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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Initiative - aka NMJ and JYL get engaged - ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2, pt 3

Nie Mingjue was always glad for an excuse to leave a boring political meeting, although he was surprised that Jiang Yanli had been bold enough to send a note requesting his immediate presence before they were married.

Certain jibes had been made at his expense by his fellow sect leaders, of course, but he had shrugged them off. Let them think him overly indulgent; what did he care? He enjoyed having someone to dote on when he had the chance, and anyway he didn’t think Jiang Yanli would ask him to come out so quickly over nothing – though it was interesting she asked for him to join her, rather than asking for her brother.

“Mistress Jiang?” he said, walking into the room in Jinlin Tower where she was waiting for him. Her posture was tense, her hands clutched together under her sleeves. “What’s the matter?”

“Do you know where the Wen sect survivors were sent?” she asked. “It’s a matter of – some urgency. If you don’t know, we’ll have to find out another way.”

We, he thought. Wei Wuxian, no doubt, since Jiang Cheng was still inside the hall, enduring the politics that came with any meeting between sects. And Wei Wuxian did not, generally speaking, have the best ways of figuring things out.

“The Jin sect has not shared that information publicly,” he said slowly, and saw her shoulders slump in disappointment. “But that does not mean I don’t know it. What is the issue?”

Jiang Yanli explained in a few sentences: a woman looking for a brother, a young man who had helped rescue Wei Wuxian during the war, a doctor’s assistant, who’d even gone so far as to poison his own people to save members of the Jiang sect and then spent the majority of the war in a prison, and yet now they thought he had been trapped in a prison camp, being abused…a young man surnamed Wen.

A young man called Wen Ning, or Wen Qionglin. It was not a name Nie Mingjue remembered.

But the one searching for Wen Ning was his sister, Wen Qing - and that was a name he did remember.

Wen Ruohan’s favorite nurse.

Nie Mingjue’s jaw clenched at the thought. He’d spent more than half his life avenging his family, and had always assumed the Wen sect would do the same if they were allowed to live; he had never stinted on hating all of them without exception, without quarter. Wen Ruohan was a murderer and a tyrant, and his family supported him with nary a word in protest until the tables had turned and it was their own lives at stake – was it not evil to support evil? Could Wen Ruohan have done as much as he did without Wen Qing’s medicines and treatments, without Wen Qionglin’s silent compliance? Did it really matter that they had been threatened, as so many other people had been threatened?

No. Duress could explain many things, but it never excused standing aside in the face of murder. Wen Qionglin and Wen Qing were, at best, accessories to a hundred crimes, and deserved exactly none of his sympathy.

And yet.

It was not them that was making a request of him.

Patient, calm, gentle. Forgiving. These were all traits he wanted in his bloodline, traits he lacked and knew he lacked. Traits that Jiang Yanli possessed: matching strength to weakness, weakness to strength.

Nie Mingjue did not love Jiang Yanli, not yet, but if he was not willing to even trust her, it was better not to marry at all.

“Very well,” he said, deciding. “Are they waiting outside? We will go at once. Huaisang will make my excuses.”

“…Huaisang will?”

“He’ll stutter and obfuscate and make a tolerable mess of it,” Nie Mingjue said, not without a mixture of exasperation and fondness – he knew his brother too well. “And as a result they won’t know where or why we’ve gone for at least another half a shichen, if not more.”

(Knowing Nie Huaisang, he might ‘accidentally’ end up implying that Nie Mingjue had gone to enjoy some afternoon delight with his soon-to-be bride, but Nie Mingjue was too polite to mention something like that to Jiang Yanli.)

Jiang Yanli nodded, and slipped her hand into his, squeezing briefly. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I know what it all means to you.”

“I can only give you the benefit of the doubt,” he said, trying to be honest but probably coming off as harsh. “For the rest of it, I will decide when we are there.”

Wei Wuxian didn’t have his sword, as always these days, and Wen Qing, shivering behind him, had lost hers, but Nie Mingjue brought along four Nie sect cultivators and ordered two to act as escorts, with the other two trailing behind in the event of trouble. He rather liked Wei Wuxian, especially after that stunt he’d pulled in protest of the Jin sect’s little shooting ‘entertainment’, but demonic cultivation was dangerous and Wei Wuxian’s mentality was said to be unstable. Nie Mingjue had lost so many of his own already - he was taking no chances.

“How did you know where they’re located, Chifeng-zun?” Wei Wuxian asked from where he was balancing behind a long-suffering Nie Zonghui. “I wouldn’t have thought the Jin sect shared that information.”

“Are you not familiar with the concept of spies?” Nie Mingjue asked, voice dry. Jiang Yanli, in his arms, giggled – she’d planned to send them along without her, looking disappointed and worried and resigned, and she’d brightened like a flower exposed to the sun when he’d informed her that she was coming along with them. She was accustomed to being left behind, and he intended to change that.

Besides, they were only going to the Qiongqi Path, which was solidly in Jin territory, to a prisoner of war camp staffed by Jin cultivators. It was hardly a dangerous expedition, and he did not expect to encounter anything that might be a threat, excluding perhaps his own temper.

His temper did, in fact, make an appearance.

“Jin Guangshan swore to Lan Xichen that the Wen remnants would be resettled peacefully,” he snarled, eyes red with rage and Baxia in his hand as the Jin sect cultivators - which had been tormenting the civilians here and that had gotten into Wei Wuxian’s face when he’d charged over first to shout at them - cowered in front of him. They were willing to challenge Wei Wuxian, but it seemed that Nie Mingjue was a different story – bullying the weak and cowering before the strong. Pathetic! “I had not realized that our understanding of the word peaceful was so different. Clearly I will need to have words with Sect Leader Jin.”

A hand touched his arm, and he looked down, surprised; virtually no one approached him when he was in a rage.

Jiang Yanli stood beside him, looking up at him fearlessly. “As much as I’m sure you’d like to chop them into pieces, it’ll be more effective to present them as evidence,” she said, and even smiled, as if they were sharing a joke between the two of them. “We can save the chopping for later. Following the trial that I’m certain Sect Leader Jin will insist upon.”

The Jin cultivators paled, clearly realizing that the likelihood of Sect Leader Jin standing behind them rather than immediately making them scapegoats was very low. They would be much more likely to spill whatever secrets they might have now, knowing that their fates depended more on Nie Mingjue’s mercy than on Jin Guangshan’s, than they would have even in the face of his threats.

Baxia grumbled in reluctant approval, and all of a sudden Nie Mingjue could not wait for Jiang Yanli to have a saber of her own and to cultivate its spirit – he thought it would be a very fine spirit indeed.

“Very well,” he allowed, and put Baxia back on his back, noting but ignoring the respectful looks his cultivators were sending Jiang Yanli. It was nothing more than what ought to be, the proper role of a Nie furen: to incite when appropriate, to restrain when necessary. “Zonghui, return to Lanling and bring a larger force so that we can transport the Wen civilians to safety. And – there’s no need for subtlety.”

By which he meant that he wanted every cultivator who could fly their own sword to be tagging along out of curiosity, and Nie Zonghui knew it. He saluted and left at once.

“What do we do now, then?” Wei Wuxian asked, shifting from one foot to the other. He looked anxious and young, clearly startled by the abrupt lack of violence and worried about Wen Ning – the young man had some nasty injuries that hadn’t been treated by the Jin sect, his body tossed away like so much refuse, but they’d arrived early enough that his sister was avidly working to care for him. She had said that his chances were good, since they had arrived before his consciousness had slipped away.

If they’d arrived later…

If Nie Mingjue hadn’t had the information ready to hand from the spies he disliked using, if Wei Wuxian had had to get the information out of the Jin sect directly, if he had had to ride here from Lanling rather than fly a sword, if he’d gotten stuck in that thunderstorm that was rapidly heading their way…

Well, that hadn’t happened. There was no point in wondering what if.

“Now? Nothing. We wait. Nie Xizhe, Wu Shude, take some of the Wen civilians and have them help you tie up all the Jin sect cultivators; I don’t want anyone sneaking away, and there’s not enough of us to guard them while they’re free. Wei Wuxian, walk with me.” He glanced to his side. “With us, I mean.”

Wei Wuxian obediently trotted over to where Nie Mingjue and Jiang Yanli were waiting, and Nie Mingjue led the three of them over to a nearby ridge where they could have a little privacy. The storm was getting ever closer, he noticed.

“Very well,” he said finally. “It’s just us now. What debt do you owe the Wens?”

Wei Wuxian froze. “Debt? I don’t – I already said –”

“There’s something you’ve left out,” Nie Mingjue said. “The way you act with them…”

He didn’t know how to put it into words. It wasn’t merely chivalrous altruism, nor even friendship, that was driving Wei Wuxian – he was desperate to help, manic with the need to do something; there was something else there. Some secret. He knew, because Nie Mingjue knew secrets and what they did to a man, even if he was keeping it for the best reasons in the world.

“A-Xian?” Jiang Yanli asked when Wei Wuxian said nothing, when Nie Mingjue said no more. “You know you can tell me, right?”

His lips were pressed together, his hand tight on his flute until his knuckles were white. He shook his head. “Shijie,” he whispered. “Don’t ask, please. Don’t.”

At least he’d admitted there was something.

“Your conduct is causing trouble for Yunmeng Jiang,” Nie Mingjue said, and Wei Wuxian turned tormented eyes on him, even as Jiang Yanli’s hand tightened on his. “It’s a Great Sect, but your brother is young, untried, and sensitive to criticism. It will be difficult for him to deal with the issues you present, especially if you persist in your present path of continuing with demonic cultivation instead of returning to the orthodox path of sword cultivation.”

Wei Wuxian nodded, looking pained.

“Do you have a suggestion?” Jiang Yanli asked.

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue said. “Absent yourself before you are forced to leave in truth. Go to the Cloud Recesses the way Lan Wangji continues to pester you about – see if you can’t tell him what secret it is that’s weighing down your tongue, if you can’t tell any of us – and come visit the Unclean Realm when you’re done there.”

Wei Wuxian was staring. Nie Mingjue ignored him.

“When you’re done with that, assign yourself the job of checking up on the Jiang sect’s dependent sects, or even just go around to visit every sect listed as having fought in the war, building relationships with them,” he continued briskly. “As for the reason, you’re clever, you’ll think of something. Get Wangji to teach you some healing spells and come help those in my sect who need it. Say that you’re using your demonic cultivation to help ferret out resentful energy in need of cleansing. Something. It doesn’t really matter what. But whatever you do, go. Give Yunmeng Jiang time to become as strong as it needs to be to protect you.”

“But it shouldn’t be protecting me,” Wei Wuxian protested. “I should be the one protecting it!”

“A-Xian!” Jiang Yanli exclaimed, and her expression was suddenly fierce. “Are you the eldest? No. I am. You are my A-Xian, my didi, and that means you are part of Yunmeng Jiang – we have as much right to protect you as you us, and don’t you forget it.”

“But – shijie –”

“I won’t hear another word,” she said. “I won’t! Whatever it is, A-Xian, you need to tell us eventually, or else we’ll all fall apart. Didn’t you both promise me that we’d stay together, the three of us, always? You can’t break that promise now.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes were wet with tears. “All right, shijie. I’ll figure something out.”

“Start with Gusu,” Nie Mingjue said again, uncomfortable with the display of emotions. “If you tell Lan Wangji the truth, he may even be able to help – in one way or another. Or don’t, it’s up to you. Just get yourself out of the public view. Earn some merits that aren’t related to slaughter.”

Wei Wuxian nodded again, clearly overcome with feeling, and then promptly made up a flimsy excuse to leave, dashing away towards where Wen Qing was still working on her brother.

Jiang Yanli sighed. “Thank you,” she said. “Again. I just wish I knew what was wrong with him!”

“We’ll figure it out,” he promised her. “Even if I have to pick him up and shake the secret out of him.”

Jiang Yanli smiled up at him.

“Thank you,” she said, now a third time over.

“Thank you,” he corrected. “If you hadn’t brought this to my attention, I would be guilty of negligence in regard to the Wen sect remnants – and most of them civilians, no less. As for Wei Wuxian…he’s your didi, and so soon to be my brother-in-law. It’s nothing but what I should be doing.”

“Still,” she said. “I am grateful nonetheless.”

Nie Mingjue looked down at her, fierce and yet patient, kind and righteous in her own quietly determined way, fearless enough to stand by his side and trusting him enough to come to him for help.

His heart moved in his chest.

He decided to be daring, as it had always served him well in the past – he stepped forward, closer to Jiang Yanli, and leaned down to press his lips to the corner of her mouth.

“It is what I should be doing,” he murmured, voice low. “Nie furen.”

Jiang Yanli’s face turned bright red, but she was smiling.

Yes, Nie Mingjue thought – he might not be able to promise love, but accepting Jiang Yanli’s show of initiative was definitely one of the better decisions he’d made.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #jiang yanli #wei wuxian #my fic #my fics #initiative

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kkthanks · 2 years

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Breaking Bad / Better Call Saul: we have an “08” thing.

I went down a rabbit hole - seriously, spent my whole break from work on this by mistake - after realizing the little pattern in the photo about DDAY/ 606. I was reminded when confirming for 💯 sure the d-day date of June 6, 1944, that the war officially ended on 5/8/45. This led me on a hunch to look at what took place in episode 5x08 of Better Call Saul. When I saw what happened, I ended up looking up every 08 episode in Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul, and I think we’ve got an “08 thing” going on. It COULD all be a coincidence, but if not, let me know what you think this all means:

Officially, the war ended on 5/8/1945.

What happened in 508 of Better Call Saul?

Bagman is the episode of better call Saul that amounts to the lie Jimmy tells Lalo, which I have theorized ends up being the reason Jimmy thinks Lalo sent people after him in 208 of Breaking Bad.

There’s an 08 thing… The Breaking Bad “better call Saul” / it wasn’t me it was Ignacio episode was episode 208.

Out of curiosity; though this could all be chalked up to coincidence, I checked some other 08 episodes for significance, knowing off the top of my head that 308 of Breaking Bad was the one right after “one minute” (shootout between Hank and the cousins). This episode is called “I See You,” also a play on words for ICU. Since this episode supports my “08” hunch, considering one of the Salamanca cousins dies in this episode and Bolsa dies.

In this episode, off screen (we see the death in this episode but we don’t learn about Mike’s involvement until, GUESS WHAT EPISODE? yes, it’s another 08, this time in season 4, see more below!!!! There’s a lot more) Mike, on orders from Gus, kills Leonel (the cousin who hadn’t died yet in One Minute) (!!!) Walt realizes that Gus has known he was lying about having a DEA relative and being at the lab as Gus “hides in plain sight” from the DEA. Gus arranged for Bolsa’s death; he also is killed in this episode (!) right when he was accusing Gus of betrayal (ummm. Uh oh. What “might” this mean for Lalo?) This is also the episode where Walt fires Gale from the lab so Jesse can come back.

Back to better call Saul.

408 of better call Saul, we see Nacho doing business with Krazy 8, which for me solidifies the need to merge the timelines and address no one in the BCS world going looking for Krazy 8 when he disappears after encountering Walt and Jesse in BB. Also, LALO ARRIVED IN TOWN IN THIS EPISODE and the situation giving rise to Mike having to kill Werner all take place in this episode. The excavation is delayed because Casper has an injury, Kai has the incident at the bar.

Interestingly, Krazy 8 is also in episode 3x08 when Nacho reprimands him a bit for not going after a dealer who owed them money. Nacho does the stunt with Hector’s pills in this episode and Mike and Gus are in talks about working together.

In 208, Kim resigns from HHM, Howard tells her about his father convincing him to work at the firm. This episode has that meeting where Chuck and Howard initially convince mesa verde not to go with Kim and to stay with HHM- seems significant now given the prank against Howard. *Jimmy pranks Chuck in this episode! This is the 1216 forgery episode. !!! Also in this episode Mike is plotting against Hector, interesting because in 308 Nacho executes his plan against Hector (the pills, mentioned above).

108 of Better Call Saul is the episode Jimmy starts building the class action against Sandpiper ! Mike asks Caldera for more work, which now seems interesting to me given the current storyline; if I were writing this last week, maybe not.

Breaking Bad does not have an episode 1 x 08, nothing I can do about that one ;)

As mentioned above, 2x08 is the better call Saul episode and 3x08 is I See You.

EPISODE 408 IS THE EPISODE GUS GOES AND TORMENTS HECTOR ABOUT THE SALAMANCA FAMILY DYING WITH HIM, the episode no one will stop talking about because it must mean Lalo is dead. this happens during a flashback after another scene we didn’t originally see, from 308/ I see you, we now learn Mike killed Leonel at the hospital. Mike warns Gus that the situation with Hank investigating him (though the police don’t suspect him) + the cartel watching him could be the perfect storm. Hank mentions the thing about there being no record of Gus in Chile. Gus explains away his fingerprints being at Gale’s apartment. We see that Gus has security cameras in the Superlab. Gus visits Hector during present day informing him he went against the Cartel, and we see the infamous Max flashback to the first time Gus met Eladio, Hector, and Bolsa. Hector kills Gus’s friend Max in the flashback and Eladio authorizes Bolsa to knock Gus to the ground and Hector holds him there so he directly watches his friend bleed to death after being shot by Hector. This is the origin of Gus’s whole desire for revenge.

Lastly, and it’s another good one, in 508 of Breaking Bad, Walt disposes of Mike’s body after killing him the previous episode, then he arranges for the “disposal” of Mike’s men in prison, getting their names from Lydia and hiring Todd’s uncle Jack to kill all of them in prison.

#better call saul #better call saul theory #breaking bad #lalo salamanca #gustavo fring #hector salamanca #omg omg omg #what does it mean

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thesunshinebunny · 3 years

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When the world falls apart, the only thing we can hold onto is ourselves (Part II)

Series Master list

pairing: canon Eren Jaeger x reader

content: Angst, unstable relationship, breakup, smut/nswf+18, major character death, violence, blood (obviously), war (pretty obvious)

summary: War and hate. It’s what defined the world at this exact moment. You failed your comrades, and by failing them, you failed yourself. Your relationship is hanging by a thread and your enemies will not only be found on the other side of the sea, but also in the mind of the person you love the most. How will you take the reins in the face of so much destruction?

Chapter summary: Coming home is melancholy and cold, and your squadmates ask you to do what you couldn't do for a year: speak up and find out what's going on inside Eren's mind.

Words count: 5.3k

They say that when a loved one leaves this world, the days follow turns gray, colorless; How ironic to think that the day we buried Sasha was gray, there wasn’t a trace of the blue sky or some solar ray that could give us the warmth we were lacking. It was cold, a cold that got into your bones and no matter how many hugs and words of mutual support we gave each other, we couldn’t get the warmth we needed.

My soul had been fragmented the moment Sasha left this world, but seeing my friends cry at her grave and leave bouquets of flowers, it fragmented even more. I wasn’t able to meet Nicolo's eyes, my guilt prevented me. Inside, I wanted this Marleyan to yell at me, to tell me that he hated my presence, that Sasha's death had been my fault, and that I should have given my life if it meant saving her. I wanted with all my being that he would give me a reason to really feel guilty.

On the way back to the island, the others assured me that her death wasn’t my fault, that I did everything possible to keep her alive. But my ineptitude, my grief, my low self-esteem prevented me from seeing things clearly. I just needed… something to hold onto.

And I wasn't getting anything.

I felt how I was slowly sinking into the rabbit hole, without the possibility of clinging to a tree root. I was falling, falling, falling, unable to know when I would hit bottom. But that bottom came fast before I could have predicted, because minutes after Nicolo arrived, Sasha's father arrived too, bouquet of beautiful red flowers in hand.

I broke myself. The two people who longed for Sasha most in their lives were standing in front of me, mourning the loss of her young soul. The two people who would hate me the most in the world, standing over my friends's grave. I fell to my knees in front of them and in front of her grave, silently begging for forgiveness.

My tears fell incessantly on the freshly stirred earth as did my fingers, imploring this burden on my chest to dissipate, as if unconsciously I was wishing for Sasha herself to forgive me for letting her die. How could one cope with this heinous feeling? How could I go on, knowing that the world was falling around us, unable to know if the next day we were going to be alive or if Marley would initiate an attack from which we weren’t going to be able to defend ourselves?

My head was racing a thousand per second and the only thing I could let out were those sobs that had accompanied me so much on the way back, the same ones that cradled me to slept, and the tears that so much wanted to dissipate the pain in my soul.

It is said that when a person leaves this world, some people are unable to handle grief, just as they are unable to articulate a word. Apparently I was one of those people.

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Nights and days passed. Those of us who survived the attack on Marley stayed in commune trying to encourage ourselves to continue fighting. Hange had recommended us to rest, since the psychological damage could cause us several injuries in the future, and as for Eren ... we weren’t very aware of him. The last we heard from our commanders is that he was locked away from all human contact, stipulating that it would be better to keep him locked up for a while and let whatever shit that was going through his head dissipate.

But that was complete bullshit. I knew that, even locking him up, they weren't going to be able to change the thoughts that tormented Eren so much. I knew that, whatever was wandering through his mind, he wasn’t letting him alone and he would never let go. How did I know that? Because I spent a whole year trying to get him to let me enter in that shell he has been forming in recent years. I tried very hard to get him to tell me his plan before he went to Marley, but I got nothing, and I still get nothing.

My gaze was lost in the window. The nights grew colder and colder and I hugged my arms as I watched the sunset. The boys were arguing about something, something that Mikasa didn't seem to find funny at all, but my mind wasn’t connected to reality. I just stared out the window, remembering the old days when we'd sneak out to steal a piece of meat from the supply warehouse with Sasha and Connie.

I remembered the nights when the boys sneaked into the women's hut to keep each other warm in our days as recruits. I remembered how Armin let me practice my medicine methods on him when he got hurt, a practice that was lost when he inherited the power of the Colossal Titan.

I remembered how we would escape at dawn, grab a few horses and ride out to the ocean, taking nice cool baths on the warm moonlit summer nights. Now those moments only remained in that, in memories.

"(Y/N) are you listening?"

My gaze detached from the window, now it was fixed on a Connie who looked just as tired of the world as I did. This dwarf turned giant was just as devastated as I was by losing half of him, and yet he was still able to continue fighting alongside our friends.

"We think you might be the most suitable to go talk to Eren"

Armin's calm voice stripped me of any desire to go back to the old moments. I pulled myself away from the window tiredly and let my body unconsciously guide me to one of the couchs in the middle of the room, next to the blonde. Apparently while I was wandering in my thoughts, the tension in the room had reached a point where it could be cut with a simple wave of the hand.

As I sat down, I was able to take a better look at the room. From what I could analyze, the group had divided into two, those who still trusted Eren and those who did not, each with their reasons, and apparently, I was playing the role of mediator. The responsibility fell on me to move the pieces of the board: to talk to our supposed war partner and beg him to tell us about his plans and the demons in his head, or to dethrone him completely.

"What makes you think I can go talk to him?"

My words came out of my mouth colder and sharper than I would’ve liked, but it was the simple truth. If Eren was willing to push each other away to accomplish his task, what was I going to accomplish after a year without having answers to his thoughts?

"I haven't been able to speak to him openly in a year"

Armin and Mikasa gave me completely stunned looks. Not even their childhood friend had told them that his relationship was falling off a cliff.

"I didn't know, I thought you were fine"

"Well, we are not fine at all Armin"

I knew it wasn't fair for Armin to get all my frustration, he wasn't guilty at all. I looked him in the eye and I could find multiple feelings in those huge blue eyes: sadness, compassion, guilt, overwhelm. I knew he was one of the worst going through it, his childhood friend was no longer entirely reliable; he had carried out acts of sheer violence and had become the enemy he hated the most; Armin had become his worst enemy and his eyes clearly showed it.

And it was those same eyes that begged me to do something, to go and talk, to try to figure out the smallest thing we could use to get out of this mess Eren got us into. They implored me to save his soul brother from his mental prison.

I let out a long breath before getting up off the couch and heading to the door.

"I highly doubt that I will achieve anything, but I will try to talk to him"

I took one last look to the guys in front of me before leaving the room, each one wishing me luck and pleading for my well-being with their eyes, and sinking even further into the rabbit hole, or rather, going straight to ventured into the lion's den.

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The road to the dungeons was long and heavy, but not because of the number of blocks and alleys I had to take, but because of what was waiting for me at the end of the road. Upon coming into contact with the stone walls and their semi-armored doors, the blood on my body ran cold, just as it ran cold when we buried Sasha.

The air below the ground was cold, the smell of mold and dirt entered my nostrils, preventing me from taking a couple of steps without feeling like vomiting. The place really needed a better cleaning, otherwise it would be the epicenter of a huge plague.

At the end of the corridor, where the light was dimmer and let the darkness eat much of the cell, was Eren. My heart skipped a beat when I saw him sitting on his supposed bed, staring directly at the wall, or so it seemed; knowing him he was surely lost in his world. I kept my composure, avoiding giving any trace of my emotional and psychological state.

"Hi"

I got no response, as always.

I had the opportunity to inspect his cell, it was quite untidy and dripping with water, coming from the sink which was covered to the top. Unconsciously I prayed that this water was drinkable or at least that it was not too polluted, since I didn’t have to look completely at the brunette in front of me to know he had put his head in that same water.

"I like your hair, looks very smooth"

"What do you want?"

His voice came out calm but imposing and terrifying at the same time, I would be lying if I said I didn’t startle a bit, but I kept my composure as best as possible to avoid showing the fear in my eyes. Eren may not have noticed, but if he did, he was unfazed.

"The guys think that I can talk to you, but I told them they were completely wrong, I mean...we haven't been able to speak like we used to for a year, maybe more"

My words came out of my mouth like the venom of a snake. I couldn't tell if my intention was to make him feel guilty, or at least feel something, to reflect on my words, but guess what… his eyes didn't even leave the wall behind me.

I crossed my arms and rested my body on one of the bars, hoping to have some intimidating way for the damn bastard to decide to speak. Even though bullying wasn't my thing, I, yes, had a tired face and wasn't there to waste my time, but I had to achieve something, get something, whatever, so I could get out of this damn place.

"You know very well that I'm not going to leave until you say something"

His eyes met mine for a few seconds and then returned to their original position. I knew this was going to be difficult, but I couldn't help my irritation growing from my chest. With every minute that passed, the pain in that area was increasing and a lump in the throat was appearing with each tear that I wanted to avoid shedding.

I'd been through shitty days and had to come alone to the exact place I least wanted to be to talk to the person I least wanted to see.

"I'm used to being on my feet for long hours, I can be here all day, and that's exactly what I'm going to do"

I remained planted in front of the cell, positioning myself with crossed arms right in front of his eyes, preventing them from continuing to look at the miserable wall.

But my bad luck wasn't giving me any sign that I was going to win this fight very soon. Although I was covering his peripheral field, his eyes never deigned to look at me, they simply stayed glued to the front, now seeing my body in front, although in reality, he was seeing without seeing.

My patience was running out and this goddamn silent game had only just begun. I had to find something to work with, something that could flicker him or make him angry… anger would not be the best if I wanted to leave with all the bones intact and my already psychological trauma without further damage; but knowing Eren, anger was his fuel, which made him move and in an action-reaction effect, made everyone move together behind him.

That's it. Everyone. But we weren't all here.

Sasha was dead; Reiner, Berthold and Annie traitors and enemies of Paradis; Ymir disappeared and confirmed dead, being inherited by the new jaw titan; the only one missing from our group was our beloved Queen. The Queen that Eren so decided to care for and protect.

"You know, Historia is about to give birth"

It was mild, but I could feel his body tense. His eyes moved just the same slightly, but in those little acts I knew I had struck a chord. And I was willing to use it, even if it meant destroying my sanity and causing one of Eren's greatest worldly anger.

"Wouldn't it be nice to have a little baby on the squad?" I took a deep breath before launching the second impact of the night, preparing to receive whatever blow came next. "After all, it's your child, right?"

His body moved faster than I could ever achieve and my reflexes weren't sharp enough to pull away in time. His hand grabbed my shirt, drawing me towards the bars and hitting my cheeks on each one, now my face was directly in front of him, my field of vision being just his face and finally, his eyes were focused on mine.

"Don't even think about talking about Historia like that"

If looks could kill, surely I would already be dead on the ground. His grip on my chest was strong, he was even capable of ripping the fabric, but with a push back showed me that it wasn’t strong enough, that everything was a facade. I staggered, almost fell to the ground, but either way, I kept my balance and my expression. I was terrified inside, but I forced myself to keep a stoic look at all time, he was trying to play with me and although I was not entirely sure how much there were just words and how much were an act of anger and violence, I couldn’t dedicate myself to having a hint of doubt.

"Easy, Romeo, I know you're not the daddy...or are you?"

I adjusted my clothes, avoiding his gaze because I knew if I stared into his eyes, I would get a much worse look than the one he gave me a few seconds ago.

"Whatever, you gave me something to work with, Historia knows something and didn't tell us...gee, I wonder why"

I leaned my body against the cold stone. My gaze went everywhere, trying to keep avoiding his eyes and incidentally have a stronger support for my figure.

"The Queen doesn’t have to say anything to anyone"

Ohhh, you little shit.

If that's the game you want to play, then you're going to lose.

Even if his words were absolutely right, we shouldn’t forget that, before she was queen, Historia had been our friend during training and the entire year of accumulated trauma between betrayals and deaths. If we could continue to have conversations with her and were invited to participate in political meetings, then we had every right to be informed of the supposed plan that Eren implanted in our queen's mind.

For a moment I was scared by the physical and emotional state of Historia. Was Eren capable of keeping her threatened? Did he say or do anything to keep her quiet? The questions seemed to have no head or tail, but if Eren was able to grab me the way he did, I can't imagine what he could do to keep someone quiet.

"Yes, you are right, in the same way, trust only the queen before your friends... that’s brave"

I searched the corridor and the cell for something I could use to attract his attention again, if it was necessary for me to use violence against him, I would be willing to do it. My eyes met a chain anchored to the wall, quite a long chain, to tell the truth. And on the other side, reaching almost the middle of the corridor, I could make out a rather dirty cloth.

I glanced at Eren who had sat back down on his bed, head down in his hands, and walked down the hall with one goal in mind. I grabbed the cloth and walked back to the cell, standing in front of the bars. I reached out my hand to the sink and started to clean up what was left of the spilled water.

"It's all soaked, incredible that they keep a cell like this"

Without taking my eyes off the sink, I could hear Eren settling on his bed, perhaps sitting upright. I kept running the dirty cloth over the water, honestly I wasn’t achieving much apart from spreading the now dirty water even more, but I had to continue with the facade of an understandable couple.

"It's a complete mess...were Historia's legs like this when you railed her?"

As before, Eren had quickly stood up, ready to grab my hand that was inside the cell, but I was already better prepared. When I felt his fingers touch my wrist, I turned my hand to anchor it on his arm and draw him towards the bars, having that same arm outside the cell. With half body on the cold metal, my other hand grabbed the missing arm and with all my strength I pulled his limbs towards me, causing his body and head to crash against the bars.

"Do you want to do it the hard way? fine, we'll do it the hard way"

Eren tried to shake off my grip, but the adrenaline rushing through my veins prevented him from loosening even a millimeter. I pushed him and pulled him back to me, stretching his arms even further and hitting his head on the metal.

"What's wrong with you?"

Again, a back and forth motion.

"What is going on in your head?"

Back and forth.

"How much shit can you have in your mind that you are not able to tell your friends?"

Back and forth.

"TELL ME FOR FUCK SAKE!!"

With one last impact, I hit Eren's head and heard the fibers and tendons in his shoulders rip, just as his skin began to stretch and break, revealing the flesh and muscle beneath it. Rivers of blood flowed over his arms, dropping to the floor and turning his skin red.

His head was also bleeding to the side, soaking his torso and rebel hair. A pool of blood formed under our feet. I let go of his arms and then grabbed the chain that was on the wall and chained him. Considering the number of times he hab been chained since his fifteen years, I suppose one more time wouldn't do any harm to his already traumatized mind.

When I saw his hands were secure I dropped to the floor, not caring about the blood that now adorned the cold stone floor. I could feel my ass starting to get soggy and sticky from the substance. I would have to burn this pants when I got out of there.

Both my mind and my breath hitched, enveloping the environment. I tried to calm down and clear my mind to continue this hell of interrogation. I knew I shouldn't have agreed, and now look at what situation I was in.

"You know I can transform and use the power of the warhammer titan to get out of here"

Eren seemed withdrawn from his situation, as if bleeding to death didn't matter in the least. Steam came out of his shoulders, a sign that he was in the process of regeneration and prayed that this process would take a long time to materialize.

“I know…” I tried to calm my voice and breath before speaking again “but if you transform now, you would end up killing me, and killing me means betraying the legion, and betraying them means betraying the people of Paradis… you don 't want that, do you? "

My words may sound sly, but inside I was wanting to run out of there, get under the covers of my bed and sleep until the day of doomsday; I was even wishing to die in that sleep.

"I'm going to stay here until I know once and for all what's going on in your head, because I know that whatever shit is in there… it's killing you."

Now we were both looking into each other's eyes, fighting a battle in silence, seeing who would give up first. We held eye contact for a few long minutes, unable to tell how many. Maybe it was a couple, maybe half an hour or even an hour; whatever the time, I was already getting bored.

"If I had known it would take so long, I would have brought something to read"

"What has you so worried that you can't even tell Hange or the heichou?"

My question came reluctantly out of my mouth, as if my ability to fight was fading. I was already very tired and it seemed like days since I entered the dungeons.

"Noone would be able to understand"

"Oh please! Don't take me for a fool. Do you think that none of them are battling their own inner demons? Do you think that only you can have intrusive thoughts to fight against?"

His comment irritated me to the core. I never found Eren such a selfish person, and to think that a year or so ago he was declaring his unconditional affection to all of his comrades.

What happened in the last year? What changed?

"Each one of them has to face their own internal wars every day"

Before my anger got the best of me, I took a few small breaths, calming myself. I wasn't going to put me on the same level of hatred and misunderstanding as him, even if it meant throwing away all the years we were together.

"Historia surely has to fight against the stress and the multiple responsibilities that being a queen entails, apart from fighting against the offensive comments of the military police"

Maybe the island has been rid of Titans for a long time, but that didn’t take away the fact that shitty people, like those who lived on the Wall Sina, decided to try and continue controlling the poor people who were split the loin so those ungrateful would have a feast every night.

"Connie is struggling every day against losing his other half, his twin"

Connie, Jean, everyone ... EVERYONE! We were fighting and suffering the mourning of Sasha, of our teammates.

"Shit, surely Jean is still struggling with the memory of Marco after so many years"

Yes. No one had forgotten Marco, especially Jean. But we had to learn to keep going on that very day, we couldn't afford to get sentimental and spoil the next missions. From that day on we learned to watch over our dead mates in silence.

"I fight every day against my incompetence"

And now was the time that I could begin to veil my demons once and for all.

Already my body was begging to rest. I had laid my head on the wall and fixed my gaze on the ceiling. I heard the chains move at my side, a sign that Eren was moving, but I didn't have the strength to look him in the face.

"I fight every day against the image of Sasha dying in my hands"

I know that memory is going to haunt me until the day I die.

"I fight every day against the memories of our comrades dying in battle"

I saw countless deaths throughout the year 850, so many that I decided to use my knowledge in medicine to help even to stop a bleeding. I still remember the first suture I made to a mate already lost in battle ... I was so excited, so happy to be of such help.

"I fight every day against the idea of not being enough"

But that exaltation led to thousands of failures. People who had bled internally, who had lost an arm and couldn’t get to cauterize, hundreds who had lost half their stomach or head.

"I fight every day against our enemies on the other side of the sea"

I wasn't going to deny it, learning the pure and exclusive truth of the world, I couldn't help but feel a deep hatred for the Marleyans. I wanted them to pay for the countless deaths and suffering they had caused, I wanted to see them burn, but at the same time I wanted a reasonable explanation.

"I fight the memories of the titans devouring our friends"

Memories of the first day in battle, right at our graduation, when we thought that nothing could happen. How naive we were. And to think that that was just the beginning of a long list of events that would bring us to this moment.

"I fight every day along side with the memories of the team escaping from the base and messing it up to enjoy the summer nights"

Memories of when we would sneak into the palace and take Historia with us, enjoying the air in our faces and running in the valleys of the countryside. Memories of when we ran cows for some strange reason at the beginning of the day.

Memories of when we were racing with the 3D movement gear through the great forests outside the city. Memories of the occasional punch in the face against the bark of a tree for not knowing where we were going.

"I fight every day against the image of the big bright turquoise eyes that I fell in love with"

My gaze fell on those same eyes, but instead of finding the description that I wanted to see so much, I only found grayish green eyes, eyes that had lost all their brilliance.

I found eyes full of tiredness and anger for the world. The brilliance that so characterized Eren had been lost; now I would have to settle for a blank stare.

"I fight every day ... against the memory of our return to the rooms and Levi punishing us for weeks"

My voice was breaking as I remembered the nights when only Eren and I would sneak out to spend quality time alone. Those nights where we would lie down to see the stars or to lose ourselves in each other in some meadow.

I look at my hands, they were shaking. I couldn't help but remember the first night we spent together, back then I was shaking too, but Eren's hands on my cheeks dispelled any doubt or fear that I could ever have. I unconsciously smiled at the fond memory and I think Eren did too, as I heard a little laugh coming from him.

But no matter how much smiles and laughter the memories gave me, I had to go on and face the world that was now in front of me.

"I fight every day ... against the idea of running towards you, towards your arms"

Those arms that one day gave me warmth. Those arms that one day hugged and covered me the moment I found out that a mate had died. Those strong arms that I knew were going to protect me from any harm.

"I fight against the hope that this is all a nightmare, that you are going to cradle me in your arms and tell me that everything is going to be fine, that it was just a bad dream"

My gaze returned to his, now filled with tears. It hurt, the cruel truth hurt a lot.

"I fight against the desire to stay by your side"

Eren's face was dark, he had returned to how he was at the beginning, without any trace of that soft laugh I heard a few seconds ago.

"I fight with my inner voice that tells me that everything will be fine, that in a few years it will not hurt as much as it does now"

Maybe ... maybe I can start over and when all this nefarious war is over I can find peace, once and for all, and enjoy my friends.

"I fight to move on"

...

"I fight every day...against you"

That was it.

I stood up heavily, wiping the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand. The blood on the floor was already dry and had left the entire back of my pants stained. I hadn't noticed that the air had been permeated with the iron smell of blood, making my vomiting reflex worse, even though I had avoided it in a good way all this time.

"If you want to free yourself from this cell, go ahead, I'm not going to stop you"

His figure was already fully regenerated and I knew it was a matter of time before he transformed and left this filthy place. Eren might trust what he was doing was the right thing to do, but if he didn’t accept that in the eyes of the world, that in our eyes, his friends, the only family he had left, couldn’t understand his actions, then there wasn’t much to ask from him.

If he wanted to betray us, let him do it.

“Do what you have to do to fulfill your dream, I don't care anymore. But don't expect for me to sit around and wait for you"

"Are you planning to go to the other side of the sea?"

What a stupid and dubious question at the same time. Was I willing to leave my life in Paradis to start over even in the lands of the enemy?

No, not at all. Why I was no traitor.

"No Eren, I am not going to Marley, my family is here...but you are no longer part of it"

Those words hurt, but they needed to be said; that way I could already start to heal.

"Is that all you have to say?"

I couldn't tell if his words were mocking or a sincere question. But yes, it was all I had to say. I couldn't spend another minute in front of someone I didn't even know anymore.

"It's all I can bear"

I took one last look at the prisoner in the cell before turning and continuing down the long corridor of the dungeons.

"Are you leaving so soon? I thought I heard you would stay as long as it takes for me to speak"

As I reached the door, I took a deep breath of the foul smell of the environment. My hand lay on the doorknob and was half open when his words reached my ears. There was no need to shout from a distance, the echo of the stones made it easy for me to hear the smallest whisper of the perpetrator. I opened the door, but not before dedicating my last words.

"Goodbye Jaeger"

And behind me, I closed the door.

#shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #snk #aot #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #uuuufff #this was looong #shingeki no kyojin x reader #attack on titan x reader #angst #eren smut

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akachaan · 3 years

Text

the golden-winged king [xiao]

genre: angst

warnings: death, blood

notes: pls im so proud of this writing BYE

The gentle chirps of birds graced Xiao’s ears. He recognized this as a melody of nature, the sunlight cascading a loving warmth onto his pale skin. Lush and rich grass blew in the breeze, one of the few somethings that Xiao actually appreciated from the Wind Archon. He chuckled breathlessly, a feeling of lighthearted mischief settling upon him. Xiao imagined how Venti would pout and scold him for his unbearably disrespect remarks, as he liked to call them. The grass entwined itself into his gloved hand like a silky ribbon. The light, fluffy clouds passed by, drifting away like dandelion seeds floating in the winds.

Xiao’s legs began to ache— the reason unknown —so he’d sat himself down, assuming he’d been basking in the beauty of the flower field for much too long. Ah, flowers. He’d almost forgotten just how intricately designed they were. Well, as a Guardian Yaksha, there’s only so much you can stop and admire. What were the names of these? The petals were pale blue from the bottom fading into a remarkable teal color, four pastel purple strands sprawling out from the top.

Glaze lilies, he recalled. These flowers only bloom once sung to, yes? He remembers this from a certain... human. He smiles fondly at the thought of them. “Xiao, Xiao!” A familiar and soft voice called. Speak of the devil.

Xiao turned to them, and his breath was caught in his throat. It’s like time slowed down, just for them. Just for him. He took a deep breath, his eyes softening, showing vulnerability he’d been hiding for a millennia. Your shining, soft locks framed your face, [c] eyes shining with love and purity. Xiao had seen skies like an ethereal dream, twinkling like sparklers trapped in the deep cerulean sky... But none of those galaxies and any to come would even compare to your radiant image. You were an angel sent from heaven, one to remind him what life can truly bring upon humanity; people like you.

You were like his little secret of sorts. Not a secret of the world. Anyone could meet or find [Name]. He knew anyone could come and sweep you away from him— though he doesn’t enjoy thinking of such ideas —he knew. It could happen. But, he also knew, and he trusted that you wouldn’t truly leave him, after all they’ve been through. He knew that you confined in him just as he did you, he felt like he was finally certain in his eternity of suffering and emptiness. Days that went by where he felt as if he were just existing. He was not living, he never was. Xiao was simply a guardian, assigned to protect Liyue until he drops dead from exhaustion. He was existing as The Guardian Yaksha, Conquerer of Demons.

But with you, he was not any of those. He was not just existing, watching over a nation til his last breath. Your presence alone made him feel warm. Him feeling was already an achievement in itself, after all these years as standing on the sidelines, secluded; no matter how close to Liyue he physically was, he felt so different and disconnected from his people. He’d only be remembered as tale to be told. The way that you made him feel. Not only have you made him feel, you’ve made him feel warm. A ‘warmth’ that he wishes to bask in for the rest of his existence. Warmth. Xiao knew this wasn’t the word to describe how he truly felt. By definition, yes, Xiao admits, albeit hesitantly. But he couldn’t help but feel it was so much deeper than that. You made him feel a warmth that burned his insides. The feeling had words caught in his throat, he often struggled to form a single coherent sentence when you eyes twinkled with a joy he can’t quite grasp. It made him stutter, the way you looked so blissed and euphoric in his company. He loved it. He loved how the butterflies in his stomach never seized, fluttering and flying with each second. His heart raced like a tiger running after its prey, running at miles per minute. He felt so human. So alive. So loved, and he’s finally experienced what it’s like to love. He never wanted it to end.

You laid yourself onto the luxuriant meadow of nature, the blades of green tickling at your cheek. The sun caressed your skin like a mother would her child, giving you an angelic-like glow. Your eyes had drew closed as you listened to what was around you. Distant animals chirping and buzzing filled your ears along with the synchronized breathing of you and the boy next to you. You smiled, your heart thumping against your chest as savored the peace of this moment.

Xiao turned his head to admire the gift the Archons had given him. He saw how amicable this whole ordeal was and how much you were enjoying it. It wasn’t everyday the two of you had the time to lay down and appreciate each other and what the Earth truly had to offer, though I’m sure that’s been made clear. The soft whisper of his name felt like a melody being sang to him, and he couldn’t help but smile.

Another sweet murmur of his name was called. And another. And another. Xiao grew worried. With every purr of his name, he could hear desperation and panic in your tone. That alone had him sick to his stomach. He sat up, his eyes now greeted with an all-too-familiar setting.

The sky was dark with stormy clouds, rain thundering heavily onto the bloodstained ground. The air was no longer crisp and clean but instead reeked of the metallic scent of blood and sweat. He could almost taste the blood on his lips. Xiao looked at his hands, dirtied and course with dried ichor. What was once his peaceful escape of serendipity was now a horrid sight of what he used to be. The murderous machine of what he promised himself to cast away since The Archon War. Screams of retreat, pain, defeat and victory mixed in his head, which was now throbbing from the sudden change in scenery. Why was he here?

More importantly, where were you?

“Xiao... Thank god you’re alive.” Your broken voice chuckled, growing dryer in the passing seconds. His head snapped to you, who was laying on the floor, absolutely beaten up. His heart ached at the sight, and he reached to gently cup your face, as if one wrong move could completely shatter you. You gasped for air before continuing, “I knew you would survive. There’s,” You paused to cough harshly, your body crumbling as the cough was let out, “no way the Xiao I know would loose to anyone.” He pulled you closer to his lap, panic and adrenaline coursing through his veins. He knew there was nothing he could do. But he still tried. He still tried to grasp onto what little hope he had left; it was all happening too quickly.

“Hang on. I’ve got you, okay?” He choked out after the initial shock. The time you have left and the time he would be able to get you proper medical attention were so obviously not in his favor. He picked you up, carrying you on his back. And he just ran. His legs moved like he was going to die if he didn’t hurry. Quite frankly, he would most definitely die emotionally. Xiao couldn’t loose you. Not now, not ever. He wanted to live with you until your died of old age, peacefully where you could’ve smiled on your deathbed. He remembers how you used to get mad at him for carrying you like this. The way your cheeks heated up and you buried your face into his neck always got a goofy smile on his face. But now, you were clinging onto his back as best you could— though it was a loose grip, you used what energy you had left in you to let him know you were still there with him.

But soon, too soon, you wouldn’t be, and you both knew it. “Xiao,” you called weakly.

“I said hang on. I’ll get you medical help soon. Please, keep your eyes open. You still have time.”

“Xiao...”

“You can’t leave me like this. I swore to hold you and protect you and love you for the rest of my life. Out of the many promise I’ve broken I can’t... I can’t break this one.”

“Xiao, listen...” The utter amount of suffering in your voice tore him apart more than the searing pains in his limbs. He knew he wouldn’t be able to make it in time no matter how fast he ran. So he obliged to your request and set you in his lap once again. He stared at your face, covered in dirt and scars. Yet you still looked at beautiful as ever.

“Please. Don’t go. I won’t know what to do without you.”

“I’m always here with you even if...” You trailed off, both from the lack of oxygen you had and the discomfort of finishing your own sentence. You felt tears brimming in your eyes, as you saw Xiao in such a vulnerable and tormented state. “Xiao...”

He caressed your face like a mother would her child. The sting of his heart drowned any physical injuries he had. Nothing would hurt more than the thought of losing you. The grass scratched at your cheek, and you winced at the feeling. Xiao tucked a hair strand behind your ear. As he leaned down to press his forehead against yours.

“Xiao... You are and forever will be my Golden-Winged King.”

And that was when the tears spilled. Your body went cold and limp in his own very hands, your eyes that shone with love and purity where now dark and lifeless. The smile that lit up his world was gone; replaced with a face of sorrow eternally etched onto your features. Xiao wondered. Death was a pitiful punishment, yet somehow so enchanting. You still looked as heavenly as ever. It was only then the pain of truly losing you settled in. You were never going to grace his ears with your melodic voice. You were never going to grace his eyes with your smile. You were never going to grace his senses with your adoring hugs.

You were never to grace his life again.

The Golden-Winged King had a fall from grace, just as you did in his own very arms.

#genshin #Genshin impact #genshin xiao #genshin impact xiao #genshin Xiao x reader #genshin impact Xiao x reader #xiao x reader #genshin imagine #genshin impact imagine #genshin X reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact Xiao imagine #genshin Xiao imagine

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tchalla-rogers · 4 years

Text

star girl

poe dameron x reader

word count: ~2232 words.

author’s note: I apologize for the angst...

Poe Dameron was more than capable of masking his emotions. Death was natural for him to witness - the bright orange and yellow of ships being obliterated was a frequent occurrence during battle. That didn’t particularly mean that he was satisfied with it happening, especially when you joined the fight.

Any time before, during, and after a mission, Poe’s biggest worry was you. It settled in his bones from the moment you decided to join the Resistance as a pilot. Poe knew that there was no stopping you in your decision, you were just as determined and headstrong as he was. That might be the reason as to why you were best friends since five.

And even though Poe was accustomed to the loss of his closest friends, nothing could interrupt the fear that pulsated throughout his body when your ship went down. “Shit!” Poe yelped, immediately aiming for the TIE fighter that no one had noticed. “Y/N! Are you there?” The TIE fighter was destroyed immediately, never giving the occupant a chance to take anyone else down. You both were so close, so close, to making it back to base.

Your words were muffled through Poe’s comms, static coming through his end. “Commander...I think we lost her,” Snap sighed.

Poe was sure that his heart sinking would take his ship down with him from how heavy it felt, but he remained motionless. Just a few minutes ago you were right next to him...hell, the TIE fighter could’ve aimed for his own ship. He would’ve preferred that much. Now he couldn’t believe that you were gone.

He couldn’t even remember landing on base, his mind working later than his body had. Seeing everyone engage in celebration had only made his heart sink further.

Finn sprinted up to Poe, noticing the grief streaking his brown eyes. “Poe…” his best friend whispered, slowly pulling him for a hug. It took a few seconds for Poe to respond, sheer denial ripping through him like a sword.

Rey wasn’t far behind Finn and it was dreadful when Poe saw the color drain from Rey’s face. He couldn’t believe that she was already crying, her tears painting clear streaks on her smooth skin. Poe couldn’t even find the energy to let out a choked sob or release a tear from his eye.

***

Poe was eating finally after Rey had persuaded him to. They both sat in his living quarters, Rey munching down on her food rapidly as Poe merely nibbled. It had only been three days since your untimely death and Poe didn’t leave his bed once. BB-8 needed fixing after the battle and Poe didn’t see him since. Finn and Rey visited frequently to make sure that he was eating and bathing or to hopefully make him crack a smile. That proved to be a considerable feat.

After Rey was finished with her food and wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, she inspected Poe’s distant look. Truthfully, she hadn’t gotten over the loss of her best friend, but she hid it fairly well...she hoped.

“Poe…” Rey began, but Poe began to groan from how many times his friends began their sentences like that. She rolled her eyes in defeat and moved to the bed that Poe was sitting on. “Look at me.” He barely attempted to lift his eyes to her own, but she was content with it either way. “Y/N would not want us to be moping around.”

“Kriffing hell-.”

“If you would just listen to me-.”

“No!” Poe hollered, thrashing his arms in the air and sending his food with them. Once he saw his food fly into the air, a shock went through his body and he eventually felt his throat begin to close up. He couldn’t breathe, thoughts of how he couldn’t even fathom continuing with the war since you weren’t alongside him. “You don’t...you don’t understa-.”

“Are you serious?” Rey nearly yelped, eyebrows creasing in frustration. “We were close to her, just like you, Poe! We knew her just like you did.” Her speaking in the past tense only further solidified the truth. “Don’t say that!”

“I-.” He couldn’t even utter a word, his throat closed up beyond adjusting. And finally...finally, he cried. He sobbed until he slumped to the floor, numb from all he had been bottling up inside. “God, I just want her back,” he choked while his lips trembled. “I didn’t even say goodbye. I didn’t get to say I loved her-.”

Rey plopped to the floor next to him and felt tears prick her eyes once again. Her shaky hand fell across his back in hopes of soothing him as he remained curled up on his floor. “She knows it, Poe. You have to know that she already knows that you love her.” And now in the present tense.

“She was alone,” he eventually grumbled.

“No, I don’t think she was,” Rey replied, her hand still rubbing soothing circles on his back. “She had your mother’s ring.” The moment of realization collided with his lingering, bleak thoughts, shedding some light into the dark. “She has your ring,” she reiterated.

Pounding footsteps were heard outside Poe’s room, causing Poe and Rey to slowly look up at the door. There was no knock, the door thrusting open and Finn’s frazzled facial features were the first thing they noticed.

Finn was out of breath, sputtering his words out to his friends, “Poe...you gotta go down to medbay.” Poe looked over at Rey quizzically and was met with the same expression as his own. Why would he be needed at medbay? Unless…

Poe jolted up out of his spot on the floor, sprinting quickly to where the location he knew all too well thanks to his significant amount of injuries he had sustained every mission.

His eyes scanned the area, countless medics rushing to hover over someone that was unmoving. He stepped forward apprehensively with a lack of confidence, preparing himself for the worst. Rey and Finn had eventually caught up to the scene and pondered how their friend wasn’t out of breath like them.

Leia sauntered towards the stunned pilot, abruptly stopping her with her hand. “Poe, this isn’t something you should see.”

“General-Leia...I need to see this - I need to see her. I need to know what happened-I...is she o-okay?” Once she saw the torment dancing in his eyes and scrunched facial features, her hand fell to her side.

“Scans were unable to spot her ship, until someone fixed BB-8 after your droid went offline. BB-8 estimated her landing location initially throughout her descent.” Poe felt hands grasp onto his shoulder, one brawny, and the other was quite the opposite, yet both provided the silent comfort that he needed during the remarkable news. “She’s alive, Poe.”

***

One week. He had asked for just one week and you didn’t even move an inch unless it was the slow rising of your chest with each breath. But the war was still ongoing and the Black Squadron needed his guidance if they wanted to get closer to its ending. He was away for five days, the motivation to see you again giving him the confidence that was needed.

When Poe returned from the mission that he was assigned to, he immediately raced to where he assumed you would be. He was more than ready to grab a chair and nap next to your bed, hand grasping yours in case he felt your finger twitch.

Poe was so used to this routine that he almost didn’t notice the bed you had been laying in for ten days entirely empty. He rubbed at his eyes, thinking it was just his imagination or he might’ve walked to the wrong bed. But even after his vision readjusted, he knew he was right where he left you.

He went for the first medic who crossed his path. “Where is she?”

“Commander, we have so many pilots coming in and out of here. I’m going to need you to be a little more specific,” the medic scoffed, sticking his clipboard under his arm. The glare Poe sent off sent panic into the medic’s bloodstream as he suddenly straightened up his posture. “She woke up the day you left for your mission. She’s been under the care of Finn and Rey.”

And then Poe was running all over again, presumably to your living quarters. He didn’t know if he had the energy to run all over the Resistance base, but the mere thought that two weeks ago he thought you were dead. He thought he would never get to touch you, hold you, faintly kiss your lips, or make love to you amongst the stars outside of base again haunted his forming thoughts since that day.

He rounded the corner and lightly knocked on your door, fear taking a hold of his every movement. The next sound Poe heard was the door hissing open, being met with Rey’s hazel eyes.

“Poe!” someone shouted and he knew it was yours instantly.

You leaped off of your bed, ignoring the pain that shot through your body. There was no time to even run into his arms as his arms immediately wrapped around yours so you wouldn’t need to go far. It felt like home in his warmth, knocking away the terror you felt when your ship had been hit. “Baby…” he whispered for only you to hear.

The last thing you wanted was to pull away, but you needed to see his face. And you could still do so in the comfort of his arms.

You instantly grinned when you saw his features, hands raising to lightly brush your fingers against his soft cheeks. Wetness coated the pads of your fingers, alarming you. Your eyes darted to his own, taking notice of the teardrops forming.

“You’re crying?” you breathed and brushed the tears away on his cheeks.

“You don’t know how freaking scared I was.” Once your palm had neared his lips, Poe pressed a soft kiss to it.

“Oh, get a room,” Finn groaned and Rey lightly slapped his arm as you both sent a look his way. “Right, this is your room.” They both left after the confirmation, sending light smiles before the door hissed closed behind them.

Once it had, Poe’s lips immediately settled on yours, soft and stimulating, his calloused hands situated on either side of your face. Small movements inched you both towards your bed, the need to let out frustration, and lost days increasing.

Poe assisted on laying you down on the bed, but the pain you had been disregarding since he arrived shot through your body once again. A mortifying whine fell from your lips and Poe’s hands retracted.. “What’s wrong?”

“You won’t like it,” you sputtered, but Poe’s eyes were telling. If you didn’t tell him now, he would get the information eventually. “I threatened that medic down at the medbay to clear me or I would make sure to sing the entire time I was down there.”

“You suck at singing.”

“Exactly,” you chuckled and gasped once the pain had made a return.

Poe’s hands gently massaged your body, moving from your legs to your stomach, and arms then neck-.

His fingers felt the chilly metal, prominent against your burning skin. His mother’s necklace and ring rested on your chest like it had belonged there. And what warmed his heart, even more, was the fact that it wasn’t gone in the shipwreck.

“Once I knew that my ship was hit, I held onto it like it was you,” you confessed, placing your hand over his. “I knew that I wasn’t alone.”

“Yeah, that’s what Rey said.” Poe slowly nodded, a crooked smile taking over once he met your gaze. The both of you laying in bed again after what he had gone through mentally and physically once he assumed you were gone was something he had only been visualizing two weeks ago.

His hands were still gently massaging your every body part, in fear that the slightest touch would cause pain. And as much as he wanted you back at the medbay where they could keep an eye on you, he knew you needed rest and you would never leave his sight. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Yeah?” you murmured, basking in his touch.

“When...when you were going down...you were saying something. I never heard it. It was all static,” he softly stated, although wanting to form form it into a question so he could hear what you said.

You smiled, slightly laughing to yourself although thinking back to that moment brought the lingering dread with it. “I think I said ‘I will always be with you amongst the stars’...or something like that.”

“That’s beautiful,” he choked once the familiar feeling of his throat closing up returned. Poe tucked a stray hair lingering in front of your face behind your ear. “I think that should be our new thing.”

“I don’t even know if that’s what I said,” you joked, slightly tapping him on his chest.

“I’m sure you did, star girl.” He reassured you, placing another kiss onto your lips. “Mmmm, I know you’re great with words and flying, but you still suck at singing.”

“Hey!” you yelped, giggling uncontrollably and sending Poe into a fit of laughter, too. After all, Poe Dameron was more than capable of masking his emotions, but love was not one of them.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron imagines #poe x reader #poe imagine #poe imagines #poe dameron angst #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron fic #poe #dameron #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x yn #star wars #Star Wars imagine #Star Wars imagines #Star Wars x reader #my writing

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drstone-100-tales · 4 years

Note

Something I've been dying to see more of but can we see some headcanons of an AU where Tsuaksa is buddies with Senku, Taiju and Yuzurriha? Like how things would've been different if Senku had become one of Tsukasa's first real friends?

Ooooo yes. *rubs hands together* An AU I’ve been dying to see since that first happened.

I like to imagine it started off in an unorthodox way.

That on that same day, Tsukasa was looking for seashells for Mirai’s necklace, Senku was at the beach with Taiju and Byakuya. When the fisherman started to attack Tsukasa, it didn’t take long for Byakuya to intervene along with Taiju and Senku throwing themselve in front of Tsukasa.

Poor kid was terrified and initially didn’t want anyone near him, worried they were going to act the same way. Senku eventually wore him down, promising that they just wanted to help him. He was still roughed up but at least the man didn’t get away with it.

Taiju acted as a psuedo bodyguard while they waited for the cops to show up. Senku wound up helping Tsukasa pick up shells since he noticed it was helping him calm down from everything.

“So, what are these for exactly?”

“My little sis… She really loves the Little Mermaid and I wanna help her feel better… She’s really sick.”

After that, Tsukasa decided to try other places to find shells for Mirai. She was going to be in the hospital for awhile after all…

His second encounter with the boys, was when some teenagers were harassing Senku and Taiju was about to use himself as a shield. Tsukasa bolted in and kicked the crap out of one of them, before giving a fair warning. If someone messed with HIS friends, they would have to go through him first.

Senku and Taiju were shocked to see him again, but relieved too… and in Senku’s case, eager for more manual labor.

Not really used to all of this, Tsukasa was just curious about everything, wanting to learn more along with Taiju… Around then, Yuzuriha started running with the boys as well.

It made experiment and project runs faster with both Tsukasa and Taiju using their respective strengths… Albeit, sometimes Tsukasa wondered about how legal it all was.

Mirai when she was well enough to leave the hospital, sometimes hung around the group as well. During these times Yuzuriha insisted on watching her and keeping her a safe distance from whatever chaos the boys were getting up to THIS time.

Specifically when it involved pyrotechnics. Mirai was just happy her big brother finally found a group of friends to call his own.

The Shishio parents were definitely more focused on Mirai’s health and trying to keep her safe, over what Tsukasa was doing… Due to this, not out of resentment more so unintentionally, Tsukasa spent a lot of time at the Ishigami household.

Byakuya didn’t mind, he was just glad the kid he saved wound up healing up just fine from everything. He was happy to have a place for Tsukasa and Taiju both at his table… Really took them under his wings, just like he did with Senku.

When Tsukasa started to pick up sports, most people interviewing him genuinely thought Byakuya was his father.

“So, how does it feel to have such an amazing son?”

Before Tsukasa could intervene and say no, Byakuya was not his father, the man took the microphone, stared directly into the camera and shouted:

“I LOVE MY SONS!!! ALL THREE OF ‘EM!!!!” So loud it echoed through the arena they were at.

Senku recorded every single second on his phone, to torment Tsukasa and Taiju with later.

Tsukasa privately threatened to kill Senku if he ever leaked the footage to the internet. It went viral, autotuned the very next day. Tsukasa trying his hardest to sink into the floor into the background and all.

They were 10 when this happened. It just got worse, in the best way. As they got older and interests shifted, they still found time for one another… and Senku was glad to have someone else who could listen to his rambling without getting annoyed with it.

When they were making the special “swim training” suit for Byakuya, Tsukasa used his incredible strength to throw Byakuya into the water head first. Senku and Taiju couldn’t stop laughing.

That also found it’s way onto the internet without shame.

When Taiju admitted to Senku and Tsukasa that he liked Yuzuriha, the other two made a vow to get them together before they graduated high school.

During this time, there were plenty more experiments, with tracking muscle movement and giving Tsukasa the best training experiences he could get.

Despite this, he never forgot about the people who helped him along the way… While he never had a large group of friends, he was grateful for the ones he had… Not just friends…

Family.

However, despite this, Tsukasa had no interest in fame. He was interested in it for sport, even if he did occassionally make televised appearances, the thing that was emphasized to him as important was also his education. If he missed his classes, they were recorded for him and Byakuya would step in and help him cram for exams.

Senku on the other hand, would quiz him, albeit sometimes in ridiculous ways regarding scientific questions.

“Why do you want me to know it so bad?”

“I’m gonna be president of the science club this year. I need a good minion or two and Taiju already turned me down.”

“Allow me to also, turn you down. You can manage your little Kingdom of Science all by yourself.”

“How dare you. Do you and Taiju have a secret Empire of Might I need to worry about?”

They were banned from making declarations of war at the dinner table.

There were a lot of sport injuries. A LOT. Senku wound up taking sports medicine one year just for this.

However, when Byakuya was to go into space, they couldn’t help but feel worried… While they knew, he had every intention of coming back (and Senku never doubted it for a moment) there was one concern…

Albeit for them, it was a strange one.

“So… Do you think he’ll screw it up with the pop star?”

“Hm… Nah. 10 billion yen says he’ll marry her and we’ll have a new mom.”

“Considering I’m closer to him than I am to my own parents, I’d be okay with that.”

“I love how you both have more faith in Byakuya than you do me.”

“How long have you had that crush?”

“Yeah, Taiju wanna talk about that?”

“S-SHUT UP!”

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mayquita · 5 years

Text

Pictures of Reality (15/16)

Hello everyone! I can’t believe this is almost over, but it’s happening, this is the final chapter (plus the epilogue next week) Thank you so much for all your support and for continuing to give this story a chance.

Summary: Emma Swan returns to her birthplace, Storybrooke, in search of a fresh start after a life marked by abandonment and betrayal. After a year there, she finds the stability she needed and also the possibility of learning about one of her passions, photography. Killian Jones, a former British war reporter with a tragic past, establishes himself in the same town as an instructor of photography, following in the footsteps of his best friends, the Nolans. What will happen when their paths cross? Will their common passion for photography help them heal old wounds?

Rating: M (Language, mature themes, implied sex)

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, mentions of the loss of a limb in an armed conflict.

Other ships / Characters: Although, obviously, this is a cs fic, Snowing plays a major role here, mainly David. In fact, the story contains three different points of view, those of Emma, Killian and David. Also, Henry appears in the story as Regina’s adopted son but he is not Emma’s biological son.

Beta: I’d like to express my gratitude, as always, to my beta @jarienn972 I’m aware that you have had to deal with a monster of more than 100k words and English is not my mother tongue, so I value your effort even more.

Artist / art: Go visit @imagnifika’s blog and enjoy her amazing art.

Art for the prologue/ Art for chapter 1 / Art for chapter 2 and banner / Art for chapter 3/ Art for chapters 4-5 / Art for chapters 6-7/ Art for chapter 8 / Art for chapter 10 / Art for chapter 11

Special mention to @saraswans , thank you so much for your perpetual support, for believing in me when I doubted myself and for offering ideas to make this story grow.

Don’t forget to go read and enjoy the rest of the amazing csbb stories and art.

Word count: ~ 10500 (116k total in 16 chapters)

Also on (From the beginning): Ao3 / Ffnet (Current Chapter) Ao3 / Ffnet

Tumblr: Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

What to expect from this chapter? This is a long one and also one of my favorites. We'll know what's going to happen with the relationship between Emma and her parents. And yes, Emma is going to read the letters, finally!

CHAPTER 14

Killian Jones, Storybrooke - May 9, 2018

Killian's thumb moved across the phone's screen while he held the device with his hand, hesitating over whether to press his finger on Emma's name.

"You should call her, Killian." Mary Margaret suggested in a soft voice. "She deserves to know. It's her father after all."

Killian nodded at her, his lips pressed together. She was right, he should call her. He was aware that he would end up doing it at some point, he just needed a little more time to figure out how to approach the subject.

He left the phone in the seat next to him as he leaned his head against the wall and pinched the bridge of his nose, a deep sigh escaping his mouth while wishing that someone would soon inform them. This long wait was driving him crazy.

They had arrived at the hospital a couple of hours ago. To his surprise, Mary Margaret had accepted the news with a composure that was worthy of admiration, after the first initial shock. Quickly, she had driven them to the hospital and had even managed to talk to one of the doctors who had checked on David in the first place.

He was out of danger, that they had been assured. In fact, although he had lost consciousness after the accident, he had recovered it again in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. Still, given the high probability that he had suffered a concussion after the impact and to detect possible internal injuries, the doctors were conducting some tests so they hadn't been allowed to see him yet.

Still, Killian was reluctant to put Emma in an uncomfortable situation where she felt forced to do something she might not yet be prepared for, but he shouldn't be the one to make any decision for her. After the traumatic experience they had gone through, he had sworn to himself —and to her —that there would never be more secrets or lies between them.

After taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he finally dialed Emma's number, got up and started walking down the hall looking for some privacy. She answered with the second ringtone.

"Hey, Killian! I was about to leave for lunch. Are you still home?"

Dammit! He had totally forgotten that they had agreed to meet for lunch. "About that... I'm afraid I'm going to have to cancel today's lunch, love." He tried to keep a calm tone and even forced himself to smile, but Emma quickly realized that something was wrong.

"Are you okay?"

"Aye, I'm fine... It's David... We're in the hospital..." His voice trailed off as he tried to pull himself together.

He heard a sharp intake of breath from the other side of the phone before Emma spoke in a thin voice. "What happened?"

"He was involved in an accident, but he's out of danger." He hastened to reassure her. "It's just that they have to do tests to assess the level of concussion..."

"Concussion?" Emma cut him off, a hint of fear evident in her voice.

"It's usual in these cases, Emma, he was hit by a car. But we were told he was already conscious, he's going to be fine." He assured her with more confidence than he really felt.

"And you? How are you? Do you need something?" She asked, the way she cared about him sending a warm feeling to his heart.

You. I need you to be by my side, so you can assure me that my friend will be fine, that I won't lose him too. "I'm fine." He repeated, burying those fears in the depths of his mind. "Mary Margaret is here with me." It was his turn to stay strong now, to act like the rock that Mary Margaret and Emma would need.

They talked for a couple more minutes, Emma insisting on finding out her father's condition and knowing in detail what the doctors had told them. Only when Killian had reassured her enough, she finally decided to end the call.

"Tell me something as soon as you know, please. I'll be waiting for your call." She paused for a few moments, only the sound of her shallow breathing was heard from the other side of the phone. "And thanks for telling me, Killian." She muttered.

"Of course, love. He's going to be fine." He insisted with the intention of convincing both Emma and himself. I love you, he would also have liked to add, the words burning on the tip of his tongue. But this was not the most appropriate time. Soon, he promised himself before hanging up the call and returning to the waiting room to accompany Mary Margaret.

Emma Swan. Storybrooke - May 9, 2018

Emma was unable to concentrate, Killian's words echoing in her head preventing her from thinking about anything else. He was hit by a car. David, her father, was hit by a car.

From the moment she heard the news from Killian, a wave of panic crept up her throat as her stomach tightened into knots. Flashes of David's gentle gaze, of his frank smile, jumping to her head to torment her.

The mere possibility of losing her father even before accepting him as such caused her heart to constrict in her chest. The memory of the letters hidden in her closet, the letters she had not yet dared to read, caused incipient tears to threaten to slide down her cheeks. She blinked furiously in an attempt to hold them back.

To make matters worse, the idea of Killian alone with Mary Margaret in the waiting room, suffering in silence and probably experiencing some kind of deja-vu made her uneasiness increase. She needed to be there with him, at his side, supporting each other.

She didn't have to think twice. After all, the rest of the day was going to be totally unproductive since her mind was away from the office for obvious reasons. She got up and walked toward Regina's office, knocking lightly on the open door with her knuckles.

Her boss looked up, a slight crease of annoyance between her eyebrows at being interrupted.

"I have to go." She announced without further ado, although she knew that Regina would not make it easy for her, not at least without requesting some kind of additional explanation.

"And where do you have to go, if I'm allowed to know?" Regina asked in a cutting tone.

"I have to go to the hospital, my f..." Her voice trailed off as she suppressed a gasp of surprise. She couldn't believe she had been about to say the word out loud. "...David has suffered an accident."

Regina's expression softened instantly, a flash of something akin to concern crossed her gaze. "What? How is he?"

"He's conscious, but they were still doing different tests." A new wave of unease swirled in her stomach, as the urgent need to run to the hospital took over her. "Killian is there, I need to get to him."

Regina's impassive pose disappeared for a moment, she seemed bewildered for a few seconds until she finally reacted, shaking her head slightly. "Sure, of course, go and inform me when you know anything, Emma."

She simply nodded, the corner of her mouth twisting slightly upward in appreciation before turning and leaving the office and town hall in the direction of the hospital.

Emma only realized the implications of entering the hospital when she arrived there. That was the place where she was born, the place where she had shared the last moment with her parents before they gave her up for adoption. Or at least that was what she supposed. She did not know what had really happened. A tug of regret for not having tried to find out before settled in her stomach.

She wandered through the corridors of the hospital trying to locate the Emergency room while wondering if her parents had also taken that same route when the delivery was approaching, if Mary Margaret would have been in pain, if David would have held her hand in the process. Enough! Emma shook her head in an attempt to make those thoughts disappear. She would have time to find the answers to those questions later. Right now, she needed to find Killian, desperately.

There was no sign of Killian when she arrived in the waiting room though. Who she did locate was Mary Margaret, sitting there while clasping her hands together.

Emma allowed herself a few seconds to observe her before announcing her presence. The expression of concern was evident in the lines of her face, her brow slightly furrowed, her lips pressed together, her gaze lost miles or maybe years away. There was something in her pose though, something stoic, almost regal, as if she was implying that no matter what happened, she was going to get back up and keep fighting.

When Mary Margaret’s gaze drifted to meet hers, her eyes went wide and her mouth hung open. "Emma!" She almost screamed as her face lit up. She might have realized her impulsive reaction because she quickly schooled her features in a cautious expression.

Emma looked away uncomfortably, wondering where Killian had gone as she felt a slight blush rise to her cheeks. She forced herself to behave like an adult though, especially given the place and situation she was in, and walked hesitantly to sit near Mary Margaret, leaving a free seat between them.

"Hi, Killian told me... how's David doing? Do you know something new?" Emma asked hating how weak her voice sounded, her heart pounding against her chest.

Mary Margaret shook her head slowly, a shadow of sadness crossing her features. "Nothing yet, I'm afraid." She remained thoughtful for a few seconds until she seemed to remember something. "Killian went to get us something to eat, but he will be here any moment." The corners of her lips twisted slightly upwards.

"I... I'm sorry, I should have brought you something from Granny's, I just ... I didn't think about it." A wave of embarrassment washed over her when she realized that, in her hurry to get to the hospital, she hadn't bothered to bring them a decent meal after God knows how many hours in the hospital. She had not even bothered to eat any food herself.

"It's okay, Emma, I don't even have an appetite." She reached for her arm, but dropped her hand halfway as if she had changed her mind. Emma was aware that her cautious attitude was her own fault, but that did not stop her from feeling a kind of rejection.

An awkward silence fell over them as Emma began to regret having come, she did not feel able to deal with the amount of mixed feelings that collided inside her.

"You know, it's ironic, because David learned of your existence for the first time here, in this same hospital."

Her body tensed, while she began to feel a tingling in the back of her neck at the mere mention of her past. She held her breath, keeping her lips sealed while secretly wishing, and also fearing, that Mary Margaret would continue.

She did not seem to have noticed the effect of her words on Emma, her gaze remained lost, her voice trailing a hint of melancholy. "Luck, or maybe fate, brought him here just two days after your birth."

Emma's heart tightened in her chest, as she watched how Mary Margaret's eyes filled with tears. "I think he never recovered from the fact that he had to say goodbye to you within a few minutes of knowing you existed. He fell enamored of his little baby girl - Emma, of you."

The look of sadness and regret that Mary Margaret gave her caused her eyes to begin to sting while a multitude of new feelings began to crowd inside her, her head spinning, unable to process the information.

"We... we will have time to talk about all that, when he leaves the hospital." It was the only thing Emma could offer at that moment. She was sure that she would not be able to prevent an overwhelming feeling from consuming her if they kept talking.

"I'd like that... We owe you so many explanations ..." Mary Margaret muttered, giving her a smile full of affection that went straight to her heart. She returned the smile while nodding in silence.

That was the moment when Killian decided to appear, holding two sandwiches and two paper cups somewhat precariously between his hand and the prosthesis.

"Hey." Emma wiped away her tears quickly with one hand as she got up and, after giving him a quick peck on the lips, helped him with the food, handing Mary Margaret one of the sandwiches and a cup of coffee.

"I'm sorry love, if I had known you would come, I'd have bought something for you." Killian gave her an apologetic look as he offered her his sandwich.

"We can share. I'm not hungry, really." Mary Margaret added as she handed her half of her sandwich.

"Thank you." Emma accepted through a small smile.

Killian stood there with a confused expression on his face, as if he did not quite believe what was happening in front of him.

Emma did not quite believe it either honestly, but that first step of approaching Mary Margaret, far from frightening her or pushing her away, was helping the barrier around her heart to begin to melt, and she wondered for the first time how it would be experiencing the true love of a family.

Those thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a doctor who was asking about the relatives of David Nolan. The three rose suddenly, approaching the doctor.

"Good afternoon, I'm Dr. Whale and I'm in charge of treating Mr. Nolan." He looked up from his tablet and looked at them. "Are you all family?" He asked with a skeptical expression.

"Of course, I’m his wife." Mary Margaret assured.

"And I am his daughter." Emma snapped, her mouth acting on her own before her brain had time to process the words. But it was the truth, that was how she felt in this moment and no shoddy doctor was going to prevent her from knowing the state of her father.

"And I'm her boyfriend." Killian added, placing an arm around her shoulders in a protective attitude.

The doctor gave them a last skeptical glance before turning back to the tablet. "Mr. Nolan is undoubtedly a fortunate man. Beyond the concussion suffered by the impact, he has only suffered a few bruises and also had a dislocated shoulder, which we have already placed back in its position.”

Emma let out the breath she had been holding, a sense of relief spreading all over her body. Killian, on the other hand, pulled her even closer to him as he placed his other arm around Mary Margaret's shoulders.

"Thank God," Mary Margaret muttered, clinging to Killian.

"Since the blow to the head was quite strong, it is advisable that he stay here under observation at least during the night. And now, you can come to visit him, but no more than two people each time, please. He needs to rest." After giving some final instructions, the doctor offered to accompany Mary Margaret to the bay in which her husband was located.

Only when they disappeared from sight did Emma take refuge in Killian, burying her head in his chest, choking back a sob while he wrapped her in a tight hug. "He's fine, Swan, everything's going to be fine." Killian murmured, his reassuring words hiding a deeper meaning to which she decided to cling with all her might. Yes, everything was going to be just fine.

David Nolan. Storybrooke - May 9, 2018

David's head was going to explode. He made an attempt to massage his temples to relieve the pain, but then he realized that it was an almost impossible task. His right arm was in a sling — dislocated shoulder, they had told him — and he had an intravenous line placed in the other arm to administer some type of pain medication, he supposed.

A whine, a mixture of pain and frustration, slid between his lips as he waited desperately for the medicine to make its effect and calm his aching body.

How pathetic, he thought as he remembered the reasons that had led him to be in that situation, run over by a car in his coffee break. He cursed himself for being so stupid or so reckless as to cross the street totally distracted. In his defense, the events of the past few months had kept his mind so busy that he found it difficult to concentrate even on the simplest task.

Now he would have to stay in this damn hospital all night when the only thing he longed for was to get home, to the arms of his wife. At that moment, as if somehow she had been summoned, the curtain opened giving way to Mary Margaret.

"Oh my god, David." His wife hurried to move beside him, the expression on her face a mixture of worry and relief. "You scared the hell out of me! Don't you dare do it again, you hear me?"

"I'm fine, sweetheart." He croaked, feeling his throat dry.

"You got a concussion." She replied as she gently stroked his forehead. His eyes closed instinctively at her touch, as his body began to relax. He still felt the throbbing pain in his head and a slight dizziness, but the mere presence of his wife at his side managed to alleviate some of his discomforts.

“What happened? "She muttered, holding his left hand in hers.

"I got distracted when crossing the street." He admitted without daring to look at his wife, sensing her disapproving expression. "I'm fine, just a blow to the head." He insisted.

They remained silent for a few seconds, just enjoying each other's company while he felt his eyelids grow heavier.

"She's here, David."

Emma... He didn't even have to look at Mary Margaret to know that she was smiling. His heart fluttered furiously at the thought of Emma caring enough for him to go to the hospital.

"We talked, instead of her avoiding me. She listened to me and even smiled. I think she's starting to accept us." This time David did look at his wife, the glimmer of hope in her green eyes so intense that it caused a warm feeling to run through his veins.

"Do you think she'll come... you know, to see me?" David could not prevent a wave of anticipation washing over him.

"I hope so. Do you want me to go look for them? She's still with Killian in the waiting room."

He nodded. "How is Killian?" Even in this situation, the well-being of Killian, and of all his loved ones in general, would always be his priority. Despite his mind puffing from the impact, he supposed that his friend would not have taken the news very well. He only hoped that at least he had found the comfort he needed in his daughter's arms.

"He's fine. I know him well, I know he was probably dying inside, but he tried to stay strong, I guess for me and for Emma. It's amazing how far he's come, David, how he's growing up." Mary Margaret’s voice came full of affection towards Killian.

She was right, despite all the suffering he had gone through, it seemed that at last, he was rising from the ashes, revealing the honorable man he was always meant to be. He could not be more proud of him. "She’s been his savior."

"Well, I prefer to think that the two managed to save each other. She seems so happy with him..." A tug of some unease settled in the pit of his stomach at the thought that their happiness might have been truncated by their fault, but he quickly forced himself to swallow those feelings. What mattered now was that they were together and that he was about to see them.

"These medicines are beginning to make their effect. Would you mind if... I'd like to see them." He muttered, feeling an extreme weariness overtake him and his mind began to cloud.

"Of course, I'm going to get our kids. I'll see you later." Mary Margaret offered him an affectionate smile before placing a tender kiss on his forehead and leaving the bay, closing the curtain behind her.

The headache was still latent, but a feeling of numbness, of heavy limbs, spread through his body, making it harder to keep himself awake. Just as he was about to surrender to sleep, the curtain opened again.

Despite the pain, a soft smile tugged at his lips as he saw Emma and Killian holding hands and approaching his bed. The lines of concern were still evident on his friend's face, but the corners of his lips rose when his eyes fell on him. Emma, on the other hand, wore a cautious expression. He was aware that the situation she was in couldn’t have to be easy, that's why he valued her effort even more.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" To his surprise, it was Emma who spoke first, her lips drawing a tentative smile.

"I feel like I've been hit by a car." Her smile turned into a grin as Killian raised his eyes to the ceiling at his bad joke. "I've been better, but I'll survive."

"You better, mate." Killian raised one eyebrow in warning. "You had us very worried for a while."

"I know, and I'm sorry I made you go through this, but I'm really fine now, quite exhausted, and a little sore, but that's it. I don’t know why I have to stay in this damn hospital all night." He huffed.

"Because you got a concussion." Emma and Killian replied in unison, causing a laugh to bubble up in the back of his throat. The sound turned soon into a kind of a whimper, his aching body accusing the effort.

"You should rest, mate." Killian approached him, giving him an affectionate squeeze on his good shoulder. "You will be at home tomorrow but in the meantime, I will try to convince Mary Margaret to go and get some rest, and that I will stay tonight with you, but I'm afraid it will be a difficult task."

"It will be an impossible task, don't even try." He said so quietly that he doubted that his voice had been heard, his eyelids were getting heavier and heavier. "Also, I don't need anyone to stay with me, that chair doesn't seem exactly comfortable and I'm really fine." He made one last weak and failed attempt. Both his wife and Killian could be very stubborn when they set out to do something and he felt too weak to keep insisting.

"You and I know there's no way in hell that's happening, Dave."

"Try to get some sleep, you'll find yourself better tomorrow." Emma's gentle voice made the clouds that were taking over his brain slow their progress.

"Emma..." He raised his left hand slightly, as if he wanted to reach her, reluctant to let her go so soon. "Thank you so much for coming, you don't know how much I value this kind gesture."

When her hand held his, giving it a gentle squeeze, he wasn't sure if he had already fallen asleep and was dreaming. Dream or reality, a feeling of deja-vu seized him while a flash of that distant day in this very place jumped to his memory, a swell of emotion rising in his chest. "You did the same thing the first time we met, your tiny little hand clung to my finger that day..." He whispered. The last thing he saw before his eyes finally closed was a watery, intense gaze through the prettiest green eyes he'd ever seen in his life.

Emma Swan. Storybrooke - May 9, 2018

Her heart beat frantically in her chest as they finally made their way back to the waiting room. Both the previous confession from Mary Margaret and David’s last words before falling asleep had caused a strange sensation to spread through her body, a mixture of confusion and a desire to know more.

"Are you okay, love?" Killian asked, as he pulled her to his side, a protective arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah, a little overwhelmed with everything that's happening, I guess." She admitted through a weak smile.

They didn't have much more time to talk as Mary Margaret came out to meet them as soon as she saw them arrive in the waiting room, asking them about David's condition.

Killian and his friend talked for a while, he trying to convince her to go home to sleep since he was more rested for having had the day off. She, of course, refused any attempt, crossing her arms over her chest and pursing her lips.

"I'm not leaving, Killian, and that's final!" She stated, thrusting her chin upward.

"Fine." Killian growled, throwing his arms in the air. "But I'm not going either, I'll sleep here, in the bloody waiting room."

"Oh, no, you won't."

"I can assure you that I will." Killian challenged, causing Mary Margaret to roll her eyes. "I'm going to walk Emma to her car and I'll come back here."

Emma watched the scene between the two friends as she tried to hold back the smirk that threatened to form on her lips. There was no doubt that despite her seemingly fragile appearance, Mary Margaret was a bit of a spitfire. Just like me, and for the first time, that thought did not scare her at all, quite the contrary.

The mention of her name made Mary Margaret address her, still unwilling to bury the hatchet, apparently. "This boyfriend of yours is so stubborn... I'm afraid you'll sleep alone tonight, honey." Although she was still slightly frowning, her expression softened as she talked to her.

"I'll manage." she mumbled, looking down at her feet. Maybe Mary Margaret hadn't realized the meaning of her words, but Emma did. Her cheeks began to burn at the thought of talking to her mother about sleeping with a guy. Gods! What had her life become in the last hours? From completely ignoring the existence of her parents to now, where she felt like a kind of teenager in front of them...

Killian came to her rescue then, wrapping her waist, and gently pulling her toward the exit. Before leaving, Mary Margaret said goodbye to her warmly but keeping her distance, which she appreciated. She was not ready yet for more physical contact.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, Emma lost in thought as tiredness took over her. This perpetual roller coaster of emotions was taking its toll, clearly. After more than two months sleeping in Killian's arms, the idea of returning to her solitary apartment wasn't appealing at all. But she understood him and respected his decision.

Once they arrived at the place where her car was parked, she stopped, facing him. "Just for the record, had you been in David's place, I would have stayed with you too."

A shadow crossed his face darkening his features while he clutched his grip on her waist, pulling her even closer. "I can't even imagine if you were the one who..." He trailed off and suddenly his lips were on hers offering her a searing and demanding kiss, cupping her face with both his hand and his prosthesis. She barely had time to react, returning the kiss with earnest when he pulled away almost as abruptly as he began, resting his forehead with hers.

"It's not that I'm complaining..." She muttered as she tried to catch her breath... "But what's that all about?"

Killian parted enough for his gaze to bore into hers, still holding her face, his thumb brushing her cheek lightly. "I love you, Emma. Gods! I love you much."

Her mouth fell open as she tried to process his words, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering and her heart thudding in her chest.

"You're a bloody wonder, love, and I know you needed to be very brave and compassionate and kind to come here in spite of everything." He paused, while running his tongue across his lips in a movement too distracting. "Maybe it's too soon, or maybe not, but... with everything that has happened with David... I wasn't able to hold back these words for any longer, so I'll understand if you aren't ready yet..."

"I love you too." Emma assured him by cutting off his rambling. After a few seconds in which he was speechless, gazing at her in awe, his face split into a giant grin as a special glow appeared in his eyes, making them impossibly blue. This time, it was she who captured his lips, reluctant to part just yet.

Only after someone yelled at them to get a room did they separated. "I'll miss you in my bed tonight." She mumbled against his lips before pulling away and finally getting into the car.

She left him there, in the middle of the parking lot, gaping, a wrecked expression on his face, while her chest swelled with pride at being aware that she and only she was the cause of his state.

While driving to her apartment, she thought that sooner or later she would finally have to face her past and decide what future she wanted to follow, whether she wanted to give her family a chance or if, on the contrary, their relationship was damaged beyond of reparation despite the advances of these last days.

She shook her head, causing those thoughts to vanish, at least for a while. She would have time to think about them later. For the moment, she indulged herself in the fact that she had taken a step forward in her relationship with Killian, finally uttering the words that had been bubbling inside her until then. She felt her chest bursting with happiness. And that was just the beginning. From now on, the sky was the limit.

Letters to Emma from her father, 1989-2018

Sitting cross-legged on her bed, Emma stared at the box she had placed in front of her, not daring to open it, for fear of what she might find inside.

Three days had passed since David's accident and she hadn't yet decided what to do with the Nolans. Her heart screamed that both she and they deserved an opportunity. She felt in the depths of her soul the longing to be part of a family, to begin to build a future together. Her mind, however, remained cold. If she didn't give them a chance she wouldn't risk getting hurt along the way.

There was something she was sure of though. It was fair to get all the information to be able to decide. And that meant gathering enough courage to read David's letters. She may not owe them anything else, but she at least did owe them that.

She was waiting for Killian to arrive to read the letters together. Maybe it wasn't the most appropriate decision, maybe she was violating some rule of intimacy by showing another person the contents of a letter written just for her, but there was no way in hell she could do it alone. And besides, Killian was one of those affected in this whole story, wasn't he?

Her heart skipped a beat as she heard the clink of keys against the lock, both from the fact that Killian now had a spare key to her apartment but also it meant that the inevitable was about to happen. She was going to immerse herself in her past. She just hoped that Killian's protective arms would act as a lifeline.

"Emma, are you home?" Killian's voice came from the hall.

"Over here." She called, hoping her voice wasn't shaking.

Killian stopped short when he opened the door and entered the room, his gaze traveling from the box to her face, a small wrinkle of confusion adorning his forehead.

"I want to do it, I want to read them, but I can't do it alone. So... would you mind joining me, please?" She asked not bothering to hide the hint of pleading in her voice as her right shoulder tensed up around her hear and her lips drew a small pout.

Killian continued looking at her for a few seconds, letting out a deep exhale. "I'm not sure I should intervene in this, love. It's something between you and your parents."

"It wouldn't be an intervention, just moral support." She insisted while holding her breath. A thought crossed her mind then, causing her determination to falter. She had no idea of the content of those letters but what if Killian also appeared in them? What if reading the letters not only meant traveling to her past but also to his? She needed to abort the mission right now.

She got up suddenly, grabbing the box with the intention of returning it to its hiding place, feeling like her heart dropped into her stomach. "You're right, this is a bad idea. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking straight." She mumbled, a wave of shame washing over her at the thought that she had been so self-centered that she had forgotten how others could feel.

Killian was at her side in a split second, slowing her progress. "Easy, Swan. What the hell are you doing?"

She swallowed hard, feeling her hands burning from the contact with the box as she deliberately avoided Killian's gaze. "It's a bad idea." She repeated weakly.

"Emma, love, talk to me, please." He muttered, as he gently pushed her chin forcing her to raise her head and look him in the eye.

A deep sigh escaped her lips as she squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds. The look he gave her when she finally opened them again was filled with a mixture of concern and devotion. "These letters may contain not only part of my past, or rather the absence of my past, but also of yours. I wouldn't want your wounds reopened because of me, Killian."

Letting out a heavy breath, he ran his hand over his scruff. "We're in this together, Swan, or don't you remember agreeing to walk together until we reach the light at the end of the tunnel?" The way he was using her own words to cheer her up caused a warm sensation to run through her whole body, the memory of that day bringing a faint smile to her lips.

His lips also drew a small smile in encouragement, his eyes never leaving hers. "These bloody letters may make us fall into a dark hole, but I'm sure we're going to get out of there hopefully having left behind some of our burdens."

There was so much honesty and determination both in his speech and in his expression that she had no choice but to trust him. "Okay, let's do this." She breathed out.

Killian's smile widened as he took the box from her hands and placed it back on the bed. Next, he took off his shoes and sat with his back against the headboard, leaving a gap for her between his spread legs. "Come here, love." He waved his hand inviting her to come closer.

The moment she climbed onto the bed, emulating her previous position, Killian wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her right shoulder in a position that allowed him to read as she did.

Emma took a deep breath and let it out slowly, while closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she finally made up her mind and took the lid off the box, holding her breath. There were several objects inside, including a pile of letters tied with a string, but she focused first on the handwritten note that was on top, following the instructions: Read this note first.

The note was attached to a sheet of paper folded in half. With trembling fingers, she unfolded the paper and found what appeared to be the first letter, also handwritten. She felt Killian's arms tighten slightly around her waist as if encouraging her to read. And that she did.

My dearest Emma,

If you have come this far it's because somehow you have decided to give us an opportunity to offer you the explanations you deserve even though it’s through this way. I could not be more grateful for that, but let me inform you first about what you will find inside this box. I wrote you a letter every day on your birthday and some more, baring my soul in them and expressing my wish that someday we could meet you. Our wishes have come true, finally. I just hope it was not too late.

There is also a series of small objects, simple trinkets that shouldn't even be considered gifts, but we couldn't resist acquiring them as soon as our eyes fell on them, because for some reason, they made us think of you. But I will offer the explanation to each of the objects later. First things first. Let me tell you a short tale before you start reading the letters.

Emma ignored David's suggestion and, before continuing, reached into the box, looking for those non-gifts, while her heart constricted in her chest.

There was a small rag doll with golden hair and green eyes, dressed as a kind of princess from a fairy tale. Emma also found a small glass figure carved in the shape of a unicorn. And an old storybook that included an illustration of The Ugly Duckling story on the cover. The irony, Emma thought as the corners of her lips lifted slightly. From that angle, she couldn't see Killian, but the way his scruff tickled the exposed skin of her neck made her think he was smiling too.

And finally, there was the camera. It was one of those disposable devices and Emma doubted if it would even still work, but the very thought that her parents had believed she would like it caused her stomach to flutter as she blinked a couple of times, holding back tears.

If just by observing those objects she was about to burst into tears, Emma wondered what would become of her when she immersed herself in the contents of the letters.

As if he sensed her uneasiness, Killian whispered in her ear. "You can do it, love."

Nodding almost imperceptibly, Emma steeled herself and grabbed back the first letter, ready to read the short tale her father had written for her.

Once upon a time a boy and a girl fell hopelessly in love when they were still young and innocent. They longed to build a life together, a promising future awaited them, but on the way to achieving their dreams, they must be separated for a while. When the boy left, he did it with endless promises that he trusted to fulfill. But what neither of them knew was that the product of their love had begun to grow inside her. Unfortunately, with his departure, the girl was left alone and unprotected, so the evil stepmother took advantage of her vulnerability to spread her claws and try to destroy the happiness that she would never get. The girl, sad and desperate, fell into her stepmother's trap, believing that she really would not be able to offer her daughter her best chance, thinking that she too could not destroy her boyfriend's promising future by burdening him with a responsibility he did not have requested. But luck, or fate, made the boy return to the town with enough time to meet his daughter and also to say goodbye to her, the tiny baby girl carrying part of his heart with her while he watched helplessly how she was taken away - perhaps forever - without him having the chance to hold her in his arms for even a few seconds. And this is where you appear, my dear daughter.

This tale hasn't yet reached the end, and that is why I'm hoping against hope that we will be able to write our happily ever after together.

Dropping the paper, Emma pressed her lips together as she leaned her back against Killian's chest, breathing hard and unable to prevent a tear that slid down her cheek.

Although David had not offered details, the few written touches did serve to paint the scenario of a young girl alone and manipulated by her stepmother. She could now understand the reasons and although that would not mean that the pain of abandonment would ease, at least it did allow her to feel lighter. Her mother had not given her up for adoption because she thought she wasn't enough, but because she believed that she wasn't going to be able to give her her best chance.

She kept her eyes closed for a few seconds as she tried to calm her agitated breathing with the help of Killian, who alternated light kisses, barely a brush of his lips on the skin of the curve of her neck, with soothing words whispered in her ear.

Just when she seemed to have calmed down enough, the image of the stepmother came to her memory. Emma straightened her back as she turned her head slightly looking for Killian's eyes. "Mary Margaret's stepmother... she was Regina's mother, wasn't she?"

Killian nodded, pressing his lips together. "Aye, she was the one who took care of Mary Margaret when her father passed away, even though they had already divorced at the time."

“Regina knew it, didn't she? She was there when all this happened, right?" She clenched her jaw as he nodded again, increasing her decision to quit that job as soon as possible.

The reading of the first letter seemed to pave the way to the following since, once recovered, Emma grabbed the pile of letters and untied the string that held them together, leaving them in her lap and holding the first one, dated October 1990, the day of her first birthday.

The first letters were not an easy journey, as she had already anticipated. A bittersweet sensation settled in the pit of her stomach as she (they) read along.

There were smiles when David narrated some of his experiences in Storybrooke with Mary Margaret and how the town seemed not to have changed in the least almost thirty years later.

She shed more tears, first for the death of Ruth, David's mother —her grandmother— and for the reasons behind their decision to leave the town and try a new beginning on the other side of the ocean, the burden of memories too heavy for them.

She also cried for herself since, while David clung to the hope that she would be happy with a family that loved her, the reality had been very different. Each of his words acted like a dart to her already broken heart because, if they hadn't had that certainty, maybe they could have fought for her, maybe... Emma shook her head, it wouldn't do her any good to lament about what could have been. That wouldn't make the past change. Now she had no choice but to look ahead.

The letter in which she turned ten was also the one that brought Killian on stage. She noticed how his body tensed, as his arms tightened even more around her waist when his written name appeared for the first time.

From there, they continued the trip together, holding each other while they faced their ghosts of the past in the best possible way.

The feeling of jealousy and envy was there, latent, ready to strike from time to time in the form of a reminder that they had been there for him, sharing happy experiences, acting as a family, unconventional, but a family after all, while she had had to keep fighting and facing new abandonments, new disappointments, new rejections.

The letter that almost ended up breaking her was the one David had written a few months after she had turned eighteen. She already knew in advance that even though David's birthday letter had held the promise that they would come looking for her now that she had become an adult, they never would. But having the written confirmation that they had deliberately chosen Killian instead of opting for the tiny possibility of being able to recover their own daughter caused a pain almost impossible to bear.

Because irony had wanted that, while it was true that Killian had been going through the most traumatic moment of his life with the loss of his brother, she had also gone through hell at that time, locked in prison, alone and vulnerable after being once again abandoned and betrayed in the vilest way possible.

She had to stop reading, tears so plentiful that her vision blurred. She also noticed moisture at the height of her shoulder, where Killian was resting his head. That and the slight tremor of his body against hers were indicative enough that Killian was also crying.

Emma's heart ached for him, because he had been just another victim of the vicissitudes of life. She turned her head again, searching his eyes. The expression she found was so laden with guilt and regret that she could do nothing but turn around and straddle his lap, facing him, while cupping his face with both hands.

"Hey, Killian, look at me." She mumbled as he stroked his hair softly.

"I'm so sorry, Emma." He managed to say through a broken voice.

"It's not your fault, Killian, I mean it." Emma tried to convey both with her voice and her eyes, her raws feelings. "I'm not going to deny that it hurts like hell, that that twinge of pain has increased, but deep down, I'm glad they were there for you. If it hadn't been for them..." Her voice trailed off while she swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat. She couldn’t deny the obvious, if David and Mary Margaret hadn’t been there to support him he might never have recovered.

Killian stared at her for a few seconds until he pulled her toward him, burying his head in her chest as they both melted into a tight embrace, their hearts beating in unison as they both found comfort in each other's arms.

"David was right," Killian muttered, pulling away a little to look into her eyes. "Reading about Liam is like opening the wound again..." his lips drew a small smile, a halo of melancholy reflected on his face, "... but with you by my side, I feel stronger, Emma."

"David was wrong about something though." Before continuing, Emma bit her lower lip, hesitant about expressing aloud the thought that had crossed her mind.

Killian tilted his head slightly, looking at her intently. "About what?"

"About Liam. It's true that I didn't know him personally, but I do feel like I've known him. He's alive in these stories, Killian." Emma pointed to the letters they had just read, scattered on her bed. "And he is alive here." She laid her hand on Killian's chest, at the level of his heart. "And here." Then she brought her hand to his forehead. "And on all those photo albums you have in your apartment."

He closed his eyes and leaned forward, resting his forehead on hers. "Emma..." The way he pronounced her name, in a reverent sigh, sent a chill down her spine but she needed to continue with what she had started.

"I'm glad that both you and David have allowed me to get to know him through your memories." Killian shortened the distance between them, his soft, warm lips brushing hers and then hugging her again.

They remained in that position for what seemed like hours. It wasn't that she complained, she had learned that being in Killian's arms doing nothing, simply enjoying his warmth and the security he offered, had become one of her little pleasures. But Emma was beginning to fear that maybe the time to finish reading had passed. He soon pulled her out of her uncertainty, to her pleasant surprise.

"I think we still have a few cards left, Swan. Shall we?"

"Are you sure?"

Before answering, he took a deep breath. "Aye, let's go with it."

They didn't return to their original position though. Emma sat on his lap, but with her legs stretched out on the bed. She leaned on her side against Killian's chest, holding the letters at the right angle so he could read too as he wrapped both arms around her waist.

Together they resumed the journey through Killian's memories as they read David's letters. This last stage of the trip was perhaps the most painful, at least for Killian, since he had to relive not only the loss of Milah and the traumatic experience of the impact that took away his hand and almost his future, but they also discovered the torment that David had suffered all these years, trying to be the rock that his loved ones needed when he was dying inside.

The last letter was dated only a few months earlier, on the day of her last birthday, when she had received the gift that would change her life forever. David had mentioned Killian in that letter, as a premonition, anticipating that their paths would cross. What no one could have imagined at that time was the depth of feelings that would develop between them after that first encounter.

There was something implicit in the contents of the letters, something she hoped Killian would have noticed, too. The relationship David and Mary Margaret had with Killian was not based on the responsibility they felt towards him. They had loved Killian throughout those years and they were still loving him now. She could understand where those unfounded concerns of Killian came from, but maybe it was time to leave behind any vestige related to that fear.

She really was grateful that they had the opportunity to dedicate that love to at least one of them. "They love you, you know that, right?" She mumbled as her fingers drew delicate patterns on Killian's chest.

"I do. I do know it now. They love you too, Swan, even though they have not had the chance to prove it to you until now, but if you let them..." He paused for a few seconds as if deciding whether to continue or not. "I'm sorry, it's just up to you to give them a chance or not, but at least I hope that reading the letters has helped you understand them better."

The wound was still fresh. Maybe it had stopped bleeding but the edges were still tender. Reading the letters was meant to apply a bandage on that wound, and now she only hoped it would be enough for it to finish healing.

Still, her heart had begun to flutter in anticipation, as a wave of longing took hold of her. She also wanted to be part of future letters, she deserved to experience what it meant to be part of a family and if she had to forgive them and trust that the bandage was enough, so be it.

"I'm tired of fighting, of protecting my heart, Killian." She admitted, raising her head as she searched his gaze. "Even though I may need your help. I'm not an expert on this family thing, you know."

The smile he gave her had the ability to illuminate the entire bedroom. "You just have to trust me, Swan."

"I do." She returned a smile that she hoped matched his, before laying her head back on his chest.

Maybe it was the rhythmic beating of his heart against her ear or the soft sway of her body in his arms, whatever it was, Emma felt her eyelids grow heavier as a sense of drowsiness overtook her. Before surrendering to sleep, she clung to the last thought, like a premonition, that crossed her mind. A little girl, with green eyes and dark hair, lay in her crib while holding in her arms an old rag doll dressed like a princess from a fairytale.

When Emma woke up a little later, she was alone in bed, a thin blanket covering her body. She sat up confused, looking around through her narrowed eyes as she tried to get rid of the vestiges of sleep. There was no sign of the letters on the bed, but the box containing them had been placed right at the foot, on Killian's side. A handwritten note that had not been there before was stuck on the lid of the box.

Emma reached out a hand to get the note, finding a text written in Killian's cursive handwriting.

I hope you have achieved the restful sleep that you deserved after experiencing so many emotions. I would have stayed with you, watching over your dreams, but I needed to do something first. I needed to express my feelings towards my (our, I hope) family. I will return to you soon. I love you, yours, Killian.

She held the note against her chest and dropped her head back onto the pillow, thinking that maybe the time had come to finally pay a visit to her family.

Killian Jones. Storybrooke - May 12, 2018

The moment the door opened and he found Mary Margaret on the other side, Killian pounced on her, wrapping her in a bear hug. She remained still at first, unable to react, but then returned the hug in earnest. They continued that way for a few seconds, Killian letting himself be carried away by the sensation of calm that always emanated from his friend while the swirl of feelings dancing inside him became more intense.

The letters had been a revelation for him, so he didn’t mind to have gone through that tortuous path of reliving his past if it meant he finally managed to see that light at the end of the tunnel, at least as regards his relationship with his friends.

"Killian, you're scaring me, what's going on?" Only Mary Margaret's voice, full of worry, got him separated from her. David chose that moment to appear from the kitchen, a cloth over his left shoulder.

His brow furrowed as his gaze traveled from Killian to his wife and back. "What’s happening?”

Something caught Killian's attention, making him forget for a moment the reason for his visit. "Where's your sling, mate?" His gaze shifted to the cloth. "Don't tell me you're cooking... You should rest, Dave." He scolded him while shaking his head, unable to believe that his friend was so careless about his health.

David rolled his eyes as Mary Margaret snorted at his side. "Believe me, I've tried Killian, but this man can be incorrigible at times."

"I'm fine." David snapped defensively. "Actually, being stuck here at home helplessly is driving me crazy." He massaged his temples before continuing. "So I'll go back to work tomorrow."

"No, you won't." Mary Margaret raised a finger in warning.

"But..."

"It's Sunday." Killian interrupted, getting both of them to turn their heads towards him. As much as he enjoyed these little domestic fights, since they reminded him of home, he had come for a specific purpose. "Tomorrow is Sunday, so I'm afraid you'll still have to spend another day here, mate." He smirked at him while wagging his eyebrows.

"You aren't helping, Killian." He huffed in annoyance.

"Maybe not, but I'm sure that when you know why I'm here you'll have a reason to enjoy a quiet Sunday at home."

"Are you sure everything is fine?" Mary Margaret asked as she reached out her hand to give him an affectionate squeeze on his biceps.

"Aye, everything is fine." His stomach tightened into knots, but he forced himself to swallow any hesitation he might feel. "Emma and I... she asked me to read the letters with her. We did it this afternoon."

David's eyes widened as Mary Margaret covered her mouth with one hand, both looking at him intently, as if inviting him to continue.

"Maybe I shouldn't have done it, because they're letters that you wrote exclusively to her, but she asked me and..."

"I'm glad you did it, Killian." David cut him off while nodding. "I'm glad you were with her through it."

"I'm not going to speak for her, she'll be the one to do it when she feels ready, but..." His voice trailed off as he felt a wave of emotion creeping up his throat. He swallowed again, hoping to keep his voice stable enough. "It's been painful to relive those moments, but thanks to those letters I've realized something that maybe I should have noticed before."

"Oh, Killian." Mary Margaret squeezed his arm affectionately again, while it was evident that she was making great efforts to maintain her composure.

"You guys have always been with me, in good times, as well as in not so good ones, as in my incursions to hell. I will never be able to thank you enough for letting me be part of your family, for having welcomed me and made me feel loved even though I wasn't able to prove it or to reciprocate it to you then."

"Of course you are part of our family, Killian." It was all David said before wrapping him in a tight hug, charged with emotion to which Mary Margaret joined a few seconds later.

They remained there, embraced for a while, as Killian felt all the power of memories dancing around them. Emma was right, Liam would always be part of this family, he would stay alive forever in their hearts.

A sudden knock on the door interrupted the moment. His heart skipped a beat in anticipation, trusting that his Swan had already woken up and gained enough determination to follow in his footsteps.

This time, it was David who opened the door. Indeed, Emma was there. His chest swelled with pride as he saw that his beautiful, brave and talented Emma was finally ready to take the step that would bring her back into the arms of her family.

"Emma! What a pleasant surprise." David welcomed her, unable to hide the joy in his voice. "Come in, come in." He stepped aside, allowing Emma to enter the living room.

"Hey, guys." She greeted them, holding a tight smile as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Her eyes then traveled to David's right arm as her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "Where's your sling?"

"Oh my God." He heard Mary Margaret muttering at his side as he kept his lips pressed together in an attempt to hold back a chuckle.

"Maybe he will listen to his daughter now." Killian leaned down to whisper in his friend's ear causing her eyes to go wide as she clung to his arm and gave him a pleading look. He nodded subtly and then turned back to Emma.

"Well..." David mumbled as he ran his hand down his chin.

Mary Margaret seemed to take pity on her husband as she ran to David's side, hooking her arm in his good one and giving Emma a warm look. "I'm glad you're here. Can I offer you a drink?"

Emma shook her head as she looked in Killian's direction briefly. He nodded quietly, encouraging her to continue. "No, not for the moment at least. I... look, this is hard for me so I'm going to drop everything now, okay?"

Everyone remained silent looking at Emma carefully. Before continuing, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "I suppose Killian has already told you, but we've read the letters this afternoon - all of them, which means a lot, but anyway, I just wanted to tell you that you don't need to write me any more letters... I, well, I'm here," Emma shrugged her shoulders as her lips drew a half smile, "so we can just, talk in person..." Killian was dying to be by her side, to support her at this moment, but he was also aware that it was something she had to do for herself.

"You mean birthdays and other events like in the letters?" David asked tentatively.

Emma shook her head while licking her lips. "No, I mean that, if you allow me, I'd like to be part of all this." She waved her hand, encompassing everything around her.

"Oh Emma." Mary Margaret muttered as she reached out to hold Emma's hand. "Of course, you've always been part of this family, although we haven't been able to prove it to you until now."

"Thank you so much, sweetheart, for giving us this opportunity to do things right with you for once." The raw emotion was evident in both the voice and the expression of David. He himself felt a warm feeling spread to his heart as he witnessed how the three most important people in his life finally reunited forever.

"Can I... can I hold you?" Mary Margaret offered in a soft voice. Emma blinked a couple of times, but was unable to stop the tears from falling down her cheeks. She could only nod in response to her mother's request.

Something pulled on Killian the moment Emma's parents finally embraced their daughter, no lies, no secrets between them anymore, just the sincere embrace of three people who had been separated for too long.

His fingers began to tingle with the need to immortalize the moment and make it eternal. They deserved it. In the absence of his camera, he took the phone out of his pocket, and shot a few pictures quickly and then he took it more calmly, focusing on capturing the emotion, the endless feelings that were reflected in the faces of his friends and his girlfriend.

David looked at him with a frown, but also with a smile on his lips. "Stop thinking about photography for a moment and come here to join your family." He happily obliged, at least in part, since, before joining the first — he hoped— of many family hugs he reached out as he held the phone in his hand and then shot.

While he was immersed in the embrace, surrounded by the love of his life and the people who had been his family for twenty years, he made a mental note to include that photo in a privileged place in the photo album that Emma had given him for his birthday, willing, more than ever, to keep filling that album of memories in the form of images. The memories of his family. The memories of the new life that awaited them all. Together.

TheLadySwan Life is composed of small pieces of a puzzle that fit together little by little. Sometimes the last piece takes time to appear, or it's difficult to fit at the beginning, but when it finally does and you are able to observe the complete picture, you feel a sense of fulfillment and the certainty that, no matter what awaits us in the future, no matter if at some point the pieces of the puzzle are separated again, we will always find a way to unite them.

This is the end, almost...

What to expect from the epilogue? I hope you all enjoy the last stage of this journey celebrating Emma's new birthday... and more...

Thanks for reading. Let me know what did you all think :)

#cs ff #csbb #cs au #captain swan #captain swan ff #pictures of reality #mayquita writes #my cs writings #cs au ff #csbb 2018

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wheelofmeta · 6 years

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Rand’s Saidin Sickness

So, per earlier today...

When Rand’s saidin sickness is initially introduced it seemed like there was a fairly logical reason for it. The Taint. However, following the events of the Cleansing it doesn’t get any better. If anything, it gets much worse, peaking in The Gathering Storm (and arguably Towers of Midnight, since the events are happening at the same time for quite a bit of both books), only to finally vanish with the Dragonmount Revelation(tm). Since apparently, merging with your crazy past self heals everything, even if you’re still soul-linked to the Anti-Dragon (Moridin).

And actually, there’s a good reason for that.

Here’s the thing. Over the course of the series Rand focuses more and more on his death (and death in general), and in a completely unhealthy fashion. Dragonmount is when this finally stops. As Amys and the other Aiel put it, ‘he has embraced death’. While Rand was always aware he was going to die, that the Last Battle wasn’t survivable, he never actually embraced the fact. He knew he was going to die. He wanted to die. But he hadn’t actually embraced the fact until that moment.

Nor did Lews Therin ever actually embrace his own death. Not until that same moment of Third Age Dragonmount Revelation.

Let me explain this a bit better. So, rather obviously since we open on the goddamn scene all the way back in Eye of the World, Lews Therin dies following going insane from the Taint, slaughtering his entire family, getting his sanity briefly (and cruelly) returned by Ishamael, and then killing himself via drawing more saidin than is, well, sane and creating Dragonmount. Okay, great, he commits suicide, so what the hell am I talking about him not embracing his own death?

Because he didn’t want death.

He wanted oblivion. He doesn’t want to exist in a world were his family is dead.

The Wheel of Time exists in a world where, unless you are balefired or killed in the World of Dreams (in theory) you will always be reincarnated at some point. The Dragon in particular, is a figure who is constantly reincarnated (we arguably know it happens at least seven times based on the fact there’s Seven Ages and the Dragon is the Messiah of the world and thus needs to usher in and out each new age [yes this is getting a meta at some point don’t worry]). So Lews Therin, in other words, didn’t accomplish what he wanted. He died, but he didn’t get oblivion. He got reincarnation (like everyone else) into a world where all his loved ones are long dead.

Lews Therin, in a sense, ‘wakes up’ during the Third Age as a result of Rand’s madness. The Taint seemed to have weakened what should have been the memory divide incarnations, allowing Rand access to Lews’s knowledge and skills (which eventually saves the day). However, you know also have a previous incarnation, who died insane, and wanted, in a sense, a permanent peace in death and simply didn’t get it. He’s...aware, for lack of better term, that he’s been reborn, and he doesn’t handle it well, and that’s part of what’s affecting Rand. That even though Lews had died, he didn’t accept that he was dead.

Rand, as the series goes on, comes to a similar point as of The Gathering Storm to where Lews Therin was at the end of Eye of the World’s prologue. Namely, it’s not that he wants death. He wants oblivion. He’s tormented by the deaths of so many, he’s tormented by the way the Shadow seems to be winning. He’s deep within his Taint madness, and he just wants it all to end, and so he goes to Dragonmount and almost does exactly that. He almost repeats Lews Therin’s actions three thousand years later.

But he stops himself, because he finally realizes something. That when you die, you are reborn and you can try again. You may have failed the first time, but as long as the Wheel is spinning, you will get the chance to try again. You get to do it better. Those that died for you, those you killed. They will live again, they will have new lives. And it’s at that moment that the saidin sickness finally fades, as Rand and Lews merge. Because Lews has finally accepted his own death, that the reason he wanted oblivion and wasn’t accepting the denial of that was his family’s death. But he’s finally become ‘sane’ enough to realize that they’ve been reborn, that they all get to try again, love again, live again.

But still, you are probably asking and rolling your eyes as I take too long to reach the point, why is it that that heals the sickness? Why was the sickness getting worse, why did it affect Moridin, following their ‘whoops, soul bond~’?

Because, up until Dragonmount, Rand isn’t viewing his death the way the Dragon Reborn should be. He’s viewing it from the same perspective as Moridin. He’s viewing it the way the Shadow wants him to.

And that is making him sick.

Remember what happened to Shadar Logoth? That it became a place that even the Shadow fears because during the Trolloc Wars, it started to use the same tactics. It started to use similar actions. And it became horrifically corrupt, but not actually a part of the Shadow. Rand, in a sense, was starting to go the same way. In a sense, for all the Dark One’s Taint was gone, Rand and Lews had unintentionally created their own which the Cleansing, rather obviously, didn’t do a damn thing to heal or halt.

Hell, we literally get a prophesy about the danger of Rand going this way. The Borderlander’s prophesy is basically the exact fear of Rand turning, not to the Shadow, but into something just as bad. The point were victory is no better than defeat. That they’d have to kill Rand and hope for the best, because if they didn’t, the Light’s ‘victor’ would be just as bad as the Dark One. Once Rand and Lews merge, having embraced their death’s (past and future), that’s no longer a danger.

It’s also why the illness was affecting Moridin. Since while Rand was thinking like the Shadow would want him to (like the people of Shadar Logoth did), he still wasn’t actually of the Shadow. He was turning himself into a different form of corruption. And so through their soul link, Moridin was getting sick from feeling a different form of corruption than he was used to. So once Rand stops thinking like that, once Rand and Lews Therin merge, Lews finally accepting his own death and Rand embracing what his death will mean, that corruption is gone and no longer affecting either Moridin or Rand.

So once Rand is no longer afraid of death or wanting oblivion, he can heal. Even though he’s still connected to Moridin, which you’d imagine is what’s actually making him sick (yet isn’t the case), he’s now fine (sort of, he does still have his two injuries and is technically still mad as Nynaeve discovers doing her mental Delving). But the saidin sickness, which was arguably his biggest torment, is now gone.

Now he can fight the Last Battle. Now he can fight the Dark One. Now he can go against his opposite, Moridin.

Seeing as, you know, Moridin went the exact opposite way. He died (in TDR), but he was never reborn. He was forcefully returned to life by the Dark One, denied death. Because the Moridin we see after that? He no longer craves immortality the way he once (seemingly) did.

All he wants is oblivion, not immortality, not death.

But that’s a discussion for a different day.

#rand al'thor #moridin #lews therin #the dragon #wheel of time #my meta #wot #unreasonably attractive fandom #amol spoilers #gathering storm spoilers

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collusioncomics · 6 years

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Nicholas Warner’s Agents of S.E.A.L.

Nick Warner, [Maxwell Lord/Nick Fury] was an adept businessman specializing in the marketing of superhero identities in mainstream media, and in many cases even engaging as a kind of talent scout and manager for various well established heroes and their teams. In many ways he serves as the primary adversary keeping the subversive tactics of [G.Gordon Godfrey/Master Pandemonium] in check. But he is also a megalomaniac, and as his career grows he quickly finds the level of control and amount of credit he’s given unsatisfying. To quench this thirst for recognition he establishes his own super hero team, under his direct and explicit command, The Great S.E.A.L., which he markets heavily as an “All American” hero team. His need to control all facets of his team results in manufacturing backstories, personas, drama, and even adversaries and crises for his team. He scripts their lives and careers like a reality TV show. Invariably this turns him into as much a benefactor of super villains as heroes, and as such his competing hero team, in their various incarnations, tend to walk the line on being rival heroes and themselves villains.

As pillars of his original team he recruits...

[Manchester Black/USAgent], The Brand: Wielding the team’s titular Great Seal of the United States of America, the original figurehead team leader; [Lord/Fury]’s loyal lackey. He uses telekinetic powers to control his flying shield as a weapon. He doesn’t often do much of his own thinking or decision making, but when prompted to offer up his thoughts, he is quick to reveal himself as a fanatical extremist of nearly every description.

After a series of media debacles and a subsequent shuffling of team roster, he is recast as the stoic and silent big brother of the team briefly before being replaced entirely by a second Brand. The mantle would be passed down through a long line of very short lived successors, all trying to redefine the character in some way that could prove marketable, yet the legacy would be continually marred by scandal.

[Hawk/Cloak] & [Dove/Dagger], The Talons Dexter & Sinister: The Brand’s wingmen (hurr hurr...) and eagle themed lieutenants. They were selected for their marketable qualities as a duo, and as thematic accessories to the Great Seal gimmick. They possess opposed powers of temperament influence, allowing them to either inspire aggression or passivity in the people in their immediate area with focused intent. Ironically this makes Dexter, with his pacifying powers, the most effective vanguard in battle and Sinister a better support, buffing his teammates with rushes of adrenaline, bursts of confidence, and even temporary invulnerability.

They would eventually be discharged after sustaining debilitating injuries in a tragic defeat that [Fury/Lord] orchestrated to introduce an element of drama and edge to garner public sympathies and retain interest. The battle however would escalate out of control and go largely off script resulting in the unintended lasting injuries: Sinister would be blinded and lose the ability to aim his powers at specific individuals (and gain the involuntary ability to use them on himself), and Dexter would develop PTSD and selective mutism. But surprisingly they prove themselves quite effective as actual heroes after seeking therapy following their departure from S.E.A.L.

[Stargirl/Firestar], Firecracker: A somewhat distressingly young girl unwittingly roped into the superhero persona to fulfill [Lord/Fury]’s perceived need for a token female with sex appeal in order to sell the team’s image. She is scouted from [Court of Owls/Massachusetts Academy] by the headmistress Li’l Birdie [Penguin/Emma Frost], and outfitted with some rudimentary equipment to amplify her underdeveloped and largely untrained [meta/mutant] powers, but is relegated largely to posing for photo ops.

Not long into the gig she becomes a target of sexual advances by her older male teammates, which she takes up with [Lord/Fury]. He dismisses her concerns and instead advises her to pick a team mate to date publicly, as he thinks it will make for a better team image. Instead she takes it upon herself to reach out into the hero community outside her team to receive proper training —not willing to accept being both exploited by and then run out of the hero business, she becomes hellbent on making it as a super heroine for real.

She makes her way through several different mentors at Birdie’s recommendation, putting all her effort into tackling her self designed crash course in heroics until she becomes a competent heroine in what all her mentors regard as a shockingly short amount of time. She returns to the team hardened and with a dramatic make over, and the next time one of her team mates sexually assaults her, she puts him in the hospital. [Lord/Fury] isn’t especially upset however, and actually tries to leverage the whole incident to make him look like the hero for siding with Firecracker over her assailant. This hypocrisy proves the final straw, and Firecracker leaves to join [Batman/Prof.X]’s private academy and the [Batman Family/X-Men].

[S.T.R.I.P.E./Blue Streak], Old Glory: A retired Olympian and war veteran recruited for his existing public image and appeal with older demographics. Well past his prime as an athlete, he’s aided by an exoskeleton and armor facilitating superhuman speeds, but really he mostly keeps to clean up duty, crowd control, and publicity stunts; often just running to create a blur of red and white stripes for effect. (literally just running in circles) He’s fine with this of course, because he’s mostly in the gig to relieve his glory days in the public limelight, rather than see any real action. He becomes notoriously lazy and entitled, with a bad attitude even by S.E.A.L.’s notoriously low standards.

His time with the team ends, when he sexually assaults the underage Firecracker after her return from training and she overloads his exoskeleton with her powers, overextending its joints and breaking both his legs. [Lord/Fury] drops all endorsement of him following the incident.

[Red Tornado/Beta Ray Bill], Red Chief (Later, Red Condor): The product of a private contract with [T.O.Morrow/Baron Mordo], secretly being used to serve his larger machinations. He was initially presented to [Lord/Fury] as purely robotic and under his full control (a premise which would later prove false when the Native American wind spirit trapped inside him would gain control of his machine prison) and was deployed as an appeal for superficial "diversity points.”

After the eventual dissolution of the first S.E.A.L. team, [Lord/Fury] pushes for a more “authentic” hero team, employing cutting edge research into the study and manipulation of the [Meta/Mutant] gene to create a line of “designer” heroes, catered to his specific marketing needs.

[Major Victory/Citizen V], The Brand II: Initially recruited in a pinch to replace the original Brand, he’s actually the agent of the corrupt Atlantean noble, [Black Manta/Baron Zemo], working to help spur anti-American sentiment in Atlantis through subtle false flag tactics.

[Lady Liberty/Atlas], New Colossus: A female body builder hired after Firecracker left the team. She was chosen to fill the new found niche appeal factor for a muscular heroine that Firecracker brought to light after her intensive training.

[Silent Majority/Screaming Mimi], Anthem (aka Vox Populi): An unsuccessful opera singer who volunteered for [Lord/Fury]’s designer [meta/mutant] gene project in hopes of attaining fame an fortune. He has the power to create duplicates of himself (but only up to four, and not capable of autonomous thought) as well as bionic implants to weaponize his voice.

[Mayflower/Amazon], American Beauty: Another of [Lord/Fury]’s designer [meta/mutant] with the ability to control plant-life and a penchant for tormenting men, hero, villain, and civilian alike. (Honestly I don’t know what to do with her that’s not just Poison Ivy...)

[Skyman/Mach-I], Full-Mast: A kind of informal legacy character to Old Glory. His flight suit is based on Old Glory’s speedster exoskeleton. The unfortunate euphemism of a name after the circumstances of his predecessor aside, he earns the nickname Half-Mast, because he frequently makes a point of flying low to make sure his face is seen in public.

[Sparkler/Techno], Hallmark: Tech whiz, boy hero put in charge of the team’s equipment, he’s basically a superhero ball boy. Marketable as cute and chipper with a kind of old fashioned boy-ish charm. He’s the first to die when [Lord/Fury] decides his new team needs some drama. (think the iconic death of Bucky, Jason Todd, and Supergirl covers.)

In [Lord/Fury]’s quest for wealth and acclaim he also becomes well acquainted with [Toyman/Norman Osborn] and his son, [Dollmaker/Harry Osborn]. The family of toy manufacturers are at first rivals and later accomplices in [Lord/Fury]’s marketing crusades. Their compulsive and often manic love of superheroes fuels their stalker-like fanboy tendencies and feel the need to insert themselves into the lives of heroes by any means, even as antagonists. They become in turn [Lord/Fury]’s crisis engineers when he begins more heavily scripting S.E.A.L.’s adventures.

This was definitely not meant to be as long as it turned out, or involve as many specific character combinations. This team is such a heinous mess of a concept and got so wildly out of hand before I really noticed. I can’t help but love coming up with these disastrous characters, though. I definitely meant for them to be more of a joke than a tragedy at first, but something about the tone of it all had me inadvertently channeling a little bit of Garth Ennis’ The Boys. I just like the idea of a bunch of delusional wannabes, glory hogs, and narcissists posing as super heroes.

Hey, there newcomer! If you are in fact new to this blog, I’m sure you’re a little confused. But if this has been the kind of confused you enjoy, then check out our about page to have maybe less confused and more enjoy?

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blizzweirdo · 6 years

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No Omen, No Country’s Cause Ch. 7

Hey everyone, this chapter is a somewhat short transitional chapter. It is the first chapter to have multiple points of view, and is really more like three chapters in one--the first from Stukov’s POV, the second from Dauphin and the UED, the third from Marín in the Umojan Navy, and then back to Stukov. Sorry it’s a little late; I decided to add two of the parts kind of on the fly, so hopefully it’s not disjointed. As usual, this chapter will appear on Fanfiction.net, Archive of Our Own, and Wattpad.

Stukov looked out on the UED fleet from the observation deck of the Aleksander. If he could ignore the infestation around him and the enormity of the Destroyer Fleet, he could almost believe it was 2500 again and he was looking out at his own fleet, just arrived from the Sol sector. In the silence, he imagined Gerard standing behind him somewhere in the shadows. In the distance, he saw the Kuznetsov move to the center of the fleet away from its position behind the front lines. Now that the fight for Tarsonis was over, it could fully rejoin the fleet. He was glad to see it unharmed; with his son onboard, he could reasonably believe he was safe, but he had no idea how he was being treated. He wouldn’t know unless he could see him and speak to him, but even then they would be smart enough to hurt him in ways that did not show, saving any permanent injury to him for when his father got out of line. The uncertainty gnawed at him, but he knew they would not be foolish enough to let him die.

The Aleksander’s adjutant chimed discordantly, alerting Stukov it was about to speak.

“Admiral Stukov,” it said, its voice slow with the declining health of the ship’s systems and muffled by infestation, “Admiral Reeves of the Kuznetsov wishes to speak with you.” Stukov hesitated. He felt a moment of paranoia. Had Reeves perceived that he had been holding back? Had someone seen and reported his interactions with the Umojan and Republic vessels and reported it as suspicious? Most likely he just wanted to debrief him, but the memory of Reeves holding a gun to his son’s head haunted him.

Stukov climed the few steps to the upper level of the observation deck to its comm console.

“Patch him through, Adjutant.”

As the comm clicked on, he was immediately met with sounds of celebration: cheering, clapping, and the popping of champagne corks. Reeves appeared on the screen standing in the hangar bay. Behind him, a huge party was taking place. His self-satisfied smile made him want to wrap his fist around his neck and squeeze until his head popped off. He swallowed his anger.

“Admiral Reeves, how good of you to call,” he said flatly.

“Stukov... I have to say congratulations are in order. You managed to totally annihilate the Republic and Umojan forces without causing significant civilian casualties. That will make our occupation of Tarsonis easier... and make for some great PR reels for the sector and back home.”

“Propaganda was not my motive, Admiral... but I’m glad to serve the UED again...” He said cautiously.

“Good. Then once we have commandeered Tarsonis’s supply chain and industry, we will need to push on—and quickly. When will you meet with... this Tal’Darim... Alarak? Is that his name?”

“Yes, Alarak. I will meet with him in seventy-two hours.”

“That’s a bit far out, don’t you think?”

“It is what he could manage.”

“Very well. When you speak to him, let me know. Good day.”

“Wait.”

“I want to see my son.”

“Why?”

“I want to see that he hasn’t been harmed.”

“You can see him,” Reeves said, his genteel demeanor dropping, “when you’ve convinced Alarak to join the fleet. So don’t fuck it up, Stukov.” Reeves abruptly closed the comm channel. Stukov pounded his fist on the comm console, seething in frustration. Reeves would use his son to torment him at every opportunity. But he didn’t have time to worry about that now. He had to assume his son was alive and well. With his meeting with an Umojan or Republic fleet representative mere hours away, he was on a tight schedule. If his allies in the Koprulu sector did not assist him or if Alarak refused his offer, his son would be in grave danger. But I will take him back... and if I get the chance, I’ll kill Reeves the same way he threatened to kill Gregory.

But there was no time to indulge his violent fantasy. He had a meeting to attend.

* * *

“You did what?” Vermaak shouted. Marín flinched, unused to his anger in front of their superiors. Marín had just finished reporting on her pursuit of Stukov to Horner, Valerian, Augustin, Oyaleni, and Vermaak on the Vrede. She told them about his message and why she had ultimately let him go instead of neutralizing him. But she knew that most of it didn’t matter to Vermaak—he didn’t care that she went after Stukov or why she did, why she let him go, or what he said to her. What mattered to him was that she had put herself in harm's way when she had expressly told him she would not. Augustin sensed that something was wrong and put himself between them.

“I don’t believe Admiral Marín needs to repeat herself, Vermaak. Did Stukov give any indication as to why he wanted to meet, Marín?”

“No, but during the battle he seemed to be avoiding attacking evacuees and the building where Horner had been trapped... It may be that he wants to give us intel...”

“Or pull one of our leaders into a trap. He probably thinks Horner or Valerian will come to meet him,” Oyaleni said.

“You shouldn‘t have been there, and you should have shot him down,” Vermaak said angrily.

Marín expected as much from Oyaleni. Being suspicious and considering all the ways a situation could go awry was her job as a general and the leader of the marines in both fleets. But Vermaak’s reaction was uncalled for.

Valerian raised his hand in a gesture of calm and began to speak. “I... have to say that I agree with Oyaleni and Vermaak. We fought alongside him once, but... more recent events may have turned him against us.”

“Such as?” Augustin said. Valerian did not elaborate, color rising in his cheeks. Horner spoke for him.

“It got buried in the report the Umojans released a few years ago, but Valerian’s partially responsible for his imprisonment and the uh... experiments that were... not consensually performed on him by Moebius...”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Marín said, speaking out of turn and rubbing both hands down her tired face. “You tortured this guy? Great. That’s just... Yeah, I think that does add something of a complication to our interaction with him.”

“But if he’s reaching out, there has to be something else going on,” Horner walked to the war table in the middle of the bridge. “Do you have recordings of the battle?”

“Yes,” Augustin said, joining him. With a few taps he brought them up. A holographic image of Tarsonis appeared above the table with red markers denoting the UED and Stukov and green, yellow, and the teal of the Umojan navy denoting their fleet and troop movements. Horner manipulated the image with a wave of his hand, zooming in on Tarsonis City and the Umojan line against Stukov. Valerian stood behind him as Horner watched Stukov’s units crawl through the streets of Tarsonis City. Augustin watched as well from the other side. Valerian pointed at the map, saying something only Horner could hear.

“His movements are... slow,” Augustin said.

“That’s... uncharacteristic,” Horner said. “He’s normally quick to strike and with the infested he tends to try to overwhelm his foes quickly in an initial push to hide a more complicated late-battle strategy. Here, he was controlled at first and waited to engage us. I think that Marín is right. He was holding back; he must have known I was in there.”

“But how would he have?” Vermaak said.

“Well, he is human. The last time I spoke to him he was pretty up on current events. I was slated to be on a widely broadcast debate. The time and place of broadcast had been announced way ahead of time.” Marín imagined the human man she had seen in pictures, sitting in an office like hers. His feet were up on the desk and he popped open a beer as he watched the news projected above the desk. A zergling snoozed idly on the floor below him. She tried not to laugh and realized how tired she had to be to think that was funny. It had been a long day, and now the dress she kept forgetting she was wearing was beginning to rub her in places it had not before.

“You’d think the UED would have caught on to that as well,” Augustin said.

“Not necessarily. The timing of their arrival may have kept them from hearing about it.”

“Right, so let me get this straight,” Oyaleni said, clearly getting annoyed. “what we have here is a dangerous, UED, zerg man who was Kerrigan’s ally for a time and your ally for all of five seconds and who might still be friendly to Horner but is definitely going to be right pissed about Valerian and who doesn’t give a shit about Umoja but he just asked us to send someone—unarmed—to a horrid backwater planet that can only be traversed in a CMC or vehicle because of its turbulent atmosphere and plasma storms and we’re still debating sending someone?”

“If he can do for us what he did to Tarsonis, yeah we are,” Marín said. Oyaleni rolled her eyes at her.

“Well, I’m not crazy enough for that,”

“I’ll do it,” Horner said, “He knows me.”

“Absolutely not,” Augustin said quickly, “You’re the leader of the Republic in exile. If Stukov turned on you, it would be a checkmate.”

“And you’re the leader of the Umojan fleet, and it’s highly probable that he would kill me on sight. Marín in the right choice here; he spoke to her, and she should go,” Valerian said.

“And I’m willing to go...”

“No, it should be me, but I'm taking a sidearm,” Vermaak said darkly.

“And that’s why you’re not going, Wynand,” Augustin said, “We’ve wasted a lot of time arguing about this... Marín, can you still make the rendezvous?”

“If I leave now.”

“Then go... Find out what he wants, and get back here. Wear a transponder and for heaven’s sake, be careful this time.”

And there’s still no time to get out of this damn dress.

* * *

The after-victory party on the Kuznetsov had been one hell of a celebration. After half a bottle of champagne, Dauphin had lost her cap and KD in the hangar bay. The carousing around her seemed to be happening in slow motion—and someone was pouring more champagne in her glass. There was shouting and loud music; she was thankful that the first of her senses to go when she was drunk was her hearing. Dauphin saw Reeves at the far end of the hangar speaking into the comm unit. The screen was mostly dark, but she recognized the unmistakable glow of Adm. Stukov’s amber-colored eyes. Thinking back to her encounter with him gave her chills. She had seen what he could do to the fleet, and she had seen from the air what he could do on the ground. He frightened her, but how he had treated her and what she had seen on his ship made her pity him—and his son.

Reeves abruptly ended his call and moved away from the console towards her. She turned around so that he wouldn’t see her face. He walked past without noticing her. Only a few hours earlier, she had stood nearly in the same spot watching him put a gun to a man’s head and threaten his life. She would never see Reeves in the same way again. Dauphin thought about Gregory. He was most likely still in the brig alone, not privy to any of the celebrating around him. He also probably had no idea that his father was a large part of their victory. She suddenly didn’t feel much like celebrating.

Walking down the hallway to her quarters, she had to dodge people who were much drunker than she was. Once inside, she realized she was not alone. KD was hanging half on and half off her upper bunk, her arm dangling limply off. Below her was a half-empty bottle of vodka whose contents and splashed all over the floor. She recognized the bottle from Stukov’s stash from the Aleksander. They had to bribe a flight deck technician to get it back after they had abandoned it in the hangar bay. KD had wanted to leave it, but she felt like she owed it to Greg to keep it for him—especially since everything had gone so awry. Still inebriated, she thought it would be nice if she took some of it to show Greg in the brig. Quietly, she reached under her bunk and dragged the duffel out from under it. The bottles inside clinked softly. KD sat up suddenly in her bunk, her hair askew and her face flushed. A couple of strands of her hair were stuck to her lips.

“Hey! What are you doing with that?”

“I was going to go see Greg.”

“No, don’t take the booze.”

“I’m not taking that. I’m just going to show him his dad’s stuff.”

“Oh.” KD slithered off the top bunk, stumbling in her bare feet as she touched the ground. Tucking in her shirt, she grabbed Dauphin’s champagne and downed it quickly. She smoothed back her hair. “Let’s go then.”

“Uh, I don’t recall inviting you.”

“Whatever. You need me to distract the guard,” KD emptied the duffel bag of liquor except one bottle of vodka. She put two shot glasses in it.

“Why are you bringing that?”

“You’ll see.”

Outside in the hallway, people were still partying, but it had calmed down a little. They made their way to the brig without being noticed. When they reached the brig, KD gave Dauphin the duffel and took out the bottle and two glasses.

“Wait here ten seconds, then walk right into the cell block.”

“Uh, okay?”

The automatic door opened for KD as she walked near it. She hoisted the bottle and the glasses over her head and pranced barefoot inside. A guard was sitting alone at his desk. He looked very bored.

“Hee-e-e-ey, buddy! It’s me! KD! Remember me from basic training? No? Well, I thought I’d bring you a drink!”

The guard stood wide-eyed, surprised by her entrance. The door closed behind her, obscuring Dauphin’s view.

“Um, thanks?”

Dauphin counted out ten seconds and then went inside. KD had sat down next to the guard, forcing him to turn towards her and away from the cell block door. Dauphin walked quickly past them and into the cell block.

The cell block was large and had multiple hallways. The carrier was like a small city and bad things did happen and people needed to be incarcerated. But today, there were only two people other than Greg in the cell block that she could see, and both appeared to be people who had partied a little too hard and were sleeping it off. Greg was on his own at the very end of the cell block. She wasn’t surprised; Reeves had most likely hidden the fact he was here because he didn’t want the fleet to know what was going on. Everyone who knew had to agree to not discuss Stukov with anyone at home and to not talk about him on the ship either. There would be too many questions for the fleet to answer if word got home.

When she found Greg, he was sitting in his cell, his arms folded and his head down, leaning forward on his knees. In the harsh light of his white cell in his white ghost uniform and pale skin, he almost blended into the wall.

“Greg,” she said quietly. Greg looked up at her slowly. His eyes were red and his eyelids swollen.

“Dauphin... What...?”

“I thought... You might want some company... The battle for Tarsonis is over... Everyone’s celebrating.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah... I, uh... That stuff you asked for... I brought it...”

“What stuff?”

“Your dad’s stuff. Thought you might want to see it.” Greg looked away, saddened. Dauphin began pulling some of it the items out. “Look, there’s this neat sword thing, and his dress uniform...” Greg got up and walked to the far end of the cell away from her. “And that ID you gave me... He put a note on it for you... I wish you could read it...”

“Take it away.”

“There’s a photograph...”

“Take it away!”

“What’s wrong?”

Greg ran his hands through his short-cropped hair, still turned away from her. “I want nothing to do with that... monster.”

“You mean your dad or Reeves?”

“That... thing is not my father. My father did not write me a note, he did not let you have that stuff that has been... contaminated by that thing’s infestation... And my father didn’t try to save me. My father is dead. He died on Char. Whatever that creature is, it is not my father. It is the corpse of my father animated by something... foul.” His voice began to crack and the lights in the brig began to flicker in a manner that unsettled Dauphin, “If it were my father, he would rather have slit his throat than be a traitor!” At the end of another hallway, Dauphin heard the shattering of glass. The overall light in the cell block darkened. “Get out, and take that damn bag with you!” Oh shit, he’s telekinetic... and powerful enough to get around his psi dampeners. Dauphin grabbed the bag and ran as glass rained down on her from the ceiling. Dauphin realized both Stukov and Reeves had made a mistake. He may look all of 12, but this kid can take care of himself. And she was even a little frightened of him. Dauphin ran back into the guard’s room, but the room was pitch black. Without waiting for KD, she burst through the door and into the light of the hallway.

* * *

Admiral Marín locked the visor on the helmet of her CMC as she got ready to disembark the shuttle. She had flown herself down not wanting to put anyone else at risk. She opened the hatch and the punishing winds on the planet's surface almost knocked her off her feet. She unsteadily walked in her CMC down the gangway, getting used to the suit's blocky movements. It had been years since she had been in one; everyone had to learn to use one as a cadet, but she was more comfortable flying into battle than walking. After a few steps, she was back into the groove of it, even though the loose top layer of the planet’s soil made her steps slip and the grit singing past her helmet made visibility poor. She turned on her lights, but that only illuminated the air around her like she was in a dense fog. She turned them off completely and let her eyes adjust to the darkness. On her helmet's HUD, a topographical map guided her through the clouded darkness towards the coordinates the infested Terran, Stukov, had given her. Two clicks south, she thought, quickening her pace.

As she neared the coordinates, her radar began to show false positives of life forms above her, behind her, and in front of her. It looked like atmospheric interference, but given what she had learned about Stukov, she was on her guard. But without her weapon, there would be little she could do but run if she encountered a threat here.

Finally, she reached her destination. Sensor ghosts still blipped in and out of existence, but one, fairly close, stayed strong. It was moving slowly towards her, but if it was Stukov he had not tried to communicate. The first she saw of the creature was a burning, orange glow diffusing through the air around it. Was it a hydralisk, she wondered. Had Stukov lured her here just to assassinate her? She turned heel and got ready to run.

The figure stopped, and a low, growling voice somehow cut through the din of the howling wind, "So, I see that you found the courage to meet me." She had never heard his voice before, and was puzzled by his odd way of speaking. "And you are alone, as I instructed. Are you unarmed?"

"Yes," she said, raising her hands, and speaking loudly into her comm. "I gave my word. I would not jeopardize our meeting for my own feelings of safety."

"Good," the voice purred. As the figure moved closer, she realized the glow was psionic, emanating from a pair of baleful-looking eyes—and they were human. The figure of a man—half-zerg, and half-human—appeared from the fog. At his side was a bloated, infested arm as wide as she was. It could easily have palmed her helmet. Dressed all in black, he wore the uniform of their enemy, the UED. Somehow he could walk on the planet’s surface without an atmo suit or CMC. Her hands were shaking in her mechanical gloves and a cold fear gripped her chest.

"Do not be afraid," he said, his lips not moving. Of course he's a teep, she thought, glad that she had not taken Vermaak's recommendation and left with a sidearm. He would have known immediately. "Meeting is the easy part." He moved closer, now only an arms breadth away from her, and stopped. "I am Admiral Alexei Stukov, former second in command of the UED expeditionary fleet."

"Admiral Renata Marín, Umojan Protectorate Navy, commander of the core fleet and second to Fleet Admiral Thierry Augustin..."

"Pleasure to meet you. And now comes the hard part."

Confused, Marín began to respond, but Stukov pulled a metal object from his jacket and took a step towards her. Out of reflex, she reached for her gun—that wasn't there. Stukov activated the device and electricity arced out of it, striking her suit. It was an EMP device. Her HUD exploded in warnings and went silent. The motor in her suit powered down, and her joints froze. The momentum of her movement caused her to fall flat on her back. As she got her bearings, all she could see was the sky. Stukov's face loomed above her, smirking smugly. What happens now? She thought, Did he just bring me here to infest me after all? Stukov chuckled darkly. His hand manually closed her helmet's blast shield, plunging her into darkness.

"Don't worry. It will all be over soon."

#stukov #alexei stukov #starcraft #starcraft 2 #starcraft2 #starcraft ii #valerian mengsk #valerian #matt horner #fanfiction #no omen no country's cause

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magicalbuffalotransformerman · 3 years

Text

The End. [unfortunately for mafia soldier, non-canon. apologies, mafia soldier.]

[yeah, i decided to write about a possibility of how and when mafia soldier completes his mission. enjoy.]

[Awakening. Oh, the pain. StreeaAAAAAUGH FUCK--... intense stretching pain. Bones and joints, popping and cracking. On your feet, soldier, you've got a group of people to interrogate. Out the room... and down the steps.]

[Doctor]: Hey, Solly!

[Ah, Dr. [name redacted for privacy]. An exceptional master of the organic arts. Not a master in Soldier's eyes, unfortunately, they haven't done much yet. Accepting this, he holds a wave.]

mafia soldier: At ease, Doc. What's the situation?

[Doctor]: Well... not many of us are left. [Vigilante], [Messenger], [Hunter], and [Detective] are all gone.

mafia soldier: And who would be left, if I may ask?

[Doctor]: You, me, [Cupid], [x4 Vanilla Townies], [x2 Mafia Goons], [Mafia JOAT], and [Town JOAT].

mafia soldier: [Quick maths on his achey fingers... plus one.] That leaves... 11 people left. Who died in the worst way, then?

[Doctor]: Well, [Detective] was gunned down in the golf course, so... maybe her? I'm not sure.

mafia soldier: Mmm. If I may, fetch everyone into the living room.

[Doctor]: Alright. I'll be a bit.

mafia soldier: Affirmative.

[Waypoint in the kitchen. Bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, wait in the living room. Crunch, wait... crunch. Repeat, until the living room is at full capacity. Get to it.]

mafia soldier: Friends, these are the facts as I understand them. One: three of you are not my friends. Two: four of us have died in gruesome ways. Three: If one of you has knowledge about which three of you are not my friends, report to me ASAP. Dismissed.

[Back to functioning at minimum power. Everything hurts, as it does. The remainder begin conversations with one another. Not that much happens for a couple hours.]

[Rolenames will be switched to initials, followed by their roles upon their first appearance (then it'll just be initials), starting now.]

[[T: Cupid] approaches. Request an answer.]

mafia soldier: [T].

[T]: Soldier. I might know the identity of one of the mafia goons.

mafia soldier: Permission to speak.

[T]: What if... I watched [C: Mafia Goon] kill someone?

mafia soldier: Well, do you have proof? I don't want to kill an innocent, now, do I?

[C is beyond the door, briefly.]

[T]: Good point, but... I-I'm not sure, okay? I, they- [ahem] I might have been on the turret while [M: Detective] got gunned down, and I might have seen a lock of [C]'s hair... at the crime scene.

mafia soldier: Thank you for reporting to me. Now, if you die next, I know who to bring down. Much appreciated. [T].

[T]: Don't fret. You've already got a bunch on your plate, being our drill sargeant and a good friend. I only hope you're able to protect us when the time is right.

mafia soldier: I'll definitely do my best... which, well.

[T]: I'm sure you'll do fine. Good luck.

[Vacating the premises. Left alone. Again. Bah, humbug. Pillow igloo has a television. Watch some Transformers while you wait.]

[A few hours later.]

[T is having trouble breathing. Slowly wake up. Bones popping again. Lift helmet. Suspicions were right.]

[C]: Did you hairbrained idiots forget to kill off the pathetic war hero again?

[c: Mafia Goon]: What, no! I'm sure he's dead!

[C]: WHY ELSE WOULD HIS BONES BE POPPING?!

[c]: Good point... [W: Mafia JOAT]? Can you check if Soldier's dead?

[W]: If you're gonna be so lazy about it, I guess I will.

[A wild [W] appears. Completely motionless. Unsuspected.]

[W]: He's dead.

[C]: I guess I'm going insane, then.

[c]: I wouldn't put it past you. Anyways... what about [T], here?

[C]: Put him down.

[T]: Wait, wait! I can at least tell you if Soldier's ACTUALLY still alive! PLEASE!

[W]: ...god, I must be deaf. Say again?

[T]: He... he's still alive. He's probably laughing at you from the comfort of his igloo. Go search again!

[W]: And here I was, betting on [C] being insane. Sigh.

[[W] is by the igloo again. Nowhere to be found.]

[W]: ...there's a bit of disturbed blankets. [She ruffles through them.] He's not here!

[C]: [T], as you are of no further use to me, I'll say this now. Thanks for the info.

[T]: WAI-

[Pow. Thump. The Cupid is no more. Insufferable rage. Should've known.]

[...realization. Why isn't anyone awake from the gunshot? Check everyone's rooms.]

[[A: Doctor] is the only one awake, and wide awake at that, from the gunshot.]

[A]: Soldier?

mafia soldier: shhshhshshh! I'm gonna hide in the closet, and [C], [c], and [W] are gonna come in. Don't tell them I'm here. Please.

[A]: ...I understand.

[Get hidden. Get waiting. Don't wait for too long, they're here.]

[W]: [A], where's Soldier?

[A]: Not sure, dude. I've only just woken up... also, what was the gunshot?

[C]: Search the house. I don't want him to live again. Prolong his suffering, if you will.

[A]: ...you know about his illness?

[C]: Who doesn't? He's the only one that I've seen on the Memento Mori, as well as here, twice. We've even shot him down from retaliation. He's nothing to us but a toy to break.

[c]: I mean... that's not quite how I would put it, but... yeah. We know.

[A]: Oh. I, uhm... don't know how to respond.

[W]: Don't? You're hella annoying anyways, haha.

[C]: Rude. Bring her hostage, into the living room. Find Soldier, bring him too.

[c], [W]: On it.

[...]

[Appear from under the bed.]

mafia soldier: ...freaks of nature. all of you.

[Bring the noise. Ol' Faithful's not starved, perfect. Arrive in the nick of time.]

[C]: Ah, Soldier. What wakes you? [[C] cocks the hammer of her revolver.]

mafia soldier: Let's say... [CHHK-CHHK. Rack the first of eight shells.] I have some issues with your methods of interrogation, MAGGOT.

[C]: Ah, you've gotten cocky, have y-

[BLAM. [C] falls to the ground, in critical condition.]

mafia soldier: You're not going anywhere. [A], how are you?

[A]: Scarred for life, bu-

[Pow. F U C K !]

[W]: Heyyy, big boi! Hands where I can see 'em... or what's left of em, at least!

mafia soldier: [G r i m a c e .]

[W]: Quite the mandibles you've got left.

mafia soldier: I've been on this gravestone of a planet for longer than you have, and I'm not about to let anyone else die to your hands. [CHHK-CHHK. Second of eight.] You're not the Grim Reaper, she's hotter than you are. Drop the Smith 'n' Wesson.

[W]: ...hmph.

[[W] drops her revolver, so it may join her confidence in the Lost 'n' Found bin.]

mafia soldier: That's a good pard'ner.

[[c] walks in on the situation.]

mafia soldier: [c]. Drop your .357.

[c]: Are you one of us...?

mafia soldier: Absolutely not. I've been trying to kill creeps like you since I was in the Badlands.

[c]: M... my apologies. [[c] also drops her revolver.]

[W]: grr. [c], come on. You coulda taken him easily.

[c]: He knows his way around a hostage situation, man!

[W]: Not when he gets ambushed, you sksks-lookin' ass motherfucker!

[c]: I mean...

[W]: DO YOU NOW?

[The end of the mission, or another baittrap? Look at the disappointments. Look to the Doctor. Unhealable injuries. Stomp on the injured fool's neck. Mourn the Doctor for the time being.]

[c]: Wh--! HEY! Please, don't kill us!

[W]: STOP TRYING TO-!

[BLAM. [W]'s a goner.]

[c], on the verge of crying: [quick breaths]

[Staring down the barrel. [CHHK-CHHK]. Third of eight. Haven't missed yet. Evaluate.]

mafia soldier: List your reasons or perish. I'm not going to walk in on another goddamn crime scene unless I make it myself, do you hear me?

[[c] begins to sob.] [c]: I haven't even been able to shoot anyone yet! I'm effectively a pacifist! Please! Don't do this to me!

mafia soldier: Let me tell you about pacifism, [c]. Even if you haven't shot anyone, that doesn't exclude you from being a tormentor. Example. The Memento Mori. The Doctor aboard accused me of being a FREAK like you, because I was poking a corpse with a stick. He threw me out of the train, into a tree, and thus under the train. I am going to give you five seconds to list another reason. Go.

[c]: I... I-I... I don't want to die...

mafia soldier: Well, [c], I'm sorry to say this, but I do. You're the last one left in this place, and if I kill you now, I'll finally see my mercenary pals again. [c], do you have any last words?

[c]: [sobbing] please tell my friends i loved them like a family...

mafia soldier: Affirmative. See you in Hell.

[BLAM. Down with [c]. Reconcile.]

[Realization. It's finally over. Ol' Faithful trips onto the floor. Ol' Faithful is gonna need to be adopted. Call the Machine from Heaven, possibly? Think about it later. Ow, my knees. Hiccup... finally. I... it's done.]

[Red mist fizzles out of Mafia Soldier's skin pores... or what's left of them.]

[A situation walks in.]

[D: Vanilla Townie]: Soldier??

[m: Vanilla Townie]: I... dude?

mafia soldier: I'm sorry, guys. They were a part of the Mafia, I had to. And now...

[Tears fall like rain.]

mafia soldier: I'm finally gonna see Tavish and the lads again. [hic]

[m]: No, wait! You gotta think about this shit, dude! What about us?!

mafia soldier: You're safe now. That's all that matters.

[The mist dissipates. A sack of potatoes, as it were. A smile plastered across the Tormented One's face. A final breath, and...]

[D]: ...he's gone.

[m]: let's go home, [D].

[Mission complete. A bright light, 'n'... Tavish.]

Demoman: Jane!

Soldier: TAVISH!!!

[Bear-hug.]

Heavy: Hello, Soldier. Welcome back.

Scout: Hey, Solly!

Soldier: [giggling] Hey, guys!

[Thus marks the (unfortunately non-canon) end of the Mafia Soldier. Battered, bruised... worth the struggles faced. Rest in peace.]

[alright. i hope y'all enjoyed that. i sure as hell did. i hope the poor guy doesn't realize that this one's non-canon, though. he's gonna get real sour. see you next post!]

#mafia soldier #The End (non canon)#nsfw: blood warning #nsfw: guns warning #nsfw: terrible situations warning #this was fun! can't wait for this to become canon in the future! :)

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cheshiregrimmjow · 6 years

Text

Read until the end, it will make sense...

The Color of Redemption, A Story of Hope as told by a former Nazi

My name is Karl Loeffler. I was raised in the German countryside, the only child of a Protestant pastor named Wagner and his wife, Liesel. From the time I was young, I dreamed of escaping rural life and becoming a city boy. I craved the excitement of Berlin, and I was determined that when I was old enough, I would make it there, somehow.

In my early teenage years, I began reading literature and listening to radio broadcasts from an enigmatic man who was gaining popularity all across my country. A boy in my village introduced me to the patriotic message that this man brought, promising a better, brighter, and purer future for my country. I was enraptured, as so many other youth were, by his passionate orations and compelling words. So, at 19 years old, I joined the ranks of Hitler’s Youth.

My parents were vehemently opposed to my choice. They held very traditional views and refused to understand the obvious truth that people are not all equal. They even showed sympathy to the Jewish plague that was infesting our nation. I broke all ties with them, and instead poured my heart and soul and energy into my new family.

The war that was brewing for years finally erupted, and I joined the ranks of the military. Early on, I distinguished myself as having a talent for extracting information, so I was quickly assigned as an interrogator. At a turning point in my career, I proved my unswerving loyalty when I turned in my own father, who I knew to be harboring Jews, to the Gestapo. After that, I was granted the position of chief interrogator at a high security prison in East Germany.

One year later, a man arrived at that prison who would forever change my life. His name was Raymond King – as British a Brit as could ever be found. He was a pilot who had been shot down while delivering intelligence to his command. The letters with the precious information had been burned, but we had reason to believe that he had seen the contents before destroying them.

Right away, I knew this was a man who would not give up his information easily. Conventional means of interrogation would not work on him. I could tell from the defiant look in his eyes that no amount of physical duress would compel him to give up what he knew. I probed him a bit with some psychological techniques, but without much luck. There was something about him that intrigued me. His flinty eyes held a steady strength in them that I couldn’t help but admire. I decided to try an approach that I had never before employed. I determined that I would befriend this man.

As with all good relationships, one must give in order to receive. I found myself telling Raymond things about myself, many things. They were all true, for he was clever enough to see through a deception. In time, his animosity toward me lessened, and eventually we began to discourse more as equals than as enemies. He knew that I was working him, but I was determined to play the long game out with him, and win him over.

He shared with me his own history – how he had been orphaned as a young boy and raised in and out of group homes growing up. He had finally been taken in by the Church, and was given a good education when it became apparent he was something of a prodigy, despite having sporadic schooling as a boy. He was drafted out of college and joined the Royal Air Force at 17 years old - their youngest pilot. I couldn’t help but be a little impressed by his story – though I suspected some of it had been embellished.

Raymond began to delve deeper into my own story, asking me questions about my faith growing up, and why I had chosen Hitler instead of God. I tried to make him understand the wisdom behind what we were trying to accomplish, that communism was the only good future for the world – but I am not a gifted speaker, and for all his intelligence, he had the stubbornness of a mule.

The first time he tried to escape, I caught him and turned him in. He was beaten and left in the cooler for seven days. It didn’t deter him in the least. He kept trying to get away and he kept failing, and I found myself looking the other way when I knew he was attempting another run for the fence.

I don’t know when it happened – it crept up on me so slowly – but at some point I ceased to become an enemy playing the part of a friend to gain knowledge, and simply became his friend. Soon after, I received word that my father had been executed in a concentration camp not fifty miles from where I was assigned. The news split my soul to the bone. For the first time, I truly questioned the cost of my ideals. I was responsible for his death; I might as well have pulled the trigger myself.

I found myself confiding not in my Nazi comrades, but in Raymond. His initial response at learning my part in the deed was anger, for which I could not blame him. But he did not stop talking to me. On the contrary, he spoke to me more and more often, speaking of forgiveness and redemption. At first, I did not think that I needed redemption. Yes, I had something very wrong, but I had done it for a good cause. But the more I tried to justify it to myself, the more I realized I was on a slippery slope straight to hell and I had only myself to blame for it.

Time passed and I became increasingly torn and agitated. I felt as much a prisoner as Raymond truly was. I was imprisoned by my choices. I was imprisoned by my sins. I was imprisoned by my guilt. I could not escape the torment that gnawed at my soul day and night. I could no longer perform my duties as I had before. My superiors began to watch me closely, and I could sense that I was no longer considered an ally to my own kind. And through it all, Raymond was there, calling me back to the faith of my childhood and caring for me as a person, despite my sins and the fact that we were still enemies.

One frigid December morning in 1944, I told Raymond that I wanted to escape with him to Britain. I can still remember the look on his face. He wasn’t surprised in the least – it was as if he had been expecting this for some time. It took several months of preparations, but eventually our opportunity presented itself and we escaped the prison. We managed to sneak out of Germany via France, where Raymond was reunited with his countryman. For my decision to defect from the Nazis, and for aiding in Raymond’s escape, I was granted citizenship in Britain. Due to the injuries sustained when he was shot down, Raymond was medically discharged from the RAF, and I found myself in a new country and a new home.

I wish I could say that it was a happily ever after from there on – but that was not the case. As a German, I was treated with disdain and distrust by many. Very few knew I had been a Nazi, but it made little difference. Beyond that, I was eaten up with guilt and self-loathing for the actions that I committed in the name of Hitler’s ambitions. Let alone the fact that I was responsible for my father’s death, the information that I had extracted from many people (German and foreign alike) had led to the deaths of countless Jews and any of those who harbored them. Military intelligence that I had ferreted out had led to the deaths of many more. I was a murderer. I was a bigot. By my own hand I had executed prisoners and by my work had gotten many more killed. The darkest part in my life was not when I was in the midst of my greatest sins, but after, when I understood the full weight and consequences of my actions.

But through it all, Raymond King never left my side. He opened his home and his heart to me. He stayed by my side and defended me before all who scorned me, even at the cost of his own reputation. He unashamedly held me in the night when my nightmares woke us both from slumber. He comforted me when I discovered that my mother had passed away, before I could find her and tell her how sorry I was. He reminded me of the faith my father had taught me. Jesus had died for my sins – even my sins – and forgiveness and redemption lay at His feet. I repented. I accepted that God could forgive me. I even accepted that Raymond could forgive me. And last of all, with the help of my truest friend whom I loved more than myself, I finally forgave Karl Loeffler.

I’ll never forget the words that Ray spoke to me that one morning as we shared a boring British breakfast in our little London flat.

“Nothing will ever change what you’ve done, Karl. Nothing will ever make up for it. You deserve to die for what you’ve done.”

And as I contemplated where he could possibly be going with this positive and inspirational speech, he continued.

“Living. That’s harder than dying. It’s braver. Facing each day and deciding that instead of brushing off who you were or ignoring what you did, you acknowledge it. You accept who you were and you decide who you will be today, and the next day, and the next.”

I just stared at him for a while. His words struck a chord with me and I never forgot them. Ray helped teach me many things over the years – like how to exchange my bitterness for compassion to all people, my pride and supremacy for humility, and my brokenness for hope. Jesus saved me, but Ray pointed the way to Him with his patience and kindness. Ray showed me that the only way to live life to the fullest was to save what you love instead of fighting what you hate.

Redemption is dark, muddy, and messy. It’s red with the blood of those who paid its price in your stead. It’s gray, when the darkness of your past begins to lift from your soul like a stain. It’s the brightest, purest white, when you find that salvation doesn’t come through punishment, but through abundant life lived for the love of all people.

* * *

The story above is a work of fiction. Karl and Ray are fictional characters, though some of their experiences are based on the lives of actual historical figures. I want to pose the readers who stuck with my story to the end a question:

At the end of the story, did you find yourself feeling a) satisfied and glad that Karl was able to find forgiveness and love with Ray or b) angry that Karl did not die the irredeemable bastard that he was?

If the latter, please feel free to disregard the rest of this post and I apologize for wasting your time. If the former, you may now better understand the part of the Star Wars fandom who approves of the relationship between Rey and Kylo Ren/Ben Solo. My story was meant to pattern itself after the progression of the Star Wars sequel trilogy. Obviously, we do not know how the third movie will end, but many of us hope it will end similarly to the third act of my story. Those who ship Reylo do so because we are looking forward to that third act, not stopping at the first or second.

In the first act of my story, Karl and Ray are enemies. Karl interrogates Ray using several methods to try and discover what he knows. While they are on opposite sides, and Karl is employing interrogation techniques that would be labeled as “abuse” in a domestic setting, Karl also has a begrudging respect for his prisoner. The Force Awakens.

In the second act, Karl finds himself beginning to genuinely like Ray. Though he thwarts Ray’s initial attempts at escape, he eventually finds himself looking the other way. Finally, Karl’s attitude truly begins to change and he dares to believe that he can change. Ray, likewise, begins to realize that Karl is a person in need of forgiveness. The Last Jedi.

In the third act, Karl makes the decision to join Ray. This is what we hope to see in Episode IX. We want to see Ben escape the prison of the First Order and return to the light, just as Karl did. But we also acknowledge that this will not be easy to portray in one movie and it will take time to achieve.

My story has an epilogue. Karl escapes with Ray and they make it to Britain in the third act. But that is not the end. It is only the beginning of Karl’s journey. He had to completely cast off the hate and the lies that had governed his life as a Nazi. He had to change his thinking and his heart. He had to understand how evil he had been - to accept forgiveness and to eventually forgive himself for the lives he had ruined. Only then could he begin to move forward, loving others instead of hating them. Forgiveness and healing takes time, and we know that time is the greatest threat to us ever getting a “happy ending” for Ben Solo…because, quite frankly, it’s far easier to just kill him off, as Lucas did with Vader.

I could have ended it with Karl sacrificing himself for Ray to get behind enemy lines to the safety of his fellow countrymen. And that would be an acceptable, if not rather tragic ending to their tale. It wouldn’t be much of a kid’s story and most people would walk away feeling rather depressed. Is that how Episode IX will end? I surely hope not. It would be an okay ending. But Star Wars is traditionally a story of hope and redemption.

I surely hope that Han and Luke and Leia, our beloved characters of old, will not have died in vain, only to see the last Skywalker die a young man (as a hero or a villain). Nor would we want to see Rey forced to survive without her other half, the man who taught her that no one is ever truly gone and hope can be found in the unlikeliest of people. Whether they should end up as friends or lovers is up to you, and the answer is not necessary for it to be a beautiful story (which is why I left Karl and Ray’s relationship ambiguous). But I hope you can all understand why we want an ending where they both live.

Here’s to hoping Disney will do the brave thing, instead of the easy thing. Cheers.

#reylo #reylo fam #anti reylo #starwars #parallels #redemption arc #ben solo #kylo ren #rey

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