will be naming Georgie) Eddie and richie admnit to be dating and Stan tells them he and Patty are moving to LA to be closer with Eddie and Richie. Mike is there too, narrating the whole thing.

I loved you guys, you know.

I still do.

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thedegenerateasexual · 6 years

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Nobody Knows How Old Derek Was When The Fire Happened, Not Even Jeff Davis, Not Even After He Tried To Change Derek's Age: An Essay By Me

In Other News, Canon Continues To Make No Sense, Water Is Wet, Etc

So let’s get down to it. In Season 1, which takes place in the spring semester of 2011, several characters confirm multiple times that the fire was six years ago, which puts it sometime in 2005.

Derek: 6 years ago, my sister and I were at school, and our house caught fire. Eleven people were trapped inside. [Peter] was the only survivor.

—1.04 Magic Bullet

Peter’s nurse: Let him go. You think after 6 years of this, yelling at him is going to get a response?

—1.06 Heart Monitor

Mr. Harris: It was 6 years ago, and in my defense, it was before I’d gotten sober. … And a week later, the Hale house burns down.

—1.09 Wolf’s Bane

Peter: Scott, if I may interrupt your listing of the top five most impotent-sounding threats for a moment, try and remember that I’ve been in a coma for 6 years.

—1.10 Co-Captain

Peter: Apologize. Say that you’re sorry for decimating my family, for leaving me burned and broken for 6 years.

—1.12 Code Breaker

(It’s worth adding that Stiles says in the pilot that Derek is “just a few years older than us” and the fire was “like 10 years ago” but since this is the ONLY time it’s not being referred to as 6 years ago in every season except 3A, where it is only implied, I’ll reluctantly allow JD to chalk it up to him having been mistaken, which is what I think he said about this particular line. I feel like I’ve also read that they originally intended for Derek to be 19 in the pilot, which by this line would have put him at 9 when the fire happened or if the fire was 6 years ago, 13. I can’t track down a source for that and it’s obviously terribly wrong anyway, so we’ll leave that line alone for this particular thought exercise.)

According to Derek’s driver’s license (which pops up in 1.11 Formality), he was born in 1988, making him 16 or 17 when the fire happened in 2005, depending on whether or not it was before or after his birthday. (His actual birthday is either on November 7th or December 25th, depending on if you believe his driver’s license or a calendar that came in one of the DVDs, but there’s no point in speculating over the actual month and day when we can’t even keep the year straight. It’s also worth noting that while the novel On Fire has been declared non-canonical, when it hit shelves, Season 2 was airing, and it put Derek at 16 at the time of the fire as well, but did not give him a birthdate.)

Anyway, IF you discount the driver’s license as just a quick prop that wasn’t thoroughly vetted (like Stiles’ first name appearing as “Genim” on a folder in the parent-teacher conference with Coach in 1.05 The Tell), we can still check out 3A for answers because apparently that’s when JD got his shit together and decided on a timeline, right?

Chris: When’s the last time you saw your sister? Derek: Nine years. I thought she died in the fire.

—3.03 Fireflies

[S C R E A M S]

Look, unless he’s saying is that somehow he lived in Beacon Hills for 3 years when Cora wasn’t there, yet STILL had some mysterious reason to believe she was in that house and died in that fire, then this leads us to believe the fire was indeed 9 years ago, which would put it in 2002, NOT 2005.

Except in 3A, we again get told AGAIN that the fire was 6 years ago:

Cora: You’ve known me for 17 years. Peter: I knew you for 11, leaving the last 6 unaccounted for.

—3.05 Frayed

This must mean the fire happened when Cora was 11, because after that she disappeared for 6 years. WHY is it Peter last saw her 6 years ago, but it was 9 since Derek saw her? This the SAME SEASON. There’s no way they wouldn’t catch a mistake like that.

So let’s try it this way: Derek was 15 when he killed Paige in the nemeton’s root cellar.

Peter: He came at Ennis. A 15-year-old boy against a giant.

—3.08 Visionary

…although it’s worth noting this conversation also happens in that same episode:

Stiles: Okay, so if Derek was a sophomore back then, how old was he? How old were you? How old are you now? Peter: Not as young as we could have been, but not as old as you might think. Stiles: Okay, that was frustratingly vague. How old are you? Cora: I’m 17. Stiles: See, that’s an answer. That’s how we answer people. Cora: Well, 17 how you’d measure in years. Stiles: All right, I’m just gonna drop it.

It doesn’t really tell us anything except that JD was REALLY trying to leave himself some wiggle room in the most ungraceful and cheap bit of “exposition” I’ve ever seen, but I thought it was worth the mention because it infuriates me on a daily basis.

Anyway, Jennifer later confirms for us that the whole thing with Paige was just a few months before Kali left her for dead:

Jennifer: For years, the Nemeton’s power was virtually gone, like the dying ember of a burned out fire. But a few months earlier, something happened that caused that ember to glow a little brighter. Something that gave it a spark of power again. The sacrifice of a virgin. You didn’t know what you were doing back then, but killing Paige in the root cellar, sacrificing her there, gave power to the Nemeton.

—3.10 The Overlooked

And when the sheriff asked, the previous episode, for files about THAT incident…

Sheriff Stilinski: The records would be over 10 years old.

—3.09 The Girl Who Knew Too Much

So if 10 years ago Derek was 15, that means he’s 25 now, and he was 19 when the fire happened 6 years ago, right? Except don’t forget:

Chris: When’s the last time you saw your sister? Derek: 9 years. I thought she died in the fire.

—3.03 Fireflies

If the fire WAS 9 years ago, and Derek is 25 NOW, then at the time of the fire he STILL would have been 16.

There is one possible explanation: in 5.01 Creatures of the Night we see the initials DH on the senior scribe shelf in the library. (It’s never proven these are Derek’s, but why else would we linger on a shot of the initials DH?) Which means he graduated from BHHS, which would have had to have happened before the fire—because after the fire, he left town. So it’s POSSIBLE that when he said he and Laura were “at school” he meant “college” and not “high school,” and the reason he hadn’t seen Cora in 3 years was that he was away in his third year of college—making him 21ish when the fire happened in 2005 and 27ish during the pilot, 6 years later in 2011 (and putting his birthyear in 1984).

Which, like, it’s SUPER weird that Derek would go off to college and not come home once in 3 years for the summer OR winter breaks when werewolf packs are always being touted as being so very close to each other, but okay. The Sheriff did say the files would be AT LEAST 10 years old, not 10 years old EXACTLY, so it’s TECHNICALLY POSSIBLE that Kate and Derek had their affair far away from Beacon Hills, and she came back to arrange the fire—to hire and bribe the people she needed to to cover it up, to chat up Mr. Harris for arson advice, etc.

Like, yeah, JD laid a lot of implications for Derek being 16 in Season 1, from his speech to Scott in 1.12 Code Breaker (“You want me to risk my life for your girlfriend? For your stupid little teenage crush that means absolutely nothing? You’re not in love, Scott! You’re 16 years old! You’re a child!”) that sort of seemed like he was really talking to himself, to Kate’s comment about the 16-year-old Jackson in 1.09 Wolf’s Bane (“Holy hotness! Oh, if I was in high school again…maybe just the substitute teacher.”) making it seem like she was interested in teenage boys. But in the end, that was too dark, and he changed it in 3A to make Derek 27 instead of 22 (despite Stiles’ initial claim that Derek was ONLY A FEW YEARS OLDER than he and Scott…sorry, sorry, I know I said I’d leave it alone), and he technically did manage to just BARELY squeak by without conflicting any of his own canon after all, despite my having to write 1500 words of meta just to figure out what the hell he was trying to do when it would have been so much easier to just TELL US. It’s cheap, disappointing, and an overall cop-out, but it is what it is. Mystery solved, right?

IF!!! ONLY!!!!!

In 1.04 Magic Bullet, when Derek comes to the high school looking for Scott to get his help, he runs into Jackson instead, and winds up slamming him against the lockers, digging his claws into the back of Jackson’s neck. These wounds bother Jackson for most of the season, and later, he goes to get them checked out by a doctor (ironically, Dr. Fenris, though we don’t know that at the time):

Dr. Fenris: What did you say it was that scratched you? Jackson: It was—it was just an animal. Look, can you hurry this up? I’m missing first period. Dr. Fenris: Have you had trouble sleeping lately? Jackson: Kind of. I’ve been having dreams. Dr. Fenris: Dreams…or nightmares? Jackson: Nightmares. About a fire. It’s this—this house, and I can hear screaming—

—1.09 Wolf’s Bane

Could be any house, sure. After all, we got to see that Derek had his own wolfsbane-poisoned blood dripping down his fingers at the time and Dr. Fenris confirms shortly after this conversation that Jackson does indeed have aconite/wolfsbane poisoning himself. Nothing to give you nightmares like wolfsbane! (Though it’s bananas that the stuff stuck around in his system that long—we’re not given a definite timeframe for how long it was between being scratched and getting the scratches checked, but they looked well on their way to healing, so it must have been a week-ish at the very least.)

In the very next episode, though, when Derek tricks Jackson into coming out to the Hale house so he can kill him…

Jackson: This house—it’s the same house. Derek: What’d you say? Jackson: I’ve dreamt about this place. I—I remember the staircase. I remember these—these walls. I remember everything. Derek: You’ve been here? Jackson: No, never. I dreamt it.

—1.10 Co-Captain

Jackson is more or less telling us the Hale house is the one he’s been having the nightmares about. How is that possible? Well, in the very same episode, Peter sticks his claws into Scott’s neck to give him memories of the fire. (And in the novel, which is admittedly not canon, when Derek accidentally digs his claws into Scott, he gives him a memory about the fire as well.)

Most of the time we tend to think of That Thing Werewolves Do With Their Claws as a one-way connection—that the person using their claws is getting information from the other person’s head. But here are at least two instances—one voluntary, one involuntary—where they GAVE information to the other person instead. And when Peter uses Talia’s claws on Derek in 3.15 Galvanize, that was Talia giving information to Derek, rather than Peter or Talia getting information from him. It’s NOT one-way, not even just in Season 1, and though it was an accident, Derek DID give Jackson some of his memories.

And if Jackson remembers and has nightmares about people screaming during the fire, that means DEREK was almost certainly there hearing people screaming during the fire. Which means, a) Derek watched his family die, I’m very sad about that, but more importantly: b) he was NOT very far from home (IE college, IE so far away he didn’t want to come visit for three YEARS), to have been “at school” when the house caught fire, and able to get to the house before everybody finished screaming. There cannot POSSIBLY have been a college THAT CLOSE to Derek’s house where he didn’t feel the need to see his family for 3 YEARS.

Further putting holes in the “didn’t see Cora because he was away at college for 3 years theory” are these lines:

Peter Kate didn't just take [Derek] back to being a teenager, she... She took him back to the age when he still knew her. When he still trusted her.

—4.02 117

Peter: Quite the elaborate scheme you have here, Kate. Two countries, Aztec temples, Derek returned to a teenager...one that trusted you. One that loved you.

—4.02 117

Derek was a teenager when he first met Kate. That means 19 at the VERY oldest, though I guess it’s POSSIBLE Season 4 was attempting to return to the “age 16” canon. Granted, he may not have been a teenager when the fire happened, but if they wanted us to believe he was 21 and “at school” meant “away at college,” that means he and Kate were in a relationship for 3 years—I don’t think ANYBODY has that kind of patience to pour into a long con, let alone Kate Argent; Chris himself noted in 4.05 I.E.D. that “control was never one of Kate’s strengths.” (Backed up by the houseful of children she murdered.)

Furthermore, if they were in a relationship for 3 years, and the fire was 6 years ago, Kate would have had to have met Derek 9 years ago, and if 10 years ago he was 15, then 9 years ago he would have been 16—for most people (and it’s possible Derek was an exception) that is WAY too young to be at college.

To complicate things even further, we also have this gem from 3A, the season with the most retcon attempts:

Deaton: When you've spent every moment of the last 10 years trying to push something away...denying it, lying about it, becomes a pretty powerful habit.

—3.04 Unleashed

I would imagine Deaton quit being an emissary once there was no longer a pack to guide, which is to say: after the fire. But again, 3A tells us the fire was 9 years ago (in the episode right before this one!), not 10. It’s POSSIBLE that what he means is he quit after Gerard massacred Deucalion’s pack, but the Hales were all fine until the fire, so why would he? The Sheriff’s line in 3.09 implies those events were either exactly 10 years ago or slightly more than that, but it’s left deliberately vague. If this is when Deaton quit, however, that would mean Derek was 15 when the massacre happened and Paige died, and, if the fire truly was 9 years ago, 16 when he met Kate and lost his family. But if the fire was 6 years ago, it brings up yet another contradiction: Deaton quit being the Hales’ emissary a full four years before they all died.

So where are these missing 3 years between seeing Cora and believing her to be dead in the fire? WHAT does that line EVEN MEAN? Where the HELL was she supposed to have been? Did she go off to college too?? Was she in a South American boarding school? If she didn’t live in that house why would Derek have reason to believe she died? If DEREK was the one not living there why does he remember his family screaming? Why did Deaton stop advising that pack FOUR YEARS before they all burned to death? COME ON.

As far as I can tell, the ONLY way this could have gone without ignoring any canonical evidence is:

When Derek is 15, he is forced to kill Paige, and Deaton quits his job after Gerard’s massacre (”10 years ago”)

Derek meets Kate at age 16, while he’s still technically a teenager, but somehow after he graduates and leaves his initials on the bookshelf—canonically this would make him one of those child geniuses

he leaves home goes off to college, a college that is close enough to get to the Hale house in less time than it takes for it to burn, and that’s the last time he sees Cora (”9 years ago”)

during the next 3 years, Derek either does not come home to see Cora OR Cora herself was somewhere else but there some reason she was supposed to have been in the house when the fire was set. Additionally, Kate is in a relationship with Derek, pursuing knowledge of his werewolf family so she can burn them alive—or, if JD was still absolutely hellbent on finding a way out of the “statutory rape” implications, perhaps she knew him platonically for 2 years and somehow didn’t take things further until his 18th birthday

then, when Derek is 19, Kate sets the fire, Derek and Laura rush home in time to watch their family die, and Kate leaves town (”6 years ago”)

which puts Derek at 25 in the present when the show begins

...and I just can’t buy it. I can’t buy that Deaton quit his job over another pack’s loss, or Derek wouldn’t come home to see his family, especially if he was so close and still a minor (why not just live at home?), or that Cora magically vanished for 3 years but was supposed to be home when the place burned, and I sure as hell can’t buy Kate playing with her food for that long, especially when for two years of it there was no sex involved. There is NO WAY they can expect us to believe all of that.

So: how old is Derek in 2005 when the fire happens??? I don’t know, you don’t know,

AND NEITHER DOES JEFF DAVIS,

and his sloppy amateur attempts to retcon his canon to cover his own ass only raise more QUESTIONS than ANSWERS. I don’t know why it mattered so deeply to him to make sure we all knew Derek wasn’t underage when the fire and/or his relationship with Kate happened, if it was studio meddling or if after two seasons he had a sudden change of heart, but he would’ve been much better off letting implications stay implications and saying nothing at all—so that people would have to draw their own conclusions and there would be no right or wrong answers. Because right now that’s WHAT WE ALL HAVE TO DO ANYWAY!

thanks for coming to my TED talk

#teen wolf #derek hale #kate argent #jennifer blake #peter hale #cora hale #my stuff #long post #TW*#meta*#this has been bothering me for a long time #Years #there is literally...no canonical age...for derek #or i guess you could say there are multiple canonical ages for derek #which means none of them are valid #and thusly: all of them are #if one person wants to say he's 30 in the pilot they can and if i want to say he's 22 i can do that too #nobody is wrong! stop arguing about it! i see so much stupid discourse about this shit just accept that there is no answer!#g o d #i have had this essay brewing in me since 3.08 aired live #i was so fucking annoyed with this bullshit #like pick a story and stick to it #he would have had it in the bag if not for this nine years line #i guess he thought he'd try to make the fire nine years ago instead of six or something and it backfired? so he changed it?#but honestly if he was gonna do it he shoulda just stuck to his guns and said why instead of pulling this mystery bullshit on us #if you're trying to make kate more sympathetic or avoid studio meddling bullshit just come out and say it jfc #17 how you measure in years lmao what other way matters? 17 years is still years #god anyway #i have to be up in five hours i can't believe this is how i wasted my night

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