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writertitan · 3 years

Text

Grandfather Clock (III)

pairing: levi x f!reader

word count: 7068 (oops)

themes: adult f!reader, arranged marriage, multi-part fic, levi is a stubborn asshole at first, no love at first sight here folks

a/n: the final part!! enjoy!!!

Read Part 1 Here

Read Part 2 Here

On the 20th day of Levi’s engagement to you, he found himself tense, frowning, and sitting across a less than pleased Erwin, right in the commander’s office.

Erwin sat at his desk, deep discontent written all over his face, with his arms folded tightly across his broad chest.

Levi knew the scolding was coming and cursed himself in his head for being so careless. He hadn’t really meant too much by it. Mike had just been asking him how things were going as they walked down the hall together and the words had just tumbled out. Levi didn’t like talking about his personal life in general, mostly because he had hardly had one prior to getting engaged, but now he was extra wary.

“Not much to tell. Just thankful she agreed not to have an actual wedding and to prolong it as long as possible.”

That was all he’d said and he’d said it with a tone of finality that Mike understood well. It was the tone that warned not to push it any farther.

It was just Levi’s luck that Erwin had rounded the corner as the words left him. The commander had bristled as he processed what Levi had said and then blurted out that he needed to see the shorter man immediately, in his office.

Levi had never seen Mike hurry off so quickly before.

And now here he was, tense and waiting for Erwin to lash out at him.

The words came moments later, but Levi didn’t get yelled at, which made him feel worse. Erwin was quiet, stern, and very open with his disappointment.

“Is it true? You really asked that of her?”

“Yes,” Levi sighed, running a hand over his tired face. “I did.”

“You didn’t even consult me about it. Levi, I hope you know I’m trying to grant you as much freedom as I can in this situation, but this was out of line. I’m sorry, but you don’t have that kind of say.”

Erwin’s words made Levi wince a little, but he tried to keep a stoic face. He could see that the commander was waiting for him to say something, but Levi didn’t quite know what to say.

He thought of you for a moment, and thought about how confused he’d been lately, and then looked at Erwin with a hint of a frown.

“You’ve hardly given us any freedom,” he blurted out, and then cursed himself yet again. He’d used the word “us” instead of “me” and he knew that Erwin would catch wind of that.

He did, and he even seemed to soften up a bit, raising a brow curiously.

And then Erwin used you as ammunition.

“You’ve stripped away any semblance of choice left for her by making her agree to your terms. She has even less freedom than you. Is that what you wanted?” Erwin asked, but the question was more rhetorical than anything.

Levi’s frown grew deeper. His mind went back to you, how broken you’d looked when he’d said he didn’t want a wedding day, and how he wanted to wait as long as possible to actually be married. And then his mind took him to that day you were feeling unwell, and how that same broken expression appeared when he’d gotten upset with you.

His chest grew heavy when he realized he had helped in breaking you.

And even worse, he hadn’t gone back to visit you after that day, when you had fainted. It had spurred too many mixed emotions in him and he had wanted the space to clear his head. And you had confirmed you were still unwell in your most recent letter to him from yesterday.

But maybe you were lying. Maybe Levi had broken you so much that you wanted to start keeping your distance from him.

That’s what he wanted, right?

Is that what you wanted?

Erwin’s unanswered question echoed in his mind.

If that was what he’d wanted, why did he feel this way, so horrible, after being called out by Erwin?

“I just don’t know what to do,” Levi finally said, unable to meet Erwin’s gaze.

Erwin hummed and sat back in his chair, arms now unfolded as he looked at Levi. The conversation had gone way beyond Levi’s little mistake. As much as he wanted to help his friend, there was a reason Erwin had been wandering the halls. He had, in fact, been searching for Levi. And he had, in fact, been wanting to discuss the topic of you. It had been mere coincidence that Erwin had caught Levi’s confession.

“Talk to her,” Erwin said, eyes on Levi, who was still looking anywhere but at him. “And I’d suggest going today. There was a reason I’ve been looking for you.”

At that, Levi flickered his eyes to Erwin, a hint of curiosity in them. And, dare Erwin say, even a little bit of worry hid behind the silver.

“Well, spit it out,” Levi said, already making to stand up. “What happened? Is something wrong?”

Erwin also stood up, slowly and deliberately, and didn’t know how to answer that.

“There’s been some...civil unrest recently. Some of the working class citizens have been getting riled up because of some recent unfortunate events with the upper class,” Erwin explained, watching carefully for Levi’s reaction. “Some of my intel has told me there’s talk of a few riots being planned.”

“What kind of ‘unfortunate events’ are you talking about?” Levi pressed, arms at his side with hands clenched into fists. This didn’t sound good.

“Seems like your fiancee’s father has been in some bad business deals that affected a lot of his workforce. And he’s got quite the workforce, if you remember,” Erwin murmured, looking a little thoughtful as he tried to gage Levi’s reaction. “I was looking for you to tell you that I’d like for you to go and check on things. I’m not sure how extreme the situation is.”

Levi was already halfway out of the office and didn’t bother to answer. He was, without a doubt, upset.

Upset that Erwin didn’t let him know about this immediately.

Upset that it would take a while to get to you.

And, curiously, he was upset that he was upset. What the hell was going on with him?

In your parlor room, you were curled up on the sofa and reading your favorite book. It took all your willpower to try not to think about how, just a few days ago, Levi had touched those very same pages.

He’d kept his distance since then, though you had certainly had some part in that by sending him a note to say you were still sick. It wasn’t true at all and you’d felt almost back to normal the next day, but you couldn’t really face Levi yet. Despite forgiving him and allowing yourself to have a little bit of hope that things would turn out okay for the two of you, it was obvious that Levi was still on the fence with you, and had a very specific opinion about who you were despite not getting to know you.

You were using this time away from him to think of ways to show him that you weren’t that way at all, and that his impression of you was, truthfully, completely off the mark.

As the grandfather clock sounded off at noon, it brought you back to reality. You set your book down, not that you’d actually been reading much of it, and sighed when your stomach grumbled. Definitely lunchtime.

You stood up and stretched, about to walk to the kitchen and bother Chef Erlo when you realized something seemed...off.

The clock struck noon for a final time and you realized that that was the only sound you could really hear from all over the house. Silence engulfed you when the grandfather clock stopped, and you peered out into the hallway, baffled when you saw absolutely nobody in sight.

Feeling like you couldn’t break the silence, you stayed quiet as a mouse as you made your way to the kitchen, hoping to hear the usual bustle of noise there for lunch. Maybe that’s where everyone was. It was lunchtime, after all. Had you forgotten it was somebody’s birthday? Sometimes you’d sneak the staff into the servant’s quarters for a bit of a break and have a little birthday celebration during lunch, but you were sure nobody’s big day was today.

But you didn’t make it to the kitchen. As you got closer to the foyer, you could hear the commotion outside, interrupting the eerie silence in your home. Instead of going to check on things, curiosity got the best of you and you ended up peering out the window to see what was going on. A little gasp left your lips when you saw what was outside.

Hoards of people were at the gates of your home, screaming and shouting profanities as they tried to make their way inside. Your heart sped up at the sight, absolutely terrified at the pure hatred they all wore on their faces. You couldn’t really make out what they were all saying, but you heard the profanities, and you heard your father’s name enough times to know that this was personal.

The guards situated outside at the gate were pushing back as much as they could, and you even see that some of the Garrison soldiers had come to help out, but the crowd seemed to be growing bigger and bigger by the second. At any moment, it would bubble over and spill past the gates of your home.

Right to you.

Once again, after a lifetime of avoiding your father and his business to try and escape it, you were being dragged right into the middle of it instead.

You had to run. The anger outside was something that was almost tangible; you could feel it weighing heavily in the air even from where you stood inside your home. No doubt that someone would try to hurt you just in the belief that it would hurt your father to know they’d gotten to you.

For a brief moment, Levi flashed through your mind, and you sincerely regretted lying to him about still feeling unwell when his face popped to the front of your head. Maybe he would have helped you. Maybe not. The anger you could feel from the crowd outside was unfortunately similar to the anger Levi had bestowed upon you just a few days ago.

As you backed away from the window, you thought of all the different places you could go to hide. So lost in your thoughts, you didn’t register the footsteps sneaking up behind you and gasped when a hand clamped against your mouth to keep you quiet.

Before you could try and scream, a familiar voice whispered in your ear, “Shh, it’s only me. Let’s go.”

You whirled around, tears of relief springing to your eyes as you hugged Greta tightly.

“Greta,” you breathed out shakily, pulling away to look at her with wide eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Let’s not talk here, come on,” she whispered, tugging you towards the servant’s quarters, where you knew the wine cellar was situated. As soon as the door was closed and locked behind the two of you, Greta practically dragged you down the stairs. It was cooler down there and you shivered involuntarily.

There was dim candlelight at the end of the steps that lit up a narrow hallway, one that led towards a heavy wooden door. Chef Erlo was there holding a candelabra with one hand, a silver key in the other.

Your tears of relief spilled over at the sight of him.

“Erlo,” you whimpered, moving to hug him as well. He was just as quick about it as Greta was, gently stepping away from you with a small and sympathetic smile.

“We’ll get you out of here safely, miss,” he promised you.

A pang of fear hit you and you looked between Erlo and Greta, hand at your chest as you thought of the worst.

“And everyone else? Is everyone okay?” you asked them.

From above, you heard glass shattering and heavy thumps. Your heart pounded so hard against your chest that you worried your ribs would crack from the force. The fear you felt in that moment was unparalleled, unmatched by any other situation in your life. You’d never been this scared in your entire life.

“Everyone is safe. Except for you,” Greta said, and she nodded for Erlo to open the door. He unlocked it and hurried you both inside, but you stopped in your tracks when you saw Erlo wasn’t following.

“I’m going to lock the door behind me and slip the key under the crack. That should buy you some time,” he said to Greta, avoiding your gaze.

“What are you talking about? You’re coming with us, it’s not safe here! Something’s happening outside, people are angry and I don’t know why,” you rambled, tearing up again. Greta reached over to squeeze your hand, but everything about it was rushed, too hurried to really be a comfort to you.

Erlo flashed you another small smile, and then gave you a wink, his crow’s feet prominent as he finally flashed his goofy smile.

“I’ll be fine, miss. Don’t worry about me. It’s not me they’re after,” he assured you, but it didn’t make you feel any better.

Chef Erlo was like the father you’d never had. It was impossible to allow him to do this, but Greta held you back as he shut the door and locked it once again, with the key slipping underneath moments later.

Greta let go of you to swipe it off the ground, and then began to push you forward, nearly in the dark save for cracks of light at the door opposite the room.

The faint smell of wine permeated the air and you found yourself wishing for a glass to calm your nerves. Greta led you to the door in just a few moments flat, using the same key to unlock it and hurry through with you in tow.

It was the bulkhead entrance to the wine cellar, where the merchants would come deliver or take some wine. Part of your father’s business. It was where a lot of things were delivered. On the few steps there beneath the wooden doors, there was a maid’s dress and some worn shoes. One look at Greta told you that the new outfit was for you, so you wasted no time in nearly tearing off your dress and kicking off your shoes to put on the much simpler garments and better blend in outside without striking too much attention to yourself. Your current outfit would have been a dead giveaway to your status.

Greta lifted one of the doors up just enough to peer out cautiously as you changed, making sure it was safe to leave. Once she was sure it was, she nodded to you and lifted the door up quietly, keeping it lifted for you to hop up the short steps and out into the spring afternoon.

It was cloudy outside, threatening to rain. As if on cue, a crack of thunder sounded and you felt it was remarkably similar to a cliche in your favorite novel; it always rained whenever your favorite character was feeling upset.

You didn’t have much time to dwell on that. Greta gripped you by the elbow and tugged you away from the house in a pace that was rushed but not too much that it looked suspicious. Now that you were wearing new clothes, you looked like everyone else outside. There was no real need to rush and risk getting caught.

Nobody paid the two of you any mind. The real focus was on your house that was currently getting ransacked.

The sight made your heart sink to your stomach, but your tears had already dried.

It was true that these people were destroying the only home you’d ever known. It was true that in that moment, you were sure you’d never go back to it. But you just couldn’t find it in you to cry about this. Your tears were reserved for your staff and worrying about their wellbeing.

Whatever your father had done, it probably deserved this level of outrage.

Although you were filled to the brim with fear and adrenaline, above all, you felt a peculiar sense of freedom as more and more people pushed their way past the gates of your home to run inside.

Greta gave you a moment to watch the scene before steering you away with promises to explain everything as soon as she got you to safety.

The only time tears actually did threaten your eyes again was when Captain Levi’s face pushed its way into your mind once more.

Maybe you would never see him again. And maybe he’d like that.

Levi was all too familiar with feeling dread settle in his stomach and harden like a rock. He’d experienced it all his life, countless times as he watched comrades die, often such a big part of his nightmares and the reason for his insomnia.

He didn’t expect to feel that rock in his stomach as he approached your home. Rather, what was left of it.

But he felt it settle in his stomach, a dread so heavy that he almost had to hunch over, and he looked on in horror as people continued to run in and out of your home. Many people were running out with valuables in their arms. Others were running inside just to destroy everything in sight.

He was far too late, by the look of things.

His eyes darted around, a futile attempt to locate you, but of course he didn’t see you anywhere.

Soldiers and guards were doing what they could, and Levi could see reinforcements marching in, but it was too late.

It was too late.

Levi hopped off his horse and pushed past people and soldiers alike as he ran into your home, taking in the sight of broken glass and ruined furniture and banged up walls.

It was disgusting.

He went to your room first and only found it ravaged and empty with no signs of life.

Levi knew he was being crazy. Of course he wasn’t going to just find you there. In fact, the thought of seeing you in the middle of all this would have actually been worse. But not knowing where you were had his stomach in knots.

As a last resort, he checked the parlor room, where you’d shared an afternoon that had left Levi questioning himself and questioning you. Mostly himself.

He got there as the grandfather clock chimed at the top of the hour. It was just as ravaged as your room, but curiously enough, he noticed your favorite novel on the ground by where the side table used to be.

He picked it up and clutched it tightly, and then made a promise.

He would find you and he would get your book back to you. It was the only possession you had left in the world, he realized, looking around.

He’d find you.

He wouldn’t rest until he’d found you.

A cup of tea warmed your hands as silence filled the room of Greta’s mother’s kitchen.

The two women stared at you with so much sympathy, and so much worry, that it made you feel loved and yet also a little small at the same time.

Greta had just finished explaining everything to you.

Your father had been atrocious, and had taken advantage of his employees. He was in protective custody because he’d anticipated this riot to happen. Nobody knew where your mother was. It was a miracle that Greta and Erlo had managed to help you and everyone else out before you’d gotten hurt. Or killed.

And now you didn’t know what would happen next.

Your spirits, already low, dimmed even more at the thought of Chef Erlo. You desperately hoped he was okay, and hopefully he was. After all, he’d been correct: nobody was trying to hurt him. Only you and your family.

“Are you sure everybody made it out safely?” you whispered to Greta, who immediately nodded.

“Everyone’s been aware of some of the...tensions around town,” she explained. “We all had an exit plan in the works, just didn’t realize we’d have to implement it so soon.”

You flashed a brief and sad smile, nodding once as you took a sip of your tea.

“Thank you for getting everyone out safely first. It means the world to me.”

In your mind, you were just as responsible for your father’s sins as he was. To think you didn’t even have a clue of what was going on. It was embarrassing.

As if reading your mind, Greta’s mother, May, reached forward to squeeze your arm reassuringly.

“It’s not your fault, darling,” she murmured. “It wasn’t your place to know.”

You sighed softly and kept your eyes on your tea, frowning to yourself. It was true that you had basically been forced to be cooped up in the house, and now you were thinking there was a clear reason behind it now. You hardly had much say in your day to day schedule, especially after getting engaged to Captain Levi. Still, it didn’t feel good to be so in the dark.

And the thought of Captain Levi sent your heart aflutter. Did he know? Had he been aware of this the whole time? Was this part of the reason for your arrangement?

Slowly, you picked up your gaze from your tea to settle on Greta, biting the inside of your cheek before asking the question you were dreading to ask.

“What happens now?”

She didn’t look too sure either as she pondered your question, finally settling for shrugging her shoulders.

“I don’t know, miss,” she answered honestly. “I hate to say it, but it depends on your father. He and your mother will start looking for you once they realize you’re missing.”

The thought made you nauseous. Despite such a horrible outcome of your day, that peculiar feeling of freedom had been what kept you going. There was some sort of thrill attached to it.

You realized it was achingly similar to the hope you felt for your arrangement for Levi. The chance of things looking up, turning around.

All this hope and nothing to show for it.

Now you were hopeless.

News had gotten to Erwin quickly. Levi saw the commander ride in with other squad leaders as he helped beat down and arrest some of the rowdier citizens at your home. He hated to be there and wanted to go off and find you more than anything, but someone there had to have seen you, or seen what happened to you.

So far, nobody seemed to remember seeing you. In fact, some people had sworn to him that the house had been empty of people the entire time. Not a soul in the home at all.

When Erwin stepped past the gates, Levi had never wanted to pummel him so badly. Instead, he shoved a badly beaten merchant towards his commander with a growl, eyes nearly feral as he found the calm blue ones that he hated more than anything at the moment.

“You said there was civil unrest. You didn’t say there was an entire fucking mob,” he snapped.

Erwin remained calm, casually stepping over the merchant to get closer to Levi.

“Seems I was deceived,” he admitted, looking around. “Her father kept me in the dark. I had no idea about any of this. But I suppose you’ll be pleased to hear that I’m calling off the deal. We can’t tarnish the Scouts’ reputation even more by doing business with this family.”

Levi’s body went cold at the news.

Just a couple of weeks ago, he would have felt nothing but pure relief. Now, he felt nothing but pure dread.

“What about…?”

Levi couldn’t even say your name. It caught at the back of his throat and he struggled to breathe. He tried his best to remain as stoic as always, but Erwin knew him so well, and could see the concern at the edges of Levi’s gaze.

“There’s not much protection we can offer her, being her father’s daughter. She’s under his control,” Erwin reminded him. “Do you know where she is? I heard she’s declared missing.”

Levi nodded once to confirm, his worry amplifying at Erwin’s words.

He couldn’t protect you. Not while you were still affiliated with your father.

“People are saying that nobody was in the house,” Levi said, giving the commander a rundown of events. “I did a quick search, didn’t find any of the staff. No one was around.”

Erwin hummed a little, hands behind his back as he took in the sight of the damaged house in front of him.

“No surprise there. Our man of the hour is already in protective custody, having predicted this well before anyone else, and his wife was visiting with a friend, and now they’re all in protective custody as well. It’s just your ex-fiancee that we’re having trouble locating. Perhaps she’s with her staff.”

How stupid of him. Levi hadn’t really thought of that possibility yet. He’d been so focused on finding you, assuming the worst, that he hadn't taken the time to really think it through enough to realize that you were missing along with the staff.

Erwin was already five steps ahead of them.

“Some of the scouts are off to find the staff members that don’t live here in-house. One of them is bound to know where she is.”

Levi couldn’t help the small sigh of relief that left him, but he still felt useless if he wasn’t doing more to help. Without another word to Erwin, he marched off to do another quick search around the entire perimeter.

Some medics had come onto the scene as well and he was surprised to see a couple of them towards the back of the house, dragging someone out of the cellar. Levi had admittedly not really looked down there, knowing all there was, was food storage and wine cellar that someone had told him was all cleared out by now.

A familiar old man was getting dragged out and treated. He was badly beaten, bruised from head to toe, and his breathing was raspy and uneven.

Levi knew him to be a staff member and his heart skipped a beat.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was kneeling beside the old man, shaking him to get his attention despite the angry protests of a medic.

The old man opened his eyes and grimaced, but his face grew soft at the sight of Levi.

“Captain Levi,” he greeted him in a hoarse voice. “You’re a little late, don’t you think?”

“Where is she?” Levi asked, voice soft. “Do you know?”

“I know,” the man confirmed, nodding slowly as his eyes closed. “Greta...Greta took her. She’s...with Greta’s mother. But don’t know where...she lives.”

Greta. Levi knew that name. It was the name of one of the maids. You looked to be friends with her.

“Thank you,” he said, very sincere, before standing back up. More determined than ever, he made a beeline for his horse, a plan of action already formulating in his mind. He could make do with the information given to him. It was all he needed.

He was going to find you.

The sun hung low in the sky as May and Greta made up Greta’s old bed for you.

You had insisted on sleeping anywhere else, even the floor, but Greta had already set her mind on sharing a bed with her mother.

“I shared a bed with one of the other maids all the time, whenever we felt like it,” she told you. “I actually like it. It’s nice having another person there with you.”

You still felt a little guilty but stayed silent, and opted instead to watch the sun lower through the window of Greta’s childhood bedroom after being shooed off.

Greta and her mother chattered amongst themselves and you didn’t have the heart to join in just yet. You felt so drained after the day’s events that you couldn’t muster up the energy they had.

What kept you so anxious was also the thought of having to stay under your father’s thumb.

It was maddening to know that after everything, he still had your life in his hands. To be a highborn lady was to be in shackles.

A plan was starting to formulate in your mind, one where you could fake your death and run away and find work as a maid or maybe even a governess. Greta could help and confirm that you’d been taken, never to be seen again. You could grab your clothes that you’d discarded, if they were still around, and maybe douse them in animal blood or something, to really sell it.

But your plan was cut short with a pounding at the front door downstairs. The knocking was so intense that all three of you froze and looked between each other, fear prickling your spines.

When the door clearly sounded like it was trying to be opened, May sprang into action and ran downstairs, which kickstarted your adrenaline. You ran after her, afraid for her possibly getting hurt, reaching out for her to try and stop her from going any farther.

“May, no!” you hissed, eyes on the front door that was now in view. Someone was slamming into it, the lock jiggling unsteadily, until it finally gave in.

You were paralyzed in fear as the door flew open, but fear gave way to shock at the sight of Captain Levi at the entrance, looking frazzled. You would have never predicted you’d ever see him as anything other than composed or angry.

As soon as your eyes locked, you ran to him.

“Captain Levi!”

He stopped you before you could throw your arms around him and, at first, you felt embarrassed by it, taking it as a rejection.

It wasn’t until he started examining you, hands lifting and twisting your arms and turning your face this way and that, that you felt your heart warm up.

“Are you hurt?” he asked. He was cupping your face, holding your jaw familiar as his eyes scanned your face for any signs of injury, and that frazzled look he held only softened when his eyes finally met yours.

You shook your head slowly, keeping his gaze, hands shyly reaching up to cover his over your jaw.

“I’m not hurt,” you whispered. “Just scared.”

Levi frowned and reluctantly let go of your face, but his hands didn’t travel far. He rested them on your shoulders while your hands gently gripped his forearms, the two of you in your own little bubble.

“You don’t have to be scared anymore,” he promised you, sounding so earnest. “Nobody can hurt you while I’m here.”

Your bottom lip quivered, emotional at the thought of him willingly protecting you, but also emotional at the more sinister situation at hand.

“My father can,” you told him, squeezing his forearms as the words left your mouth. “Greta says he’ll be looking for me soon. I can’t escape him.”

Levi’s eyes hardened at that, grip also tightening on your shoulders, before he groaned and stepped away from you to run a hand over his face.

“Erwin said the same thing to me,” he admitted, pacing back and forth. He briefly looked towards Greta and her mother, then to the now broken front door, and blankly stared at them before muttering, “I’ll fix that.”

He turned back to you, arms crossed, as he took on a look of deep concentration. It was only there for a few moments before he snapped out of it, holding your gaze as he seemed to come to a conclusion.

“You can’t be under your father’s control once you’re married,” he pointed out.

At first, you didn’t understand. You raised a brow, a little peeved he was bringing it up, and nodded once.

“I suppose so…,” you agreed, a hint of a frown on your face. “But I’m assuming we won’t be getting married after this, so I’m kind of shit out of luck.” It was the first time you’d really sworn like that in front of Levi. In front of anyone. It was nice.

Levi tensed up a little and broke his eye contact with you to look away, and you could have sworn he looked a little flustered. There was a hint of pink at the tips of his ears, which shocked you.

“What?” you pressed, also feeling a bit of heat creep into your face.

This wasn’t happening. No way this was happening.

Levi hadn’t wanted to marry you even when it was basically required of him.

Your hopeless romantic little heart was just playing tricks on you. He wasn’t possibly going to suggest…

“I gave my word and I don’t intend on going back on it,” he said, still not looking at you, ears still pink. “Got any better ideas?”

“Captain Levi…,” you began, but then trailed off, not knowing what to say, until finally you managed out, “You don’t have to do this.”

He scoffed a little, eyes finally flickering back to you. Tentatively, he stepped forward until he was right in front of you again. You stayed perfectly still as he lifted a hand to place it on top of your head, giving you a small pat before ruffling up your hair.

“I have something for you,” he said suddenly, taking his hand away to reach into the pocket of his coat.

And then your favorite novel was in your hands, a little more crumpled up than usual but basically intact.

Tears sprang to your eyes and you hugged the book to your chest gratefully, looking to Levi with nothing but adoration.

At that moment, it was all you owned in the world. You didn’t even own the clothes on your back.

“That was really nice,” you choked out, gazing down at the book again with a small smile.

Levi stepped forward again, closing the distance between you as he rested a hand on your shoulder again.

“Let me protect you,” he said, tone filled with an air of finality that you couldn’t argue with. “I know I don’t have to.”

He didn’t have to say the actual words; you understood what he meant.

I want to.

Marriage was all about compromise.

In the end, Levi didn’t get to prolong his nuptials, since marrying you had to be done quickly. However, it also had to be done in secret. So, at the very least, you figured he at least got half of his wishes respected.

The moment the ink was dry on the certificate, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. You shed your maiden name to gain a new surname, fully protected from your father now and fully backed by the Survey Corps. It was your 30th day of knowing Levi. Your 1st day of being married.

You took in a deep breath as Erwin took the document from you to sign as a witness, and you turned to Levi with a small and timid smile, which he actually tried to return. It was brief, but it was appreciated. And when he lifted his hand to pat your head affectionately, you melted a little.

“I’m sorry you didn’t have a big wedding like you wanted,” he murmured, eyes staring at you with a hint of remorse. “I should have never made you agree to that before.”

A half-smile tugged at one corner of your mouth and you shook your head, nudging your shoulder to his playfully.

“I never really wanted to have a big wedding,” you admitted to him. “I just wanted to have a special day for myself. And for my husband, of course. Didn’t have to be a big thing. It just needed to be special.”

Levi seemed to lighten up at that, giving another brief smile before murmuring, “That’s a relief.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, but he didn’t respond, choosing instead to stand up and offer a hand to help you on your feet as well.

You smoothed down the cream dress Greta had so kindly let you borrow and followed Levi out the door, head held a little higher now that you were an official Ackerman and nothing else. Instead of going to Commander Erwin’s office to go over a few next steps like originally planned, you found yourself following Levi outside.

“Where are we going?” you asked, puzzled, but Levi scoffed a little and turned to look at you from over his shoulder.

“If you could just be a little patient, I promise you’ll find out soon enough,” he said.

It was a beautiful day, you had to admit. The spring temperature was perfect and you basked in the sunlight, feeling freer than you’d ever felt before.

You stepped onto the grass in the courtyard, eyes towards the sky, and it wasn’t until you heard several people clear their throat that you tilted your head down to take a look.

Your heart nearly stopped as you saw Erlo, Greta, May, and Charlie, and some of Levi’s friends, sitting on the grass, a spread of what looked like a marvelous lunch in front of them.

Shouts of congratulations were passed around and you lit up at the sight, heart feeling full as you stumbled over while dragging Levi along.

You turned to him, eyes bright and excited, still not quite understanding.

“What is this?” you asked, looking between your bubble of friends and your brand new spouse.

Levi looked a little uncomfortable, but in that cute way, and Greta beat him to the punch with the answer.

“It’s your wedding day, so we’re celebrating, of course!” she laughed, then nodded towards Levi with a cunning grin. “It was your husband’s idea.”

Levi’s entire face flushed at the term but he also looked murderous at being found out.

You grinned at him, feeling warmed at his gesture, and you made a mental note to pull him aside later for a real thank you.

At that moment, you made do by sneaking a kiss to his cheek, fully appreciating the way he got flustered.

Erwin had made up a new room for you at base and, after a full day’s worth of celebrating your wedding day, you were ready to fall into bed.

The room was right next to Levi’s, which you appreciated. It seemed funny, almost, since of course spouses typically shared a room, but under these circumstances, that wasn’t very likely.

You cared for Levi and you could see that he at least cared for you in some ways, but those feelings would need to be nurtured with time.

The two of you were in front of your bedroom door, with you yawning up a storm, and Levi grumbling about getting you to bed.

You burst into your room and made a beeline for your bed, not bothering to really look around at your new room or even change out of your clothes. As soon as you were on the bed, you felt your drowsiness start to overtake you.

Before you passed out, you peeked over at Levi, who was getting situated at a desk.

“Aren’t you gonna sleep?” you asked, yawning again, and Levi turned to look at you briefly.

“Not for a while,” he answered finally.

You frowned at that but didn’t argue with him, your heart bubbling over with so many questions and feelings that you just couldn’t hold in anymore.

“Do you still dislike me?” you blurted out, face heating up at your lack of filter.

Levi raised a brow, pointedly looking towards the new ring on your finger. Then, his gaze softened, and he leaned back in the chair he sat in.

“No,” he answered. “And I was wrong for judging you before. I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance sooner.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, but kept your eyes on Levi, no matter how hard it was.

“Do you think you’ll fall in love with me one day, now that we’re married?”

You couldn't stop that question from tumbling out either, but you were too curious to feel embarrassed.

Levi’s ears flushed pink, a cute new trait you were catching onto. He looked away from you briefly, clearly trying to find the right words, and he took so long to respond that you felt your heart start to sink.

But then he stood from his seat and moved to kneel beside the bed, a hand reaching up to smooth some hair out of your face.

“Let me focus on protecting you first,” he said.

His eyes were the softest they’d ever been. They gave you another answer.

“I’m going to love you,” you promised him. You still couldn’t admit that you were actively falling in love. Not to him, not right now. But another time.

“I don’t deserve that, after how I acted,” he whispered.

“I’ll always forgive you,” you whispered back. “And I’m going to love you.”

Levi moved his hand from your head to tuck you into the sheets a little better, avoiding your gaze. Neither one of you said anything for a minute, a comfortable silence falling between you like that afternoon in the parlor room.

As you began to drift off, Levi’s soft voice filled your ears with one final promise. One that was meant more for him than for you.

“I’ll figure out how to love.”

You were too tired to notice how the sheets smelled like Levi. You were too tired to realize that the room was clearly already lived in and had typical possessions of a squad captain, from ODM gear to a desk clearly stacked up with documents.

You’d been too tired to remember that your bedroom door was the right one and not the left one. You’d been too tired to notice that you’d opened the left door.

Levi was too besotted by you to correct your mistake.

Somewhere, a grandfather clock chimed as midnight struck.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman oneshot #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman #levi fic #levi fanfiction #levi ackerman fic #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi one shot #levi #aot fanfiction #aot oneshots #aot #snk fanfiction #snk

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jamespotterthefirst · 4 years

Text

In the Afterglow (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 1.7K Warning: Language Premise: The day after their first kiss in Miami. (Book 1, Chapter 10.5)

Series: Open Heart from Ethan’s POV

A/N: I took some liberties...

The azure waters of the pool rippled softly even long after all of its cheery occupants had left to sleep off the copious amounts of alcohol they had consumed. It was almost midnight by the time Ethan stepped into the pool area, determined to let the biting water wash away the misery of the day. A breeze roiled off the nearby sea carrying a cooler bite than the night before.

At once, memories of the aforementioned night flooded his consciousness before he could stop them. Soft, delicate hands roaming his body with something close to desperation; full, rosy lips moving in tangent against his like a perfect symphony that had been months in the making; the breathless, maddening way she whispered his name, sweet on her lips like honey.

Ethan pressed his eyes shut, fighting against the memories. With a shuddering breath, he reached the edge of the water, but before he could dive in, he stopped when his eyes fell on the lone figure. Sitting at the far end of the pool, pretty features back lit by the golden lights in the water, was the very same person he was struggling to forget.

The world seemed to come to a standstill as their eyes met for the first time since their kiss. In the stifling silence, Ethan could feel the riot that was his pulse and he briefly wondered if she could hear it too.

“So you are alive,” he said at last, unable to hold back the edge of sarcasm. He winced internally but his eyes remained fixed on her across the water.

They had spent the day carefully avoiding the other, starting from the moment Ethan deliberately awoke at dawn, well before her, and left to occupy his mind at the conference. He had known even then that no amount of monotonous lectures or top shelf scotch was going to erase her from his thoughts. Apparently Lilac had the same plan as Ethan because she spent the last day of the conference visiting booths on the show floor and networking. At least, that's what Ethan gathered from the brief glimpses he caught of her from afar. Judging from her easy smiles and the visibly infatuated young doctor who rarely left her side all day, she had been far more successful than Ethan at forgetting their kiss.

His hands clenched involuntarily at his sides at the memory of her new companion's hopeful smile every time Lilac so much glanced his way. Ethan allowed the dull sting of jealousy to prickle his insides. He deserved it after he pushed her away so callously the night before.

From across the water, Lilac met his gaze with quiet defiance. “Hello to you too, Doctor Ramsey.”

The formality of her address felt like a slap, especially when she had all but moaned his name the night before. You deserve it, he reminded himself.

“What are you doing out so late? We have an early flight to catch.”

“I was with a friend.”

His gut twisted in the silence.

“And where's your friend now?”

“Upstairs,” she replied, her voice as impassive as her expression. Despite her deliberate lack of emotion, the single word communicated more. Upstairs… waiting for me.

Ethan glanced away, afraid that one more second of staring at her assessing, clever eyes would give away the torrent of agony rippling inside him. It should be him. It should be Ethan waiting for her in a warm hotel room, eager to have her in his arms. It should them, together after months of wishing for nothing else.

When he finally gathered the courage to glance back at her, he could see the same thoughts flickering in those fiery eyes he adored, as clear as the crystal water that separated them. Those eyes bore into his with bold conviction. In the silence, she was daring him to stop her, to verbalize his need for her, to fight for her.

He didn't and her expression crumpled with evident hurt. With a small, shaky sigh that felt like a knife twisting at his side, she strode through the water, determined to storm off.

“Lilac.”

The blazing wave of longing sizzling through his blood was an entity of its own, carrying Ethan toward her until they met at the stairs of the pool. Knowing damn well he had no right to stop her, he did so anyway, his hand gently taking hold of her arm.

Lilac glanced at where he touched her as though his fingers burned her. Her eyes found his and something seemed to soften in her expression. This close, he could see the lines of exhaustion marring her face, a testament to the sleepless night she also had.

“What do you want, Ethan?”

The answer to that was simple, he realized. Because what he wanted the most was currently right before him. His throat tightened, choosing to say instead—

“I want you to stay.”

Another deafening silence, so thick it was almost tangible. Lilac said nothing, though the dignified way in which she jutted her chin forward suggested otherwise. At last, she lost whatever internal battle she was fighting because her lips parted to whisper—

“Make me stay.”

Ethan's fingers flexed slightly around her wrist as he failed to stifle the thrill those words sent through him. A primal part of his brain presented him with many ways to fulfill her request, many of which involved their bodies pressed together. Fuck his conviction or every logical reason to push her away. He couldn't remember them clearly anyway when her captivating eyes fell down to settle on his lips.

“Ethan—”

She couldn't finish that sentence because he was kissing her, hard. The reunion of their lips brought a wave of relief he didn't know he needed since the previous night, since perhaps the first moment he saw her.

Lilac kissed him back just as fiercely, her arms locking around his neck. The force of their bodies meeting compromised their balance, sending them back into the pool, the sting of the cold water almost inconsequential to Ethan. Without breaking their kiss, he steadied her securely against his body.

As he deepened the kiss, his tongue lavishly taunting hers, her nails raked lightly down his chest, sending shivers down his spine. She broke the kiss to tease him with torturous little kisses along his neck, her hands sinking under the water to graze his abs. Any lower and she'd find the poof of her effect on him, though he suspected she already knew it.

“I'd hoped we could do this again,” she confessed, a hot whisper against his lips.

A spike of panic speared through him again, reminiscent of the previous night. If anyone saw them… Her career and everything she worked so hard for would be ruined. All because Ethan was weak-willed and pathetically incapable of resisting her.

“Lilac, we—”

She shook her head, as though reading his mind. “We're not at Edenbrook.”

“I'm still your boss.”

“Then I quit.”

“Be serious.”

The words were so hypocritical with her wet, half naked body pressed against his that Ethan almost laughed.

“Fine,” she allowed, pulling back enough to look at him in the eye. Her arms, however, remained around his neck, much to his delight. “We don't have to be Dr. Allende and Dr. Ramsey at this moment.” Ethan opened his mouth to argue but she pressed on. “Please, Ethan. Please let us be just Lilac and Ethan. Just this once.”

He said nothing, going against all reason to actually consider the request. Normally, he'd explain it wasn't that simple, that every action against the rules had inevitable consequences.

“Please,” she whispered, punctuating the plea with a chaste kiss.

And that was all it took to convince him. He was weak-willed when it came to her.

Without wasting another moment, he pulled her impossibly closer and captured her lips with his. The little moan that reflexively escaped her fueled him to hoist her up with almost ungraceful movements, her legs enclosing his waist at once. Apparently, she was just as inspired by their new position, particularly by his hands firmly gripping her ass, because she bit down on his lower lip, using her tongue to soothe the sting right after.

He cursed.

She pried her lips away from his to murmur in his ear. “I wasn't going to go to him.”

Dizzy and disoriented, Ethan struggled to place the words. Until his muddled brain remembered the doctor he had seen her with.

“He's not who I want.”

The words were like a catalyst, reigniting something fierce in his chest. Without responding, he pushed her against the tiled wall of the pool, the lapping of the water mixing with her breathless moan. His lips pressed hot, desperate kisses along the curve of her neck and shoulder.

As if Ethan wasn't beyond reason already, breaking every rule for the promise of her lips, she rolled her body against his in a tantalizing little rhythm. Ethan cursed again, the sound low and gravelly.

“Lilac.”

Their mouths found each other like magnets. Ethan kissed her until their lips were raw, until they were both breathless, until they shivered slightly from the biting chill of the water. They pulled apart, panting, foreheads pressed together. A small pang of sadness ran through Ethan as he realized the end of their little spell was within sight.

Yet, her green eyes on his was a spell of its own, one that always managed to leave him reeling.

“Lilac,” he started, never tiring of saying her name. What was he going to say next? Anytime the words manifested in his mind, the cynicism that had been his comfort all these years struck them dead.

“I know,” she whispered.

How could she? How could she know when he hadn't known himself until recently.

“This can't happen again.” She smiled sadly at him, pressing one last kiss to his lips, completely unaware of how his heart shattered into fine dust. Looking as though she wanted nothing more than to stay in his arms all night, she disentangled herself from his body.

She was right.

Desperately trying to protect her own dignity, she had said the words before he could.

Swallowing hard, he gave her a small nod. “We should go back inside. Our flight is at six and we're going straight to work after we arrive.”

Edenbrook, the place where they would revert back to their roles of attending and intern. Lilac nodded and averted her eyes from his, placing distance between them in more ways than one. With a crushing feeling, he accepted they had slipped into those roles the moment their lips broke apart.

______________________

A/N:

“This can't happen again.”

Narrator: It did.

Ahhh! Thank you for reading this. I couldn’t move on in the series without writing this. I had been thinking about it for a long time. So it was 100% self-indulgent and maybe a little AU. My reasoning is that Ethan always says, “We can’t.” And then like two scenes later he’s contracting his previous lies lol.

Anyway, thank you! And thank you to @aestheticartsx for helping me with this mess!

Love you guys!

P.S. I am so sorry if you tagged me in a fic and I haven’t reblogged. I will dedicate this week to catch up <3

________________________

Tags:

@lion-ess24 | @emotionalswift2 | @the-soot-sprite | @titaniaangel |

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices #my writing #ethan ramsey fanfiction #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction

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katsidhe · 3 years

Text

15.20 Final Thoughts

Supernatural is over, and somehow, despite itself, it did the very best it could to please me. That was always going to be an impossible task. But truly, sincerely, that finale was as close to my desires as the show could ever bring itself to come, and so, so much closer than I ever dreamed it would dare.

I am so, so glad that no other regular characters were involved (Bobby aside, but he was brief). How better to encapsulate their own emptiness? How fundamentally fitting, than in the epilogue to their final battle, wherein the entire world beyond them was erased, the wider universe is merely set dressing for them to move through. And it was so quiet this way. This finale wasn’t overcrowded or rushed. It kept its own peace. And it preserved the tangible claustrophobia that 15.19 invoked: that tangled, lovely, solipsistic, toxic conviction that these are the only two people on earth that matter.

It’s unclear exactly how much time passed between 15.19 and 15.20. I like to think it’s been at least a year, given that they’ve settled into routine and that their grief seems less fresh. (Although yes, the concept of Dean dying on his very first hunt without a resurrection available is hilarious, I must confess.) Their calm domesticity, their peace, was lovely to watch (Sam kicking the laundry machine! Sam with wet hair! Sam running! Sam cooking, Sam looking a little less bulky than usual, and happy!) But man, it really is Dean’s world, isn’t it? Even the DOG, which really, really, really could reasonably have been primarily Sam’s, was Dean’s dog first and foremost. Then on Dean’s say-so, they get in Dean’s car to drive to a pie festival for Dean. Sam is perfectly content to go along with all of it.

As if we hadn’t gotten enough delightful fanservice, we also got one last scene of Sam threatening to torture someone to death. :) what a king.

I love that Dean died to an OSHA violation while fighting a random loose end from season 1 (which, by the way, I CALLED IT, I am so proud of myself). It’s perfectly mundane. I truly and deeply do not understand anyone complaining that Dean should have gone out in a way that’s more epic. He’s been there, done that, guys, and remember how miserable it was? Now there’s no cosmic safety net. Dean died in a broken down old barn, saving some kids. Moments like these are when Dean is at his best, at his most fundamentally sympathetic: when he’s not trying to control the shape of the universe or dictate righteousness or let his anger drive himself down into a destructive spiral. He’s just putting his money where his mouth is. He’s not making a broad moral statement. He’s simply putting his life on the line to defend someone who needs defending. It is not an unworthy end. It’s so much better than going out to, god forbid, God.

Did Dean earn a lifetime of peace? The concept of just desserts is fraught. But I also don’t think it’s something Dean wanted. He wanted to keep killing things in tetanus-infested barns until he died. He got what he wanted. And while the arc of his wants has adapted over the years, MOTW hunting is fulfilling for him.

Dean’s deathbed speech was, oh man. It got me good. Like many of the things I loved in this episode, it was quiet. No desperation, no revising history (or not too much, anyway). Just, “stay with me, please. I love you. Tell me it’s okay.”

The quiet of Sam’s grief, alone in the bunker. How still his face is, until for a little bit it crumples again, and then it comes back and goes still. He’s not trying to control his reactions or press back against his sorrow. There is no work to do, nothing to avenge, no one to find, nothing to defeat. He is alone, and the washes of visible grief simply come and go in waves that he doesn’t try to fight or force.

I need the gif of him flinching at the toaster. His startle reactions are my favorite thing. He’s alone underground, there is not a living soul for miles and miles, he’s just buried his brother, not for the first time, but this time, he knows, for the last. And the goddamn toaster goes off and he cannot control the way his heart leaps up into his throat and the way every one of his muscles tightens.

Sam grows old. Sam. Grows old. Sam grows old! SAM GROWS OLD.

Ohhh my God, Sam grows old. Without Dean! Without hunting! Without Cas! With people outside that claustrophobic world, beyond the four tight walls of SPN, beyond the people approved by Dean and by Fandom, who give him peace and love and fulfillment! SAM GOT OUT. Even with the truly terrible wig the image brings me to actual tears. I cannot believe SPN would allow him to have this. I cannot believe that the show let him be happy without Dean. I want to read the set of novelizations about Sam’s recovery.

Of course this was the only way for Sam to get unwound, and of course it had to happen offscreen in flashes. Thank god for the ambiguity. There’s so much potential there, years and years, we were simply told: and at some point Sam’s life gets better, at some point his mental health improves and he feels safe enough to start a family, with someone, and at some point he has a child, and he dies peacefully, he dies loved and with people who love him, and dammit I’m getting weepy again.

Sam quit hunting. Not in a sudden jolt. We see him leaving the bunker on another job. But when he leaves the bunker, he leaves for good. He has so much knowledge, but he does not preserve the Men of Letters. He does not honor their legacy of extermination and experimentation. Maybe he gives someone else the keys, for the books. Or maybe he’s digitized it all, and maybe it’s done.

Maybe his wife is Eileen, or maybe it’s Amelia, or maybe it’s Piper or Cara or maybe it’s someone new. Maybe it’s not even a woman. And maybe she’s a hunter, but I hope she isn’t, and when Sam tells her, haltingly, in fits and starts, the bare outline of the truth, she looks at him and she believes him. And she understands the shape of the trauma he carries, even if Sam can’t quite speak the details, and maybe Sam goes to therapy. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he wakes in pain and fear for many years, but over time, it dulls.

Sam’s son is still a young man when Sam is on his deathbed, probably in at least his eighties. Think about the mountain Sam had to climb to reach that point. How many years and years of work did it take before Sam felt safe enough to want a child? How long for him to gently conquer his terror at the legacy his blood might carry: Lucifer and Azazel are dead, he knows this, but how long before he lets himself believe it enough to permit the risk? And then he raises his child, not in fear and loneliness, but with love and support and care. And he makes sure his son is protected, that he knows to salt his thresholds and ward against demons, but his son will not suffer the way he suffered.

Maybe he untangles his thoughts about Dean, maybe he learns that to feel angry with his brother is not to betray him or to dishonor his memory, maybe he comes to a more complex understanding of their relationship. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he simply enshrines Dean, and Dean’s memory becomes ever more golden and untarnished, and the Impala becomes truly an altar. The details of how Sam carries Dean with him—the watch, the car, the absurdly large photos, his son’s name—perhaps these are played straight, and perhaps Sam never finds a more nuanced love. In the meta sense I think we are certainly meant to think this. We are meant to see Dean deified here, canonized into a saint. We are meant to view Sam’s fifty more years of life as worship, as a dedication and an offering.

This is the long shadow of the finale. These are the things untouched by necessity and by design: this is Dean’s apology in 15.18, this is Sam not wanting an apology, and not wanting to hear Dean offer one. This difficult work was always and inevitably going to be elided. But there is so much time, decades and decades, offscreen, for Sam to come to a quieter peace.

I think he can do it.

I think Sam can do anything.

I’m crying again.

I really didn’t think I would cry much about the finale. I thought I would cry at the concept of the show ending, but not at what the ending was. I didn’t think any details would actually affect me. But then Sam got old. I am truly and genuinely hung up on the canonical image of Sam finding peace. Good god. He had GLASSES. Help.

My chief complaint (aside from that absolutely awful Carry On cover, why oh why, they should have just played the original again), if I felt at all like complaining at the moment, would be how happy this ending is. But I can’t begrudge Sam that. I can’t even get too mad at the scene that I was SO SURE I would despise: that of Sam and Dean content in a Heaven that is now apparently Great, Actually (even though a prison dimension with an open floor plan is still a prison dimension, but hey, I guess we humans can’t leave earth either). Supernatural clearly wanted Sam and Dean to not be facing down an abyssally bleak afterlife, and I think I’d be complaining about the lack of bleakness a whole lot more if it didn’t have the (perhaps unintended??) side effect of giving Sam even more freedom from Dean than SPN already deigned to give him. Sam isn’t in a shared cell with Dean. He can be with his friends and his wife and his son.

One of the fundamental questions of SPN is, would Dean ever let Sam go? And it’s a question that the bulk of s13-15 has rendered moot with Sam’s growing passivity, and one that 15.20 neatly dodged. And I’m glad it did, because I wouldn’t have liked whatever 15.20 had to say on the matter. This deflection feels true to the spirit of what the show has become.

It was impossible for Sam to find peace while Dean was still alive. And on its own that kind of says everything, doesn’t it? And Sam is still forever denied the peace he truly longed for. Sam didn’t want death to force Dean’s hand. Sam wanted Dean to want to let him go. But the only way Sam and Dean could heal is apart. The potential of their relationship on earth becoming untangled is forever precluded, explictly. And yet Sam’s freedom is validated, Sam is allowed what he sought in season 1 and season 8, Sam is something beyond a hunter and Dean’s brother, and the show let him be, the show let him grow.

Supernatural said Sam Rights, and the world shook.

#spn spoilers #sam and dean #15.20 #final thoughts #sam and romance #sam and peace #just leave me here to die #I did not realize how relieved I'd be #I do not believe how much tension has left me #at the realization that I liked this ending #and of COURSE there are so many people complaining about sam's peace #but guess what!!!#this isn't season 8!#this time the show agrees with ME!#SAM HAS riGHTs!

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apparitionism · 3 years

Text

Why 3

Nearer and nearer this story creeps to its conclusion, and thus to that not-so-distant future day when @mysensitiveside will have received a complete present! Previously, in part 1 of this AU, a Myka Bering adopted a dog. That dog, unfortunately or fortunately, in fact already belonged to a Helena Wells. Myka and Helena, initially strangers to each other, have been walking the dog together, growing intermittently closer in the process, and they are at last, following the events of part 2, about to take a step toward something beyond the pedestrian. Let’s see how that goes.

Why 3

Later, in the parking lot, “You’re sure this is okay?” Myka asked as they began exchanging tangible, traceable information: numbers, addresses. They lived closer to each other than Myka had imagined, which made what Sam had done seem even more brazen... even more terrible. “I don’t want to make you feel like you—”

Helena looked up from her phone. “What exactly will convince you?”

“Convince me of what?” A stupid question; she knew it the minute she said the words.

But Helena again took pity on her. She put her phone in her pocket, and she moved close to Myka, then closer. “I’m not confused,” she said. Their coats were touching. “Are you?”

“Honestly? Yes.”

In response to that, Helena just looked. Did she blink? She leaned up still closer, a delicate, careful movement of body, accompanied by a turn of her head not quite against the collar of Myka’s coat.

Not a kiss, but the potential shiver of one... a “lean down and you’ll find out” feeling...

Myka was still high on the first kiss, not quite ready to dilute it with a second. “Tuesday?” she asked, and “Tuesday,” Helena affirmed, remaining near.

“I like this,” Myka said, and it might have been a warning—to herself and to Helena.

“I’m glad,” Helena said, a comfort against the caution.

I will see them three days from now, Myka told herself as Helena drove away, her dog buckled safely into his harness in the back seat. Myka had a similar harness, limp and empty, in the back seat of her own car.

I know what it’s like to see him without a week having passed. I have no idea what it’s like to see her.

How long could three days feel?

Long enough to make her tell herself, on Sunday, “You should cancel.” Because she hadn’t slept. Instead she spent open-eyed hours retreading her limited romantic past: college boyfriend, who lasted all of one semester; grad school girlfriend, who lasted longer, but only because they rarely saw each other, and when they did, they were too exhausted from long, long lab days and nights to do much of anything but share a cheap meal and go to bed. Nevertheless their breakup blindsided Myka, who expected reasons but received nothing more from her suddenly ex-girlfriend than “I was into it; now I’m not.”

Since then, the occasional night with another lonely chemist at a conference had been the extent of it. That was what Myka figured she would always be most comfortable with: no entanglements, no consequences. No nerve-wracking anticipations.

Tuesday was consequential, with accompanying nerve-wracking anticipation. Hence, “You should cancel.”

Entanglements. Leuko had been one, but he at least had been very clear. Food, walks, baths. Obviously Myka’s emotions had been involved, but it wasn’t as if Leuko was going to do anything to blindside her.

Except bark at someone.

In his defense, she conceded, he had a pretty compelling reason.

So what about cancelling? Myka knew why she wanted to. Why didn’t she want to?

I like walking with her in the park.

Everything she says about herself makes me want to know more.

She is physically more attractive than anyone I’ve ever seen in my life.

Kissing her one time made me wish I had keys to a castle, so I could give them to her.

On a parallel track, there was Leuko. Monty. The idea of interacting with him in his real home felt wrong—but the kind of wrong that could one day become right. Like seeing his leash in Helena’s hand.

Would I have been willing to keep walking in the park if she hadn’t been the one walking him?

Impossible to know. Traitorous to consider an answer of no.

And would I have felt that I could walk in a park with her in the absence of him?

Also impossible to know. Not traitorous to consider an answer of no, but surely cowardly.

So in the interest of at least a facsimile of courage, Myka spent some time pondering yet another question: What do you wear to watch a dog show with your ex-dog and his person, who might be your... well, who could say? Certainly not Myka. She landed on “clothes.” Just wear clothes. Because her ex-dog wouldn’t care, and if his person did—well, that would tell her something, wouldn’t it?

Knocking on a door on Tuesday night, clothed in clothes, she was a mixture of trepidation and, yes, hope.

“Come in!” Helena called, so Myka did. To her surprise, she was received into the house by Montgomery Clift. She’d found, over her days of thinking, that it was easier to call him that in her head; its length and formality kept her from slipping and thinking “Leuko.” Mr. Clift then escorted her down a hallway and into a large living space. “Are you a butler now?” she asked him.

He blinked. It meant either “Of course not” or “I am the most perfect butler who ever buttled,” and Myka said, “You’re right,” in answer to both.

Helena appeared a second later, and Myka held out the gifts she’d brought: wine in one hand, a paper bag in the other. They had cost her far less pondering-time than the clothes had, though she hadn’t realized that at the time, and that probably meant something, though Myka could not think it through now, not with Helena standing right there in front of her. Myka could barely think at all. Instead, she tried to explain: “I thought at first I should bring you something related to writing—a pretty pen?—but then I figured a writer wouldn’t be any less picky about equipment than a chemist, and I’d hate it if some well-meaning person gave me for example a pipettor I’d never use. Nobody would do that, because they’re insanely expensive, but that’s why you’re getting a boring bottle of wine. I brought this”—she extended the bag—“for Monty.”

Helena had gazed at her throughout that recitation, and Myka had in turn felt herself prolonging it, to keep those attentive eyes on her. Now Helena said, “You’ve gifted him...” She took the bag, looked in it. “Several corn tortillas?”

“Fresh ones. He likes them.”

“I didn’t know it.”

Which, Myka had to acknowledge, made her happy. But it was a selfish happiness, so she said, “I didn’t intend to know something you don’t. It was an accident: he was hungry, and that was what I had. And then when I bought fresh, they turned out to be his favorite.”

Helena said, to Montgomery Clift, “More favorite than cheese?”

He failed to respond, most likely due to his laser focus on the now-open tortilla bag. Myka offered, “Probably depends on the cheese.”

“It’s true he is discerning.” Helena paused. “So am I.”

Myka’s nerves, which had ebbed, returned—not fully, but as a vague itch of discomfort. “You don’t need to...” she started.

“What don’t I need to?”

“Try? Like that. Like any way at all.” For it was when Helena tried—as she had in the park, with her “so are you” about prettiness—that Myka lost her bearings.

“I don’t know where you are,” Helena said. Such a reasonable justification: of course she would try, if she wanted to move Myka to some particular place, some place she felt Myka was not.

“Here,” Myka said, but it was a yearn—to get closer to where Helena might have imagined she, and they, could be—rather than the truth. She needed to tell the truth, though: “Or at least I’m trying to be.”

“You don’t need to try either,” Helena said, her tone a balm. “Let’s start by getting to know each other better. I hope that’s what this evening is for.”

“I hope too.” Myka had never said anything more true. “I don’t like that I know your dog better than I know you. I regret it.” But, “Sorry,” she said to the soft butler-or-not who looked up at her, blinking wounded eyes. Or more likely, he was blinking tortilla-wanting eyes.

“We need to remedy that. Or rather, I want to remedy that, and I think you do as well. As I said, I’m not confused.”

“As I said, I am.” Important to be clear about that.

“Tell me why.”

Oh, the invitation. How could she respond? Weighing ideas of entanglements, consequences, anticipations...

Helena, blessedly, went on, “Because I feel that if I hadn’t told you I wasn’t, you wouldn’t be.”

That was indeed the entirety of it, so... “I like that you’re smart,” Myka said. “I like it so much.”

“I like that you are as well, chemist. Sit down. I have food to cook. On that topic, I regret I didn’t ask about allergies, so tell me now. I don’t want to inadvertently attempt to murder you.”

“You can’t. I’m basically insensitive.”

“Ridiculous. Monty knows better, and so do I.”

She delivered that perfectly, not trying, but rather as if she had a doctorate in quashing self-deprecation, and it made Myka smile. “If I were allergic to anything, leukotrienes would be involved,” she said.

“Do you want to explain them to me now?” Helena asked.

It was even more perfect, as an invitation, but Myka turned it down: “You’re busy. Food to cook. Can I help?”

“Sit. You look tired. Is that an awful thing to say? I don’t mean that you look in any way bad. You’ve most likely had a long day.” She stopped, her expression devolving into a sheepish wince. “I’m digging a hole.”

“It’s okay,” Myka said to banish that wince, charming as it was. “You’re right about the day.”

She hadn’t improved much on her Saturday sleep in the subsequent nights, but at least last night had been anticipatory rather than self-castigating. During the day, her concentration at work had been... not ideal. She broke some glass—dropped from nervous fingers—and Abigail asked her if she was intending to go on a rampage. She’d had to redo more than one assay. It really was a miracle she’d been able to get here on time.

So she sat, as instructed, and she found herself pondering various miracles: Helena was cooking food, and Myka, on the sofa, had Leuko—no, Montgomery Clift—beside her, as he used to be, and she wished she were a poet, so as to put into words what suffused her heart. “Does he sit like this with you?” she felt compelled to ask.

“He does,” Helena said. Weeks ago, Myka would have felt that as a knife. Now it was confirmation of all-encompassing comfort. “With me,” Helena went on, “and now with you. I’ve never seen him do so with anyone else.”

“Have you, though?” Myka asked him.

Of course he blinked those dark, beautiful, secret eyes. “Did she teach you to do that?” Myka asked him, and she dared a glance at Helena.

“I can’t imagine what you’re talking about,” Helena said. “All I personally taught him was that he should shake hands. And clearly that is not what is occurring.”

“Shake?” Myka suggested to him.

Montgomery Clift sat up immediately and held out his right front paw.

“Impressive,” Myka told him—told Helena—after a convivial shake had occurred. In all her time with him, she hadn’t thought to see whether he would do that. She hadn’t thought about training at all. He was so quiet and sweet. What else would she have wanted him to do? How often would they really have needed to shake hands? “How often?” she asked, softly, and she took his blink to mean “Not very.”

Helena said from the kitchen, “It’s starting in not very long, and I’d like to let Monty out. Will you watch him in the yard?”

“You’re going to watch me watch him, aren’t you?

Helena smiled. “Honestly, yes. But not for the reason you fear.”

“I’m not sure you have a true handle on the extent of my fears.”

“Educate me.”

“What do you write about? Or I guess I mean, what did you write about?” Myka asked. The question had come to her that instant, fully formed—not a fear, not as such, but rather a gray gap in her knowledge.

“Hm,” Helena said. “Let’s talk about that when you come back indoors.”

Montgomery Clift enjoyed his time in the yard. “Sorry we can’t walk,” she told him, but he was cavorting, sniffing, investigating, and didn’t seem to care. It made her sad that she’d had no space for him to do that, untethered.

They came back indoors, so: “So, writing,” Myka said. “I didn’t Google you. So I don’t know.”

“That is both slightly insulting and exceedingly considerate.”

Myka, flustered, said, “Point being I don’t know.”

“It begins with my having been a rather unusual sort of child.”

“That isn’t hard to believe,” Myka said, then cringed. “That’s probably also slightly insulting.”

“On the contrary, I think it’s exceedingly complimentary. Don’t we all want to be unusual? I do now, and did then... I would fix my attention on a thing that struck me as interesting, and I would not rest until I became expert in it. The smaller and stranger the better. An arcane slice of history, some esoteric gadgetry, a figure of obscure influence. As it happened, I could write about such things in a readable way.”

“Showing off what an expert you’d become?” Myka asked. She hoped that wasn’t insulting at all.

Helena smiled in affirmation. “It began like that, yes. One tried to become less insufferable when it was for wider publication. In any case, I sought such topics out for years—the rarities, the curiosities. I made a reasonable amount of money doing so, which is better than many can say.”

“So why stop?”

“I had it in my head to write a novel. Something with that same depth, but also breadth.”

“Do you still have it in your head?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Mainly in my head. Not on paper.”

“Should I not ask why?”

“Monty’s disappearance... derailed me.”

“Are you un-derailed now?”

“Not precisely.”

“Should I not ask why?”

“I’ve found myself distracted.”

“Should I not ask why?”

“You should know why.”

Was that trying again? It felt softer, not quite as discomfiting. “When does this dog show start, anyway?” Myka said.

“Very soon,” Helena said, and the way she spoke those very simple words reminded Myka, viscerally, of why she wanted to be here—Helena’s eyes were bright, her voice low but engaged. An edge of something like hunger crept around the periphery of Myka’s awareness.

The show itself was astounding. Myka had known she had very little knowledge of dogs as animals, certainly prior to her brief ownership experience. But she had not known that she had not known how vast the world of dogs, as rankable, judgeable animals, really was. An entire additional universe was folded into the one Myka thought she knew. The idea of breeds, okay, she got that. But groups? Handlers? Stacking?

“Can he do that?” Myka asked, about the stacking, that stance seemingly required for the judging of... dogness?

“Oh, watch. Monty, sit,” Helena said to the dog who was curled between them. She raised her hand as she said it, and just like that, up he sat. She pulled her hand forward then and said, “Stand.” He stood, his entire self on display, just like the dogs on the television. After a second, Helena said, “I should have cheese in my hand. Or one of your tortillas. He hates when there’s no reward. You see how the handlers hold the treats in their mouths, when they’re in the ring. Often they use liver.”

“In their mouths...” Myka shuddered.

Helena offered a sympathetic echo of the movement. “It’s apparently quite compelling as an incentive, and they can’t hold the brush or the lead that way. But it’s certainly among the many reasons I myself wouldn’t have been able to show him.”

“I don’t understand why being pretty doesn’t count,” Myka said.

“Shapes and sizes matter more than anything, and he’s slightly too small for a male.” Montgomery Clift turned away from her, seemingly intentionally. Helena laughed and told him, “You’re exquisite and you know it.”

“Why did you even want a Mittelspitz anyway?” Myka asked. “No offense, Montgomery Clift.” After trying it out loud, she realized it didn’t work nearly as well that way as it did in her head. “Monty,” she amended, and now he reoriented himself toward Myka, as if he were pleased. She was probably attributing far too much intentionality to him.

Helena said, “I didn’t want one.” Did Montgomery Clift turn even further toward Myka? “As I told you, there was a novel in my head, but I was too busy investigating those curiosities. Then I began to imagine that I might find time for it if I settled into a more routine everyday life.”

“So you got a dog?” Myka asked, recalling her own Leuko-routines.

“Accidentally. While looking into teaching positions, I was finishing up one of my last pieces, on the insular, sectarian cultures around rare breeds of dog. I met Monty’s breeder, and she happened to note that having a dog would certainly create routines... I scoffed, but then I met Monty himself, as a wee puppy, and there was no longer any question.”

“I can’t even imagine.”

Helena showed Myka several photos of that wee puppy.

“Oh my god,” Myka said. It was the only logical response.

“He didn’t seem real,” Helena affirmed.

And yet there the real Montgomery Clift was, clearly the grown-up version of those photos, blinking back and forth at both of them. A curiosity.

“You’re coming back tomorrow night?” Helena asked later, as Myka prepared to leave.

What a confounding question. “I... am I?” Myka staggered out.

“The show. It’s two nights. I thought you knew.”

That had probably been conveyed at some point, but Myka hadn’t paid sufficient attention. She had lost her purchase on the unfamiliar new dog-parade production-number world unfurling itself for her perusal on the television, as she was far more interested in the equally new world composed of one disconcerting woman and one unreal dog. What did it say that the latter outranked the former?

Right... as if that were a mystery. “I think if this evening has demonstrated anything, it’s that I know absolutely nothing,” she lied.

“Not nothing,” Helena said, mindreading. Then she read some more: “Surely you know that I want to kiss you goodnight.”

“I want to know it,” Myka told her.

“Then do.” She moved close to Myka, a sidle not dissimilar to her move in the parking lot, and this time Myka did lean down, did find out. It was not confusing at all, but rather like good clear water, bracing and inundating, roaring, silent, everything. If this was the first night, what would the second entail?

The next day in the lab, Myka allowed to Abigail, “Maybe she’s my girlfriend.” Tempting fate, probably, but fate was certainly doing some tempting of its own...

Abigail crossed her arms. Never a good sign. “Why do you always have to lie first?”

“Why... what?”

“You lie about having a dog,” Abigail said. “You lie about having a girlfriend. What’s next? Your side job for the CIA?”

“Very funny.”

“If you deny it, I’ll know it’s true.”

“Fine. My side job is CIA. What do you know about dog shows?”

“Are you going undercover at one?” Abigail countered.

“My maybe girlfriend knows a lot about them.”

“Then ask her, not me. People like to talk about what they know a lot about. Except you, but you’re weird like that.”

Valid advice, and an accurate description. Myka thanked Abigail for them both.

“And you’d lie anyway,” Abigail continued.

Myka didn’t thank her for that.

As she prepared to leave for Helena’s that evening, she found herself thinking on clarity. That she might at last have some.

Her phone buzzed—a text. She never got texts.

The text was from Helena.

It said: Don’t come.

TBC

P.S. Only a bit left to go, I swear. Poor Myka’s heart can’t take much more, anyway, and my goal in life, or rather in narrative, really isn’t to make her suffer.

#bering and wells #Warehouse 13 #fanfic #Why #part 3 #B&W Holiday Gift Exchange #bering and wells gift exchange #bering and wells exchange #mysensitiveside

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forever-animated · 4 years

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Rayllum Reunion in S4

Ever since Through the Moon came out, there’s been a lot of discussion in the TDP fandom about when Callum and Rayla will reunite and what that will look like. Even before the AMA (where Ehasz, likely trolling, cast some doubt as to whether or not the two would see each other again), many fans were speculating that a Rayllum reunion may not happen until S5. They’ve been theorizing that the two may be apart and have their own separate journeys in S4, which could lead to Rayla finding and/or getting captured by Viren, Claudia, and Aaravos.

I don’t really think this will happen for several reasons.

1. TDP is good at making things happen and moving the plot forward quickly.

Think about past TDP seasons. Despite having only nine episodes, there’s so much that usually happens in the course of each season. There’s usually several conflicts that are set up near the beginning, and many of them end up being resolved by the season’s end.

Here’s just a few:

Season One

Conflict: The gang begins the trek to return the egg, only to have it fall in icy water. They find out it’s dying. Resolution: They save the egg by hatching it.

Conflict: Rayla’s binding won’t come off and keeps tightening. Resolution: Zym pulls the binding off and saves Rayla’s hand.

Season Two

Conflict: Callum wants to learn primal magic, but is told humans can’t. Resolution: Callum connects to the sky arcanum.

Conflict: Callum learns Harrow has died and has to find a way to tell Ezran, and deal with his own grief. Resolution: Callums reads Harrow’s note and comes to terms with his grief. Ezran finds out about his father and returns to Katolis.

Conflict: Ezran is trying to teach Zym to fly. Resolution: Ezran uses their mental connection, and Zym learns how to fly.

Season Three:

Conflict: Callum and Rayla are now in Xadia and need to return Zym to his mother. We find out that the Dragon Queen is dying and has fallen into a deep sleep. Resolution: They succeed in returning Zym and the Dragon Queen awakens. Conflict: Ezran is struggling with the burden of the crown. He’s usurped by Viren and thrown in prison. Resolution: Ezran is freed from prison and reunites with Callum and Rayla, becoming integral in the fight against Viren and returning Zym. He regains the crown after Viren’s supposed death. Conflict: Soren is questioning his loyalty to his father. Resolution: Soren decides to free Ezran from prison, leave his father, and assist the gang in their fight against Viren’s troops.

If season 4 follows this model, and Callum and Rayla’s separation is one of the major conflicts they open with - which it likely will be - then it’s also likely to be one of the conflicts that is resolved (at least in some way) by the season’s end, if not sooner.

I don’t really see the creator’s dragging out their reunion for yet another season, given their track record with previous seasons and how a lot of the conflicts tend to be resolved within nine episodes.

2. There’s going to be a timeskip after Through the Moon.

We already knew there was going to be a timeskip between S3 and S4, but the creators have also confirmed that there will be a timeskip between TTM and S4 as well. Given how the comic ends with Rayla leaving to Callum to find Viren, this means that the show will pick up some time after she’s set out to do that.

Now, if the creators had planned to keep Rayla and Callum apart for all of S4, what would be the point of this timeskip? They could’ve very easily turned the events of TTM (or at least the ending) into the first S4 episode, which would set up the direction of the season with Callum and Rayla going on separate journeys. But they didn’t do that. They tell us why Rayla left in the comic and THEN they give us a timeskip going into S4.

What’s the point of that? To give the characters time to be apart (offscreen) and then bring the audience up to speed on what has happened during that time. Setting the stage for a reunion, perhaps? It seems very likely that this is the case.

3. There’s potential S4 hints in Callum’s Spellbook.

Many fans have speculated about the importance of the information found in Callum’s Spellbook. In it, he mentions wanting to spend a year traveling through Xadia. Could this be what he’s been up to during the timeskip - looking for Rayla in Xadia?

Beyond this, I have an interesting theory relating to the descriptive words used for each of the primal sources, which I may decide to elaborate on further in the future. Here’s the gist of it though.

The book has a page for each of the six primal sources. They’re in the following order: Moon, Sky, Sun, Earth, Ocean, and Stars. This also appears to be order of each of the “books” of the series. S1 is Moon, S2 is Sky, S3 is Sun, and we know S4 is Earth. I don’t believe this is on accident.

Following this logic, I believe there’s a direct correlation between the words used to describe each of the sources and the major themes and events of each season. For example, the words associated with Moon are illusion, death, deception, etc. All of these are major themes of S1 - Lujanne’s illusions, Harrow’s’ death, Viren’s deception, etc. This association seems to hold true for the other seasons as well. (It’s not perfect, of course. Some of the words for Sky magic don’t seem to correlate to what happens in the season and are more descriptive of the magic itself. But on the whole it seems to hold true.)

With this in mind, let’s look at some of the words for Earth:

Strength Stubbornness Patience Growth Healing If my theory is correct, these will likely be major themes for S4. I can see all of these playing into a potential Rayllum reunion / reconciliation. Rayla thinks she’s being strong by going after Viren herself, but Callum sees it as stubbornness. He’ll need to have patience with her as she learns that she cannot do this on her own. She’ll experience character growth, and their relationship will begin healing.

At least that’s how I see it through my Rayllum shipper goggles. But this makes a lot of sense, and if true, seems to point to a S4 Rayllum reunion and reconciliation as a distinct possibility.

4. Viren / Aaravos may not be the main antagonists of S4.

So far, we’ve only seen Viren as the main antagonist of TDP (with Aaravos pulling the strings, of course.) But this is just for the first three seasons. The first of the three overarching stories that will make up TDP. The creators have confirmed that S4 and S5 will be its own arc, and S6 and S7 will be its own.

So what if there’s another antagonist for S4 and S5?

We know that Sol Regem will be reappearing. Many are speculating that there might be potential conflict between Janai and her unnamed brother that we’ve been told exists. (The creators have declined giving any information on him, so we can assume he’ll play a role in upcoming seasons.) We also know that Rex Igneous (the Earth dragon from Callum’s Spellbook) will likely make an appearance this season. And Zym will still very much be a part of the show.

So what if a separate antagonist rears their head for S4 and S5? Resolving this new threat may be what brings Callum and Rayla together again. I could see her putting her search for Viren on hold to deal with a bigger, more tangible threat, especially if it involves Zym or the peace that they fought so hard to achieve. It’s possible that she won’t find any leads on Viren. And maybe Aaravos has decided to stay in the shadows, waiting for the right time to strike. This could set him up as the main antagonist we know he’ll likely be for S6 and S7.

We’ll likely still see him, Viren and Claudia, but they may not be as integral to the central conflict as we assume they’ll be. If that’s the case, then a Rayllum reunion makes logical sense from a story perspective, as it gives Rayla the opportunity to pause her quest in a way that makes sense for her character.

5. Rayla being captured / coined may not happen, or may not happen so early in the show.

Many fans have speculated that Rayla will find Viren, attempt to fight him, and get captured and/or coined as a result. They imagine that this could be how S4 ends, and Callum either discovers this or is left unaware until their reunion in S5.

This is an interesting theory, but it assumes that Rayla will be successful in finding Viren. What if she isn’t? What leads does she really have? Viren, Aaravos and Claudia will likely need to regroup after their defeat at the Storm Spire. They’ll be staying in hiding for awhile, which will make them hard to track. Who’s to say she’ll even know where to look, outside of wandering aimlessly through Xadia?

Everyone is also assuming that Rayla being coined is inevitable. But this predictability is not what the writers are known for. What if she doesn’t get coined? What if no one gets coined? What if Callum does?

Even if she does eventually get captured and coined, why would this happen so early in the show? That seems more like a S6 or S7 event, as it’s a very emotional, high-stakes conflict that would likely lead into the reveal of Runaan and Rayla’s parents being alive. I doubt the writers would want to play those cards so early.

If S4 Rayla doesn’t find Viren and isn’t captured, then what does that leave? Her wandering Xadia aimlessly? Not likely. A reunion with Callum is the only other plotline that makes sense here.

There’s probably more reasons, but that’s all I have for now. If I write any more, I’ll link a part 2 to this post.

#the dragon prince #rayllum #tdp #tdp speculation #tdp theory #through the moon #ttm #through the moon spoilers #ttm spoilers #tdp season 4 #is season 4 here yet?#i want my emotional rayllum s4 reunion dangit

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theboywiththecuckooclockheart · 3 years

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My Top 10 Favorite Songs From Jack and the Cuckoo-Clock Heart: Concept Album and Movie

Here I will rank my top 10 favorite songs between the movie and concept album versions of Jack and the Cuckoo-Clock Heart. I personally believe that the French concept album songs are quite different from the translations in the English movie, so I will rank them independently. That means that one song may end up on this list twice for the reasons I will explain as we go down the list. Let’s start from number 10:

10. “Mademoiselle Clé”

As simple and intimate as this scene in the movie is, I’m going to have to put the French version on this list. Mainly because it stays a bit more true to the scene in the novel which is much less PG than the movie. The French song shares the line “...she works her Blue Fairy magic on me, like in Pinocchio, but more real. Except it’s not my nose that’s growing longer.” The implications of that quote in the novel and the French song are obvious, but are much more loosely intimated in the film. Also, I simply prefer the composition of the French album song over the movie version.

You can find the French song from the concept album here on Dioysos’ official Youtube channel and the scene from the movie here on a fan’s Youtube channel.

9. “Tais-Toi Mon Coeur”

This song can only be found in the concept album and corresponds more directly to the plot of the book than the movie. The title means “Be Quiet my Heart” (or, more aggressively, “shut up, my heart”). It is such a catchy song and the old music video associated with it has a really cool animation style which some hoped would have been the style of the entire movie, but alas.

You can find the official song here on Dionysos’ official Youtube channel and the music video here on a fan’s Youtube channel.

8. “Flamme A Lunettes”

There are actually three versions of the song “Flame with Glasses” because it also shows up in the book. The book version is quite short, and is actually the most similar to the movie for that reason. However, the song in the concept album encapsulates more of the action in the novel itself, not just the song that Miss Acacia sings. Additionally, the imagery in the song from the album is much richer and Jack and Miss Acacia’s banter goes on for a little longer. Even though the scene in the movie is visually intriguing and captures some of the imagery with its setting, I’m going to have to put the album version on this list.

You can find the French song from the concept album here on Dionysos’ official Youtube channel and the scene from the English movie here on a fan’s Youtube channel.

7. “L'école De Joe”

“The School of Joe” can only be found in the movie in its instrumental form, so I don’t want to make a direct comparison to the lyric version in the album. However, I don’t think I have to. Both incarnations capture the same menacing energy and climactic build, and what the movie may lack in lyrics it sure makes up for in the scene. And while I hate to put Joe nearly halfway up my list, the song is just too powerful to put any lower.

You can find the French song from the concept album here on Dionysos’ official Youtube channel.

6. “Malagueña”

Doing the research on the Spanish songs in the album and the movie sure gave me a run for my money because I had no idea about the multilingual talents of Olivia Ruiz. She both voices and sings Miss Acacia in the French movie, the concept album (which is in French, of course), as well as the Spanish songs in both (if not all) of the translations of the movie. Her version of “La Malagueña”, a traditional Mexican Huapango song, was originally covered on two of her albums [1], and is of course identical in the concept album and the movie because there is no need to translate it. It was tough for me to choose between “Malagueña” and “Quijote”, but for the wonderful and fantastical elements surrounding it in the movie and for the great references to quotes from the novel during the scene, “Malagueña” makes it on this list.

You can find the song from the concept album here on Dionysos’ official Youtube channel and an amazing live performance of it by Olivia Ruiz here.

5. “Le Jour Le Plus Froid du Monde”

Thanks to this Youtube video and the fanart included in it, “The Coldest Day on Earth” was the first song I ever heard from the “La Mécanique Du Cœur” concept album and was how I discovered the movie in the first place. I have always been an enthusiast for anything vaguely steampunk, and a rhythm set by cuckoo-clocks is exactly the kind of song I’m looking for. Once I figured out what the French lyrics actually mean, I knew I needed to find out more about this weird world. It took me exactly two years to get my hands on a copy of the book after watching the movie, and I discovered the entire concept album around that time as well. Perhaps this song should be number one on this list because it is literally the reason I have this blog to begin with, but I just can’t deny how much I love the other songs at the top of this list.

I also can’t fail to mention the sort of reprised version of the song, called “Le Réveil Des Coucous Vivants”, or “The Awakening of the Living Cuckoos” which makes an appearance very early in the movie, but is actually the last song on the concept album. If you want to experience an amazing example of how cuckoos can be used as incredibly haunting musical instruments, I recommend you check it out.

You can find the French song from the concept album here on Dionysos’ official Youtube channel here is the link to “Le Réveil Des Coucous Vivants” on their channel as well.

4. “La Panique Mécanique”

I absolutely love how much this song builds and how it captures the experience of traveling on a train alone for the first time. This song does make a shortened appearance in the movie during Jack’s train ride, but I’m not a huge fan of how they altered the lyrics. Another thing that makes the French album version so much more striking than the English movie version is Alain Bashung’s [2] performance of Jack the Ripper’s lines. His voice is so mysterious and menacing and creates the perfect bridge into the chaotic latter portion of the song. Perhaps it is my relative lack of exposure to a variety of French voices, but his rendition just hits different than the English one in my opinion.

You can find the French version from the concept album here on Dionysos’ official Youtube channel. Unfortunately I can’t find a good link to the scene in the movie, so you will have to do some digging yourself if you are interested.

3. “Jack Et La Mécanique Du Cœur”

In third place is the French concept album version of the titular song “Jack Et La Mécanique Du Cœur”. It is the very first song on the concept album and serves as a sort of summary for the plot and kind of resembles a Greek chorus [3] that speculates what our protagonist Jack is going to do. It includes some interjection from Georges Méliès and ends with him saying “Et maintenant, bon film” (”And now, enjoy the film”), which I find very cute since it’s sort of like we are watching Méliès’ own film adaption of the story, which he tells Jack during the movie that he could very well make.

You can find the French concept album version here on Dionysos’ official Youtube channel.

2. “Jack and the Cuckoo-Clock Heart” (English version from the end credits of the movie)

Maybe this is a cop-out, but I just couldn’t decide which version of this song to put on this list, so I included both. After much deliberation, I decided to put the English version at number two instead of three. It seems sacrilegious somehow, but I just had to put it a little higher for a couple of reasons. One, I discovered it first so it lodged itself in my consciousness before the French version did, and two, I just can’t get over Orlando Seale’s voice in this song. Of course Mathias Malzieu is completely unparalleled, but there is something about Seale’s optimistic and gallant tone that is completely enrapturing.

It’s sort of a bummer that this amazing song only shows up at the very end of the credits, but I must admit it is a difficult song to place anywhere else in the film considering the inexplicable presence of Méliès (which makes it hard to put at the beginning for the sake of the plot). But, it also doesn’t make sense at the end since it’s a summary of what we just watched and the final line tells us to “enjoy the film” as the last few credits roll up on the screen. Regardless, I should be happy that the song was ever translated into English because I can thank it for keeping my interest and passion for the story alive.

You can find the English version here on a fan’s Youtube channel.

1. “L’Homme Sans Trucage”

And finally, number one. You’d think “Jack and the Cuckoo-Clock Heart” would have taken this spot considering how much I went on about it, but “L’Homme Sans Trucage” (”The Man Without Special Effects”) from the concept album has an absolutely tangible feeling of adventure and boundlessness with instrumentals that are out of this world. Who else but Dionysos can mix record-scratching, keyboard, banjo, drums, and more simultaneously and make it sound that amazing? The song perfectly captures the “coming of age” theme of the story, and the imagery in the song is beyond inspiring.

I also need to mention the reference in the title and in the chorus to Méliès’ diary in the story which he titled “The Man without Special Effects” (or “The Man Who Was No Hoax” per the English translation of the novel). That diary in both the movie and the novel is Méliès’ retelling of his time spent with Jack (which is why I think putting the song “Jack and the Cuckoo-Clock Heart” in the beginning of the movie would be so cool) and is emphasized a bit more in the novel than in the movie. That diary makes a sort of legend out of Jack, and its title implies entirely different layers of meaning between the movie and the novel.

To give the movie some credit, though, the scene is a lot of fun, and I love how they styled it à la Méliès with paper cutouts and the reference to “The Impossible Voyage” [4] by the real Georges Méliès. The scene stays true to the surrealism of the story, and is definitely quite enjoyable. But, in the end, I have to give “L’Homme Sans Trucage” the number one spot on my list.

You can find the French version from the concept album here on Dionysos official Youtube channel and the scene from the movie here on Shout! Factory’s Youtube channel.

There are 31 tracks (including interludes) on the complete “La Mécanique Du Cœur” concept album, so of course I couldn’t include them all here. The styles and tones of each song are so unique, and I think the entire album is worth a listen. I first listened to the entire album roughly concurrently with the plot of the novel, and that was a pretty great way to experience it, in my opinion. But, if you’re like me and you aren’t exactly fluent in French, it’s not like you’ll get many spoilers from the songs.

_____________

All quotes are from the film and/or novel “Jack and Cuckoo-Clock Heart” by Mathias Malzieu unless otherwise specified.

Sources and additional information:

[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Malague%C3%B1a_Salerosa

[2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alain_Bashung

[3] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greek_chorus#:~:text=A%20Greek%20chorus%2C%20or%20simply,voice%20on%20the%20dramatic%20action.

[4] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Impossible_Voyage

#jack and the cuckoo-clock heart #jack et la mécanique du coeur #mathias malzieu #olivia ruiz #malaguena salerosa #georges melies #orlando seale #the impossible voyage

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pi-cat000 · 3 years

Text

MSA time travel idea (part 41)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV 2, 21 , 22, Vivi POV 2, 24, 25 Lewis POV 3, Mystery POV , Vivi POV 3, 29, Lewis POV 4, 31, ViVi POV 4 , 33, 34, Lewis POV 5, Mystery POV 2, Lewis POV 6, Vivi POV 5, Lewis POV 7 VIVI POV 6

Part 42: here

...

VIVI POV:

The flames are kind of mesmerising, with their dancing oranges and yellows, streaked with green and the occasional blue as various materials reacted differently to the heat. It is easy just to stare and let her attention wander, fatigue turning all her worries into background static. Inside the van, various camping implements twist and warp. It is the ache in her leg muscles that eventually pulls her attention back to the present. Her legs are tired from her earlier search for the van and prolonged restless standing. A reminder that she has a long walk back to Pepper Paradiso and her truck. She feels doubly exhausted just thinking about it.

Vivi glances at Mystery who is also staring into the fire. His expression borders on thoughtfull, lit faintly by the fire. A familiar etherial red light is diffused amongst his fur, barely noticeable alongside the organge glow of the flames. Does the red light mean that Mystery is casting his illusion to hide the fire? She is not sure.

“So what’s the deal with this spiritual residue, physical plane stuff you mentioned earlier? How does that tie into all that stuff about deals, oaths and whatnot?” There is a lot of folklore warning against making deals with supernatural creatures but she wants the actual facts behind it. With her constant vigil at the hospital and Mystery’s own efforts to spy on Milton’s downtown police department, she hasn’t had the opportunity to ask many questions. This is the first time she’s been alone with Mystery and not been distracted chasing around after leads and information related to Arthur’s possession.

Mystery’s head swings around so he is looking right at her. His eyes are backlit by that same red light which shines out from behind his irises. The effect is made more intense by its association to that night outside Pepper Paradiso. It isn’t exactly the same- it is a lot less angry- but the small comparison makes her shiver.

Mystery blinks, ears drooping, and looks off to the side. She wouldn’t think a giant, many tailed kitsune could look awkward but Mystery pulls it off. A sudden change in the wind interrupts her next question. Vivi gets a whiff of burning rubber and melting plastic in all it’s this horridness. Mystery also wrinkles his nose in discomfort. The sheer displeasure splashed across his face reminds her of similar expressions he’d make at his dog food. It is crazy to picture him eating dog food after seeing him like this, with his shimmering white fur, almost silver in the moonlight, tails cascading around him both taking up too much space while also taking no space at all. Not even the fancy, expensive dog food.

/Perhaps we should move further up-wind?/

Vivi nods and they shuffle around as much as the enclosed space allows so the smell isn’t coming right at them. It takes her closer to Mystery but she’s happy to discover that it’s a discomfort she’s willing to bare to avoid the stench. Once they’ve found a slightly new location, Mystery speaks again.

/Your question is difficult to answer because none of these - spiritual residue, the physical plane or oaths- are simple. /

“Well, try. Or at least give me the cliff-notes. Something I can actually do something with. Like, how much can I rely on all those stories, legends and myths I have memorised?”

Mystery considers her, eyes softer, red luminescence dimming to barely an ember as he thinks. / Human belief does hold some influence over how spiritual and magical energies manifest, as does any type of will or resolve. Resolve is what shapes these energies, allowing for us non-physical entities to manipulate reality around us. It is what gives oaths and promises their holding power./

/What is a promise if not the ultimate statement of intention./

“So, it’s a ‘humans believe in fairies so fairies exist’ type scenario?” That would be convenient if only because it would validate all the time she’d spend pouring over old myths and folktales.

/Partially…/ Mystery’s tails twitch, encircling his paws, and he settles himself into a seated position, and Vivi gets the sense that Mystery is summarising and skipping over a lot of detail for her, / Get enough humans believing in the same story for a few hundred years and it will have tangible effects on the type of creatures that come into being. It will influences how the spiritual and non-physical function on this plane of existence, giving animation to what would otherwise be mindless energy. /

The explanation makes sense, in a way. Vivi frowns, mulling it over, following Mystery’s example and moving to the nearest rock with a semi-flat surface and sitting herself down. So far things were relatively straightforward. Supernatural creatures existed because of some non-physical, extradimensional energy which was shaped by will power. It both explained human religion and mythology, as well as the odd system of bargaining Mystery had walked her through already. Only things were never that simple, were they?

“You are the way you are because of myths and stuff?” Vivi speaks up and falters trying to think of a generic term for ‘supernatural creature,’ realising that Mystery hadn’t put a name to what he or any of them were outside of being partly spiritual, non-physical in nature, “But you said it was only partially true? Where does the partially come into all this?”

/Humans are far from the only creatures that have access to the resolve and will power needed to shape these energies. Stories told by humans are rarely completely accurate for a reason./

Well, that sounds super ominous and the way Mystery is watching her. like he is worried about something, isn’t helping. The fox exhales and his ears twitch.

/If you wish it, we can discuss the matter at length another time. Many far wiser than I have dedicated centuries to understanding how creatures like myself come into being and what shapes our growth and development. For now, consider it context. /

“Context?” Is it just her or does Mystery seam doubly tentative now? His tails are shifting in an uncharacteristic display of outward emotion.

/This plane, the physical plane, has its own structures and laws which shape it. Then there are creatures like myself that can alter these structures. Mostly, our influence is very limited, depending on our resolve and power which grow slowly with age and experience. Any alteration too drastic requires a lot of energy and may leave one in danger of fading to nothing./ Mystery lapses into a contemplative silence, attention drifting to the fire. The flames reflect in his eyes, so they dance and flicker a warm yellow which intermingles with the red.

/Gods, deities, higher powers, humans have many names for them, but they do exist, and their resolve is beyond comprehension. More ideas and concept than anything else, their interference here comes in many forms. If one knows how and was willing to take an oath to act as acolytes to the physical plain, then there are a wide range boons available for beings like myself./

Mystery pauses as if to check she’s following the explanation. At this point, Vivi’s just taking everything in stride. Gods exist? Sure, why not. It’s not any crazier than all the other stuff Mystery’s said. What does have her worried is the uncomfortable feeling that Mystery is building up to some sort of unpleasant revelation. The fox looks and sounds dead serious and she gets the sense that he’s explaining something fundamentally important.

/Of course, when you have entities capable of granting abilities with the potential to unravel reality itself, there must be some structure to it otherwise there would be only chaos. A Natural Order exists to maintain balance. /

“Sooo…” She ends up having to prompt when Mystery’s silence stretches too long after the statement, “…you have some sort of supernatural code of conduct that stops you from messing up reality. Good to know.” Ever since Mystery dropped his dog persona, he has never expressed any hesitation when it came to outlining his own abilities. Right now, he is looking very uncertain, almost like he regrets trying to explain this to her.

“Mystery?” She asks again, more insistent, because dammit if she’s going to let him clam-up when she’s finally getting some popper answers.

/ Your investigation, regarding the change in Arthur’s behaviour, I have a… theory… regarding what might have affected him. / Mystery turns back to her, expression serious, /I received a… vision of sorts. A warning... /

Mystery exhales, /One tenant of this Natural Order that is rigorously reinforced is that none can interfere with the progression of time beyond the basic manipulations of time fields and alterations of the perhaps a minute or so, a hour at most. Even these small alternations require immense power and a direct connection to a deity within the correct domain. That or immense personal sacrifice. /

“Time manipulation? That’s possible? Wait…” Vivi’s breath catches because she’s read enough science fiction literature to know that you didn’t just bring up time travel without it being relevant, “Who’s time travelled? Can you time travel?”

/No, I cannot. Not to this extent…Or I should not have been able too./ Several tails unfurl to sway in a slightly agitated pattern, /It is a discussion for another time, maybe. I am not the one who is to be suspected of time-travelling./

“Arthur? You’re saying Arthur time-travelled,” She feels like she should outright reject the implication for being too outlandish. What made time-travel any different from extra-dimensional gods or spiritual energy that was shaped by will-power? Vivi grips the edges of her jacket, clenching it tightly. For the second time that week, her whole world view shakes, reordering as a whole lot of floating pieces and facts finally start coming together into one coherent picture.

“The force behind Arthur’s odd behaviour change is because he time-travelled?”

/It is only a theory. The vision may have been incorrect or I might have misinterpreted it./

“He looks the same though. Wouldn’t he look…older or younger?” It couldn’t be younger because she knows younger Arthur and how terrible he was at lying…Or she hopes she does. Her mind spins as everything she’s worked to piece together over the past few days falls apart. All her theories, useless. Every plan, every detail, now askew.

/ It was implied that he may have travelled backwards from two years beyond our current time. As for appearance, human souls carry an imprint of all their memories and experiences. If one were to send a soul back in time any matching memories would synchronise and newer memories would sit alongside them./

“Okay, okay, say you’re right about the time travel. This is a good thing. It means Arthur was always Arthur, ah...excluding the one day when he wasn’t. The weird behaviour is because we’ve been interacting with an older Arthur.”

Two years wasn’t a huge age gap.

Maybe this, if it were true, was okay. How much could Arthur have possibly changed? Even as she tries to considers the possibility in a positive light, all she feels is apprehension. Before all this, she wouldn’t have thought much about the ramifications of time travel aside from the fact that it was cool. Alas, the shine that uncovering the unknown had once brought is dulled with worry. After having what felt like a lifetime of stress condensed into four days, she knows nothing about this stuff is simple.

/I do not know whether this is good or bad for Arthur, only that such a desperate measure is never taken without dire cause. Divinities that deal in time and fate are incredibly powerful and notoriously unforgiving. I can only assume that whatever this current timeline replaced was worse than drawing ire of fate itself. /

Mystery confirms her fears. His tails finally settle and he exhales unhappily, and she mirrors him.

Warnings of impending doom not withstanding, Vivi tries to picture a future where the only option left for Arthur was to go back and do it all again. Nothing that comes to mind is pleasant. What’s more, it also throws new light onto all her recent interactions with Arthur and she is not sure she likes what any of it implies. Arthur had avoided interacting with them and had snuck off to buy medication alone. He’d had a panic attack, he hadn't had one of those in years. If that wasn’t the work of some demon-possessed asshole, then maybe it was normal behaviour for future-Arthur. Some of what the demon-bastard had said was making more sense now. The body snatcher was right, Arthur was ‘not quite himself’...in a manner of speaking. No wonder Arthur had seemed different, on that day several weeks ago, when she had caught him unawares outside his bathroom and, for a split second, his face had been strange.

But, what could have or caused the change.

‘Flipped a switch on his personality’.

Had something happened between Arthur and Lewis to cause Arthur’s standoffish, bordering of fearful behaviour? What had she done to make Arthur not feel comfortable coming to her for help? She and Lewis would never hurt Arthur. Right?

What could she do to fix something like this?

How much could have possibly changed in two years? She thinks of Lewis, of Mystery biting into his arm, of blood spattering across the face, of blood on her hands, of blood on the ground. Both her friends dying while she’s sitting there useless. A lot...a lot could change and it didn’t need as long as two years to happen. She shakes her head and massages her temples, trying to rid herself of imagery and not to get drawn into thinking up a worse scenario. s it bad that she preferred the scenario in which Arthur had been threatened into lying because he was being stalked by some crazy man in leather?

“You said there’s a chance that you're wrong. How likely is that?” What was the accuracy rate for ‘visions’ anyway? Geez, she’s not even sure how to approach that one.

/From what I have seen of Arthur, despite the impossibility of it all, I cannot rule it out completely. His soul is warped, his aura altered, far too powerful for a human, double what it should be. It could be a result of an older and younger soul merging or it could be the influence of some other force./

She lets out a long, tired breath, watching the fire begin to burn itself out. The cold begins to creep back in and the night seems just a dark as that night outside the diner even when lit by the full moon. Everything feels like it’s too much, too many problems tying themselves on knots. Funnily, it’s the opposite problem of having too little information. She needs time to work through it all and put it in some sort of usable order. Supernatural creatures, gods, spiritual energy, souls, auras, visions, time travel, different planes of reality. She has so many questions about all of it that they’ve all melded together into a confusing mess.

“When Arthur wakes up, I’ll confirm the time travel thing. I’ll figure something out.”

/I will help. I noted a change in Arthur’s aura and did nothing to investigate. I regret it. As unpreceded and worrying as this situation is, I do not want my inaction to lead to further hurt./

Vivi doesn’t answer, opting to continue staring at the van. She’s tempted to let her mind wander and check out of this whole confusing mess. She doesn’t have the energy to reject Mystery’s reassurance like she’d been so adamant in doing over the last few days.

/I will admit, there is a lot I have yet to tell you…/ Mystery continues she feels the slight shift in the air as he tails begin to sway again, /Some of it involves circumstances I am not proud off, unrelated to what is happening now but maybe important for later. I require time to mull it over…I am not accustomed to making decisions so suddenly. It is a very human thing to do./

At least this apology acknowledges the fact that Mystery is still keeping secrets. It is better than a repeat of the ‘I wanted to keep you safe’ bullshit her dad had been spewing. It’s something.

“I just don’t know where to start with this.” She looks to Mystery, trying to keep the strain from her voice. “If your theory is right, what do I say to Arthur?” Honestly, she hadn’t really thought about what she would say to Arthur if…when... he awoke aside from making sure he was okay.

/Whatever you would normally say to offer a friend comfort. His time spent with that parasitic abomination was not kind from what I gathered during our brief interaction and it will have likely left some form of mark behind./

The assertion isn’t much really, but it is something. Mystery is right. She’ll focus on Arthur. Whatever time-travelling disasters might have happened, this was still Arthur and that’s all that mattered in this moment. The bigger picture can wait. She wasn’t going to let the taunting of some bastard demon colour her view of potential-future-Arthur until she knew more. If Lewis were here he would know what to do, he was good at helping people. No. Lewis wasn’t here so she would do what she always did, approach the situation as rationally as possible and give Arthur emotional support whether he wanted it or not. It’s got them through problems in the past and its the only frame of reference she has. At least now she has something concrete to go on and plan around, even if it did suck. And, who knows, maybe Mystery’s theory was wrong. She yawns, now thoroughly mentally and physically exhausted. Maybe, she would fall asleep right here, sitting on this stone.

/We should begin our journey back to your vehicle. It is a significant walk and we should start if we intend to make it before sunrise./ Mystery intones, eyes tracking her as she sways from side to side. The fox stands, stretching his front paws, and she watches his tails fan out then settle.

“We can’t go yet the van is still burning.”

Before she’s even finished the objection the fire undulates, seaming to snuff out, collapsing in on itself. Mystery trots up to the remainder of the van, barely a metal shell now, nudging it with its shoulder. Slowly at first and then all at once, the van rolls over and into the ravine. There is a loud crash, followed by the screech of twisting and crunching metal. Vivi jumps at the sudden noise, standing in her alarm, sleep momentarily forgotten.

/Is this satisfactory?/

She blinks, then approaches the edge of the ravine, peering into it. The blackened, ruined van is at the bottom, warped on the rocks. “Yeah, I guess this is fine.” Not like she had a better plan. No one would see it from the road when it was like this.

/Will you allow me to carry you. It will be significantly faster and allow you time to rest. /

“I…” She looks back over at Mystery, about to refuse outright and insist on walking the whole way under her own power. However, the way Mystery was dipping his head, ears back, head down, makes her hesitate. He is obviously trying to make himself look as unthreatening as possible. She pauses. It is a long way back and she is tired enough that the visions of looming shadows and blood aren’t so dominating without the backdrop of the diner to spur them on.

“Okay…yes. I think I’ll be alright with that.”

Instead of immediately trotting towards her, Mystery hesitates, watching and Vivi realises he’s waiting for her to make the first move. Wind blows through the ravine, whistling, taking the remainder of the burnt rubber smell and black smoke away with it. The space between them is clear and empty of obstruction. Carefully, inching along the ground to moves, stopping a step away. Mystery leans forward, closing the rest of the distance. She holds her breath as his jaws come near to her hand. There is the sensation of something wet against her palm.

Mystery’s nose is wet. He is sniffing her hand like he would have when pretending to be a dog. His many tails swish from side to side like he is attempting to mimic a wagging tail. The whole effect is somewhat ridiculous seeing as he has so many of them.

Hesitant at first then with more confidence, she runs a hand across the fur forming the tuft at the side of his head. It is coarse but easily smoothed under her palm. She draws her hand down his neck. In the places where she touches red light particles jump into the air like dust motes, sticking to her hand before quickly fading. For a moment she smells freshly cooked rice, upturned earth, and fresh rain before that sensation fades as well. Oh...and she begins to understand what Mystery ment when he called himself non-physical. Impressions and sensation run down her arm, tickling her thoughts reminding her of when Mystery uses his thought-speech. The Kitsune feels both solid and transient.

Mystery turns to the side, giving her easy access to his back, waiting patiently. She blinks the non-physical impressions away. More confident, she pulls herself up, gripping onto his fur, feeling his snout poke into her side to nudge her forward.

“I’m still angry at you, you know,” She affirms once she is comfortably situated and Mystery starts walking. The anger and hurt of betrayal still curl tight in her chest, though they have loosened somewhat.

/I understand. /

Nodding once, she relaxes, letting herself rest for what feels like the first time in days. She finds it oddly easy to balance and she ends up leaning forward against Mystery’s neck, finding comfort in the rock of his slightly uneven gate. Would this count as upholding the crappy agreement to sleep she had made earlier with Mystery?

“Why don’t more people know about all this stuff?” The question is soft, muffled by Mystery’s fur as she attempts to ward off her quickly returning fatigue.

/Most manifestations of spiritual energy are subtle, indistinguishable from normal acts of nature. Fully realised creatures like myself are also rare and tend to keep to themselves. It is more common to come across formless entities such as spirits and yokai, and even they leave barely an indent on this plane…hard to notice when one does not know where to look.../

As Mystery talks, sound washing through her mind like a river, fatigue finally catching up with, taking her quickly into a blissful, dreamless sleep.

...

NOTE: THE EXPOSITION NIGHTMARE IS OVER!

And in the end Arthur never had to tell either of his friends about the time-travel.

I have decided I hate exposition writing, this thing took freakin forever and I’m still not sure it made complete sense. Should have explained some of this shit way earlier to make it easier on myself. Anyway, now I can finally shift the focus back to Arthur.

I hope I made this interesting enough seeing as it was just Vivi and Mystery talking for 3000+ words.

Part 42: here

#MSA #mystery skulls animated #fanfiction #time travel #Mystery the dog #Vivi Yukino #mentions of violence #light descriptions of blood #angst #the exposition chapter #stuff gets explained and not one is happy #including the author because making exposition interesting to read is hard yo #msa time travel au

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davidmann95 · 3 years

Note

So... Crossover #1: any thoughts?

Anonymous said: You seemed not to think much of Crossover #1 on Twitter. Your full thoughts?

wcwit said: So Cates' Crossover #1, best bad comic of the year or just regular pretentious trash?

An incidental note upfront: What you’re seeing there is the apparently SUPER-RARE SECRET VARIANT COVER I unwittingly picked up at the store - at first glance indistinguishable from the standard cover, the kid getting four-color-fucked by mysterious comic book rays is in fact themselves reading a variant cover of the book, rather than the main cover again in an infinite painting-within-a-painting sort of deal that’s the standard.

So I wasn’t gonna get this: my initial post on the comic and what an obviously awful idea it was back when we only knew half the premise and it was known as Pray The Capes Away actually got some out-of-nowhere traction recently, and I’ve grown rapidly tired of Cates’ Marvel work. Even learning that it was going to be Image’s biggest debut in decades - Jesus fuck, how and why - mostly just made me wish it was Commanders in Crisis getting those kinds of numbers. But Sean Dillon/@deathchrist2000 and Ritesh Babu both got early looks at it and assured me that I, specifically, needed to see the last page, so in I dove. I’ll be posting my reaction to the last page below because I recorded it for their amusement, and below that I’ll talk about said last page. It may surprise you, however, that that wasn’t my main takeaway from the issue.

Let’s accentuate the positive first! This book is gorgeous. Geoff Shaw was terrific back with Thanos Wins, but this is an incredible stylistic level-up aided and abetted by Dee Cunniffe’s colors: it’s rote as hell to say “They mix the elevated and the mundane so well!”, but even beyond the obvious ben-day dots stuff there’s such a tangible sense that the comic book beings don’t belong here, that they’re of higher, misty, platonic stuff and we squishy non-paper-people inevitably crumble and break and bleed in their wake, communicating that big idea so much more powerfully than the actual loads of text on the subject. And if we’re talking good things, I’ll concede it’s possible that there could be subtleties that play out in more interesting ways as it goes on, and that not everything is meant to be taken at face value: a smart friend who actually did like it mentioned being interested in it as clumsy but potentially effective exploration of ‘what if the fun hobby you had inadvertently became contaminated and stigmatized by forces beyond your control?’ In a post-Comicsgate world where we recently ended up inches away from the Superman logo almost certainly becoming a fascist propaganda symbol ala the Punisher skull for at least a generation, that’s a defensible lens to view this book through.

For all Donny Cates’ legitimate talents however, I don’t think an expectation of subtlety is gonna work out with this one.

Okay first off getting into the rest of it the main characters’ name is Ellipsis because “Those three little dots...they can become anything”, so there’s that. More importantly, in the world of this story where comic fans face social oppression after superpeople materialize and fuck up Colorado, they face EVERY KIND OF OPPRESSION: there are clear parallels drawn in here to the violence and harassment faced by people persecuted for their religion, people seeking abortions, queer people, and people of color; this motherfucker even drops a “hates and fears” to let us know comic collecting basically makes you one of the goddamn X-Men. Which in theory could be a purely misjudged allegory rather than stemming from actual, obscenely inflated to the point of disgusting fears of ‘nerd oppression’, except that the book literally opens with a quote from Wertham. If Cates didn’t want to make the message “Hating comics? That’s bad. Like, racism bad”, he utterly, grotesquely failed by inextricably intermingling imagery of real-world bigotry with systemic, deluded fanboy paranoia, at least as of this first issue that’s supposed to meaningfully convey the premise. As a queer dude I think I’m somewhat in my lane to say it’s too blunt and broad and dopey to be particularly offensive, but the co-opting of oppression is what this is rooted in.

The idea of ‘comics good no matter what people think, ain’t it?’ extends to the last traditional local comic store standing in this world: much as superheroes are the primary cause of suffering in this world but the point of the story is still supposed to reveal the beauty in them, part of this is that the comics community isn’t perfect but it sure is great. Which is expressed here via Ellie’s boss Otto, a loveable asshole who yells at people coming in trying to sell the wrong kind of comics to fuck off, but at heart is we’re supposed to understand a good enough dude that the shop he runs is “the only home a lot of (the benighted nerds) have left” (because I guess in this alternate universe the physical stores are still the main hub through which comics fans talk with one another?).

So here’s a story of my very own! That’s me in 2013, it must’ve been some kind of special day because I’m wearing a shirt with a button. I’d at that point only frequented one of what would be my thus far four regular comic shops. The first was a great place, and while to say I had a sense of community there would be overstating it a bit, I was on really good terms with the owner and we regularly chatted when we had the time. When I left for college my store there wasn’t as well-stocked, and for some damn reason all variant covers were double-price, but I got along really well with the owner there too. The third I wasn’t so lucky; the guy regularly behind the desk was never overtly hostile, but clearly wanted to wring my neck every time I asked when a missing comic might get in or if I could update my pull list, and given I’m in the ‘ideal’ demographic for being a comic book store regular and was dropping a solid lump of money there every week, I wonder how others were treated there (the store nearly went under, was saved on the last day of operation by another store that wanted to incorporate it as part of its franchise, then shortly afterwards DID go under and is now I believe a beef jerky place). My current store is fine, I didn’t chat much with the folks behind the counter even before we all had medical incentive to get in and out of places fairly quickly but it almost always has what I’m looking for.

Just because those were my regular stores of course doesn’t mean those are the only ones I’ve ever gone to. About a year before that picture was taken - it’s the closest I could find - when I was 17 my store didn’t have something or another I was looking for, so I head across town to see if another place I had looked up had it. This other place didn’t have what I was looking for either, though I distinctly remember picking up a few issues of Hickman’s FF while I was there since I had foolishly fallen off, hence my remembering the year. I bought a couple issues, but hung around for a bit looking to see if I might grab something else out of a dollar box, setting my comics down. Without realizing it, I’d set my books down on top of another issue, and when I decided I wasn’t getting anything else, I just picked that up along with the rest of the pile and was about to walk out before the owner stopped me. He explained what I had done though assumed it had been deliberate, and because I was a good-hearted little geek I even recall thinking “Well, he’s gonna chew me out, but I guess I deserve it. I’ll try and take this to heart as a learning experience.”

Then he pulled up his shirt a little to show me the gun on his belt. He pointed at the security camera monitors at his desk, and explained to me that if I ever did something like that again, he would have it on tape, and he would pull that gun on me and hold me there while he called the cops.

As it turned out, the comic was free.

The whole thing was so sudden and bizarre and unexpected I didn’t actually freak out until the drive home. It wasn’t until weeks or maybe months later that I managed to tell my dad about the experience, because I *had* nearly stolen a (free) comic and my guilt was mixed in with my nerves and I guess I was somehow too close to register just how disproportionate his response was. It wasn’t until now, nearly a decade later and thinking about it for the first time in a long time as I write this, that I wondered if that might have gone differently - especially living in the midwest - if I hadn’t been a white, squeaky-voiced 17-year-old.

So, minor spoiler, when our cantankerous but well-meaning LCS owner yells to call the cops and grabs and yells at a small kid for pocketing a comic (and later displays fantasy racism towards said kid), I am not filled with nostalgic love for the brotherly safe space that is comic book stores, where this guy while not meant to be seen as perfect is still framed in part as a charming, witty representation of Why We Love These Places, And This Community, And This Genre, And This Medium. Cates is clearly drawing on real time at his local stores, but he equally clearly has a very different takeaway from those experiences than me. And I am, again, in a demographic - white, cis-male, abled, bi but more interested in women, disposable income, a lifelong collector - that the industry and a lot of the guys who sell it to us contort themselves around catering to, even if I had a single very negative experience and later an ongoing low-key uncomfortable one to help disabuse me of any notions of the purity of the dork community. In the world of Crossover as of #1, toxicity is intertwined, deliberately or not on the part of the creators, with what we love on the cosmic and small business scales alike, but at least in the latter case it’s the whole picture that’s beautiful, not any single kernel that needs to be worked on to be dug up.

So underneath is my video reaction to the last page of Crossover #1. Very minor spoilers because I mutter the last two words of the comic to myself, but under the video I discuss said final page and some other scattered thoughts. Whether you read that or not, my takeaway is this: I’m fascinated with wherever the hell this thing is going, I’m glad my dad liked it well enough to want to keep getting it because now I’ll get to see where it heads, but my first impression is that this is at heart meant as cheapass Oscar-bait for people who only read Batman. It’s big and high-concept but also small and intimate! It’s meta and about how great you, the reader are for your consumption, especially the consumption of this! It’s going to be in large part about a forbidden love between a couple divided across impermeable social lines (a couple where they’re a seemingly straight white man and woman, but one likes comics)! Maybe it’ll become Not That, and I’m sure it’ll do at least something interesting along the way because Cates has done good stuff before and there are some inherently interesting big ideas for him to play with here, but for the love of god if you’re thinking about getting this buy Commanders in Crisis too or instead, it’s another new book out of Image about superheroes dealing with the collapse of the multiverse but that one is really fucking good.

So the final page splash reveal is that when the comic book child discovered in here got out of Colorado, which has had an impenetrable energy shield erected around it by one of the heroes for years, she and others were ferried out of there...by Superman, as the narration declares that “This is a story...about hope.” They don’t say the word, but she sketches her savior, Ellie and Otto freak out and go “Is that---” when they see it, and on that last page we see that while a crude drawing it isn’t a rough analogue character, it’s a guy with a cape and trunks with an S on his chest. Surprisingly, I don’t have much to say: it’s just another blunt signifier that superheroes rule and are the best, paired with the most utterly devalued notion as of late of what makes Superman special in ‘hope’. I mean, I’m perversely excited to see whether this is building the entire series on a hook it can never deliver on, or if Cates actually has talked DC into an intercompany crossover; believable given they’ve done a bunch of those over the last several years, and why else would Mark Waid be supervising as ‘story editor’ on this? I guess it’ll shake out one way or another with #6 given Cates has said it “has one of the more epic and — I would argue historic — sequences in comic book history in it.” But I’m far less convinced this is gonna truly go into the meaty question of “What does Superman mean and what makes him unique in this world where superheroes in general are indisputably either failures or monstrous bastards given the scale of destruction their presence has brought about, and he himself failed to stop that?” than as some kind of holy grail of how great superheroes are despite how dang violent they’ve gotten these days for the crew to chase after, whatever additional twist will surely be placed upon it. At least he’s kinda helping an immigrant kid get over a wall, if that’s deliberate?

Random final thoughts:

* If I wrote the opening essay and turned it in in a college course, I would be expelled for plagiarizing Grant Morrison. This is not a joke.

* If mainstream American superhero comics ended January 2017 in this universe, its own last ‘crossover’ was Civil War II, which is hilarious.

* God, please tell me if it takes the dive after all that this isn’t somehow tied into whatever Waid’s Superman project is.

* I wouldn’t normally crap on issues with the finer details of worldbuilding, but A. This is rooted in a nominally ‘real’ world playing by recognizable rules, B. I’m ragging on this anyway so what’s the harm, and C. It’s really obvious. So: Why is one of the racists against the superheroes the guy who loves superheroes so much he’s the last holdout in the entire world still selling comic books about them? How does this modestly-sized shop exist long-term with apparently a significant regular customer base if there are no new comics or even reprints to restock with, ever? Who’s buying the serialized cop/cowboy comics that the U.S. government apparently created pretty much overnight (nobody, it’s just another Wertham dig)?

* The solicit for issue #3 proclaims “Don't miss this one, folks. If you do, it just might drive you...mad.”, so now I fear some kind of Ultra Comics riff.

* “Kids love chains” is the most metal-ass quote of all time and I hate that it’s being wasted as an arc title on this book.

#Donny Cates #Geoff Shaw #Dee Cunniffe #John J. Hill #Mark Waid #Me #Superman #Opinion

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what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me · 4 years

Text

The Best Laid Plans

> Chapter 1: The Sighting< Chapter 2

Summary:

Five of the finest minds that Planet Earth has to offer are brought together by a mission that will forever live in history. They are the crew of Humanity's paragon starship and they pave the way for future explorers.

The mission goes wrong when the existence of sentient aliens is confirmed.

AO3

Notes: this fic is inspired by the concept of Among Us, but you don’t need to know the game to enjoy this story. CW: anxiety attack

The announcement that Humanity was done being alone was met with skepticism. Such an ambitious but vague mission statement made by the government seemed like an empty promise.

Thomas remembered where he was when he saw it. It was a fall afternoon, during the slow lull between lunch and dinner, the TV in the corner was on the news channel. Thomas ended up joking with his coworkers about shaking hands with aliens while working at a coffee shop to pay off college debt. They all laughed and forgot about it because preparing for the next influx of customers was more important.

The promise of The Day Dream did not seem like much until the ship began to be built. Then there were whispers of scouts visiting every small town and city, looking for any suitable candidates to join the crew. That was when he - and all of humanity - got swept up into the high.

Everybody on Earth began paying attention to the exploration program, excitement for the future in those times was so common you could smell it in the air. By the time The Day Dream launched, everybody could tell you that they remembered where they were. There was more news coverage of their starship leaving the snaring grip of the atmosphere than the first moon landing.

If Thomas ever got the opportunity, he would joke that he remembered the launch as if he were a pilot on the starship.

Thomas, in his humble opinion, believed it took a different kind of person to drive a spaceship than it took to build one. Just getting something off of Earth was a feat that took hundreds of years. What got them this far was perfecting and going beyond the work of other humans long dead. Amassing a hoard of refined science until they made a tower of knowledge that could reach the stars.

And Humanity did reach the stars. He was their cherry-picked ambassador. It was his job to lead the mission to create a stable bridge for future space farers. Both in the literal and diplomatic sense. Thomas still could not believe the honor was his.

But the Captain's disbelief is besides the point. The engineers and scientists who made The Day Dream were a brilliant crew who did not get enough recognition. The marvel of it all lie in how alive the ship felt. It felt so human. The engineers and the scientists outdid themselves.

The question the build team had to tackle was how to make long term space travel enjoyable. Was it possible to make a hollow metal vessel feel more like home than their planet ever was? All Thomas knows is during the short time he has been the pilot, he had concluded the answer must be yes. That is where the recognition fell short, Thomas thinks. Despite being hailed as a genius by Earth's media, his mind could not even begin to figure out how they did it.

Too bad the media was strictly forbidden from even looking at the ship. If they could not experience the wonder for themselves, there was no reason to write about it. To them it was just a glorified vessel, not unlike any other means of transport. Snooping into the lives of its personnel was more tangible for the press. Usually more rewarding too.

The press had been suffocating. Thomas was relieved to be off that planet.

There was nothing remarkable about him. Or anybody else here, he likes to think to himself. They are all wonderful people to be traveling with, brilliant minds, but not remarkable. Because he is as Human as the rest of them, and the pedestal they perched him on was one of sand. Just the lightest breeze and he will be lost to time.

Now that he is living out every child's wildest dream, he knows. The Day Dream 's crew and their prestigious schooling meant nothing to the universe. But it was an honor to get to know the universe a bit better nonetheless.

The ship woke it's Captain up with a gentle chime.

And when Thomas did not get up the first time, the ship brightened the lights in his room. Very suddenly.

That got Thomas' attention. The Day Dream could not do more than follow the alarms already set, unless something major triggered the override system. There were no klaxon alarms or notifications marked as urgent, so Permission from another administrator was needed for the lights to turn on. That meant the ship snitched on him to somebody already awake. Dream is getting smarter, Thomas laughed to himself. And this ship is full of traitors who think eight in the morning is an acceptable time to be awake.

Jokes about betrayal aside, he knew there would at least be fresh caffeine waiting in the cafeteria.

Thomas got out of the warm sleeping pod with a stretch that popped his back. The metal floors in his quarters were heated, but only enough to starve off frostbite. The cold making his toes curl woke up Thomas better than the lights. A chime from his com ringed across the room, listing duties for the day. He assured the ship that he would be present for the breakfast meeting requested by Roman in a timely manner.

His loose definition of "timely manner" was to allow an optimal window to collect thoughts and set his 187th day in space up for success. The captain played music from home as he got ready. The bathroom was like every other room; spacious, clean, and bursting with plant life. The air never felt stuffy and the crew suspects (Patton, who was on the ship's build team, confirmed) it was designed that way. To help with homesickness.

The Day Dream was huge. Excessively so. The ship was only meant to only house five humans long term - and maybe, just maybe, any extraterrestrial life they will come across. For now, the rooms set aside for any new life would be empty. That meant some days, when everyone was too busy to spend time with anybody else, it felt like the plants growing in every nook and cranny of the rooms and hallways were his only companions. But business was business. And at the end of the day, nobody held it against each other. Today thankfully would not be like that.

Thomas pulled on the boots of his pristine white jumpsuit before he left his quarters. The doors locked behind him with a pneumatic hiss and the hall lights flicked on, illuminating his path one by one. There was a spring in his step as he made way through the maze of tall hallways. He barely acknowledged the sound of running water and smell of earth on either side of the metal path. The self sustained irrigation system was always at work, and with the wildflowers that started to bloom recently as a result in this part of the ship, any irritation was rendered null.

He arrived at the cafeteria where it was quiet, besides the ever present humming and the drip drip drip of the ship running itself. The caffeine dispenser had been preheated. Logan and Roman seemed to have already got to it. Virgil could do with the energizing benefit of caffeine if it was not for his anxiety disorder. Both crewmates were lounging in padded seats, a steaming cup in one hand and green flashing screens taking the rest of their attention. Thomas guessed they were reviewing the information about the meeting he was called for. Virgil, who seemed not to be fully awake yet, was slowly picking off the contents of his ration packet.

"Where is Patton?" He flushed slightly at the outburst. Asking that before anything else was not his intention.

Luckily nobody seemed to mind. Logan and Virgil turned their heads to him and acknowledged the captain with a good morning. Closing out of the menu, Logan answered, "I believe he was sanctioned an extra sleep cycle after the extended work he did last night. The ship refuses to go through the wake up procedures."

He lifted an eyebrow. "I don't think I ever gave the order for that. But The Day Dream can override an order if it seems necessary. What the hell was Patton doing last night?"

"He was helping me in the final stages of building the gate."

Thomas turned to look at Roman. "He-," that was not supposed to be possible. "The gate is supposed to be done next month, our fabricator can't work that fast."

"That's what I thought at first! But two weeks ago while helping me troubleshoot a problem, he found our combined efforts cleaved the build time in half!"

Virgil chimed in, like it was news to him, "That's great, Princey. But how are we sure the quality was not compromised?"

"I'm so glad you asked bec-"

Logan cut Roman off. "We are sure because I have been keeping a close eye on the progress and have taken sporadic samples of the material. I also use the ship to ensure my analysis has no human errors."

"You'll have to send those numbers to me for final approval before we tell Mission Control. But this is amazing news! Why is this the first time i have heard about this?"

Suddenly Logan lost any confidence he had, and needed to pull up a screen again. Virgil deadpan looked at him and shrugged, going back to picking at his rations. Thomas managed to catch Roman's eyes and he cringed slightly, picking at his nails. "Well… we thought you would be angry that we didn't follow orders."

Thomas lifted a hand to his heart without registering that it happened. They thought that he would be angry? He never has shown that emotion to them then why? Was there a power imbalance here? Were they afraid of him or just the consequences of "disobedience". Of course, he always encouraged his crew to pursue and perfect science, just like the builders of the ship did. As long as nobody got hurt-

-and then he remembered about Patton. Why would the ship override a wake up protocol, especially if ordered by anybody, if there was not a reason? But he could not… Jumping to conclusions would not help.

He sighed, Roman tensed but Thomas did not acknowledge it. "I'm not angry, Ro. You did a fantastic job."

"So we won't get punished?" It was small, hopeful.

"At most, you will be reprimanded with a tighter schedule, but that will be determined after investigation."

An investigation was not something he needed on his plate but apparently was now mandatory. Thomas did not want to say it out loud, but based on what he can tell, if the crew let Patton overwork himself, the strict schedule might go through. Like it or not, the existing schedule was in place for a reason and having his copilot out of commission could spell disaster for the mission and it's crew. The ship felt so safe, so much like home, but they were at the mercy of a cruel universe, anything can go wrong.

Yet the small smile that broke out on Roman's face after getting his praise was too good to ruin.

Thomas would indulge in a moment of weakness and lie.

He only realised there was tension in the room when the air slowly became more breathable. He let himself enjoy a warm drink from the dispenser and his own share of rations before getting to work. He had the mind to have one of the ship's drones deliver food and drink to Patton's room to have when he woke up. Then Thomas glanced at the data himself. All the numbers and samples that Logan had run seemed to be perfect. He ran through the calculations manually himself to be sure. Still perfect.

So it was off to Mission Control. The message explained that his crew found a way to make the Star Gate mission more efficient. Surely, this was another thing they would be praised about. All of it was almost done.

"Roman, Mission Control has the data tables now. All we need to do is the final inspection before we can set course to Moon Titan." Thomas broke the news in a sing-song voice. Everybody in the room grew visibly excited. Thomas was almost sad that Patton was not here to complete their little crew.

"That is fantastic!"

Logan hesitated before asking, "Was my work adequate to your standards?"

Thomas nodded enthusiastically, "It had no errors I could catch, so you did great, Teach." The captain could have left it there, but he was feeling as exuberant as the rest of them. "In matter of fact, do you want to begin the system checks so we can be ahead of schedule for the journey to Moon Titan?" The gleam in Logan's eyes spoke volumes more than the affirmative confirmation he gave. Virgil had jumped at the opportunity to join and the two ventured off into the expansive halls of the ship.

Roman was already at Thomas's heels when the two men left the room. "Do you want me to escort you to the hull of the ship? I believe you have a date with my wonderful creation."

Thomas could not hide his admittedly dopey smile if he wanted to. This man and his dramatics did a lot to keep the ship lively. He accepted the offer, and let Roman do most of the talking while they descended through the guts of the ship. Plant life slowly became less abundant and the mechanical whirls and pulses became louder. When they stopped at the door of a decontamination chamber, Roman gestured to a wall of headsets.

"Personal protective equipment is mandatory past this point," Roman said, an apologetic smile on his face.

Thomas did not comment on the fact that Roman added a personal touch to his headset. The paint was a vibrant red and the acrylic of the earmuffs seemed to glow. His own pair was only cold and metallic, and Thomas briefly noted he had no idea how long ago Roman added those changes. He could see in the cabinet that Patton had a similar headset, but in the teal color he loved so much. He would have to have The Day Dream permit more time in this part of the ship.

Today was a successful day but something unsavory was settling into his core. Thomas was a bit out of the loop with his crew, he was starting to realize.

He swallowed down the inklings of a bitter taste and turned to the cabinet containing more mandatory protective wear. He would not take it personally. He slipped a hazmat suit over the jumpsuit. Thomas and the rest of the crew were just coworkers. Black gloves slipped over his sleeves and closed with a snap! They were all friendly, sure, but this was a science expedition, not a family road trip. The spotless boots he normally wore were left in one of the lockers, swapped out for steel toe boots. If his happy-go-lucky mood had suddenly dropped he did nothing to fix it.

Thomas followed Roman into the decontamination lock without a word.

As they exited, Roman clapped his hands and he saw the walls come alive around him. This area was lined with pods containing work assistant androids lit up and awaiting commands. His crewmate fiddled with a personal command key secured on his wrist, the assistants moved in synch around their feet, opening the doors to the hull. It was a massive room, bigger than most warehouses on Earth. It was perfectly suited for projects this size and storing the raw materials needed to make the Star Gates.

Hung on the ceiling of the room was the largest fabricator on the ship. Other smaller ones were littered about in rooms like that cafeteria and navigation, but were only capable of producing small objects. The machine, though modeled after a vintage 21st century machine called a 3D printer, was cutting edge. All it needed was raw material and a recipe to follow. On a raised platform below it lay the gate.

"I always forget how massive these are in person," Thomas breathed reverently. The smallest section was the length of a school bus, and sprawled much further than that.

"We put a Star Gate up on the Moon not even three months ago, Sir," Roman laughed. Thomas crossed his arms in mock anger, making Roman laugh more.

He had a point, though. Before The Day Dream is permitted to leave the solar system, it is their job to leave gates. Not every spaceship is created equal, only government sanctioned ships are allowed to have a warp core. Warp cores allow for a ship to change the very fabric of space around a ship, changing the location instantaneously. Teleportation is the unofficial name for it. But space travel would be too slow even if they had learned how to go beyond the speed of light.

The solution had been Star Gates. These opened up worm holes for ships that did not have access to warping. The gates were to be left at popular destinations. A trip to the moon that might have taken six months only took an hour. Soon a trip to Moon Titan, which revolved around Saturn, was in order. The possibility that it might contain life made it a hotspot for researchers. Their final goal was to leave a gate at Pluto, then the true expedition could begin. Once the path for other explorers is paved, The Day Dream will be allowed to search for sentient life. For now they were to travel with solar sails while waiting for each gate to be built.

Roman pointed Thomas to a messy desk, "Your checklist should be on there." Thomas, however, was lost. He opted to watch as Roman walked up to a group of assistants drones and dismissed them. The new ones that followed Roman and Thomas in picked up on the work as the old ones backed into charging ports. As they met eyes, he shook his head in a gesture he hoped communicated his confusion.

Roman got the memo, because he jogged to where Thomas stood, looking over his shoulder. He leaned into Thomas' shoulder to pick up the empty report and handed Thomas the tablet with a flourish. The almost-contact felt nice. Thomas made a mental note to ask Mission Control about the correlation between space travel and being touch starved.

There was not time to linger on that though, because Roman was too ecstatic to wait. He personally showed Thomas the work that he and Patton had done. Every individual thing he crossed out on the list pointed to a success. Two hours spent inspecting seams, double checking wiring, and doing strength tests went by without notice and soon Thomas forgot about any bad mood he was in because it was done!

"I can't wait to deliver this to Mission Control!"

Roman was not quite used to seeing the captain as anything other than a collected leader, but this change was good. "So we passed the final inspection?"

"With flying colors."

His smile brightened. "I bet we should start preparing for our warp to Moon Titan."

Thomas gave his approval, and Roman started to conduct the service drones around him like a symphony. Mission Control replied minutes later and Thomas knew everybody who was not occupied saw that the clearance to warp had been granted. As the complete Star Gate was being pushed to the path that lead to the bay, he waved Roman goodbye.

He walked back through the decontamination chamber and set the protective gear he had been wearing into a bin for specific cleaning. Setting his appearance back into place did not take long, and soon he was led away from the smell of grease and metal to the more comforting crisp air of the upper levels.

Logan appeared by his side just a moment later. "I have the results of the diagnostics scan ready for you, Sir."

"Are we all clear?"

"Sadly not." Logan shook his head and turned a tablet for him to look at. "The lower right corner of the starboard solar sail has significant damage."

"I bet it was stray debris," Thomas shifted on his feet before asking, "Can we go without it?"

Logan hated to be the bearer of bad news, "We can, but our navigation route will need to be recalculated completely."

It made sense, Thomas thought. Even subtle shifts in angle can land them in a completely different location then intended. He thought about it a little longer. "I think we should fix the problem now, the Moon Titan base won't miss an extra day without us."

"Yes sir. I'll send Roman a request to prepare the right materials for the patch. Do you know who is to accompany you on the space walk?"

Thomas shook his head. Logan took the screen back from Thomas to open up the schedule log. "Patton would have been ideal, but he is still out of commission. I recommend Virgil."

In half of a day, they were ready. It was easy for Thomas to report the damage reports to Mission Control, to state they wish to run repairs before anything else, and for the approval for the small mission to be granted.

For the second time that day, Thomas went through the task of putting on personal protective wear, but joined by Virgil and a lifeless service drone. The solar sail patch and other needed tools were handled by the drone. Thomas knew the ship better than the medic did, so he and the drone would be the one doing most of the work. Virgil was to be the one communicating with Mission Control so Thomas could focus and he was a second pair of eyes to ensure nothing went wrong.

Virgil probably was the one who took this task the most serious, only bested by Logan. Soon enough, the small group was seen out of the airlock by Logan and Roman, and the repairs were under way.

Virgil knew space walks were consequential. If he lost focus at the wrong moment there was every possibility he could end up drifting in space. If Thomas noticed in time, he could have Logan or Roman retrieve him by using one of the smaller ships in the bay. But that possibility weighed heavily on a " if".

Every space walk before this one went off without a hitch. But Virgil's stomach was turning uncomfortably and his ears were straining to pick up anything.

He knew sound can not travel in space.

Pesky instincts were screaming that something was wrong. He needed to pay attention, be alert and ready to fight. Protect himself, The Day Dream , and all the lives within it. Something bigger, smarter than him was lurking in the unforgiving void behind him. A predator, surely, with steps quiet as a leopard midhunt, and a maw stronger than any alligator. That means twice as painful. Three times as ruthless. The crowning crux of slaughter machines, delivered to the doorstep of the spaceship by Mother Nature herself and her sick sense of humor.

But when he turned around, the only thing he was was Thomas crouched over the massive solar sail, the ship under his feet, and the stars.

It might be just anxiety. Might. No, is. It has to be just anxiety. He should trust his eyes. Because he knows his mind is not rational when he gets like this. He will not think normal until it passes. He will not because it is impossible. Something is wrong. What is making him like this? This morning Virgil did not intake any caffeine, and his nutrition logs of the rest of the day indicate no other food-born anxiety stimulates. He even took the anxiety suppressant prescribed by his therapist on Earth this morning, like every morning before.

Nothing is wrong. Why does he feel so unsafe? He does not like it, he does not like the fear for his life-

He was spiraling. His vision blanked and he did not register Thomas' questioning voice over the com. Virgil's senses did not register in the moment, except for smell. Because this smell was out of place. The instinct was right, right, rIgHt . Somet h in g waS wRoNG. Was his suit breached? Oh stars have mercy he was going to die right here, wasn't he? The foreign scent of ozone filled his suit a split second before he felt it.

ZAP!

Then… nothing.

Well nothing was not the right word for it, because there was his beating heart and the sound of blood rushing through his own body. It was the shock of everything feeling regular again. Like a reset button was pressed. The universe must have felt merciful today for that alien feeling did not hurt. It felt wrong, invasive. Very much like burning and bright electricity had just reached into every crevice of his body. The feeling was uninvited and deeply intrusive. But it did not hurt.

He was so shocked in that moment he forgot about that spiral before it came back. He could feel Thomas by his side, a hand on his shoulder. Despite the fog of an anxiety creeping into his system, it was strangely grounding.

"-gil, this is my final time requesting this. If you do not answer me now then we have to null this mission."

That was Thomas. Not invasive ozone-electricity from the stars, his mocking self doubt, or a intrusive thought deadset on letting him break. It was his captain, a man he trusted. His authoritative voice rang through a speaker in his helmet, not even a hint of static. And he wanted an answer, right. "I'm present, sir. Sorry."

The relief in Thomas' heart was tangible. Though he knew Virgil could not see through the glare of the visor, he smiled for him anyways. He had been worried! The captain moved closer and held his hand over the vitals monitor on Virgil's suit. Virgil did not push him away so he started the mandatory scan. "I'm glad to have you back. We need to check your vitals and suit systems before proceeding with anything."

"Sorry, sir. I believe I had an anxiety attack," he explained with an unsteady voice. "My senses didn't register except for a weird smell. Ozone, I think? And I felt a weird zap before I got over it."

Thomas encouraged the explanation. They would go over the audio logs later and archive this incident. Any possible suit malfunctions needed to be reported to Mission Control. Then they would report it to Roman, who will use the fabricator to replace the faulty one. These reports are endless, Thomas thought, tired. It did not end there. If they expended those resources, they would need to get more raw materials. That was all in a day's work, though. Maybe he could get Virgil off of the space walk roster if being out of the ship was a trigger. While a pleasure to work with, his mental health came first to convenience.

He was reading off the screen now. "Your adrenaline levels are spiked, but that is expected. Your hormones outside of stress response are normal. The O2 levels in your blood are normal. You have six hours of oxygen left in your tank. All the circuits are operational-"

"Thomas!" Virgil's voice ran in through the coms, an uncharacteristically urgent tone ringing in his ears. It threw him for a loop and he did not answer fast enough. The results of Virgil's vital scans were all positive, did he say something to make it worse? And then again, louder, "Thomas, please!"

"Is... everything alright?"

"No! Yes? I- um, Maybe?"

A trickle of unease settled deep in the Captain's core. "What is going on?"

"I think I saw something flying, and I don't- We need to go back inside, Thomas please. I can't do this right now."

He listened.

The mission was called null right then and there and he picked up a few pieces of the repair kit with a haste to satisfy his crewmate. The repair drone was following behind them, unaffected by the events.

But the strangest feeling ran through his body when he reached his hand out to Virgil.

He let out a gasp in surprise, and Virgil heard it over the still connected com link. It was the gentle tickle of electric curiously dancing in and out of every nook and cranny of his body. It was quizzical, and embodied a researcher like him.

As it left, he swore the smell of ozone lingered in his suit and that he too saw something move in the corner of his eye. The shape of a black triangle. Massive and looming and definitely not natural and definitely something he was scared of. He could only tell it was there because the stars disappeared behind it. A row of lights flickered on, and Thomas was paralyzed. Virgil had seen it too, but responded by dragging his stupefied captain to the airlock with unprecedented urgency.

It was gone suddenly as it came.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides fic #platonic lamp #patton sanders mention #space au #alien au #among us #humans are space orcs

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scoundrels-in-love · 4 years

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While I slip away (with you), There's nothing that I'd rather do

As Brienne settles in her wedded life on Tarth, one of her favorite discoveries is Jaime's new habit of what she deems cat naps. Together, they continue exploring what a life with quiet, warm moments lived just for sake of living and loving can be.

Also on AO3.

Part of Jaime x Brienne Week 2020 (Day 4 - Sloth | Diligence) Part of Tomorrow (with you) series. Gratuitous cat propaganda part 1.

It had been nine moons since Brienne had bade Lady Sansa one final farewell as her swornsword and almost five since she and her husband had been welcomed back to Tarth, to stay. Now that the initial commotion on the island and inside her heart had died down, she could see the details of her life with clarity and appreciate them for what they truly were.

For Brienne, one of the most exciting discoveries was Jaime's new habit of what she deemed cat naps. It was not exhilarating in the way facing a new opponent was, it was more like the quiet and content joy of finding what kind of sunset today will exhale in its goodbye.

(That, too, was a thing she had started to learn, now that the future in which she could watch them seemed both infinite and yet so very contained, compared to how she had seen it as a child.)

She liked trying to guess where she'll discover him napping next - so far it had been several places in the meadows and the Evenfall's gardens, on the bench by the training yard last week, a few times on the beach after swimming and sun had taken its toll on him, now and then by the lighthouse that he was so fond of (she was, too, more than ever since that bright midday they’d promised themselves to each other and he’d ignited a light in her, making her almost feel like the lighthouse he had compared her to), and once in the library even.

He had been sitting in the chair by the window, sunlight pouring the gold that years had taken back into his hair, a book on Tarth's taxations open in his lap - he must've been reading it to help her make sense of salted salmon import tax after she had complained about it the day before, even though she knew letters often danced for him. It hadn’t surprised her, exactly - back in Winterfell, he had always been restless and in need, eager even to do something, as small as it may be, and she thought he was learning to be at rest just as much as she was.

Her heart had swelled heavy and warm in her chest at these thoughts and she had stood there, drinking in the sight and the possibility of it like he seemed to drink in the sun every time he found a sunny spot to nap in - or the nap and sunshine found him, she was not sure.

Eventually, her shifting to lean against the desk had dragged Jaime back to the surface of consciousness, but watching him open his eyes slowly and smile at her instead of straightening with a start had been a special kind of pleasure on its own. "Ser Brienne," he had grinned at her, lazy and sharp like a glimpse of a cat's claws when it stretches, "it seems your island has tamed this lion."

Brienne had come forward to run hand down his bearded cheek then, biting back a smile. "I see no lion here, only a self -satisfied house cat." His eyes had flashed then and oh, she had known in an instant he'd not let this slide. The book had landed on the corner of the desk with a soft thump and a moment later, his arm wound around her waist.

"I may be old," Jaime had said, making her frown at him. There was less than a decade between them, but after so (too) many wars fought on battlefields and remnants of hearts, she couldn't help but think of men who had faded well before their time in the quiet aftermaths, every time he spoke of his age. He didn't let the thought settle cool between her shoulder blades, though, carrying on. "But not enough to not take offense."

And then he had pulled her into his lap (and later lifted her on the desk), proving his assertions with notable dedication and energy.

So, truly, finding Jaime's napping places was all sorts of exciting.

Today's spot seemed to be her lap. They were sitting in a large oak tree's shade, sunlight dancing dappled light across Jaime's relaxed features as she ran her fingers through his hair again and again. She could tell by his breathing that he wasn't quite asleep yet, but would be soon. He never slept as deeply or as calmly as in these naps - even in their bed, there was often tension in him as if he was ready to wake and grab his sword. (She knew, because she felt it, too.)

They soothed it away the best they could, with touches that were for comfort or for pleasure, and quiet conversations. There was so much they've never told anyone, because they thought it unneeded or because they had no one to tell it to, but the relief that came as these words melted along with shadows into the sunrise, said otherwise

Sometimes it was not enough and she rose with tension, wading through the feeling like she still needed to prove something to everyone, the servants and the fishermen and her father, to whom the War of Dawn was far and mythical and more a figment of imagination than something tangible, to whom her knighthood meant far less than her skill to secure enough food and goods to last through a harsh winter. It stung and drove her to pour over books and ledgers, and sit in meetings and ride from village to village, like the spurs of a determined rider chasing a horse onward. But time helped, as did having routine to her days, which was already worn to round corners through the months.

These gilded, warm days, finding Jaime's nap spots was part of it. It had started by accident, at first seeking him out to have lunch together when she had the mind to have some, only to find him fast asleep, face relaxed in a way that made her breath catch. Now, it was a well-known secret and servants would often tell her which direction Ser Jaime had went in when she passes them in the corridors, and even her father would inquire if it isn't time to see what sunny spot her husband has hunted down today, seemingly glad to have an excuse to give her a break.

Some quiet days like today, she ended up joining him to let an hour or two slip by buoyant and joyful like a paper boat on a sunlight's river.

Her Septa would call this laziness, deem her slothful, ungrateful child, just as she had when Brienne had run away to nap beneath this very tree, or clamber over rocks and chase the waves. But she was learning that taking time to be, to rest was a sort of diligence too, a kind of responsibility she held toward herself. If she drove herself to exhaustion beyond sense like she did the first months here, which made her sharp where she needed to listen and dull where she needed to be clever, how could she learn and how could she lead? There would be times for that, too, if a crisis struck. When she became the Evenstar. Brienne misliked to think of it.

In truth, she recalled her Septa's spiteful words less and less these days, enough that when they did echo with malice it took her by surprise. But her shield, crafted by soft whispers of love and quiet moments like these and the approving smile of her father, held strong and the ghosts of words beat themselves into exhaustion against it, retreating until another time. There were bruises on her hands, from holding onto it so strongly, but it was nothing compared to the wounds she used to bear after these confrontations. Jaime always seemed to sense these days and was quick to soothe them with his kisses and or to tease till her fond annoyance made her forget about the sting.

"Brienne," he interrupted her thoughts and she made a little, inquiring 'hm?' sound as she brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead. He had cut it some, months ago, but now it was growing long again and she couldn't quite get enough excuses to feel soft strands trickling through her fingers.

"If I am a cat, then a stray that is finally learning the little pleasures of having a home."

It still took her by surprise, sometimes, the way he paid attention to her and thought of the things she said, for days. It used to bring unease to her, because she had always felt clumsy with her words and he never hesitated to peel and tear all that she said (and didn't) apart to dig teeth and claw in the exposed flesh beneath. Nowadays, Brienne marveled that he would look still, for no reason other than keeping it safe and gentle in his hands.

"You had a home before, Jaime," she told him, not chastising, but reminding that she had not been the start and end of him or the good that he's had, or has been.

He turned his head, nuzzling into her hand that was cupping his cheek: "I had houses and places I lived, before." Jaime looked up at her then and the silence sang the before you softer, yet more all-encompassing than the wind rustling leaves above. There were no words she knew the shape of to say in return, so she leaned down and pressed a soft and lingering kiss to his lips, then forehead.

After all, what is a home or a lighthouse without its cat, if not a building that doesn't quite know its soul?

With that thought, Brienne leaned against the bark and let the oak's solidity and Jaime's weight in her lap anchor her deeper in peace and then, into sleep.

#Jaime x Brienne #Jaime x Brienne week #Braime #my fic #rainy writes stuff #Tomorrow (with you)

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deadmomjokes · 4 years

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Hey, I was wondering if you'd be willing to share how you came to the decision to have a kid? I'm struggling with it a lot since having kids has been expected of me my whole life and now that I'm married it feels even more like an expectation than a choice of my own to make with my spouse. I guess I'm trying to understand others' reasons for their decision to help me come up with one for myself. Sorry if this is a bother!

Not a bother at all!

For me, it was kind of a slow process. As a kid, it was assumed folks just grew up and would have kids, and at first I just went along with it. Then when I got old enough to realize the amount of responsibility involved, and that it involved *gasp* kissing boys, I was all kinds of NOPE. But I didn’t tell anyone that. I just inwardly figured I’d be the Fun Aunt who never got married, never had kids, and lived with a bunch of dogs and maybe a horse.

Then, after my mom died (I was about 17), something weird happened. Idk if you’re the kind of person who believes in spirits, the afterlife, the before-life, souls, etc, but I started feeling two things very strongly: 1, I somehow felt/knew my mom was looking after my kids until they could come to earth, and 2, I felt a very specific presence that I realized was my first daughter, whom I now have the pleasure of having irl.

Obviously, not everyone is going to have that kind of experience, but for me, it was a big “OH” moment, and I realized that what I didn’t like was the expectation of it all, and also, what teenager/kid is really ready for or ready to accept the responsibilities and realities of having kids? Of course I didn’t want kids, I was too young, and that’s how it should have been!

When I ended up meeting and marrying my now husband, we talked about kids, and we both knew we were waiting on at least our first daughter (fun story: we both independently “realized” her name way before we were ever married. her name is Ivy Marie, and it kind of just came really strongly to both of us. this girl, I tell ya, she’s had some serious Opinions even before she was born, and she wanted to make dang sure we knew what her name was going to be.). But we figured we’d start having kids years down the line, after enjoying just being us.

Then, randomly and totally by chance, I ended up doing my academic internship in Early Childhood Development and Parental Education, and about that same time I started feeling like “maybe I should have a baby?”. It was super weird. I can’t really describe how I knew, except as a “should do” that came from beyond and yet inside me. But it wasn’t one of those, “Oh, everyone says I should have kids or should start having them now” kind of things, it was this really unshakeable feeling that I missed my children. Like I knew them already, and was waiting for them. And that now (then) was the time to go ahead and see what I could do about meeting them, whether that was having a baby naturally, adopting, fostering, etc.

It’s all really nebulous to describe, but for me, it was a real, almost tangible thing. I knew, just like knowing you’re hungry or thirsty or sleepy, that I wanted kids, MY kids, and that I wanted to find a way to get them into my family.

Not everyone feels that way. For some folks, it’s more like a weighing of pros and cons. Or it’s like flipping a coin and suddenly realizing in the air which side you hope it lands on, and there’s your answer. For others, it’s something you pray about (I also did that), something you study (lots of cool parenting classes out there!), something you even practice at (babysitting! so helpful, but also not at all representative, for good or ill).

And the best part is, it’s not a once-and-for-all decision! You can think on it now and decide with your spouse that it’s not something you want right now, and then in a few years you think on it again and realize “oh hey, now we want kids!”

But ultimately, there are some questions that must be asked and answered re:having babies/kids.

Why do I want to have a child/children? This seems obvious, and like the whole question you asked me, but it’s a bit more specific and more complicated than that. This is about the “selfish” reasons, the reasons that tie back to your desires for yourself. In my case, I answer this with “I feel like I’m incomplete/missing family without my child/children” among a few others (but that’s the big one). If your answer to this question involves other people-- because my parents want grandkids, because I should, because my spouse does-- then you need to do some more soul searching.

Why do I want to be a parent? This is about what you want to give to your child/children. This is the “unselfish” version of the previous question. What do you hope your children get from you, and not in a physical sense. My answer to this one is “I want to help my child/children be part of the good in the world, break generational/societal hurts and problems, and give them both the good things I got and the things I never did.”

Are you prepared for a child? I’m not trying to say that you have to be a parenting expert making 6 figures a year with your own home and two cars to have kids. I’m saying there are times and places and situations that would be very detrimental to you and/or your child. You should also have some grasp of the permanence of parenthood, and what it takes to have and raise a baby/child. Practice budgeting, look into how schools work, watch some birthing videos, look up parenting resources. Basically, just learn a bit before you decide, but also, IMPORTANT NOTE don’t let all the info you find scare you off completely. 18+ years always seems insurmountable and impossible when you try to cram it all into a 2am google search. I’m just suggesting you have some idea of the nitty-gritty before you get handed a tiny person and get told to keep it alive forever.

Are you healthy enough to have kids? Not to say that disabled or chronically ill folks can’t/shouldn’t have kids, but that some people might be at serious risk of death or other irreparable harm by having kids (usually talking about birthing them). This includes mental illness. Do not try adding a child to your family-- one of the hugest life changes you’ll ever make-- while you’re in an uncontrolled spiral or dealing with unmanaged mental or physical illness.

Are you prepared to love your child no matter what? It’s easy to say that about a cute little squishy potato child who only wants to be held all day, but I’m talking about the whole child. The baby up through the adult. Are you prepared to love as a conscious choice even when your child is making bad decisions or ‘disappointing’ you? Are you prepared to love your child through toddler tantrums that never end? Are you prepared to love your gay child, your disabled child, your nonverbal child, your catatonic child? Are you prepared to give the same love to your transgender child as to your cisgender one? Are you prepared to love your Down Syndrome child as an adult, or your autistic child as a hormonal teenager who is struggling? Are you prepared to love the child who struggles in school, or who doesn’t care at all just as much as your straight-A’s bookworm who never gets in trouble? The delinquent, not just the angel? The aspiring screamo even when you’re a church-choir mouse? You should never bank on “well my child will never....” It’s not fair to your child. And ultimately, it’s not about you. Yes, parenthood should be fulfilling for you, but it’s really about loving another person so much that you’re willing to dedicate your life to theirs.

I realize this is way long, but I have a ton of feelings about kids and parenthood/parenting. So I apologize for the rant, and hope that something in here has been helpful or has come close to your original question.

Ultimately, this is a choice only you and your spouse can make, and screw societal/family/religious expectations. This is about you and your family, the one you choose to make. You get that choice, and if you choose not to have kids (or not have them right now), you may get flak for it, but just like nobody can tell you what to do with your limbs, nobody can tell you what to do with your life, and the lives you choose to make or influence.

And a tl;dr version, I chose to have kids because I felt like they were a part of me waiting to be “let in,” if that makes sense. It was something my spouse and I both talked about, then thought about individually for a long time, then came together and discussed for a long time. We wanted parenthood, and we wanted to raise children to be part of the good in the world, and we want to be that good for even a few little people. (And also, our daughter was like “BRUH, I’m waiting for you guys to get a move on, I’m gonna be the best thing in your lives. Also here’s my name don’t wear it out.” She was never, nor is she now, subtle.)

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commandtower-solring-go · 4 years

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I’m reading through the lore books, and I think its incredible just how insidious the darkness is. The way that, not only is crawls into people’s heads, but bends their desires to their will. In this sense, the darkness are nothing more than mass manipulators since everyone acts for them. Worse yet, it feeds into a lack of trust, as the will of the darkness isn’t tangible and instead masks as the true intentions of the agent in question. Like, there is a section from The Severance in The Forsaken Prince which really frames this well. This moment comes after Ulden is struck my a deep depression at the death of his sister

“He has come to the realization that it no longer matters if he doesn't know what to do or if he's doing the right thing. What matters is what he wants. If he wants to find Mara and save her, if he wants to do the right thing fiercely enough, if his intentions are good and powerful, he will find the way; he just has to believe in himself. No more paralyzing analysis, no more painful regrets—he has to go forward without doubt.

The book continues to talk about these moments joy that Uldren feels, but shows us how he’s actually been miserable. The contrast between flecks of hope amidst a dark depression is the exact moment of hope which warps him; which turns him over to the corruption, to Riven, to the Darkness.

This is reinforced by how his obsession changes. He begins with:

“The Awoken are a beautiful creation. He must keep them safe. Secrets are safe.”

Which is obsessive in its own uniquely Uldren way. But what it does is reflect his connection to his sister, and the kind of ruler that she was. He’s being how Uldren is, but in a way which aligns with reality, and makes sense. Mara wanted to keep her people safe above everything else, and he wanted to maintain that. However, it changes when his perspective on his sister warps too:

“Uldren knows the truth now, and he wants things to be right; he wants it so fiercely that he knows nothing he does in pursuit of this want can be wrong. ‘Witch-lies,’ he spits, venomous. ‘She is alive!’”

and

“‘We all exist through her design, Illyn. We all act only by her consent. I'm going to save her, because she needs me to save her. When she needs me to die, I will die. And when she has completed her great design for the Awoken, the Awoken will die, too. It is the reward we so richly deserve, for we owe everything to Mara. It would be… wrong for us to outlive our purpose’”

And all of this came from the darkness feeding him a depression, and offering hints of improvement which aligned with what it wanted of it. He turned against his own people, the people he swore to protect and who Mara would have wanted him to protect, because The Darkness wore him down so much. he only sore respite in the approval of Mara, and The Darkness used that to their advantage by manipulating him into believing that he wanted what they wanted.

I think that its so important that The Foresaken Prince begins with the story about him and Jolyon. Not only because it prefaces Uldren’s relationship with his sister, but also the kind of person he actually was. Who we see of Uldren in game is contextualised by how much he dislikes Guardians. And so see him go from weenie piss baby in D1, to weenie piss baby in D2, we assume its for the same reasons. But it isn’t and The Foresaken Prince establishes that. It shows how Uldren was, in fact, lovable and curious and complex and kind and how his obsession with finding his sister absolutely changed that.

And I say all this to reinforce my beliefs regarding Beyond Light. The Darkness works in mysterious ways, and its clear that it is beginning to worm its way into The Tower in subtle ways. I think we’re seeing it more and more. Of course there is Eris and the Drifter’s long term doubt regarding the efficacy of the Traveller. But I think we’re also seeing it manifest more in Zavala’s behaviour. The dude is tired. He’s trying to protect people, but he’s finding himself wrong or powerless at every turn. His entirely belief system, and the things he saw in the Tower are starting to become challenged at every turn. The ahamkara skull that Shaxx has that sings to him feels like another way that the Darkness is infiltrating things. And how that song has been in the intro for the game since D2 dropped. Eris’ bone also speaks to her. And look, there is a line in The Foresaken Prince which doesn’t make a lot of sense. In Free Part 1, he’s talking to Illyn, who remarks:

"You've gone mad," Illyn says, with repulsive empathy. "I almost did too, when I knew she'd gone. Why do you travel with that… thing? What have you come to do?"

“Why do you travel with that... thing?”

At first I thought she was referring to Fikrul. But she can’t be because the last books outlines how they parted ways. I also thought it may have been Ace, but it can’t be because Cayde is in a following chapter. I think, instead, Uldren had Ahamkara bones. I think that’s what he finds in The Black Garden, and its what turned him. And I say this because there is a certain lack of detail around what happened in the Black Garden after Uldren’s commitment to explore it. He isn’t sure if he found the heart. In fact, he doesn’t remember how he got out. His memories of Joylon also falter to the point where his presence seems to be blocked out by whatever is happening. So yeah, I think Uldren had bones and its what warped him and I see a lot of that same doubt/depression/temptation manifesting itself in The Tower/

I think what we are going to see really soon is another collapse. Which is also just the logical progression in the series. The Tower and the Vanguard will fall as we reach a climax for the franchise. And not just fall like Gaul, but legit, collapse just like the Iron Lords. There will be complete doubt in the Light and the Traveller a a whole.

I don’t think it’ll be for a while yet. Year 6 will be called Lightfall and that’s a little on the nose, so whatever. But yeah, the pieces line up. Of course it could always be nothing. However, much of what has motivated me to do this is replaying D1 and seeing how much of the story makes sense after understanding so much of D2′s story. Like, The Exo-Stranger could have 100% be talking with The Drifter, just saying.

Anyway, crack theory tl;dr. Uldren found bones. Foresaken foreshadows the fall of the Tower.

#destiny #destiny 2 #Beyond light #crack theory

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dailyaudiobible · 3 years

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08/31/2021 DAB Transcript

Job 37:1-39:30, 2 Corinthians 4:13-5:10, Psalm 44:9-26, Proverbs 22:13

Today is the 31st day of August, welcome to the Daily Audio Bible, I’m Brian, it is great to be here with you today, today and every day. But today cause that’s the day we’re in for starters, we can’t be in another day, currently. I suppose we could be listening to a different day but it wouldn’t be today and today is today and today is the 31st of August. And I hope I'm ready for all of this, this month ending and getting ready for a new month. I was shocked at how quickly August flew by but here we are, last day of August and we will be continuing our journey through the book of Job, we will be concluding the book of Job tomorrow as we begin a new month and so were getting down to it now. So, we are, just by way of reminder, in the middle of Elihu's discourse. So, we've listened to Job converse with three of his friends, friends throughout this book. And then Elihu, he steps forward and starts talking and essentially says I'm younger and so I was letting the wisdom speak first but there’s not a lot of wisdom here and I have plenty to say and so it's my turn and that's what we’re listening to his Elihu offering just Job straight in his reasoning. And so, let's get to it, we’re reading from the New International Version, Job 37, 38 and 39 today.

Commentary:

Okay, so we, we have to talk about Job today because Job got what he wanted. He wanted, he wanted to find God and he did and God has shown up. So, let’s just look back because tomorrow we will be finishing the book of Job, God will continue his discussion tomorrow as we reach our conclusion of this book, but, we remember when we began Job right at the very beginning, Job had a day like no other in which he lost everything, he lost his children to death, his livestock, his shepherds were attacked and killed in pillaged, the livestock was taken, generally everything that Job cared about was taken from him in a day and we watched Job as he's getting the news and when the news is fully delivered, he stands up and tears his robe as an active, deep sorrow and pain-and-suffering, and he falls down and worships God. It's a riveting scene. He has this posture of the Lord gave me everything I have. The Lord has taken it away. Blessed be the name of the Lord. It's riveting. Job reaches a place where even his own life is like curse God and die. So, that's how bad things have gotten for Job and yet Job doesn't understand why. He doesn't believe he's done anything wrong and he does believe that the tragedy the things that have come upon him are at the hand of the Lord. Just thinking, I mean the bitterness that's available in that when everything is destroyed and you don't know why but instead of cursing God and dying right, instead of going into that bitterness Job uses his energy to hold onto his innocence, to hold onto his integrity, and so he will not speak ill of God in any way, will not sin in any way. He believes he is righteous and innocent before God and all of this and what is happening to him is not just or at least in any kind of way that he can understand it to be just. So, it's not too long before some of his friends show up, three of them. They see him from afar and they see just how wasted away he is and they arrive and they sit down with him and they sit with him in silence for a week. This is called Shiva, sitting Shiva, this is sitting with someone in their grief, not there to fix it, not there to give them promised scriptures over and over, just to offer presence, to acknowledge the pain, to be there and it, to simply offer our presence, not our words, and that's what they're doing. They sit with them for a week until he starts talking, that’s what they’re waiting for. And, he starts talking and he discusses how he wishes he had never been born, how on the night he was conceived that that would've been just blacked out. How he would've just died when he was born, how he would not how to face this. And, then he begins to talk about his innocence and he begins to talk about finding God. And, his friends all respond. And, we read through all of that, they all respond. It's all rational, it all makes sense. It's all in defense of God because Job is essentially saying what God is doing to me isn’t just, I don't understand it. I haven't done anything wrong. They spend the bulk of the book trying to convince him that that's not possible, that he has indeed somewhere somehow done something wrong and they eventually begin to go after him because of the things that he is saying, as if his pride is the issue. Actually, Job's friends sound a whole lot like the kind of things that we say to people when we find them in suffering and it ends up to be a full-blown argument because Job gets mad that they keep trying to insinuate that somehow, he isn't innocent and then they get mad because he's insinuating that he is sinless and righteous and what is happening to him, this judgment that’s happening to him, is unjust. That's not a grid that they can fit the equation into which is the point. When bad things happen to good people, it's hard to find the answers. And, this book wrestles with that fact and in part it does a good job of showing us that we, with all of the wisdom that we have in all of our understanding of God, that we might think that we have and all of the things that we say to people, we really don't fully understand what we’re talking about when we’re talking about the most high God. In fact, it's not that we don't kind of don’t fully understand, it’s that we barely have scratched the surface. We are talking about the most high God, Creator of all things far and away beyond our capacity in every respect. So, in the end, what Job wants is God. What he wants is an audience with God. He's prepared his case. He believes that if God gave him answers, he would then have the answers that he's looking for. He doesn't want answers from his friends. He doesn't want human answers. He feels like everything that his friends are telling him he already knows, he’s already analyzed all that, they're not wiser than he is. They can only offer human wisdom, and he needs God. And then the last person Elihu, the younger one steps forward with his opinions which he offers and we've listened to those opinions over the last couple of days and then God shows up today, “Brace yourself like a man. I have some questions of my own. You’ve been asking a lot of questions. I have some questions and you're going to answer them.” I mean come on, that would scare me to death. Even reading it, it's like can you, I mean on the one hand, God, like how do you get your mind around that God has shown up in some sort of tangible, understandable way and is speaking overwhelming, but what He is speaking is very directly aimed at the fact that for all Job's questions, God is about to reveal that Job nor his friends know pretty much anything about anything. And then God begins to ask these giant, God sized questions, which is what will what we been reading today. And will continue until tomorrow. Let's remember that Job had a case prepared, he knew what he was going to say to God, he just didn't know where to find God but he knew what he would say. And then God comes to Job. So, finally Job's gonna get to say what he needed to say and we’ll listen to what that is, as we conclude the book of Job tomorrow.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for Your word every bit of it, all of the stories, all of the people, all of the time the passes, all of the different changes in the world that we can see, as customs and clothing change but people don't. So, as we move toward the conclusion of Job, we invite Your Holy Spirit fully and all of our questions and may we watch Job tomorrow and learn quite a bit. We ask this in the name of Jesus. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home base, it’s where you find out what’s going on around here, that's obviously the website. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app, you can access the different sections of the website within the app. So, check out the Daily Audio Bible Shop, there are resources there from our own fresh roasted coffee that we roast fresh and deliver fresh to you or tea, all the way to written resources like The God of Your Story, which is 365 days, I don't like to call it a devotional because I guess, because I don't think what we, I mean, even though we do is devotional in nature that’s not what we’re doing here. We are doing life and immersing ourselves in the Scriptures and The God of Your Story is basically that in written form, so it is a fantastic companion through a year in the Bible and there are many other resources in the Daily Audio Bible Shop as well. So, check them out because they have been developed for the journey that we are on and so the resources are available there.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com as well or with, in the app. So, on the website there’s a link on the homepage. If you’re using the app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner. Or the mailing address is P.O. Box 1996 Springhill, Tennessee 37174.

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And that's it for today. I’m Brian, I love you and I'll be waiting for you here, tomorrow.

Prayer and Encouragements:

Hello dear saints, my name is Mercy. I’ve been listening to DAB for many years. I’m calling for prayer. I have nine children, they’re all grown, 22 grandchildren so far. What I’m calling for prayer for is that we had a crushing blow that rocked our family. I would mostly probably actually describe it as more like a train wreck. My husband of 43 years, who everyone thought was a model Christian became evident that he was a pedophile. He took advantage of some of our little ones which cause severe damage and shattered the face of some. Please pray, he’s in prison now. But please pray for the healing of hearts and souls in my children and my grandchildren. I’m doing well, I’m surrounded by a network of Godly friends and family who carry me but please pray for my children. When you pray, pray for Mercy’s Children. Thanks, DABers, love you.

Hey guys it’s Sparky from Texas. I’m gonna try and get through this these are happy tears. I was listening to Dr. John and Jen's call here on the 26th and it just broke me down in tears hearing the praise reports. I know, I know not everything gets fixed and God doesn't fix everything but it just, it’s mind blowing to me how God is still healing and still moving lives and I just, I’d like to pray a minute. Father we thank You for your grace and we thank You that You that you're not gone, Your not dead Father. You’re reaching into these people's lives, You’re reaching in my family's life. And, Father, You're so real and when I hear these praise reports Father, it’s just, it’s so much to take on just the joy and the grace and Your love. Father, be with those that you don't decide to heal and let them know that that's Your plan Father. Lord, I just thank you so much for Your grace. I thank you for everybody on this. Father, we just appreciate You, we love You and just stay with us, help those who need, help us to show those who need your faith. Father, we thank You so much for Your son, Christ, it’s in that son’s name we pray. Amen. Love you guys, I pray for everyone of you. Praise God for praise reports. Have a great day.

Hello, my Daily Audio Bible brothers and sisters, my DAB family. This is Yolanda. After listening virtually every day, sometimes twice a day and lifting up my DABers prayers since 2012 I am moved to call in for the first time. Today I come to you on behalf of my dear, dear friend Birdie. Birdie is a mother of a sweet toddler. She is 37 weeks pregnant and is quite suddenly suffering from COVID pneumonia with fluid around her heart. Her mother and husband are frantic with worry, and caring for their toddler, well, unable to be with her in hospital while she faces labor and delivery, possibly a C-section without them. DABers, please join me as I fervently left Birdie and her sweet baby up in my prayers asking for complete healing for her and a healthy vaginal delivery for her sweet baby. Lord, please give Birdie peace during this time of intense trial, intense pain and sickness. Lord, please give the doctors and nurses, the knowledge and medicine to bring her to full recovery. In Jesus holy and precious name, I pray. Amen.

Hi DAB family this is God’s Life Speaker. While I was praying with my husband this morning as were struggling with our 21-year-old and he, he is depressed. However, he is seeking help for praise God for that. It dawned on us that there’s been some judgment that we've put on, on him, that is not fair. That's the judgment that we use against him, that will be used on us so, this morning we repented. As parents and children of God, and you know, it's the self-evaluation; we want things and people in our lives to look better, look right, fix themselves, yet, are we examining ourselves? Are we walking in a manner worthy of our calling? Are we imitators of Christ? Are we the peacemakers? Because God sees and God hears, He knows our thoughts, He knows what’s going on. He knows our heart aches too and I feel, as someone who likes to speak God's word out into the atmosphere and change it and bring glory to God, I can get pretty low about what I’m seeing in my kids. And it hurts because we want them to be glorifying God and working towards that perfection that He calls us to. Yet, they are in training, even if they’re 21, they’re still in training and we are the ones that need to set that example so we needed to do some repenting this morning, some encouraging each other and spiritual gifts right. So, I asked that we would do that all. I’m praying for each one of your children and grandchildren and us ourselves in the name of Jesus, Amen.

Hey, everyone I just thought I would ring in and update you on how I'm going. It's Margo here, missionary in Liberia. I have made it back to Australia for, we’re back here for a few weeks for my son’s wedding which is amazing because Australia has some very strict rules around travel. And so, getting back into the country actually was quite a miracle and in fact, even leaving the country again is a miracle and we already have our permit to leave in a few weeks’ time to go back. So, I thank the Lord for His help and His hand has been upon us. And I want to thank everyone for their prayers. I rung in a few weeks or maybe a couple of months ago and I was in a really bad way. And, I have noticed that I’ve really picked up. And I have really felt His comfort and His peace much more in my life. All the things that are out of my control, I’ve been much more able to leave them in His hands. And I’m so, so grateful for His comfort. I’m so grateful for your prayers. It’s…I should have rung in sooner. So, we’re in Australia for a few weeks and then heading back and you know, continue to pray for us. It’s not an easy calling we have, mind you, no one has an easy calling. So, I’m just grateful for this community, grateful for the prayers that we pray all for each other. And, God bless you all. Love you. Bye.

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