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chirpsythismorning · 1 year

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If Will is a lab kid, do you think he's always meant to be one, or is it one of those things that they decided to go with post-season 1?

I'm sort of undecided right now? Part of me thinks, yes definitely! Then another part of me thinks, maybe not?

It's kind of the equivalent to byler for me rn, where yes, there are several instances in s1 that I read as foreshadowing Mike not being straight and/or even simply liking Will. Though, I can't say for certain if that was their original intention (unless they admit it themselves eventually) because we know from what they've said in the past, they thought s1 could end up being a standalone. And so if s1 ended the way it did, without returning, then presumably byler wouldn't have been endgame (at least not blatantly in canon).

However, they also have said that while producing s1, Netflix wanted more background for the inter-workings of the greater story, so that if they did hypothetically continue there would be a plan. And so stuff like Eleven originally dying at the end of s1, might have been the permanent ending had they simply not returned for a s2. And yet they still ended s1 on a note that made her death open-ended, had they been given the opportunity to return.

So I do think generally speaking there could be a lot of details in s1 that were put there with the hope (or consideration at least) that the story could go further. And both byler endgame and twelvegate/willel twins sort of fits into that for me.

Though for the sake of this ask, there are definitely certain pieces of evidence from s1 that make me genuinely consider twelvegate as something they could have planned from the beginning. And not only that, but I think a lot of what happens in s1 ties into what goes on in the following seasons. So I feel fairly confident saying I think it might have indeed been a plan from the start.

One major thing I've been fixated on as of recent, is this consistent focus on Will's arms/wrists throughout the series. It's as if they're either very obnoxiously obstructing our view of his arm/wrists (usually his left arm w/ his watch), or they are showing them off blatantly in the frame (usually his right arm).

I think that this consistent detail, in tandem with the theme of time being central (Will's watch) as well as the references to the tattoo on El's left wrist/alleged birthmark on Will's right arm, makes a lot of these observations interesting as a whole, to say the least...

Within the first 5 minutes of being introduced to Will, he's sporting his iconic red/yellow vest and his watch. Within the first 5 minutes of being introduced to El, she's sporting the yellow Benny's burgers t-shirt, and not only that, but the red and yellow ketchup being the most eye catching colors in most of these shots takes my brain straight to Will (and El?). The shot of Benny with his watch in the frame is a nice touch, and us getting a close up of El's tattoo directly where Will's tattoo would presumably be (under his watch), is interesting, but it's even more interesting in the context of what's to come.

As of now, this is believed to be the first scene featuring the infamous birthday mug in Mike's basement, and it's a scene where Mike gives El his watch to wear on her left arm (over her tattoo), so that she can keep track of time.

This is the most unnecessary detail ever. I'm not even going to delve into it bc it's sort of ridiculous. Why even have Joyce say this, only to cut her off? Why?

This is probably my favorite example out of all of these, and it's because it was after getting an ask about this scene in particular, that I realized this is actually really suspicious. For one, it's the first time we're ever seeing Will w/out his watch in the series. It's a flashback that Joyce has while at Will's funeral. What we can presume based on the other flashbacks from s1, with Will at Castle Byers and then in Jonathan's room listening to music, with him wearing his watch in both of those, is that he was presumably not wearing his watch in the fireball flashback bc he was at an age where he didn't have it yet. So this is likely the youngest Will Byers we have seen in the show, pre-June 1982 at the latest (that's when Poltergeist was in theaters). But that's not even the interesting part. What's interesting is how in most of these shots, specifically OTS, they block out Will's left arm, while in contrast broadcasting his right arm in the frame. Weird how the first time they showed Will without his watch in the series, and they're making a point to block it out...? And the intense shadow in that third shot on his right arm also has me side eyeing...

Jumping to the end of s1, they make a point to show El returning Mike's watch before she gets into the salt bath to find Will. She removes it from her right arm, only for Mike to take it and put it back on his left arm. I wouldn't normally read too much into this, but when we've got time trickery/loop, Mike always running late, and Will might be a lab kid allegations all in the mix, how can I not read into this?

What then follows is El going into the void to find Will. Now's the time they make a point to show us the inside of Will's right arm/wrist, AKA the same arm that Joyce said had a birthmark? Almost like they want to confirm something they planted in our heads in the first place? And yet nothing is there, or so it seems..? I have to ask again, Why? What is the point of all of this? (+ reminder that Mike was missing from all of the reaction shots for this scene, which is odd...)

And yet it gets weirder. At the end of s1, when Will is rescued and reuniting with the party, they decide to also clue us in on the state of Will's left arm (he coughs and so he has no choice but to lift it up and put it on display... yeah... okay), the same arm they didn't let us see at the start of the season, but are now showing us AFTER Will's time in the upside down... Whatever I guess..

At the end of s1, during the epilogue, they give us a close up of Will's arms in long sleeves, which we have been lead to believe up this point now are both birthmark-less (tattoo-less if that's something someone was looking for...). And so okay. Cool. I can't say for certain why they still feel the need to show off his arms so blatantly like this (I do however have a guess...).

Onto s2!

These two images above are more so notable mentions to start of s2 than major examples. It gets pretty crazy going forward, but I felt the need to mention a couple examples like these bc they're simple and cute. The first one is cute bc there's so little of the main party in the frame as it is, and so making Will at the forefront with his little wrist out? Noted. And the next one is even more simple, and yet I love it bc of that detail of the letters spelling out "TICK" in the background...

This one is quite difficult to catch, but after rewatching and really trying to pay attention, I realized that what's being emphasized here is not only both of Will's arms, first his right then his left, but also in contrast, the doctor attending to him's wrists are on full display in both shots...

This is another notable mention, just because I think in general Will's love for drawing is something that makes these sort of shots very easy to overlook. Because they fit so well with the outright narrative, you don't have to read into it to appreciate it. However, looking at all these moments together, makes it hard for me to overlook.

And here we have another favorite, because this is after one of the most confusing scenes in the entire series, with which no fan has even come close to understanding yet. What I am referring to are the scenes at the Byers at the end of 2x01, where the phone rings and they don't answer it (Will is missing from these shots for some reason), followed by a scene at the lab with the lights flickering, then followed by Will waking up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. They give us this really dramatic shot of his wrists again, literally flipping them over to show off that there's nothing there... Why even go all out with this unless they assume that we are looking? And why even humor a reminder? Why make it a constant throughout the show, if there's nothing to it?

This is another notable mention because I think it's really peculiar how he kind of drags his left (watch) arm out the door, causing it to be doused in shadow for most of that shot. Though the next morning they show it off again. This may very well still seem not that suspicious yet, but trust me, this isn't even the most incriminating.

This is believed to be the second time we are seeing the infamous happy birthday mug, only this time it's in a scene with Mike and Will. I think what makes this scene so much better to me now, is how right Mike was without even realizing. The truth is, El would understand exactly what Will is going through. I initially tried to look into this scene from the context of arms/wrists and came up short. Though now, looking at it and typing this, I do think it's interesting they were presumably given the direction to cross their wrists over for that last shot... It could just be a coincidence, but a pretty insane one considering.

Just another iconic drawing shot with Will's arm dominating the frame.

This one is interesting bc it's the first time we're officially introduced to Will's feeling in his neck (head?), which if you'll note, he reaches to touch with his arm(s).

NOW THEY'RE JUST LAUGHING AT US!

Fair warning, it's about to get real.

Also s/out to @shippingfangirl013 who supports my Twelvegate obsession. We've been going back and forth for months rewatching. And I kid you not, every rewatch we're finding new evidence that support our theories (delusion?). She introduced me to a lot of these examples of Will's wrists being emphasized after we talked about the complexities of the tattoo debacle, leading us down a massive rabbit hole. Though these ones below are what probably take the cake, because they are just...

Well would you look at that. An extremely incriminating shot focusing entirely on Will's left arm dominating the frame more than ever before, and cast in a remarkably intense shadow, also with lacerations from the rope that was tying him up over his wrist(s). It means nothing...

Onto s3!

Also hard to spot this, but the final shot of the previous scene emphasizing El's left arm (wrist), where her tattoo is, along with her bracelet, sort of parallels the shots of Will in the following scene, which also emphasizes Will's left arm (wrist), where his watch is...

If you'll notice, each time Will has reached for his neck up to this point, he's always used his left arm.

That is until the scene at Castle Byers, which is when Will suddenly starts a new trend of using his right arm to reach for his neck instead, also ironically the same scene that Will says He's back...

This VERY much intrigues me in the context of the theory that Will was in part either possessed or at least guided in some way by Vecna to encourage the party to go to the hospital, where their ill-fate awaited them. Also somewhere they probably wouldn't have gone if it wasn't for Will bringing the idea up himself. There's already been analysis on this elsewhere, but the basics is that those scenes at Heather's house and the hospital, leading up to the lights flickering, and Will's blocking in all those shots/his literal shadow, is odd... (also I might be totally crazy, but these shots at the pool/hospital almost look like Will does have a birthmark on his right arm, arguably near the wrist tattoo zone... It doesn't look like Will/Noah has ever had a mole/birthmark in any of the shots focusing on his right arm in the show previously up to this point, which I just find that to be kind of confusing in the context of the speculation about a birthmark on his right arm in 1x03 by Joyce, despite that being debunked in the finale? Idk, maybe it's a new one? Idk. I'm just gonna try not to think about it too much or my brain might explode.).

Next, that first one is almost funny to me, because why does Will even need to be in the frame at all here? Arguably he doesn't need to be, but instead of just letting this be a shot of El and Max, they make a point to have Will's right arm placed directly in the middle of the shot (less the middle, more so following rule of thirds. Which is even more incriminating tbh)...

Not suspicious at all. Totally normal stuff going on here. In fact, look away entirely. It's probably a complete waste of your time...

ANYWAYS onto s4!

The wonder twins are now officially twinning-up after 3 seasons of subtle build-up. The yellow and red making a reappearance reminding us this is very much the same as it's always been, whether we (or they themselves) realize it or not. Both of their left wrists sporting some type of accessory, while also mirroring each other, is borderline spooky.

AGAIN, the unrelenting urge these Duffers have to make Will and El mirror each other...? Pretty remarkable if you ask me. Something is definitely going on here. Oh and here's a quick focus on Will's right arm during his fight with Mike... Idk doesn't look like any birthmarks in sight to me...

I bet you didn't see this coming, aka the van scene is twelvegate evidence???? I mean not on the surface, no. However, in the grand scheme of things, yes. It follows an interesting trend this show has had of focusing on Will's arms in a way that feels like they're hinting at something, while simultaneously keeping the truth just out of our reach.

And we're back to our regularly scheduled programming. You'll notice here at the end of s4, that Will is following the same late s3 trend of reaching with his right arm to touch his neck. I don't know what to make of the pattern they're going with there, but I do think it's interesting that there is a pattern at all in regards to which arm he uses. Am I scared about the implications that come with that? That this could mean Will ends s4 not entirely himself, at risk of being pushed to do things by Vecna, just like fans predict he was mid s3...?Absolutely.

It's fair to say I think this could have definitely been a plan since the beginning. Arguably, it fits quite well with David's consistent insistence that the ending of the show is beautiful, going all the way back to interviews he did to promote s2.

I do think it's possible this could have been a plot line they planned on exploring and maybe even revealing in s2, but once they realized what it a hit it was and that they would have to go another 2-3 seasons beyond that, then they presumably had to stretch it all out to make those revelations exciting for the end instead. And so Will taking a back seat to the greater plot for s3-4 makes a lot more sense to me, knowing they are arguably saving the most exciting and thought out ideas for last, which we know in large part all connects to Will...

#stranger things #will byers #twelvegate #willel twins #i will be adding the tags shortly #i just wanted to post this asap bc i kind of promised i would and it's late so #sorry!!!#byler #< target audience

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therumpus · 1 month

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Writing Beyond the Bars: A Mini Interview with Geneva Phillips

By Cass Lewis

Geneva Phillips is currently an incarcerated writer completing the end of a prison sentence in Oklahoma. She writes about a broad range of topics and has been actively involved in a writing program called Poetic Justice in addition to PEN America’s Prison Writing Mentor Program, which pairs more than 300 working writers on the outside with close to 300 incarcerated writers. She and I were paired about a year ago, well after she wrote these award-winning pieces. It’s called a mentorship program, but it has prompted me to think about how it’s really a partnership, as we both exchange writing advice and build community.

Phillips’ short memoir piece, “Holding,” received Honorable Mention and was just published in PEN America’s 2023 Prison Writing Awards anthology, Thank the Bloom. Her award-winning work was also included in the PEN America Prison Writing Awards anthologies, The Named and The Nameless (2018), and Variations on an Undisclosed Location (2022). She is the author of the memoir, Disappearing in Glimpses (Mongrel Empire Press, 2020).

I was delighted when she agreed to share her thoughts on writing and community through an interview conducted via letter and telephone.

***

The Rumpus: When you think about your writing community, how would you describe it?

Geneva Phillips: I would describe it as a constellation of hopefuls. We write together inside to find our voices and perfect them. We write with the hope of being heard. Though the distance of our confinement makes it challenging, those outside keep us buoyant with ideas, opportunities, feedback, and encouragement. I think it all culminates into a reciprocating microcosm. We hope together, with each other, for each other. We write, we listen, the confinement loses some power.

Rumpus: While writing is a solitary activity, I’ve found there is something potentially transformative about a group of people all responding to the same prompt and sharing our work. How has writing in groups impacted your work as a writer?

Phillips: I’m definitely a better writer for the writing groups I’ve had the privilege to grow with. The relationships and community make writing a transformative activity.

Rumpus: Do you have any favorite writing prompts you’d like to share?

Phillips: One of my favorites was to open with the line, “Something happened,” and that one line produced a wealth of good material in our writing group. Also, we recently tried some unorthodox story writing where we used a selection of words and random sequence writing to produce short stories. I’m going to send you the directions so you can try it.

Rumpus: Thank you. I’m always looking for new prompts. Who are some authors you admire?

Phillips: Tanith Lee, Sandra Cisneros, Joy Harjo, N.K. Jemisin for the bottomless depths of beauty of their words. Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson for limitless imagination and the sheer scope of their world building.

Rumpus: When did writing become a central focus for you?

Phillips: I discovered writing poetry when I was eleven or twelve. It was a way to capture complicated feelings and experiences in words and helped me to process them. After I was incarcerated, I had a lot more time to write and I utilized it to practice other methods.

Rumpus: Recently, in the PEN America newsletter, “Works of Justice,” the Prison and Justice Writing Mentorship Coordinator, Jess Abolafia, and another award-winning incarcerated writer named Leo Paul Carmona discussed your memoir piece, “The Hard Part.” Carmona wrote, “Geneva Phillips’ piece hit me to my very core…It resonated so much, because I have lived and continue to live every word of what she wrote… Much like Geneva pointed out, we form friendships and bonds as we all go through the struggle of what it is to live in captivity. I have found that our bonds with others are solidified and strengthened when we face the same struggles together. Geneva speaks to the trauma of having friends ripped from you, or for us to be ripped away from them.” When you see the impact your work has on readers, how does this add to your sense of community and how does it align with your intentions as a writer?

Phillips: With my nonfiction work, essays, and memoirs, I wanted to expose the parts of being incarcerated that no one thinks to talk about. The emotions behind the injustices. The humans having human experiences inside the boxes where people believe only monsters exist. To have confirmation that others find commonality in experiences I write about just proves to me the importance of writing about these things.

Rumpus: When you’re writing, do you picture a specific audience for your work?

Phillips: I really don’t. Mostly, I just wonder how it will land with my writing group. They’re the thermostat I use to gauge the success of a story.

Rumpus: Where do you find inspiration for your writing?

Phillips: The strangest places. A misheard sentence. Happenstance and serendipity. Inspiration is everywhere.

Rumpus: You have written poetry, memoir, short stories, and other forms. When you write, do you know when you first start working on a piece what form it will take, or is it a surprise or does this process change each time?

Phillips: With poetry, I usually know the tone I’m looking for in a piece. With my memoir, it was a little different. I had an idea, but found the individual pieces fit their own tone. I have found short stories to be a surprise from the beginning to the end.

Rumpus: What are you working on now?

Phillips: I’m writing a genre-crossing collection of fictional short stories.

Rumpus: One of the things I love about your work is how it is haunting and raw but with a refined beauty, like a controlled burn. How do you maintain that balance between revealing what is harrowing while recognizing the universal humanity and even offering what could be interpreted as hope?

Phillips: Well, first of all, thank you. I’m going to save that description forever. I think that it’s really just the truth about life that reveals itself when I write. Life is terrible. Life is beautiful. In the midst of the beautiful, we hurt. And in the midst of the terrible, we hope.

Rumpus: If you were going to share some advice with someone who just started writing, what would you tell them?

Phillips: Write. Practice your craft. Hone your skills. Read. Read things you don’t want to read. And find other people who also read and write to be in community with.

Rumpus: What is some helpful advice you’ve received about writing?

Phillips: Probably the most helpful words of advice anyone has ever given me were “go with your gut.” That was you! It was so helpful when I was revising. And at the end of the day, you have to go with what’s right for you.

Rumpus: Well, thanks. I’m glad it was helpful. It’s hard when different readers give different feedback and it’s all so subjective. I’d like to share a passage that really stuck with me from your poetic memoir, Disappearing in Glimpses: “So, she’s trained her eyes to not-see. Not see the trees. The wooded hills. The fields. The road leading away. She only sees the fence. The razor wire. This is reality. This is where reality is contained. A few square acres. For all intents and purposes, the rest of the world does not exist to her just like she does not exist to the rest of the world.” Can you talk a little bit about how you decided to write this story in a close third-person perspective, and how this poetic memoir came to be?

Phillips: The whole idea for this was inspired by The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros. I had never encountered a book written in the form of vignettes. Once I had, my immediate thought was, I could write a book in this style. The POV was a decision I made so that the book would be not just my story. It is my story, but it is also archetypally all our stories. We, women of the locked boxes.

***

Cass Lewis is an award-winning writer, currently working on a memoir that explores mental health, mass incarceration, and the climate crisis. Connect with her here: www.CassLewis.com.

#writeblr #lit #therumpus #interviews #creative writing

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remythologise · 1 year

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You mentioned C-Dramas / K-Dramas that scratch that homophobic gay drama itch and, well, I'm shamefully a sucker for those tropes. Could you share which of those mirror that type of media?

LITERALLY SO SO SO SO SO GLAD YOU ASKED. ABSOLUTELY BLESSED ASK ANON THANK YOU.

Will say that it’s really not exactly the same vibe because you will get a SHARP CONCENTRATED DOSE of even more homoerotic shenanigans in the following shows, they are much more intentional (to varying degrees, although I feel undeniably so in every instance) than the western instances BUT it will scratch that itch because none of these shows have “canon” gay romance. This is very hard to explain properly because some of it is very canon, just censored. But I will use my old terminology — it is unmarketable gay media. To me. Despite at least four of these being created and marketed TO appeal to fujo trash like myself… it is unmarketable gay media TO ME!!! Sorry you’ll just have to take my advice that Vibes on censored gay dramas are Tremendous.

I will say because literally all of these dramas have the central relationship ‘censored’ in various ways do not go in expecting a Happy Gay Ending, though most (not all.) of these do have about as happy an ending as they could under the But-Not-TOO-Gay Circumstances. (Much like. Supernatural or House M.D. Shall we say. Journey not the destination…) ALL of the following shows are on Netflix, though it’s probably a better viewing experience with the subs to watch on Viki.

IMO you should also watch the shows in the following order. Also I could harp on about these shows for YEARS but I tried to keep it brief (I could talk more.)

THE DEVIL JUDGE — girl I love this show so much I don’t know what to do with myself. It is SUCH camp fun everyone is so gay in it (despite the canon het romance). I don’t even KNOW how to adequately describe this show it’s literally What If There Was A Dystopian Korea (Basically The Same Korea) And They Made A Reality TV Show For The High Court But Also It’s Mostly A Gay Gothic Romance Complete With Old British Mansion. 11/10 had such a fun time. THIS SHOW IS SO UNDERRATED ON THIS WEBSITE COMPARED TO—

BEYOND EVIL — VERY similar in cat-and-mouse homoerotic vibes to the Devil Judge but Up To Eleven on the cat-and-mouse thing. Literally was awarded best drama and actor award of that year. It’s not just a gay show, it’s also a VERY good show! A detective from a small town and a detective from the city get paired up to Solve A String Of Murders. Both of them think the other is suspicious/untrustworthy. 12/10 would yell ‘KISS’ at my TV until my voice was hoarse again.

THE UNTAMED — someone on anon told me to watch this show in like 2019 and it took me THREEEE YEARRRSSSS to watch it. I really struggled to adapt to the CDrama tone/format at the beginning but I’m SOOOO glad I did. You really have to get into it and flow with it but once you’re in you’re IN you are LOCKED into What If Game of Thrones Was Camp and Gay and Actually Good. SUCH good writing, character, relationship and world building. I laughed, I cried, 13/10 this show has been popular enough that you have all heard of it!

WORD OF HONOR — So you watched the Untamed and this was the thing everyone was recommending to watch next but wasn’t ‘as good’ as the Untamed. Well. Wasn’t as good TO YOU. I’M HAVING A BALL ON THIS BITCH! Literally of all these shows this one is my favourite PURELY because I love these stupid flirting assholes so much. Shut up. Sorry this post is incoherent. The plot is not as good as the Untamed but the banter/relationship is even more in focus and just chef’s kiss dynamic to ME. So 14/10 gay it probably was the biggest reason gay-vibes drama is now banned in China. Girl I am not literally not joking. All the danmei is in unreleased development hell. Help.

GUARDIAN — For the true die-hards (not on Netflix/Viki and got purged from the legal internet but can be found. In places.) SO YOU WATCHED WORD OF HONOR AND YOU’RE LIKE GOD THAT ENDING RIPPED OUT MY ASSHOLE EMOTIONALLY WHAT IF I FOUND AN ENDING THAT WAS QUALITATIVELY WORSE. DO I HAVE ANOTHER PRIEST (AUTHOR OF WORD OF HONOR) ADAPTATION FOR YOU. Production values ZERO acting values MIDDLING gay values FUN AND SEXY. This show is literally what if Torchwood was better and worse at the same time. The reason the string of danmei adaptions started I believe, because this one was so popular. I haven’t watched all of this yet I’m savouring it. Don’t look at me.

HEAVEN’S OFFICIAL BLESSING — not quite the same vibes as what you’re going for with this ask (not a live action; very much an anime and not finished yet) but would be remiss not to mention the VERY PRETTY AND GREAT adaptation of the series by the same author of the Untamed. Also on Netflix.

#PLEASE IF THERE’S A SHOW LIKE THIS I’VE MISSED OUT THERE.... LET ME KNOW....#kira for ts #I’m not proof reading this I have to be awake for work in six hours HELP #imo all of the shows that were originally danmei are better in their adapted tv form than the original books… to me #I could also like. add more to this list if we wanted to add in anime. probably. but we shouldn’t #also not QUITE the same vibe #I’m so passionate about all of these shows but ESPECIALLY the devil judge and word of honor bc I love them and they are underappreciated #compared to heavyweights untamed and beyond evil #most of these shows don’t need content warnings if you’re fine with house m.d. or supernatural you’re fine with whatever these throw at you #ask #anonymous

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twdmusicboxmystery · 1 year

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I just read some interesting rumors about how Carol will be back for the spinoff in Season 2. And it's looking like there will be a season 2. And idk I feel like many details keep changing for the spinoff that on top of it all, I'm no longer feeling very hopeful Beth will return :( It feels like there hasn't been a concrete plan, which makes me anxious overall lol. I just wish the show would premiere soon, so I could get a sense of the story's trajectory!! Why is everything so hard to determine with this spinoff. I'd lovee any Team Family interaction but I'm guessing it'll mostly be Daryl for season 1, with any interactions from other known characters appearing in the final season 1 episodes/leading up to season 2. Just hope it gets here sooner rather than later!

I haven't been able to find these rumors of Carol or Season 2. Would you send me the URL for where you read them? I'd love to read more.

I wouldn't mind if there was a season 2, though things seem to be heading more toward a re-convergence of all the characters eventually, what with Fear ending. But we'll just have to see. I can see them extending any of the spinoffs for a season or 2, the way they did with TWB. Doing the various spinoffs allows them to focus in on various character stories without cluttering up the main narrative for all.

Plus, it gives them the ability to put out shows almost year round, which is also good, both for us and for them. (Let's not forget that Tales of the Walking Dead is still in play.)

I understand your concern, and to each their own, but the fact that they are being so secretive about everything tells me we're in for some big reveals from these spinoffs. I mean, by now, most of the GA is on board with the CRM. They understand that more CRM storyline is coming. So, why are the showrunners being so secretive? Why not show us that the CRM will be a large part of the plot line?

Unless there are big reveals they don't want us to know about yet.

And France? There were signs for it, but only very subtle ones that were only picked up by very observant viewers *coughs* TD *coughs* but in the grand scheme of things, between D.C. and Ohio and the CRM, France is a REALLY random choice. The only reason to do that is for something that's been planned for a long time and that they're looping back to.

The only obvious answer is that Jenner mentioned France in episode 1. But think about that. Really think about it. Jenner randomly made a passing reference to the French in ep 1. Eleven season later, they're taking Daryl to France. Morales disappeared in S1. They brought him back briefly (albeit only to kill him off) in S8. Beth's body disappeared mysteriously after the most weirdo and nonsensical sequence in the entire series, and yet people persist in saying it's too long for them to still be bringing her back.

All I can say is, I strongly disagree. And the evidence really is on my side here.

Anyway, at this point, I'm truly down for whatever format they put the show in. If they want to do multiple season of the Daryl spinoff, I'm here for it. If they want to only do one and funnel him back to a more central show with all the other characters, I'm here for that, too.

I'm just sitting here waiting for whatever goodness Gimple is going to bring me. Xoxo! ❄️💖

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

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eristic-kaleidoscope · 1 year

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Ocean's Eleven | Erik | Trial 3.1 | Re: Adrik, Erik A, Erisu, Byrne

Every time he entered the trial room, the number of people in his direct vicinity seemed to keep decreasing. Granted, Eureka had more people dead to either side of her new podium stand now, but he had the ubiquitous pleasure of sharing his immediate space with their two hosts. Not exactly ideal when wanting to turn to an encouraging face, and considering what happened to her apparent date partner… Well, he’d have to remember to dial down on the PDA for a bit.

In any case, he’s surprised that Arakiel is apparently well enough to be here with them. At least what happened to him was certainly topical. “I know we’re all focused on our whereabouts because of the limited time we have, but it would be remiss if we didn’t talk about the scene of the crime in some further detail. Both Miss Chen and Ae-ra were dry, and given that the rain does not touch the insides of the Fountain Room and the two inflatable rafts, I believe that they were both in or near the Fountain’s Hidden Room before the sudden rain at 5.30PM. Granted, in Miss Chen’s case, she most likely was on account of her passing, but our group,” he gestures at Adrik, Eureka and Erisu, who had found the bodies with him. “Did see a trail of half-dried water droplets and puddles down the stairs leading to around where Ae-ra’s body was, on our way in. That at least indicates a third person was at the scene, though how much or little was done by them remains to be seen. Both assumed murder weapons, the noose made of dog toys and the cactus needles coated with hemlock, were also found around the scene of the crime.”

He pauses. “I’ve no idea what attracted the third person to the area, but as for why Miss Chen and Ae-ra were there, the others have mentioned copies of the letter Arakiel supposedly sent to Miss Chen to entice her there. It’s… reasonable to assume they were not written by him but by Ae-ra, who had a reference for his handwriting and a practice copy under her mattress." A direct accusation of what she did will come in time, but there are other things to focus on first.

"My whereabouts have pretty much been confirmed by everyone else who has spoken before me. I was with Adrik in the kitchen when Miss Chen approached us around 4.40PM. The burnt smell is from their attempt at grilled cheese. Around 5, I met up with Erik A in the hallway, passed by Erisu and Arakiel outside of the lift doors on the way, and everything else has been covered by the other men. The only thing I can think to add is that it wasn’t raining outside the window in the sunroom while it was raining here.” It’s not case-important, but he figures there’s no harm in saying it. “At 6.45PM, I split off to go to the fountain room. By then, there were already mud tracks on the floor, and two inflated rafts had already been half-pulled up onto the central fountain area for the hidden room. Honestly, I’d assumed that might have been from Miss Chen and whoever was playing mermaids with her, or even just Arakiel and Erisu, so I saw no reason to travel to the Hidden Room until we were all already panicking. I was terrified for Erik A’s sake because we’d only just seen each other an hour and a half ago.”

He shakes his head. “Not that it probably would’ve made a difference given the time of death, I guess. I can at least vouch that no one entered or exited the Fountain Room or the Hidden Room from the time I got there to 8PM when I left for the motive announcement same as you all. Though if someone was in the Hidden Room and left right behind me, then I did not notice them, but otherwise I think it’s safe to assume that whoever the third person was most likely already evacuated the premises by 6.45PM. I’d like to talk about the state of their bodies next, but if someone has something to react about anything I said, go right ahead.”

#Azr #chapter3 #trial3 #submission

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beepboop358 · 3 years

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A Prom in S4 Theory & Music Coding Predictions

Some leaked set pics indicate that there MAY BE a junior/senior prom at Hawkins High, which they are calling the "Lover's Ball". It's unclear if this prom will be included on screen, or if it will just be mentioned as an event coming up at Hawkins High because this flyer could just extra set decor. Regardless if the prom happens on screen or not, there will probably be some tension about 'who's asking who' to the prom that we will see in s4. Given that this picture was just leaked a few weeks ago, it probably falls closer to the end of the season sequentially.

Having a big school dance in s4 is suspiciously close to how they had the Snowball scene in s2. This would certainly follow the even/odd season patterns, (and actually add to the list of the patterns), which kind of makes me think we will see this prom on screen, or at the very least it will be mentioned in the course of the season.

The Duffer Brothers love Steven King and reference his work and especially 'IT' a lot in the show, but they haven't done anything with Carrie yet so maybe we will get a Carrie moment this season at the prom...

Carrie was on the video store fridays movie inspiration board for ST4.

At the "Lover's Ball", there will be definitely be some music coding relating to Byler. Since music coding is kind of a key thing in the show, I've been rifling through 80's songs to try and find some that may fit with s4's themes/character storylines (and I may do a seperate post about that later), but for this post I'm just gonna focus on what they might use at the prom for relating to Byler.

Since the season is most likely going to take place in 1986, I only selected songs that had a compatible release year so it would be historically accurate. (these songs would also be great for a byler playlist!)

Some strong contenders for the songs that might play at the prom to reference Mike and Will's relationship could be:

"True Colors" by Cyndi Lauper (1986)

This song is honestly too good of an option for them not to use. I'm reallllyyy crossing my fingers for this one.

It's hard to take courage In a world full of people You can lose sight of it all And the darkness inside you Can make you feel so small

"And I see your true colors Shining through I see your true colors And that's why I love you So don't be afraid (don't be afraid) To let them show your true colors True colors are beautiful (you're beautiful, oh) Like a rainbow Oh oh oh oh oh like a rainbow"

If this world makes you crazy And you've taken all you can bear You call me up Because you know I'll be there

"Heaven" by Bryan Adams (1984)

This first verse is literally just the story of Byler... 😭 The rest of the song applies but that verse verse is just sooooo accurate. (I'm crossing my fingers for this one too)

"Oh thinkin' about all our younger years There was only you and me We were young and wild and free Now nothing can take you away from me We've been down that road before But that's over now You keep me comin' back for more

Baby you're all that I want When you're lyin' here in my arms I'm findin' it hard to believe We're in heaven And love is all that I need And I found it there in your heart Isn't too hard to see We're in heaven

Oh once in your life you find someone Who will turn your world around Bring you up when you're feelin' down Yeah nothin' can change what you mean to me Oh there's lots that I could say But just hold me now 'Cause our love will light the way"

"Take My Breath Away" by Berlin (1986)

This song is on Will's Spotify playlist, and I thought it could also be used at the prom since it's a romantic song. I see it as an 'entrance to the prom' moment song, almost like a 'first look' - like the Mike and El moment at the snowball when she first walks in, but with Mike and Will this time. I think the lyrics clearly hint to this kind of 'first look' moment as well.

"Watchin' every motion in my foolish lover's game On this endless ocean, finally lovers know no shame Turning and returning to some secret place inside Watchin' in slow motion as you turn around and say...take my breath away"

Watchin' every motion in this foolish lover's game Haunted by the notion, somewhere there's a love in flames Turning and returning to some secret place inside Watchin' in slow motion as you turn my way and say...take my breath away"

"In The Air Tonight" by Phil Collins (1981)

This song was originally meant to be included in the snowball scene from s2, but it ultimately was not used and "Every Breath You Take" was used for this scene instead. Since it was intended to be a part of the s2 dance, that's why I think it may be used at the prom this season. (you can read the scripts on 8flix)

——— I forgot to include this explanation originally BUT, I think this song might be used to show some anger/resentment between the two, and to show a decent amount of tension, depending on their development this season. Like maybe Mike is kind of leading Will on in private by continuing to initiate intimate scenes between them, but in public Mike is still trying to put on his “straight boy act” and kind of being a jackass about it, and this song could be used to show the tension between them that has caused.

"And I've been waiting for this moment, for all my life, (Oh lord)

Well, I was there and I saw what you did I saw it with my own two eyes So you can wipe off that grin, I know where you've been It's all been a pack of lies.

Well I remember, I remember don't worry How could I ever forget It's the first time, the last time we ever met But I know the reason why you keep this silence up

No you don't fool me The hurt doesn't show, but the pain still grows It's no stranger to you and me"

"In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel (1986)

Some of the lyrics in this song just SCREAMS byler, just look at the 1st, 2nd and 4th paragraphs. I would be suprised if they didn't use this song in either s4/s5.

Love, I get so lost sometimes Days pass and this emptiness fills my heart When I want to run away I drive off in my car But whichever way I go I come back to the place you are

All my instincts, they return The grand facade, so soon will burn Without a noise, without my pride I reach out from the inside

In your eyes The light, the heat (in your eyes) I am complete (in your eyes) I see the doorway (in your eyes) To a thousand churches (in your eyes) The resolution (in your eyes) Of all the fruitless searches (in your eyes)

Love, I don't like to see so much pain So much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away I get so tired working so hard for our survival I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive

"Heroes" by David Bowie (1975)

David Bowie was bisexual. A cover of his song “Heroes” is used in the show twice already, sung by Peter Gabriel. The song plays when they pull Will's fake body out of the water in season one and Mike cries in his Mom's arms, with some very queer-coded lyrics in the background, and after Hopper's letter in s3 (which is very Byler-centric)

"I will be king. And you, you will be queen 'Cause we're lovers, and that is a fact. Yes, we're lovers, and that is that. Though nothing will keep us together. We could steal time just for one day We can be heroes forever and ever. What d'you say? I, I wish I could swim, like dolphins, like dolphins could swim I, I can remember (I remember) Standing by the wall (By the wall) And the guns shot above our heads (Over our heads) And we kissed as though nothing could fall (Nothing could fall) And the shame was on the other side. Oh, we can beat them forever and ever. Then we could be heroes just for one day We're nothing, and nothing will help us Maybe we're lying, then you better not stay But we could be safer just for one day"

I just thought the above songs might be some highly likely possibilities given that they fit the year of the s4 and also make references to not only love, but the idea of hiding, pain, shame, longing, etc., and can make some (partially stretching here) references to other things in the show such as:

RAINBOWS and TRUE COLORS, SHINING THROUGH (rainbows imagery is always associated with Mike & Will in the show and a is symbol of lgbtq+ pride, True Colors shining through = who you really are on the inside finally coming out)

IF THIS WORLD MAKES YOU CRAZY ("crazy together", "only love makes you that crazy" and references the "world" motif in the show)

YOUNGER YEARS, ONLY YOU AND ME, YOUNG, WILD AND FREE (references "not wanting things to change" and wanting "to make things go how they were" part in Hopper's letter, and the "But we're not kids anymore" comment during the Byler fight)

ENDLESS OCEAN and SWIM, LIKE DOLPHINS (references water's significance in the show)

FLAMES (Will in front of the burning car in s4 teaser?)

LIES and LYING (Mike lying to El about how he feels)

INSTINCTS RETURNING, FACADES BURNING, WITHOUT MY PRIDE, I REACH OUT FROM THE INSIDE (Mike's feelings for Will are his instincts, the facade is the act he put on in s3 to seem straight, burning could reference Will & fire, and I think the last 2 lines of that 2nd verse reference vulnerability- perhaps in an apology/confession)

I GET SO LOST (confusion about his sexuality, feeling lost without the other) and SO MUCH WASTED TIME (known each other since kindergarten but were unaware the other felt the same way/was dealing with same things, they could have been even closer)

KINGS and QUEENS (the d&d game mike wrote where he has king Tristan give him a medal in s1)

STEALING TIME (references "turning back the clock, to make things go how they were" part in Hopper's letter and the time theme in s4 and time is central to the s4 plot)

AND WE KISS - AND THE SHAME (references the shame they both feel about being gay since it was so stigmatized in the 80's)

Byler @ Prom Possibilities:

If Mike and Will did dance together at the prom, they will probably get bullied because they live in a small conservative town. They will probably either run out, upset, or Eleven will step in to protect them which could lead to the Carrie moment.

Or Mike and Will will not dance together in the actual dance room, but instead sneak off to somewhere else in the school and have a private Byler dance moment where they can't be teased and it's just them together.

OR Mike and Will are still acting weird at this point in the season because neither of them is communicating what needs to be said out of fear, or one of them has confessed or done something to indicate how they feel, but the other hasn’t so everything is weird between them. There would be lots of tension from this and we would get lots of longing looks and adoring moments between the two of them from the sidelines. (I think this one is the most likely)

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random-french-girl · 3 years

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Wildscon panel 2

It was great to hear from Sarah Streicher, who teased a few things about season 2. Also I love Tonya Kong. When she said: “I don’t know why I became the writer for straight sex advice” in reference to a line she wrote for Fatin, I died laughing. Okay, things I liked and/or found interesting:

- We could have had the Unsinkable 11... Sarah S had originally eleven characters, which proved too many, so she condensed them into eight.

- They neither confirm nor deny that episodes are filtered through the central character’s POV. But Sarah encourages us to keep looking at this theory, and she said “especially for season 2″ which is interesting.

- They said that Reign Edward is very funny, and they love her ability to handle/deliver humor, and they were glad they could showcase it a bit more in later episodes since she starts with darker storylines. I wonder if we’ll get any light moments with Rachel in season 2 given... everything.

- They always start each episode prep with the question: who is dealing with what on an emotional level? And that helps them to know which characters to pair.

- On Fatin and Leah. Fatin is the voice of wisdom when she calls Jeff creepy, but Leah is not ready to hear it, so she’s triggered. That leads to their fight in Episode 4. There’s a lot of anger in Leah during their confrontation, which boils down to: “how dare you tell me something true that I don’t wanna hear?”. Picture me yelling VINDICATION! at my screen. That’s what I’ve been saying and praying and saying etc. Anyway, obviously they talk about Leah and Fatin as a very important friendship, but my two favorite quotes to further the leatin agenda are: “how can they not be drawn to each other?” + “ and that led to all the fireworks”. Oh? Fireworks? INCH RESTING.

-They decided that Toni’s backstory in her episode would focus on Regan rather than her mom or foster care to have a bit of a breather after 3 dark/dramatic backstories. They also wanted to unveil other dimensions of Toni (her softness, her vulnerability) through a love story, and show something beautiful that Toni ruined.

- They teased a few character beats for season 2:

Leah: her mind is a “double-edged sword”, and they REALLY dive into this in season 2, and explore which side will come out on top: her paranoia/obsession or her imagination and capacity to love and be tender. So Leah... is gonna go through it in season 2. Save my girl. (Also love? tenderness? Eye emojis.)

Dot: she’s frank and practical, and a rock, but they will explore some of the ways that becomes shaky in season 2.

Fatin: she’s never had women friends before, but now these girls, and Leah in particular, have given her a lot of strength and identity, that will inform her journey forward. I wonder if Fatin is going to step up in a leadership role while Dot maybe needs a break?

Martha: she’s starting to own what she thinks, and to speak up. In season 2, Dot asks her opinion on something, and Martha says something along the lines of: “Yeah, that’s fucked up.” I am SO excited for Martha’s journey! Let her be as blunt and unapologetic as she needs.

Toni: there will be moments of reflections about the relationship with her mom. Which is great news, but the phrasing makes me think we won’t be getting flashbacks.

- Shelby was the fixed gay storyline, it seems, and then they had conversations about which character would be the best juxtaposition for her, who would trigger/attract/repel her. Also, Tonya made it clear during this process that if you have a character struggling with her sexuality/ going through an awakening, you NEED one who’s confident and for whom that’s not a problem. This is all cool, but also makes me think they really focused season 1 on what this relationship does for Shelby, so I hope we focus a bit more on Toni in season 2.

- On when Toni and Shelby started having feelings for each other: Tonya thinks Episode 4 awakened something in them, Sarah thinks they’ve left an important first impression on each other, and have been on each other’s mind since the plane.

- Becca was probably not Shelby’s first crush but probably the most powerful. And she didn’t reciprocate Shelby’s feelings, but wanted to talk and support her. I am. So sad. About Becca.

- Sarah S knows the broad strokes of what happens in the story, and the endpoint.

- LAST BUT NOT LEAST: I’m very pleased they answered the question I sent in! It turns out the mussels scene was entirely scripted, and you know what that means... bi!Leah canon babey! However, the post-edible water party was almost entirely the actresses exploring what their characters would/could do. Brb rewatching this scene with renewed fondness <3

#the wilds #random meta

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thnxforknowingme · 2 years

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It's Who I'm With (11/24)

Summary: In an attempt to make industry connections (and pay rent), Kurt gets a job as a nanny for the daughter of a Broadway producer. When bringing her to a piano lesson one day in December, he meets Blaine Anderson, personal assistant to a famed pianist. (For Klaine Advent 2021)

Rating: T

Read previous parts here.

Eleven: Demonstrate

A storm arrived on Tuesday, blanketing the city in a few inches of snow. When Kurt picked Francie up from school she begged him to go play in it, so they stopped by the apartment to bundle up and then walked to Central Park. They found an untouched lawn where Francie demonstrated how to make the perfect snow angel. After much cajoling, she managed to convince Kurt to lie down and make one too - with his hood up, to avoid getting his hair wet.

A group of other elementary-aged kids came along and started building snowmen, and Francie joined in with them. Kurt gave a friendly wave to the kids’ parents or chaperones and then stood to the side, observing Francie play and cramming his gloved hands into his pockets to keep them warm.

It was sweet to see Francie getting along with other kids. Kurt had escorted her to a couple of play dates or birthday parties before, but overall she wasn’t the most social of kids. She reminded him of himself, a little. He’d always been a little withdrawn around others while growing up, wanting to focus on what interested him and not spending a lot of effort trying to connect with others. Some of that had to do with losing his mom, he knew, and also just feeling like there was something intrinsically different about him - but part of it, he thought, was just his personality. It seemed that snowman-building was an acceptable group activity for Francie, though, as she was joyfully helping a little boy roll a large ball of snow to make a torso.

Eventually the other kids moved on, and Francie ran up to Kurt, pink-nosed and breathless, and they trudged home through the snow.

“I don’t mind meeting you at the airport,” Kurt said, cradling his phone to his ear as he unlocked his apartment door.

“We’re grown-ups, Kurt,” his dad replied, voice slightly muffled over the phone. “And I’ve visited you before. We can handle it.”

“If you insist,” Kurt said. He stepped inside and smiled at Rachel, who was heating something over the stove. “I’ll make sure to have everything ready and dinner waiting for you when you arrive then, okay?”

“Is that your dad?” Rachel asked as Burt said, “Don’t worry too much, it’s supposed to be a holiday for you, too.”

Kurt nodded at Rachel, who called out, “Hi, Burt!”

“Rachel says hi,” Kurt told his dad, heading for his room.

“Hey, Rachel,” Burt said. “I ran into her dad the other day - Leroy. Does she call them by different names?”

“I think they all mostly use context clues,” Kurt replied, dropping his bag in his desk chair and sitting down on his bed. “Anyway, are you sure you don’t want me to get tickets to a show or something while you’re here? We could also go on a boat tour, we could go see Rockefeller Center -”

“Kurt,” his dad cut him off. “Relax, okay? What’s important to me, and to Carole, is just that we all spend time together. We don’t need to do anything flashy. Just the little things will make us perfectly happy.”

Kurt exhaled. “Okay. That sounds nice.”

“Great,” Burt said. “I’ve got someone calling on the office line - I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Yeah. Love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, kid.”

Kurt hung up and set his phone on the nightstand. He heard footsteps pause just outside his room, and after a second of silence he said, “Rachel?”

She poked her head into his room. “If I promise we can get a small one and you won’t have to carry it,” she said, “will you at least come help me pick out a Christmas tree?”

Kurt laughed. He glanced at his phone, and thought about the comforting ritual of decorating the tree with his roommates, imagined the lights filling the apartment with a warm glow when his parents arrived in just over a week.

“Fine,” he told Rachel. “Let me get changed and we can go get a tree.”

#klaine advent 2021 #klaine advent: demonstrate #my fic #fic: it's who i'm with

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winterscaptain · 4 years

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fear itself.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: part two of the 100 arc! this installment covers the events of faceless, nameless. i am living for the feedback! please keep it coming. i can’t wait to hear what you think as we go through this (very emotionally wrought) section.

words: 4.5k warnings: canon-typical violence, language, hospital setting

summary: four hours of sleep and aaron’s missing. what else could go wrong?

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

4:02am “Just got home, so I’m calling like you asked. Shoot me a text when you get back to the apartment, if you aren’t already asleep. Call me when you’re up and we can work on that Nebraska consult, maybe in the early afternoon? Goodnight. Sleep well.”

8:13am “Hey, it’s me. I know I’m not supposed to be worried about you, but we were called in a half hour ago and you’re still not here...so...give me a call when you get this. Bye.”

8:48am “Hey, it’s me, checking in again. You’re probably still asleep, but I’ve never known you to sleep more than seven hours...so if I don’t hear from you by eleven I’ll drag you out of bed myself.”

9:51am “We’re headed to the crime scene. Garcia’s sent you the address. I know JJ’s been calling you too, so just...I dunno? Call us back? Bye.”

10:20am “If you’re getting these and ignoring me, I hope you know you’re taking years off my life right now.”

11:08am “Um...Call me back. I’m starting to worry. Well...not starting. I’ve been worried. But I’m getting...really worried.”

11:37am “Aaron please call me and let me know you’re alright. You’re scaring me.”

+++

Needless to say, it’s been a weird day. Why you expected anything else after that wretched Canada case and four hours of sleep, you have no idea.

You had a horrible dream last night, on top of everything else. The image of Aaron broken and bleeding beside you hadn’t left your mind since it first appeared in Foyet’s kitchen. You tried to shake it off every time, but it was persistent.

We’ll worry about that later.

You check the time again, trying to ignore the weird feeling in your gut.

Where is he?

Your phone rings and your heart leaps. Guilt (and a little bit of embarrassment) pricks at you when you’re disappointed to see Emily’s name on your phone. You answer.

“You have to get down here.” Her voice isn’t frantic, per se, but the urgency is undeniable.

“What’s going on?”

She takes a breath. “I just got off the phone with Garcia - I have crime scene techs and SWAT on the way to Hotch’s apartment, and I need you here.”

All the blood in your body seems to rush into your head, and you lean heavily on the nearest object - the dining room table. “What?”

“I - I don’t know. All his stuff is here and there's -” She stutters for a second. “There’s blood on the carpet, broken glass, and a bullet hole in the wall by the kitchen. No Hotch.”

An eerie kind of calm washes over you, and you straighten, making eye contact with Derek. “Okay. Let me just -”

Derek gets a call, but keeps his eyes on you. “What’s goin’ on, Baby Girl?...What do you mean ‘Emily just called SWAT to Hotch’s apartment’ what -“

You break his gaze as he nods at you and turns to the rest of the team. “Emily, I’ll be right there. Don’t go anywhere.”

+++

You make it to the hospital with Emily. You flash your credentials and it gets you exactly where you want to go.

When you see him, your breath catches. He looks awful - drawn and small and wrapped in what seems like miles of gauze. Emily grabs your arm, but you’re not sure if it's for her benefit or yours.

This is, after all, your worst nightmare come to life. A little chill crawls up your spine. This whole thing has you feeling six different kinds of scared.

The nurse lets you into his room, telling you he’ll be out for another hour, at least. “He needs the rest.”

Emily leaves you to retrieve coffee. You take the opportunity to sit beside him and slide your hand under his, careful not to disturb the IV. Your hand shakes - whether from anxiety, fear, fury, or all of the above, you’re not sure.

“If you die, Aaron Hotchner, I’ll kill you.”

You hear a little laugh from the doorway and you pull your hand from him. Emily shakes her head, two cups of coffee in her hands. “You’re fine. I'm not going to tattle.”

You squint. “Tattle?”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re so clueless it’s almost cute, but he’s worse.” She throws her head toward Hotch with a fond smile, handing you your cup of coffee.

+++

The rest of the team arrives in a flurry a little while later, and the nurse has to warn them off as Aaron starts to wake.

They quiet down, surrounding his bedside. You haven’t moved, making it your mission to keep your eyes on him at all times.

His eyes flutter before closing again. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital,” you say, keeping your voice quiet and steady despite the tightness in your chest.

“How did I get here?”

Derek gets that one. “Foyet drove you.”

Aaron takes a breath. It’s shaky, and you imagine he’s in a lot of pain. Emily leans forward, looking for his eyes. “Can you remember what happened?”

He tells you, slowly, about how Foyet broke into the apartment, waited until he was home with his guard down, fired a shot, and then...He trails off. A heavy breath leaves him. “What did he take?”

You have an answer. “There was a page missing from your day planner, the Bs from the address section.”

He closes his eyes and his breath grows faster, his heart rate increasing. After a moment, he collects himself and asks Emily, “What did he leave?”

“I don’t know.”

“He also leaves something with his victims.”

Emily shakes her head. “I looked through your entire apartment. Nothing felt out of place.”

“Where are my clothes?”

“Right here.” You reach over, grabbing the bag and removing his bloody shirt with only the barest moment of hesitation. He reaches for the envelope of his personal effects and you press it into his hand, saving him the effort.

Tears prick at your eyes as you watch his hands shake, opening his wallet. He’s eerily quiet, and you catch a glimpse of a photo, tucked into the fold.

Haley and Jack. There’s blood on it. You recognize it from the desk in his home office space.

No.

Aaron’s come to the same conclusion, falling back on the pillows with a look you can only describe as defeated. It scares you. You swallow, pushing your tears back.

That’s the last thing he needs right now.

“Haley’s maiden name is Brooks. I always listed her in the Bs in my personal information in case it fell into the wrong hands.” Your hand, like JJ’s, has fallen over your mouth.

Oh.

Of course.

Of course, he keeps her under Brooks. All he wants to do is keep her safe.

You hope, one day, that someone will love you that much, will want to protect you with the same ferocity, will think of you before anything else.

You could only be so lucky.

He swallows and continues. “He knows where they live.”

Derek makes assignments. You’re to stay right where you are, while the rest focus on locating Haley and Jack.

When it’s just the two of you, he closes his eyes again. “I don’t know what I’m going to do if -”

“They’ll find her. They’ll find Jack. They’ll be safe.”

You have to believe it, too. They’re too important to you, to central to your life, now

He shakes his head, his eyes cracking open. “Why didn’t I just take the deal?” Clearing his throat, he continues, his voice a little stronger, but still rough. “He told me I should have. I never thought -” He cuts himself off.

You hand him a cup of water, and he takes it gratefully. Idly, you note he hasn’t looked you in the eye yet.

“Do you want an answer to your question?”

He doesn’t answer you, looking across the room.

You lean into his eye line. “You didn’t take the deal because you have the most integrity of anyone I’ve ever known. Anything he does is on him. It’s not on you.”

“But,” his voice breaks and the smallest of tears falls out of his eye. It tracks down his temple until you gently wipe it away with your thumb. “But I could have stopped all of this.”

“No,” you whisper. Your hand lingers on the side of his face. “No. He’ll be this way wherever he goes. The only way you change that is by catching him, Hotch.”

He finally looks at you, his brown eyes exhausted, hurting, and bloodshot. You card your fingers through the hair at his temple, putting the oxygen cannula back over his ear. Soon, he closes his eyes again, his vitals evening out as he falls asleep.

“We’ll get him, Aaron.”

A few tense minutes later, your phone buzzes in your pocket. When you see the caller ID, a shot of adrenaline zings around your body. “Haley?”

Your name is a sigh of relief in her mouth. “SWAT scared the hell out of me and I just - I don’t know.”

“Oh, Haley I’m so sorry. I should have gone over there with the team but -“ Derek knew my stress wouldn’t be useful.

“No, no. It’s fine. They’re getting Jack from a friend’s house, but they told me what’s going on. I’ll see you when I get to the hospital. I just -“ She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I just freaked out.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

Your heart pulls. “I love you, too.”

She hangs up, and you stuff your phone back in your pocket.

Aaron wakes again when you pull a case file from your bag, but you’re not sure it’s your doing.

Shit.

He looks around a little frantically for a moment, still disoriented. You rise and cross the room, finding one of his hands.

“Hotch, it’s okay. You’re still in the hospital.”

“Haley?”

You nod. “They got her. She’s safe and she’s on her way with Jack.”

He finally relaxes, sinking back down into the pillows. “Thank you.”

You nod and resume your place on the other side of the room, patting the back of his hand as you let him go. He’s quiet, if not a little fidgety. You look at him for a minute. He takes a talking breath.

“After the first one, it kind of goes blank.” His breath is still a little unsteady, and you take your chair next to his bed again. “There were nine, apparently.”

Your breath catches. It’s not new information, but it’s still raw, sharp-edged.

Awful.

He swallows. “He taunted me.” His eyes beg you to understand, to keep him from flying off the rails.

“He’s a bastard, Aaron.”

He levels you with a withering stare. No shit.

“I know you know that, but it’s worth repeating.”

“I don’t want -“

You interrupt him, knowing exactly where he’s going. “You’re not going to become a victim. You aren’t a victim.”

“I don’t want Haley to -“

You press a hand to his arm, mindful of his bandages. “One day at a time. They’re safe today.”

His lip quivers and his voice leaves him in a whisper. “That’s not good enough.”

+++

Eventually, Haley arrives looking a little worse for wear.

Her haircut’s really cute.

The thought almost makes you laugh.

Of all the things to notice...

You startle a little as you remember where you are and rise, ready to give them space. She waves you off, giving you permission to stay.

“How do you feel?” She asks.

Aaron sits up a little more, not without effort, and says, “I’m gonna be okay.”

That’s not what she asked, stupid.

He continues. “Did they explain to you what’s happening?”

She nods. “They said the marshal's service is taking us straight from here and putting us into protective custody.” Her eyes meet yours, and you dip your chin. She’s right.

Aaron apologizes to Haley for the first of what you imagine will be many times.

Her lower lip disappears between her teeth. “Do you know where they’re gonna take us?”

“No,” you answer. “We don’t. And that’s the point.”

“I can’t know where you’re going,” Aaron adds. “If you have any contact with anyone, he can track you.”

That shocks her a little, and you can see she’s getting upset. “Jack has school. He has friends. I have a job now. I have -” She cuts herself off.

“I know.” He levels a steady, solemn gaze upon her. “And I’m sorry. We will catch him and you’ll come back.”

She looks at you again. “Are you sure we’re in danger?”

You nod, almost imperceptibly, and Hotch answers. “Yes.”

“And what about you? Are you gonna be safe?”

There it is.

She does love him.

You knew that, of course. Seeing them together during visits at home or out to dinner or otherwise in the presence of that other, that was never in question.

Your heart tugs.

Twenty-five years...

“He wants to see me suffer. Knowing that my son is out there and that I can’t see him is better than killing me.”

Haley wets her lips and swallows.

That’s her tell.

You figure she’ll burst into tears pretty soon. It was only a matter of time, and you don’t blame her in the least. You’ve had tears threatening you all afternoon, and this wasn’t even happening to you.

“Jack wants to see you.”

Aaron’s jaw gets a little tight. “I want to see him, too. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

You hear what he can’t say, too. I don’t want to scare him. I don’t want him to see me like this.

“Look,” she says, exasperated. “I know you’re trying to protect him, but you both need this. Please.”

He nods, resigned. “Okay.”

Haley looks over and offers you a shaky smile, trying to break the tension. “He also asked me if you’d be here. He’ll be thrilled.”

That almost does you in. “So will I,” you tell her, meaning every syllable.

With another brisk nod and wipe of her face, she leaves the room to retrieve Jack. Aaron sits up a little straighter and you help him. He tries to suppress his wince, but fails.

“Do you need another round?”

He shakes his head. “I’ll be fine.”

“Just let me know.” You settle back into the corner, the case file in your lap.

Haley and Jack return, and she brings him to Aaron’s side, lifting him up onto the bed.

Aaron meets his eyes and tells him that he’s okay, giving him a little preparing for what’s about to happen. “But, what do I tell you whenever I go away?”

“That you love me.”

You hide your face, looking out the window as tears finally fall from your eyes. Haley’s eyes are on you and you know it. You wipe at your face and take a quiet breath before turning back, pretending to pay attention to the case in your lap.

In your periphery, you can see Aaron looking over Jack’s face as if to memorize it, as if he doesn’t already know every plane, every curve, every angle of his son’s face. “More than anything in the world.”

They exchange a few more words before he brings him close and kisses his forehead. You glance up, and they look so alike in their profiles it almost makes you smile. Haley’s crying, too, and she meets your eyes.

Something passes between you, but you don’t have a name for it.

You don’t need one.

Haley takes a breath and tucks her hair behind her ears. She redirects Jack’s attention to you, and his eyes light up. She helps him scramble off the bed and he books it around the bed to you.

You close the case file and open your arms to him. “Hi, bud.” It’s hard not to scare him with the feverish way you hold him close, your fingers wound in his hair.

There’s a failed attempt to avoid thinking about the uncertainty of the future, when you’ll see him again.

If ever.

Stop.

The pair of you lean back for a minute, and you brush his hair away from his forehead.

“Are you going away, too?” He asks.

You shake your head. “I’m gonna stay here with your dad.”

“Are you going to keep my dad safe? I’m going to keep Mom safe.”

It’s Aaron who looks away this time.

“Of course, my love.” You offer him something you hope looks like a smile. “We always keep each other safe. We’re a team, like you and your momma. I’m so proud of you.” You check in with Haley, who’s looking away, the back of her hand swiping at her cheek. When she turns back to you, you tilt your head a little.

Want a minute?

She nods.

You stand, Jack still tucked against your chest. “I think,” you say, as he sits back in your arms, “Miss Emily and Miss JJ are back and might have something fun for you over there.” You tip your head toward the waiting room. “Wanna go see?”

He nods, leaning back into you and playing with your collar. You pat Aaron’s knee and squeeze Haley’s shoulder with your free hand as you pass.

Aaron watches you go, your low murmuring comforts to Jack lost in the ambient hospital noise. When you find JJ and look back, giving him a small (if not a little watery) smile, he looks over at Haley, guilt closing up his throat.

“I’m so sorry, Haley. I promise, when this is all over, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

She gives him a half-smile and sits on the edge of his bed. She reaches for him, and he takes both of her hands in his. There’s silence for a moment as they sit together. She studies him.

While it doesn’t bother him (she has been looking at him for nearly twenty-five years, after all), he does feel more exposed under her gaze than he’s used to.

“You should do something about that, one of these days,” she says, looking over her shoulder. You’re still visible in the window, talking to JJ while Jack is still glued to you. His little arms are tight around your neck, his head tucked under your chin.

Aaron’s brow furrows, but the EKG picks up the increase in his heart rate, much to his embarrassment. “What are you talking about?”

Haley laughs, a light, watery, delicate thing, and turns back to him. It almost brings a smile to his face. “Do you think I don’t know what you look like when you’re head over heels, Aaron Hotchner? After eighteen years of marriage and twenty-five years knowing you? Give me a break.”

His jaw grows tight, but he holds her gaze.

“You used to look at me like that, you know.” A little smile plays at her lips and she looks down, almost shy. “Still do, sometimes.”

“I love you, Haley.”

She squeezes his hand. “I know you do.” A sigh leaves her and she looks over her shoulder again, just catching a glimpse of you and JJ out in the hall with Jack as you go scavenging for something sweet. There’s a little smile at the corner of her mouth when she turns back to him. “You are so loved, Aaron.”

“I don't…” He huffs, frustrated. “I don’t feel -”

“I’m not saying you have to do anything, but it might do you some good to just…” She sighs, throwing a hand up in a kind of searching gesture. “I don’t know, be honest with yourself. Think for a minute.”

His teeth worry the inside of his lower lip as he thinks about it. He does care about you. But love?

He thinks of the way his chest feels too small whenever you laugh, the way he always goes above and beyond to make sure you’re safe in the field, how he looks for you when you’re out of the room, how he looks for you when you’re in the room.

The way you are with Jack brings him to his knees every time. The sound of his son’s laughter under your tickling fingers never fails to bring a smile to his face.

You’ve helped him heal what seemed like an insurmountable chasm between him and Haley, and though it’s not perfect, it’s better than it would ever be without you.

You always take a second to straighten his tie and ensure his suit jacket lays flat across his shoulders before leaving the plane, just like he always takes time to count the rounds in your magazines or tuck your tag back into your shirt collar.

He always feels so warm under your fond and attentive touch. With a little bit of alarm, he hopes you feel the same under his. Safe. Cared-for.

Loved.

Oh.

Oh no.

He knows the realization is clear on his face when Haley laughs again, surprising them both. She swipes at her eyes again, clearing any remaining tears. “You know, I can’t say I’m surprised you didn’t know, but it’s still funny, even with all this.” She shakes her head. “You haven’t changed much, have you?”

His face breaks out into a little smile as he looks back at her. “Oh, quit.”

“I’ll never quit giving you hell, as long as we live.” Haley reaches out, pushing gently against his shoulder. He takes the shove like a champ, even through the ache in his chest and abdomen, thankful she’s not treating him like he’s made of glass.

“Don’t I know it.”

They look at each other for a minute before Aaron sobers, the mirth evaporating between them. He already misses her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for all of this. I’m hoping it’ll be...temporary.”

“I do have a life, Aaron. And Jack…” She sighs and her eyes fill with tears again.

“I know. I’m sorry. I wish there was another way to keep you safe, but -” He cuts himself off, knowing there’s nothing he can say.

She swallows again. She already misses him. “How am I supposed to keep him safe when there’s nobody I know to help me?”

He sighs, but speaks with conviction. “Haley, you’re strong. You lived with me in this job and you’ve practically raised Jack all by yourself. You’re a great mother.”

Haley’s actively crying now, trying to stem the tears with her fingers. It’s not working. After a moment, she collects herself. “Can you catch this man?”

“I will catch this man.”

+++

When she leaves Aaron’s room, you bring Jack to her. You take a moment to lightly fuss over them both.

Her blue eyes find yours. “Take care of him, please?”

You nod. “I will.”

“He needs you.”

She says it with a simple kind of conviction that makes your chest pull. You put a hand on her shoulder, trying to communicate everything you can’t say into your touch. “He needs you more.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Her lips twist in an odd sort of smile and she wraps you in a hug and kisses your cheek. “I’ll see you soon.”

You hold her tight, Jack trapped (and whining a little) between you. “See you soon, Hales.” You pull back, looking deeply into her eyes. “We’ll get him.”

The U.S. Marshals arrive, and you have to let go of each other. You press a kiss to Jack’s forehead and tell him you love him one more time, and wait until they’re in the car and out of sight before you break down.

You don’t know where he came from, but Derek wraps around you, catching you before your knees hit the ground. You don't know what you’re crying about, really.

It could be the overwhelming task of catching Foyet.

It could be Hotch in the room down the hall with nine stab wounds to his chest and abdomen.

It could be the indefinite absence of your dear friend and her son - a boy you love more than anyone except maybe -

Nope. Don’t go there. Not now.

Sobs wrack your chest, and your head hurts and your throat is sore by the time your body lets you breathe.

Derek’s there the whole time, rubbing your back and keeping your face hidden in the crook of his neck and shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay, kiddo. It’ll be okay. He’s okay. We’re gonna catch this son of a bitch.”

“It’s just so much, Derek.”

He sighs. “I know. I know.”

+++

“Did you hear what happened this morning?”

You’re woken by Dave’s voice, coming from the doorway. Cramped and crunched into the corner of an uncomfortable chair, you stretch and what feels like every joint in your body cracks.

“No.”

When did Aaron wake up?

You look over at him and he glances at you before returning to Dave, who’s leaning on the door frame.

“We had a situation. Unsub had already killed two people. Said he was gonna keep killing unless a man used his son as bait.”

“What happened?”

Good question.

Belatedly, you realize you’ve neglected your case duties all day in favor of holding vigil over Aaron’s bedside. The weirdest part about it? The rest of the team let you.

Why?

“We kept the boy safe. Worked the profile. It was a happy ending.”

That’s good, at least. One fucking happy ending today.

It’s like Dave’s reading your mind as he asks Aaron, “Do you know why I’m telling you this?”

“Yes.” Aaron’s gaze is impassive, but there are universes behind his eyes.

“No other group in the world could have pulled off what yours did in a matter of hours.” Dave checks in with you, and the corner of your mouth lifts.

Sorry.

He shakes his head just a little. No sweat, kid. You did your job.

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Dave, but -”

Dave cuts him off. “We’ll get Foyet.”

“I promised Haley I would get him. But the truth is, if he stops killing we have no way of tracking him. He stopped killing for ten years just for the pleasure of watching Shaunessy’s life fall apart.”

He’s crying again, and your heart breaks. You’re surprised Dave can’t hear it crack all the way across the room.

“What’s Jack going to remember about me in ten years?”

No.

“Hotch, look at me.” You rise from your chair and sit on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb his position. He turns his head just so, his brown eyes locking onto yours. “We’ll get him. We will get him.”

We have to.

+++

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#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #shut up tali #a joyful future fanfic

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lunarastrobabe · 4 years

Text

Jill Valentine x F!Reader: Winter Love

(Fluff, no warnings)

October 12, 1998

Just eleven days after the Raccoon City incident, you were living in New York, you had already escaped the city’s meltdown on September 28th, when everything went into entire chaos. You were a S.T.A.R.S. Member, along with your fellow colleagues, Jill Valentine, Chris Redfield, Albert Wesker, Rebecca Chambers and Brad Vickers, they were the only people you ever got close to in the work force. You were the female rookie at the start, the others were very high trained people, this did scare you and it did intimidate you at first, but once you got to know them, you felt like you were safe and at home. You were very close with Chris, he was like the brother you never had, you told him everything, including this secret that you had kept inside. You were in love with Jill, you had been ever since you first met her, the way her hair would curl at the side of her cheeks to the bottom of her chin, the way her lips would curl into a smile that would bright up your darkest days. The way she was so motivated and so independent towards her work and her home life. Chris had your full support with the secret and your feelings towards Jill. He wished you happiness and it was the best reaction you could have hoped for.

She was your best friend, you hadn’t heard from her since she was fired from S.T.A.R.S.. You called and called and called and she never answered, you were terrified she was killed or even worse .. turned into one of those flesh-eating monsters. You waited by the phone anxiously, waiting for her to call and say she was alright.

Few days later

It was already snowing and still, no sign of Jill, you were cooking breakfast in the kitchen and feeding your brown tabby cat who was walking in between each of your legs meowing for food.

“Alright mister, I’m coming.” You laughed and set the food bowl down in front of him. As you stood up to clean the mess that engulfed the kitchen, the doorbell rang. You brushed off some flour from your hands and walked to the front door. Opening you found Jill stood there. You had never seen her so down before. Her clothing was torn and she had some scratches and bruises on her back, arms and legs, luckily they were nothing serious. She hadn’t showered in a while and seeing her stood there with a broken look on her face shattered your heart.

“Oh my god, Jill!” You pulled her in for a hug not caring what monster smells was wafting around. “What happened? Thank god you’re okay! I was so worried.” She didn’t move or make a single sound. Her eyes just looked straight ahead at the living space in front of her. The black marble kitchen counter was covered in flour, dirty dishes and some left over food from the night before. It looked like a flour bomb went off.

“Jill?” You asked as you pulled back from the hug prying your arms away from her waist. Her blue-grey eyes had so much wisdom but so much pain in them. On the outside she was this badass, independent, kick-ass woman you had ever met. She trained hard to get to where she was now, working with S.T.A.R.S. yet, the incidence that took over the city, the city you both grew up in had changed your lives forever without much realisation of what the future might be like.

She coughed lightly, covering her mouth with her gloved hand which was also scratched up. “(Y/N.)” Her voice cracked a little at the word she spoke through her hoarse throat. She was shivering from the snow as it fell harder and harder by the minute. You took her hand ever so gently and took her inside, closing the door behind her. You took your blue large knitted blanket from the love seat that sat near the door and wrapped it around her.

“Jill, rest, I’ll get the shower ready for you. Then we can talk.” You put your warm hand to her stone cold cheek, brushing the dried blood from underneath her eye with your thumb. It made her wince a little at your touch. You turned away and walked upstairs to the bathroom. She slowly sat herself down in the thick comfy chair, as the fireplace crackled and popped from the flames. Jill looked around, at the photo frames that were placed across the top of the fireplace, mostly of you and your friends with S.T.A.R.S. including some of you and your family. It made her smile thinking back to the time before the incidence, when everybody was happy and things were going great. She shook it out of her mind, so many thoughts, memories (the good and the bad) tumbling around in her mind like a wave of intense fog. She slid the blanket off of her shoulders and slowly got up and walked upstairs, every step she made caused creaks to emerge from the staircase, picture frames hung up on the wall of you and your family from memories now long gone. Flashbacks haunted her mind. She squinted at the thoughts coming back. The memories of Nemesis, of the Beta’s and the Gamma’s she had to witness. She tried so hard to forget but it was too much to bare.

You walked out of the bathroom and saw Jill coming to the door. “Hey, it’s um, it’s ready for you.” You twiddled your thumbs and gave a small smile. She gave a smile in return, and it warmed your heart.

“Thank you.” She spoke with a soft tone. She grabbed the pink towel off the rack and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

You let out a sigh and scratched the back of your neck. You wanted to make her feel at home and help cheer her up, she was clearly distraught and was in need of absolute care and comfort. Considering it was snowing outside that morning, you had the perfect day planned.

You took out your puffy winter jacket, it was black soft fabric with fur around the hood, you had matching black combat boots to go with it and some gloves, also setting down some spare clothes for Jill to wear. Your cat jumped on the arm of the love seat and meowed.

“I won’t be long, mister.” You let out a giggle and kissed the top of his head and turned to see Jill waiting for you near the coat rack.

“Thanks for the spare clothes, but, where are we going?” She asked, zipping up her brown parka coat and straightening her red tartan scarf. She ran her fingers through her, shiny soft brown hair and it made your heart flutter. So much natural beauty this woman had wasn’t the only thing that made you fall deeply in love with her, it was how she was always by your side through the hard times and the easy times, and her personality was the most important thing.

“We, are going to spend the day together, “ You smiled grabbing your brown leather bag slinging it over your shoulder. She adverted her gaze away from you to grab the brass doorknob. You took her warm hand into yours, goosebumps covering your skin at the touch, your fingers slowly entwining with hers. She didn’t resist, she tightened the grip and looked up to you. You both headed out the front door and feeling the fresh snow crunch underneath your feet, leaving boot prints along the way.

During the day, you both had a snowball fight, drank some hot coffee from a small little cute cafe not far from your home, it was New York so it was covered in bakery places and cafe’s. She started to relax a little, slowly finding a way to explain to you everything that she saw, everything she fought and people she lost during her ordeal. You felt closer to her, each word she spoke and each sentence she described, you wanted to protect her, protect her from all the harm that would come her way.

Later on, sitting on a bench in Central Park, you talked about your memories together being in S.T.A.R.S. and reminiscing over the good times.

“You know (Y/N), I never thought I would’ve survived what happened in R.C, I never thought in our lifetime, something like that could happen to us. And when it did, I had to fight to survive, fight to get back to you.” She let out a nervous chuckle, cold air could be seen escaping her lips. She turned her face to look at you, moving her body closer to yours.

You were surprised at what she said, you never imagined that her thoughts and mine would focus on you. “I’m so glad you are safe.” Even with the freezing cold temperature, the heat from the moment you two were having made you forget about the snow and the weather.

Your hand made its way to her rosy blushed cheeks, and pulled her in close. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous as fuck about what was going to happen, the fluttering in your heart and your stomach and the fast pace of your heart made the moment even sweeter than it had to be.

Your soft cold lips made a connection with hers, her kiss was tender and sweet, moving in perfect sync with yours. This was the best feeling you had ever felt in such a long time.

You pulled back to get some air and you looked into her eyes, you could see the happiness in hers staring right back at you.

“Maybe this is the right time to say, I love you. I always have, I always will.” You blurted out, but you didn’t care, you needed to tell her.

“I love you too.” She immediately pulled you in for another kiss, circling her arm around your waist and pulling you close to her body to keep the warmth in.

The snow was falling all around you and despite the circumstances before-hand, you couldn’t have asked for a more perfect moment.

#jill valentine #resident evil #jill valentine x reader #fluff

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otp-armada · 4 years

Text

"Bellarke doesn't make sense," they say. They say because Clarke hasn't done anything that resembles romantic gestures toward Bellamy.

Conceding to march to her possible death in exchange for Roan sparing Bellamy's life. Obstinately fighting against Bellamy's stubborn wishes to remain outside the Ark while Praimfaya burns to the world to ashes. Shattering her soul by choosing 100 people to live and writing his name on the list, because he must survive. She can't have it any other way. Relinquishing 50 of those spots to Azgeda when Bellamy is captured and threatened, and Roan calls her bluff. Desperation driving her to the extreme to ensure the survival of the human race, yet unable to kill Bellamy to keep the bunker closed and the grounders from possibly killing Skaikru. Leaving the guaranteed safety of the fort to stay by Bellamy's side on the brink of global cataclysm. The bittersweet yet soft head and heart exchange she prompted. The hesitation in her last remark before imploring him to hurry.

4x13 ends six years and seven days post-Praimfaya with Clarke radioing Bellamy on the Ring. An activity she performs daily for six years. In any six years of my adult life, my only daily consistencies have been limited to breathing, eating, and sleeping. This girl is devoted enough to send her equivalent of love letters into the emptiness of space for 2,199 days. Season 5 opens with her trying to survive by herself in an apocalyptic wasteland. She spends her journey narrating to him her unvarnished struggles during the most traumatic experience of her young life to date. Her despondency. Her loneliness. Her agony. Her desperation. Her small victories. Her discovered treasures. Her determination. Her doubt. Her guilt. Her defeat. Her morbid self-reflection. Her relief and contentment. Her happiness. Her admission of missing him. She shares all of it with only him. Only he is permitted to know her to this depth. Not any of her other people on the Ring. Not any of her people in the bunker, a group including her mother. Not a spiritual communion to the great, big love of her life Lxa, situated on her throne in the high heavens and waiting for her trophy wife, for Clarke to stay connected to her dearly departed. Isn't that the sort of behavior that might occur by a bereft widow?

After finding an oasis to rest and call home, even after discovering a companion to build a life with, she continues with her radio calls. It doesn't matter that he never received her communications. The importance of the gesture- the intimacy of sharing her life and thoughts with him while he was gone- remains the same. The magnitude of her devotion to him made clearer through the absence of a single responding utterance.

She lovingly tells Madi stories of Bellamy as her hero. Gazing warmly, hopefully up at the stars as if she longs for her vision to cut through an endless pitch-black sky and find dark curls and freckled constellations from thousands of miles away.

"Bellarke doesn't make sense," they say. They say because post-Praimfaya ended with an established B/E.

As Clarke looks up at the stars, questioning if she'll see Bellamy again, we transition to our first glimpse of Bellamy after six years, forlornly looking down on Earth to the very spot of green where he is unaware of who is yearning for him to return to her. Contrary to Clarke, who is covered in warm firelight when thinking of him, he is colored in cold, muted greys and blue, no speck of warm hue. (The rhyming scheme was unintentional, but hey, I'm going with it.) Behind him, his family is sparring, but he's distant from them. He's trapped within this tin can, his arms folded, his body taut, not facing the view on the other side of the glass, but still enraptured by the sight of his home below.

We see what changes to the characters and their dynamics have taken place until, at long last, we uproariously cheer as Bellamy & Co. find a way to return to Earth, the sole event we've been anticipating for eleven months, to the point we could feel it at our fingertips, jittery and tingly. Bellarke reunion!! He's going to know she's alive! Yes! Finally!! Break out the champagne! We're celebrating, dammit! It's going to be so damn emotional! Authors start crafting mental fanfics. People are bouncing off the walls like bright, errant fireworks, unable to sit still. I can't believe it's finally happening...what do you think it's going to be like? Will he run to her? Will he be stunned and speechless? Will they sob uncontrollably?!? They'll be clutching the life out of each other! Another Bellarke hug!! The very best hug!!! They're never going to let the other out of their sight again! He's going to meet Madi! Mom, dad, and adopted preteen make three!!! There's no way they're not getting together after this!! He just got her back after six years of thinking she was dead!! The reunion's not going to happen this episode, but maybe next week, when do you think? You mean we have to wait seven days before----

B e c h o.

We stood on the precipice of what we agonized and crawled through for eleven excruciating months, only for an anvil to drop, and our heads to be clubbed. Our bodies fell through the floor, descending lower and lower with immense haste, to take up residence in the seventh circle of hell.

Do you think the framing of these events wasn't intentional?

Do you think the powers that be behind the creation of that calamitous bombshell for our protagonist, intended for us to root for B/E?

By us, I'm not restricting the effect of the blow to Bellarke shippers. The entire audience, casual and fandom alike, shippers and non-shippers, was meant to await this reunion. We were all meant to feel devastated by this revelation.

If they didn't want to invoke in us feelings of support for B/E at their inception, how in the name of all things holy is a purported B/E endgame your conclusion?

"B/E doesn't make any sense," they say, "when last we saw them, she was his enemy. Nothing more, nothing less."

Do I think their pre-Praimfaya status as antagonists rendered it impossible for B/E to have a convincing love story or sexual relationship?

I think, if Jason were so inclined, we could have gotten flashback Ring rendezvous of secret trysts between Bellamy and a googly-eyed, blonde-wig-wearing broomstick designated Clarke 2.0. So no, I don't consider B/E a deviation inherently outside the realm of romantic possibility. Jason is an artist, and this show is his canvas. He can give life to almost any whim he'd like in his work of fiction. Not only that, but B/E is also hardly the first pairing in this series modeled by the enemies-to-lovers trope.

"Bellarke doesn't make sense, they'd say, "absent any concrete evidence alluding to a romantic relationship." "Seven years running, and not a trace of romantic love," they'd conclude.

Remind me, what was B/E's sublime prologue into coupling up again?

Furiously choking the life out of an enemy in a fit of rage two episodes before revealing her as his new girlfriend evidently can be considered by some an adequate precursor to a sensational romantic relationship. But endangering Earthkru's lives by risking the wrath of two societies in refusing to let Clarke die, pumping her heart for her to stay alive while begging her to fight so she can come back to him, cannot be.

Either this show is quite the oddity, or it’s fandom's periodic knee-jerk, ass-backwards, charming zeal at play.

The lack of rising development is all the more reason why B/E's grand unveiling demanded perfection. Instead, our first insight into their union is overshadowed by Clarke and the impending Bellarke reunion. B/E isn't central enough to the narrative to warrant focus that would put to rest any discord of illegitimacy. But you know which pair of the two is concentrated on for seven seasons now? Three guesses...

But don't despair. Fandom has decreed, by its own appraisal, the shorthand of kissing and sex has rectified the discrepancy of a complete absence of pertinent on-screen development.

"It's not ideal storytelling," they say, "to exclude B/E's development. But The 100 has historically been a plot-driven, fast-paced, contained drama. It has always evaded expanding on character dynamics to fans' satisfaction.”

The writers have done more to present Josephine and Gabriel as soulmates with less airtime than B/E ever had in total. They don't lack the skill or time to fortify B/E in anyone's mind as the central romance. Jason made a conscious choice not to. Why would he? Does he think the endgame love story of the show's deuteragonist doesn't merit attention to detail by the writing? Or does it seem more likely, it was never his intention for B/E to cross the finish line?

And, for a plot-driven, fast-paced, contained drama, they sure have an awful knack for finding the time to showcase Clarke's kicked puppy reactions to an embracing B/E. We've had three thus far. One for science, one for emphasis, and one to say, "Do you people get it now?"

"Bellarke doesn't make any sense," they say, "if they wanted each other, they'd have gotten together by now."

A long time ago, someone stated, "Lovers are supposed to do that you know and if they don’t do that it means their relationship isn’t romantic if sexual intercourse isn’t added."

And to that, I posed the question, "Where exactly is it written that "if a pairing is not made canon by season [insert arbitrarily chosen number here], it will never be made canon, period?" Was I just absent from fandom class that day and skipped to the lesson on slow-burn ships?" We are going into the final season, and I stand by this question today as I did then. Bellarke could refrain from physical expressions of love and candid confessions to season 17, and their journey could continue to exemplify a love story. Because the absence of either one doesn't preclude two people from falling in love. Nor does the inclusion of either one necessitate two people falling in love.

"Bellarke doesn't make any sense," they say. They say because Bellamy is her dearly beloved, but platonic, best friend.

Well, you've got me there. I'm stumped. How can it be possible for friendship and romantic love to behave as anything but mutually exclusive concepts? It's not as if friendship can be contorted to serve as a foundation for love.

The cornerstones of strong friendships include trust, care, support, devotion, and many other features of a similar nature. Love- deep and genuine love, that is- involves frequent kissing and passionate, vigorous sex. The wilder the display, the stronger the pairing. The dozens of couples, love interests, and sexual liaisons before B/E who have kissed and had sex before dying must not have first consulted the manual for proper protocol.

And the inverse? Once two people fall in love, they cannot fall back to say, a familial connection. No, no, no. Such a regression would be the work of a tragic, reprehensible flaw in the cogs of the universe. Speak nothing of it.

"It doesn't make sense for B/E to break up," they say, "when B/E has stayed together for two seasons sans any indication Bellamy loves Clarke more than Echo, enough to want to leave his loving girlfriend."

How many times has Bellamy tried and failed to honor his commitment to Echo? How many weak attempts are met with a corresponding scene of Bellamy shifting his attention to the girl he tells himself to get over?

Echo leaves for Shallow Valley, his focus immediately turns onto persuading Clarke not to leave his side. He symbolically chooses Echo in the fireside scene by touching her sword. Yet, he looks at his girlfriend for the first time since their separation with the most aloof expression unsuitable for the occasion. No hope to be found anywhere. They share a brief reunion hug, no time for intimacy. He is reunited with Clarke and casts a nervous glance at Echo when bombarded with Clarke's appreciative gaze. Still no time for intimacy between B/E before a decade-long nap, but time can be carved out for a warm, flirty Bellarke reconciliation, complete with intensive heart eyes. No inspired, emotionally wrought, double sunlit embraces for B/E. If Bellamy is going to look out of a window at his future home, he'll either be by himself or snuggling Clarke into his side. There's no place for Echo in the lock of his arms anymore, only room for flanking him in the way loyal lieutenants tend to do. His girlfriend glances over at him as their exploratory team roughly plummets to new territory, and he does the same at Clarke. B/E reconnects lakeside, him asking for a swim with her and leaning into her arms at a campfire. He sits by her side on a swing set, amidst talk of moving their people into an abandoned village. And it's all well and good for B/E, right? They're presenting the front of a happy, unified couple.

Until...Clarke walks away behind his sight, and he leaves Echo's side to seek Clarke's missing presence where the flirting and warm gazes and near confessions are kicked into overdrive. He calls Echo to hear his latest discovery, then proceeds to ignore the hell out of her, communicating exclusively to his co-leader. He stares wistfully at Clarke dancing with her new flavor of the night, cannot stop doing so even while excoriating Echo for her stoicism, expressing his frustration at her inability to fulfill his emotional needs.

He recommits to Echo, as Clarke is kidnapped and her body is stolen, with nary a transition, suggesting we are meant to link the two incidents together. For all his resolve to face the future with Echo, he spends the whole of the next episode with a wary eye on Clarke, to the point that he is the first to realize Clarke is not herself. In the ensuing arc ranging from 6x05 to 6x11, approximately half of the season, what was B/E, again? Was that a thing concurrently happening with Bellamy's Operation: Save My Clarke? Because I seem to be able to recall only Bellarke goodness. Oh, my mistake, there was the consoling hug which, oddly enough, did nothing to soothe him. As evidenced by his choice to grieve alone. No girlfriend he wanted close by for comfort, knowing clear as day she couldn't provide it if she tried. Not with who he just lost.

B/E gets another brief reunion hug, the majority of which is spent with him peering at Clarke. The show saw that hug and raised us an Austenesque-quality counterpart that would do Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy proud.

"B/E endgame is the only sensible outcome," they say, "they love each other so much."

I don't contend they don't love each other. But we are shown two people determined but incapable of snuffing their deep-rooted feelings out of noble propriety, and most importantly, out of needless fear of unrequited love. And another two people who sought- and failed- to keep grasping the wisps of a gentle relationship slipping out of their hands since they left their comfortable space bubble. For anyone in this conundrum to be happy, the only natural course of action is for the latter to call it quits. The writing has been on the wall for too long.

Maybe a single Bellarke scene plucked out of the lineup can be interpreted on its own as platonic buddies being platonic buddies. But when all those individual moments are woven together, what forms is an ornate tapestry with a pattern so vivid, any inane rhetoric involving a hint of the word "platonic" is little more than ludicrous anti drivel transparently cooked up by those wishing a different endgame.

I hope you've enjoyed my second long-winded rant, @sometimesrosy, @jeanie205, @travllingbunny. One born of a teaching moment in which I learn for the umpteenth time it's best to steer clear of Twitter.

#the 100 #bellarke #b/e #c/b/e #my post

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nikibogwater · 3 years

Text

A Shot in the Dark: a Tales of Arcadia Fanfiction (Chapter 1)

"...The Arcane Order doesn’t actually care whether you live or die. They have given me permission to do to you whatever I deem necessary. So...” Douxie swallowed and grit his teeth as Rivan’s hand began to glow with an ugly, pulsing red light. “...I will ask politely one more time before I resort to more extreme measures. Where is the forest-child Nari?”

When Douxie is stripped of his magic and captured by a new enemy, Nari and Archie risk everything to come to his rescue.

(Chapter 2)

(Chapter 3)

Here we are, dears, the first chapter. Don’t forget to check out the author’s commentary after you’ve finished (if that’s the kind of thing you’re interested in) and I will be back with the next chapter on Nov. 13. Thank you all for waiting, and I hope you enjoy. 💕

Read on Ao3

Or under the cut:

Most of Douxie’s mornings began with the harsh, clattering sound of his phone vibrating and whistling next to his ear. Necessary as his morning alarm was, he still hated it with every fiber of his being. So he had been borderline ecstatic when he slipped into bed the night before and left his phone alarm off, envisioning a long, uninterrupted sleep that he hoped would end no sooner than ten am, preferably eleven. This Saturday marked his first real day off since moving to this blasted city, and he intended to relish in it with all his might.

So he was just a tad miffed when, at approximately eight-fifteen, a strange, nervous sensation rising in his chest slowly pulled him from slumber. He attempted to ignore it, simply burrowing down deeper into his pillow, but the feeling did not abate. He could not shake the peculiar awareness that he was being watched. In the end, centuries of experience forced him to heed his instincts, and he pried one eyelid open and glanced over his shoulder.

Two pairs of luminous golden eyes were hovering uncomfortably close to his head and staring at him fixedly. Douxie yelped and threw off his covers, scrambling upright and fumbling for his magic vambrace nearby. A small green hand held it out to him politely, and after a bit of confused blinking, Douxie finally registered the faces of his companions. Nari and Archie were sitting on the floor next to his mattress, looking at him eagerly. He felt himself deflate as he gave a long sigh of relief.

“Fuzzbuckets, you two, don’t creep on me like that,” he admonished lightly, fastening his vambrace around his left wrist. Nari gave him a sheepish smile while Archie stepped up onto his mattress and rubbed against Douxie’s side.

“Next time, don’t oversleep,” the Familiar replied. “You do remember what day it is?”

“Yeah, it’s Saturday. My day off. Hence the reason I was sleeping,” Douxie said with a yawn, stretching his arms above his head.

“It’s also the day you promised to bring Nari to Central Park,” Archie informed him.

“...It is?” the wizard mumbled groggily, looking at the wood nymph crouched nearby. She gave him a somewhat apologetic nod.“...It is. Ah, fuzzbuckets, I’m sorry, I completely forgot.” He tumbled out of his bed, snatching up his day clothes from a heap on the floor. “I’ll be ready in two shakes,” he promised, ruffling Nari’s hair before pushing himself to his feet. He staggered to the bathroom, running his fingers through his sleep-mussed hair, very nearly smacking his head on the doorframe.

“Perhaps we should not have woken him,” Nari fretted as the door closed behind the wizard.

“You know Douxie always acts like a plague victim first thing in the morning, regardless of how much he slept.” Archie reminded her, following Nari into the kitchen area and pulling the box of English Breakfast tea out of the cupboard while she filled the kettle at the sink.

Mornings for Nari looked very different than they used to, she realized as she set the kettle on the stove, stepping back so Archie could light it (due to her somewhat complicated relationship with Bellroc, she was still wary about anything that involved fire). As a demigoddess who had existed for hundreds of millenia, she had never had much experience with something as human as family domesticity. Her siblings (if the Arcane Order could ever really be called such) certainly never spent mornings bustling around a kitchen making tea for one another, but even if they had, Nari was beginning to understand that there was more to being a family than the mundane routines. There was a feeling in the air around her, a sensation of companionship and contentment that felt almost otherworldly at times, yet it was inextricably linked to these small, daily, human gestures of kindness.

Douxie emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, just as Nari was squeezing out the teabag. His damp hair was combed back into its usual neat appearance, and he was wearing his favorite hoodie. He mumbled a quiet ‘thanks’ as Nari presented the cup of tea to him, and slumped back against the island countertop as he took a sip. Archie sat down on the counter behind him, pressing against his wizard’s back and purring contentedly into the soft, warm fabric of his jacket. Nari mirrored Douxie’s position beside him, trying to quell the nervous excitement fluttering in her chest. She had heard much about Central Park, and after going two-and-a-half months without feeling any real grass beneath her feet, the thought of visiting even the smallest pocket of nature made her spirit tingle in anticipation. But she kept still and quiet, trying her best to be patient as Douxie drank his tea, slowly working his way back to full alertness.

“Right,” he sighed after he had drained the last drop from his mug. “You two already had breakfast?”

“Nari was kind enough to open a tin of sardines for me earlier,” Archie answered. “And she says the sunlight is strong enough today that she will not require any food.”

“Okay,” Douxie hummed as he set his mug in the sink and ran water in it. “Then I guess we’re ready.”

“Wait,” Nari chided, opening one of the cupboards and pulling out two granola bars. “You need sustenance as well.”

“Right. I forgot,” the wizard chuckled, slipping her offering into one of his pockets. “I’ll eat when we get there.” He grabbed his keys off of the counter and held out an arm for Archie to clamber up onto his shoulder. Nari scurried to the door eagerly, practically bouncing on her toes as Douxie reached out to undo the magical seals. Before his hand made contact with the door, he drew back suddenly and snapped his fingers.

“Fuzzbuckets, I’m forgetting all kinds of things today,” he muttered, turning to the small demigoddess. “Nari, face me and hold very still for just a second.”

“What is this for?” she asked, intrigued as Douxie knelt down to her level and placed his hands on either side of her head, his middle and index fingers pressing gently against her temples.

“I’ve been looking into some concealing spells that can be cast directly onto a person, rather than on an area. It’s a lot more complicated than the standard protective wards, but it should make your aura undetectable to other magic users for a little while.”

“Isn’t that a little excessive?” Archie remarked, climbing down from Douxie’s shoulder in order to give him some breathing room for the spell. “The entire reason we came here is because it is almost impossible to detect individual auras in a place this crowded.”

“I don’t see any harm in taking extra precautions,” Douxie replied. “Keep very still for me, Nari.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his aura flowing out and wrapping around her like a warm, familiar cloak. “Celare,” he murmured, and Nari felt a sharp tug on her spirit as the spell washed over it, cool and comforting like the shade of an old tree. Douxie’s hands fell away from her head and he sat back on his knees, his breath short and a little ragged. “Wow,” he panted. “You have....a lot of magic. I almost didn’t have enough of my own to cover it all.”

“...I’m sorry,” Nari answered meekly, unsure of what else to say. Douxie laughed breathlessly and shook his head, bringing a hand up to squeeze her shoulder.

“You’re fine. I’m just impressed.” He levered himself back to his feet, bracing himself against the door for a moment, before seeming to collect his bearings. Archie hopped back up onto his shoulder and nudged his head in silent inquiry. Douxie waved him off with a soft ‘I’m fine.’ Then he disabled the protective seals and opened the door, stepping back and gesturing to Nari. “Let’s go.”

“Should your magic not also be concealed?” she asked as they emerged into the hallway, pausing while Douxie locked the door behind them (the ordinary way--he didn’t see any need for magic seals if none of them were home).

“I’m afraid I can’t cast the spell on myself,” he explained, pocketing his keys. “Anyways, I don’t think the Order had enough time to get a good feel of my aura. It’s your magic signature they’ll be looking for. Relax.” He smiled down at her as they began descending the uneven stairs (it was unknown whether there was ever a time in history when the elevator in this complex had actually functioned). “There’s nothing to worry about. Let’s just focus on having a good time today, alright?” He stopped her halfway down the flight so he could lift her over a broken step.

“Alright,” Nari promised. They made it to the lobby and burst into the sunlit street outside, the taste of freedom burning on the wood-nymph’s tongue like those carbonated drinks humans were so peculiarly fond of. The park wasn’t too far away, and Nari was still somewhat distrustful of automobiles, so they had opted to walk. She made sure to hold on to the edge of Douxie’s hoodie tightly so she wouldn’t accidentally lose him as her eyes wandered the cityscape, taking in the sights.

The first time she had walked the streets of New York City, Nari had been on the verge of tears. There were so many sensations assaulting her mind at once, the feeling of countless souls buzzing around, a crowd of spirits so thick that sometimes it felt like a wall. Even without tapping into her roots, she was drowning in a sea of tangling energies, as hundreds, even thousands of voices echoed in her soul all at once. It was more than she had ever experienced in one place before, and it had made her frantic with the desire to claw her way out of her own skin. The protective wards Douxie cast on their apartment helped filter out most of the magical noise, but it had taken several weeks of regular exposure before Nari was able to walk out in the open without clinging to Douxie’s hand so tightly that her nails left crescent marks on his fingers.

She had learned how to block out most of the noise now, and only felt the faintest twinge of anxiety as they joined the sea of bodies traversing the city. It helped that whatever spell Douxie had put on her was having a sort of swaddling effect on her aura. Her spirit felt comfortably nestled within her, not completely deaf to the world around her, but still separated from it in some way. She was even able to discern the individual life forces of the people around her, pick out who was emitting which charge. It was like a chaotic smear of colors had sharpened into a recognizable picture, one where she could finally see the finely drawn details and appreciate the contrasting shades.

Until suddenly, with a jolt in her stomach, she realized that one piece of the picture was missing entirely.

She and Douxie had stopped at a crosswalk, and were waiting for the signal, when her eyes drifted across the figure of a man, leaning against some brickwork near the turnoff into a smaller alleyway. He was fashionably dressed, (“business casual,” the humans called it), with an elegant black trench coat hanging nonchalantly off of his arm. He had dark brown hair, handsomely trimmed and styled, just a bit longer than Douxie’s, and was wearing a large pair of expensive-looking sunglasses. He looked thoroughly uninterested in the world around him, and had the appearance of someone who was waiting to meet up with a particularly tardy acquaintance. But Nari couldn’t sense that he was waiting. She couldn’t sense anything from this man. He emitted no life force, no aura or energy of any kind. He was like a standing, breathing corpse. Feeling oddly sick all of a sudden, Nari pressed closer to Douxie’s side and frantically tugged at his sleeve.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured, the sound swallowed by the noise around him, though Nari was able to feel his intent through his aura.

“I-I am not sure. I felt...Well, actually I did not feel...” she stammered, unsure of how to communicate what had just happened. Across the street, the signal changed, and the people around them surged forward. Douxie glanced at the crosswalk and then back at her, a silent request for her to make this quick. Out of ideas, Nari pointed back to the space between two buildings a few feet away from them, hoping to bring his attention to the man in question.

Except, when she looked back, he was gone.

“...What is it?” Douxie reiterated, glancing between her and the alleyway in confusion.

“There was... There was a man there, just a moment ago. Except, he was not there. I-I could see him, but I could not feel him. He had no aura or life force.”

“Perhaps he was a spirit?” Archie suggested, speaking as quietly as he could so as not to draw attention to himself.

“No, I have seen spirits before. He was definitely a living human,” Nari objected. “But he....It was like he had no soul.”

Across the street, the crosswalk signal changed again. Beside her, Douxie’s aura was rippling with unease. But a moment later, his spirit stilled, and he put an arm around her to turn her away from the alley.

“...Whatever it was, we don’t know for sure that it was a threat. It was strange, yes, but I don’t think we need to worry about it just now. It might not have anything to do with us. Heck, it might’ve just been a trick of the light, or--”

“Douxie, I know what I saw,” Nari interrupted, putting as much force into her small voice as she could.

“--or it might have been something real,” Douxie amended, giving her an apologetic look. “But whatever it was, we don’t have any reason to be anxious about it. Not yet, and maybe not ever. Let’s just get to the park and have a good time, alright?”

Nari fell silent, and gave a reluctant nod. A minute later, the crosswalk signal changed once more, and they continued on their way. Though Douxie’s spirit was radiating a placid energy, Nari couldn’t help noticing that he kept his arm around her for the rest of the journey.

To be continued. ✨

#tales of arcadia #toa #wizards: tales of arcadia #wizards: toa #fanfiction #douxie #nari #toa archie #the magical siblings #and their therapy cat #the adventure begins <3 #a shot in the dark

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midnightartemis · 3 years

Text

Chapter Two

Rated M - SFW - Read on AO3 - Chapter One - Chapter Three - Masterlist

It had been long said that the Fourth Year was the hardest year at Hogwarts. Ben learned quickly the truth of this statement. His professors dumped assignment after assignment in his lap as if they had realized how little they had taught him over the past three years. Hardly a class went by without a professor mentioning O.W.L.s, still over a year and a half away.

Ben had no time to contemplate anything outside of his studies and soon all thoughts of Vader and darkness were in the back of his mind. While his dreams were dark, he never remembered them after what little sleep he managed.

When he was not in class, he was studying. When he was not studying, he was sleeping. The weekends proved no better and he found himself quite alone on Sunday nights, trying not to think of Rey and the way her nose scrunched up as she tried to jinx him. He missed their time in the Room of Requirement. He missed having a true friend.

Ben shook his head to clear his thoughts and brought his focus back to his half-finished parchment on cursed object detection. While he loved to dive into the theoretical when it came to magic, Luke had the annoying habit of keeping Defense Against the Dark Arts as hands-off as possible. It was highly unlikely his uncle would bring in any cursed objects for the class to view, even though Ben knew for a fact his uncle owned several. This only brought up memories of India that Ben wished to forget and he scowled at his parchment.

“Forget how to read, Solo?” Hux’s voice came from across the common room. This time of night it was filled with students, some studying, some talking quietly around one of the many fires that warmed the perpetually chilly dorms. Hux sat on a plush emerald chair across from his usual cohorts, Phasma and Mitaka, who were giving him questioning looks. Despite being two years younger, Hux was one of the few Slytherins who had never been afraid of Ben or smart enough to leave him alone. Their parents were rivals; that was all the cause Hux needed.

“Forget your place, Huxley?” Ben muttered, not lifting his eyes from his parchment.

Hux frowned. He pushed himself from his chair and sauntered over to the empty table where Ben was working. With one hand, he slammed Ben’s D.A.D.A. book shut. Ben stopped his writing and sat back. Like this, they were the same height. Hux sneered, “Think you’re better than me, half-blood?”

Ben itched to turn Hux’s legs to jelly. Hux was only trying to get a rise out of him, to give his mother ammunition for her articles again. He was saved by a steady voice over his shoulder.

“Watch your tongue, Hux. I seem to remember a muggle-born putting you on your arse last year. Or did you forget? Blood isn’t everything.” Voe Elphrona raised her brow, amused. Her Head Girl badge flashed in the firelight on her robes. A talented witch and a fierce opponent both on and off the Quidditch pitch, Voe was widely respected, even by the likes of Armitage Hux.

Hux’s face turned bright red and he stiffly walked back to his chair. He snapped at Phasma and Mitaka who quickly found something else to look at.

Ben put his head back down though he could still feel Voe and her friends standing behind him. Only a moment passed before Voe took a seat across from him. Her friends - namely, the other Prefects - Tai, Hennix, Bazine, and Grummgar, made for the largest, most central couch in the common room, scaring off a flock of First Years.

What did she want?

“Mind if I join you?” Voe’s silvery eyes flashed. It wasn’t a question. “We’ve just gotten back from our meeting with Professor Tarkin. Seems you’ve made the shortlist for Prefect next year. Maybe even Head Boy, one day.”

Ben sat up a little straighter. Head Boy. He’d dreamed of it even as a child. If they made him Head Boy, maybe then they would see him as something other than an enemy. “And?”

“I agree.” Voe tilted her head toward the rest of the group. “We think you’re really the only Fourth Year qualified enough. Best if we mentor you properly.”

“Why?” Everyone wanted something from him. Slytherins rarely ever did anything from the goodness of their hearts. Not when there was something to be gained. It was a fact of life now. Even Rey had wanted things from him. Knowledge. Training. He had gladly given it, even for just a sliver of her friendship. “What do you want?”

Voe grinned, revealing sharp incisors as white and luminous as her hair. Every year to scare the first years, there was a rumor spread that Voe’s grandmother was part vampire. How someone could only be part vampire, Ben had no clue. “Your mother will not be Minister of Magic forever. All I ask is your support for when I take her place.”

A political move then. “I’m not exactly a person you want on your side.”

The young witch only shrugged. “We will see.”

Ben glanced at the cohort sitting around the fireplace. Tai and Hennix sat across from each other in high-backed chairs, each carefully studying a game of Wizard’s Chess. Beside them on the couch, Grummgar sat like he owned the common room with Bazine lounging at his side. She flicked through radio stations with her wand, a bored look on her face. He’d be hard-pressed to call them friends, but what Voe was offering wasn’t friendship.

“They will make you stronger. And one day, they will bow before you.” The voice in his mind whispered.

“Doubts?”

“No.” Ben met her eye. “I fail to see how this is worth my time. Support for Minister of Magic comes at a high cost.”

There was no doubt in Ben’s mind that Voe could take that position if she wanted to. The Elphronas were an old pureblood family, powerful and wealthy. They had long held seats in the ministry, both before and after the war. Her father was currently Ambassador to the United States.

“I can offer you mentorship, a favor, and access.” Voe’s steady eyes studied him as if she had come to realize that Ben would not be anyone’s prey. This fact only drew her in more.

“Access to what?”

Voe leaned across the table and took Ben’s quill from his inkwell. On a scratch piece of parchment, she wrote out something in thin, spidery letters. Once she was finished, she drew her aspen wand and tapped the parchment. Her charm work settled over the parchment in a silver haze. She stood and offered it to him. Her fingers brushed against his as he took it. “Midnight. Don’t be late. Or don’t come at all.”

Ben looked down at the blank piece of parchment.

☽◯☾

It had taken him longer than he would like to admit to deconstruct Voe’s spell work. The most basic charm to reveal hidden things, Revelio, had no effect on the parchment whatsoever except to make a mark on the corner like a small tally. An attempt at Aparecium, a similar but far more powerful charm made to reveal hidden text, produced nothing but a second tally.

Voe had revealed nothing, so Ben erred on the side of caution and worked with the idea that he had one attempt remaining to reveal the text. His next attempt had to be the right one. One hour 'til midnight, Ben hadn't moved from the common room table. The enchanted parchment and textbooks floated in front of him at eye level. The common room had cleared of First through Third Years for their 11 pm curfew. All who remained were upperclassmen studying, playing wizard’s chess, or quietly speaking to one another.

At eleven, the Prefects sitting at the couch stood to start their nightly rounds. Voe winked at him as she passed with Bazine, Grummgar, Tai and Hennix trailing behind her. Ben stared hard at his books as they passed. He only looked up when Tai paused by the table. The sixth-year stood at an average height and looked skinny in his robes, but Ben knew better. The wizard had a controlled and dexterous strength that made him an excellent Seeker. His mind was just as sharp when it came to potions. His dark hair was closely shaven, nearly bald.

“Don’t overthink it, Solo.”

Ben gave him a short nod and the boy walked off.

Don’t overthink it. Voe Elphrona was not one to play tricks. She could be devious, yes, but she never hid what she truly desired. Power. Prestige. Voe had dealt him a secret and this was her test. Though Voe excelled in all areas of magic she put her talent, it was not Charms but Transfiguration she excelled at. Revealing charms would not work to reveal the text on the parchment because she had transfigured the marked parchment to a blank one.

Ben swept the tip of his wand across the parchment. “Reparifage.”

The untransfiguration spell took effect immediately as Voe’s script reappeared on the page. Any elation at solving Voe’s puzzle vanished as Ben looked down at the runes.

ᛁᚳ ᛒᚢᛖ ᛒᛖᚾᛁᛞᚻᚪᚾ ᛋᛖ ᛚᛁᚠᛏ, ᛋᛖ ᛖᚩᚱᚦᛖ, ᛋᛖ ᛚ, ᚷᛖᚾ,

ᛁᚳ ᛒᚢᛖ ᚩᚠᛖᚱ ᛋᛖ ᚪᛚ

ᛘᛁᚾ ᚷᛖᛋᛏᛠᛚ ᚪᚾᚻᛠᛚᛞᛖ ᚻᚹᛁᛚᚳ ᛚᛖᚩᚱᚾᛖᛋᛏᚱᚪᚾ ᚪᛋᛖᚳᛖᛋᛏ

ᛋᚳᚩᛚᛞᛖ ᚦᚢ ᚪᚾᚻᛁᛖᛚᛋᛏ ᛖᚠᛖᚾᛘᛖᛞᚢᛘᛘᛖ, ᚪᛋᚳᚪ, ᛁᚳ ᚪᚳᚹᛇᚦ

“Accio rune book.” The book flew from his book bag and floated in front of him. He worked quickly as there was less than an hour to translate and solve the message. It was easy enough to translate the Anglo-Saxon Runes to their Latin counterparts. From there, however, things grew more tedious. Words varied from region to region. There were a few words he recognized, however. Lyft often referred to air. Eorthe to earth, as in soil or ground.

Quarter to midnight, Ben grabbed his cloak of Invisibility from his bag and hurried out the common room door.

I live beneath the air, the earth, the water...

Assuming the entrance was in the castle, only a few dungeon halls that ran beneath the lake. The first, of course, being the common room and dormitory halls. The halls beneath the lake were some of the oldest in the castle and rumored to have been there before even the four founders arrived. They were dimly lit by the same green light found in the potions classroom and Slytherin house.

Yet, I live above the fire…

My frame holds what all students seek…

He had never seen a fireplace or torch in the halls beneath the lake. Not in all his time at Hogwarts. Nor did he recollect any paintings. Most paintings preferred to be in the warmer, dryer halls. Ones where they could be seen. In truth, he had never paid much attention. Ben hurried, not bothering to stick to the shadows. The halls were empty this time of night. Not a witch or wizard in sight. Most students and staff avoided this part of the castle.

The air grew colder and colder as he walked deeper and deeper into mostly forgotten halls beneath the lake. He came to a staircase that took him further still. The cold, musty smell in the air was the only sign of how far beneath the lake he was now. It was nearing midnight now, any minute.

“Further still, young Skywalker,” The voice whispered.

Up ahead, came a soft glow of firelight, one he had never noticed before.

He hurried towards it and found that it came from a short hall - really it was more of a small chamber - with no doors, no windows. Just dark stone that curved into an arched ceiling. Five brightly burning flames sat in low stone pillars near the walls. Two on each side and one at the head of the chamber. Above them hung five large paintings, taller than he was.

If ye be worthy, ask, and I shall answer.

None of the paintings were the same but for the fact that they all depicted different items held in ghostly hands. To his left, a sword and a wand. To his right, a key and a book. And in the fifth frame at the head of the room, the ghostly hands stirred a bubbling cauldron.

Sword. Wand. Key. Book. Cauldron.

A sword could represent power- same as a wand. Sought by students, yes. Voe certainly would be one of them. Yet, this was no longer Voe’s puzzle. This was something older.

A bubbling cauldron lived above flame, but did students seek it? What did it represent?

A key. Access. A way to open locked and forbidden items. Doors.

Knowledge.

The book.

Students sought knowledge held within the frame of a book. One could ask and a book would answer.

In the distance, the midnight bells rang throughout Hogwarts’ halls. He was out of time.

If ye be worthy, ask, and I shall answer.

Ben turned to the painting of the book. The ghostly hands held it closed in their grasp. Ben took a deep breath. “What knowledge do you hide?”

For a moment, nothing happened. Ben held his breath. The final toll of the midnight bells rang out. Had he failed? Was he too late?

Before his eyes, the hands parted, letting the book fall open in their palms. The painting began to shimmer as if it were a pool of rippling water. A portal.

Ben stepped through to the other side.

☽◯☾

A curtain of warmth passed over him as he stepped through the portal. The feeling of this magic was not unlike the entrance to Platform 9¾ at King’s Cross Station. Though, t his portal did not lead to a train platform on the other side.

Ben found himself standing on the top step of an amphitheater made of stone similar to the halls he had come from. Four sets of stairs descended towards the arena floor, sectioning off low stone seating. There was no portal behind him, only stone and an arch marked with runes. The arches surrounded the amphitheater and gave support to the room’s domed roof. At first, Ben thought the ceiling was made of obsidian, but a closer look revealed that he was still beneath the Black Lake. Deep beneath. Strange shadowy shapes rippled through the water behind the glass.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it.” Voe’s voice echoed through the amphitheater. She stood on the other side of the pit beneath a similarly marked arch. She glanced up at the arch above him and made an amused sound. The corners of her lips curled up in a smile. “Interesting choice.”

“Choice?”

Voe stepped away from her arch and down the stairs into the pit. The low heels of her shoes clicked with every step. Ben stayed at his arch, though there was no longer a portal there. No way to get out.

“Everyone must solve the riddle to pass through a portal. How you solve the riddle… That is the choice. Any of the paintings will reveal a portal if you ask it to.”

He’d chosen the book. Knowledge. Why?

“I’d say you have questions unanswered. Hidden from you. Knowledge you desire to obtain. Yet, everyone is a closed book to you.” Voe stepped onto the floor of the arena. She looked around the arena before turning her gaze back to Ben. “Am I correct?”

Ben said nothing.

Voe took his silence as answer enough. She drew her wand and turned around the firelit arena. “Have you figured it out yet?”

He looked at the stone closer, seeing the cracks and burns that covered the dark stone. The floor where Voe stood, the center of the arena, was painted in fading golden runes and protective sacred geometry.

“Dueling.” Ben stepped away from the arch and started down the stairs into the pit. “Who knows about this?”

“A select few. Those who aren’t given the secret cannot find this place.”

“A Fidelius Charm?” Ben had only read of the charm. It was an incredibly difficult spell that only very powerful witches and wizards could manage. The spell concealed a secret in a primary keeper’s very soul. A place protected by the Fidelius Charm was completely hidden from the world. Unplottable. Not even the most powerful revealing magic could make the place known. The only way for someone to find a hidden place was for the primary keeper to reveal the information of their own will. Whoever gained that information would then be able to find the hidden place. But they had no power to reveal the secret themselves. Now that Ben knew, he would not be able to tell of this place to another soul, even if he wished to.

Voe nodded. “Some of the greatest duels in history were fought in this very room. When dueling was banned, this place was forgotten by almost everyone, except for two Prefects. They created the riddle and hid it all with the Fidelius charm. It’s been passed down ever since to those who… Craved knowledge as you do. Now more than ever, knowledge is power. And if Professor Skywalker refuses to teach us properly...”

“We have to teach ourselves.” Ben finished.

Voe grinned. “Precisely.”

“Where are the others?”

“They’ll be here any moment.” Voe flicked her wand and the amphitheater chamber filled with blue light. The markings beneath Ben’s feet began to glow. Voe stepped out of the circle formed by the runes and flicked her wand once more. From the circle, a wall of blue light formed, cracking with protective blue energy.

Ben bared his wand. It seemed as the new initiate, he would be going first tonight. Soft wooshes filled the room as students appeared in the arches. Tai and Hennix came first. Followed closely by Bazine and Grummgar. Grummgar immediately placed a galleon in Bazine’s hand at the sight of Ben. Next came Cal Kestis, Gryffindor Head Boy, and Merrin Nightsister, Head Girl. Jyn Erso, a Fourth Year Hufflepuff, stumbled in from the opposite portal. Not long after her came the only other one from Hufflepuff, Dorra, a Prefect, through the same portal. From Ravenclaw, Tam Ryvora, Pammich Goode, Mira Syntel.

The ten students filed in quietly. Tense anticipation hung in the air. Ben paced the edge of the ring, heart pounding. No one had yet approached the ring. Each house took a seat in their own quarter of the arena, though there was nothing to designate who sat where. Voe stood on the steps between Slytherin and Ravenclaw, arms crossed. She tapped her wand impatiently against her arm.

“Is he coming or not, Kestis?” Voe turned her steely eyes to Cal.

“Give him a minute.” The redheaded seventh year looked unbothered as he lounged next to Merrin. “He’s got time.”

One last whoosh echoed in the amphitheater announcing the arrival of the final participant. Poe Dameron stepped through the arch. Ben felt his blood heat. Dameron looked around the amphitheater with a smirk.

“Waiting for me?”

“The first and the last.” Voe gestured to the ring. Dameron’s eyes landed on Ben and Ben fought back a small smile as Dameron hesitated. “Unless you’d like to leave?”

Dameron swallowed and descended the steps. He stepped through the ring of blue energy, wand drawn.

“Let the rules be known.” Voe raised her wand to the arena. “No contact. No unforgivable curses. No magic which will cause permanent harm. The duel will begin with a bow and end when one duelist is rendered incapacitated or house heads call for a cease fire. I wish you both best of luck. You may begin.”

Cheers rang from the dozen and a half students filling the stone seats of the amphitheater. From the Gryffindor section came shouts of, “Dam-er-on! Dam-er-on!” Not unlike those chanted on the Quidditch pitch. Dameron ate every ounce of it, lifting his hands to egg it on.

How he’d like to put Dameron on his arse. How he’d like to see the cocky bastard get taken down a peg. Ben raised his wand, pointed to the ceiling as Dameron pulled his redwood wand from his back pocket. Poe bowed first, low and mocking, playing to his crowd of supporters. It seemed that Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had taken his side. The Slytherins, on the other hand, seemed somewhat uninterested. Voe watched with a domineering gaze. Ben dipped his head in a shallow bow to Dameron.

“Focus. Feel the anger, the hate inside of you. Let it fuel you. Control it, young Skywalker.”

Ben stepped into his dueling position, breathing deeply. Poe raised his wand, but neither student moved to fire the first shot. Poe grinned, “So, who goes first? You go first? I go fir-”

Ben flicked his wand, shooting off a nonverbal jinx. Poe leaped out of the way, throwing up a weak protego. Shock crossed the boy’s face, but quickly morphed into focused anger. They weren’t required to start nonverbal spells until Sixth Year, a fact that Dameron very well knew.

Ben was not here to go easy on the Gryffindor Fourth Year. He fired off spell after spell, each slamming into Dameron’s shields. A memory of Rey practicing protego, her grin as she managed the smallest shield, popped unbidden into his head. It was enough to throw him off, to give Dameron a chance to hit back.

“Aguamenti!” A jet stream of water barrelled towards Ben from Poe’s wand. The water hit Ben hard in the gut and knocked him to the floor. All the air in his lungs rushed out of him. Whoops and shouts and laughter echoed through the stone room.

Poe looked towards Voe in the stands. The witch shrugged as Ben stood. “He can still cast. He’s not done yet.”

He was soaking wet now, blood pounding in his ears. Poe shot a disarming spell at him and Ben deflected it. The wall crackled with energy. There was nowhere to go. Poe shifted to his left and the dance began. They circled each other, waiting for the right moment. Blood rushing, Ben pounced first. Poe jumped away from the impediment jinx and fired back a red bolt. Ben pointed his wand at the spell, not even thinking. The red beam hung in the air, frozen in time.

A gasp rippled through the amphitheater.

How?

How was he doing this?

Before he could comprehend, his spell wavered and Poe’s stunning spell hit him square in the chest. Ben flew back and hit the wall of light surrounding them. He fell to the floor, limp. Uproarious cheers of victory filled the arena at the fall of Ben Solo.

He woke as the blue wall surrounding the dueling ring lowered. He pushed himself up off the stone, an ache in his chest. Come morning, he would feel as if he had been hit by one of his father’s muggle cars. Or by the Hogwarts Express.

Poe had already climbed the stairs of the arena to the rest of the Gryffindors, who met him with high fives and congratulations. Ben crossed over to the Slytherin seats, passing Voe as she came down the stairs. She gave him a cold, appraising look.

Ben took his seat near the other Slytherins. Tai was the only one to turn to him. “How did you do that?”

“I don’t know.” Ben shrugged and winced. “It just happened.”

“It couldn’t have been the Freezing Charm, could it? Something similar. Perhaps the Slowing Charm. But you didn’t slow it, not really. I didn’t even know you could slow or stop spells, not like that. Are you sure you didn’t use a spell?”

“I’m sure.” Ben couldn’t help but glare at Poe. From the dueling ring, Voe announced the next contenders- the new initiates from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. There was no doubt in his mind that Rey would be chosen to join the club in her Fourth Year. Would he still be here? He wasn’t sure. He hadn’t been for a while. It wasn’t a future he could imagine. He hoped that he would be, just to see the poor sod who had to face her. He hoped it would be Hux.

“-could try a prior incantation charm to take a closer look at it.” Tai hadn’t stopped talking. “Surely, Professor Kuiil would know something about it.”

“No.” The last thing he needed was for word to get back to Luke or Kenobi or his parents of his wand doing strange things.

“Right. Can’t talk about this outside of this room. Still, very interesting.” Tai noted.

“Very impressive.” Bazine eyed Ben. Her gaze desired to devour him. “Most entertaining initiation duel I’ve seen. Usually, everyone is so meek and timid. Voe always tries to pair up rivals, but,” Bazine sighed, “once they step into the ring… poof. Scared little kittens.”

Grummgar grunted in agreement.

Below them in the dueling circle, Jyn Erso faced off against Myra Syntel. It lasted all of two seconds as Jyn hit Myra with a perfect Full Body-Bind Curse. The young Ravenclaw, who had been trying to perfect her attack stance, fell face first on the stone with legs glued together and arms stuck to her sides. Jyn ran over to her and quickly undid the curse, helping Myra sit up. Blood from a broken nose ran down the girl’s face. A simple utterance of ‘ Episkey’ had her back on her feet.

Memories of the Trophy Room were quick to resurface. He’d been sitting in the common room late that night studying for a test in A History of Magic when Hux barged through the common room door, loudly bragging to anyone who would listen of how he ‘showed that mudblood a lesson’ and left her in the trophy room. Ben had gone to help her without a second thought.

Ben pushed the memory deeper into the dark recesses of his mind. She had been his one and only friend and now he wishes they had never met. She was a distraction now. One that could prove destructive. He wished he could bottle up all the memories of her and toss them away. He wished he could forget.

Rated M - SFW - Read on AO3 - Chapter One - Chapter Three - Masterlist

#reylo #reylo au #ben x rey #reylo fanfic #reylo fanfiction #reylo fandom

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voltrontranscript · 3 years

Text

VLD S8E4: Battle Scars

Season 8 Episode 4: Battle Scars

Transcript by @dragonofyang

Summary: In a race against time as a weblum approaches Olkarion, the paladins have to piece together what happened to destroy the once-vibrant planet and all its people as flashbacks reveal the destructive powers of Honerva’s white Altean mechs.

[Google Doc]

Hunk: Okay, that’s the third star system we checked in the last eleven days, and we still haven’t found a single clue about any robeasts.

Pidge: Actually, that was the eleventh star system in the last three days.

Hunk: Was it, really? Oh my gosh. Okay, see, I’m so worn out, I can’t even… you know.

Lance: Uh, count?

Hunk: No. Think.

Allura: I know this is not ideal, but the intel we received from the Galra cruiser in Lahn’s fleet identified one of those robeasts within this quadrant. We must find it.

Keith: Unfortunately, we just don’t know how current that information is.

Pidge: Also, this celestial quadrant is two hundred and thirty thousand lightyears in diameter.

Hunk: I can’t even process what that means.

Pidge: Okay, picture five fleas searching for another flea on a dog that’s the size of Earth.

Hunk: Ugh, all this talk about fleas is making me itchy. Are you guys feeling itchy?

Lance: Pidge, why can’t you and Hunk just make a robeast tracker thingy, you know? Do some math and science stuff. Then put some components together and bam, it’s done.

Allura: Perhaps we should set our heading for the Altean colony.

Keith: We talked about this. To get to the colony, we would have to travel through the Quantum Abyss.

Pidge: Plus, Kolivan said the colony no longer exists.

Allura: But there will be clues there, something to go off of.

Keith: Traveling through that abyss was one of the most harrowing experiences of my life. A single misstep could turn a six-month journey into a ten-year journey. The creatures, the environment, everything in there wants you dead. Except you.

Allura: I’m tired of hearing what we can’t do and what we don’t know.

Lance: Allura, we just want to make the best decisions--

Allura: The Alteans were my people, and the last of them are being exploited as soldiers in someone else’s war. You don’t understand.

Lance: I understand what it feels like to see someone I care about hurt so much.

Allura: I’m sorry, Lance.

Hunk: Okay, maybe we head to Olkarion. We’re just a few galaxies away. They might have some information on any unusual sightings.

Keith: Hunk’s right. Olkarion is a great spot to regroup and evaluate our situation.

Pidge: And it’ll be awesome to see everyone again. I wonder what kind of technological advances they’ve made in the last few years. Oh, man! If they figured out a way to untangle the uncertainty principle, new precision calculations could open the doors to a flood of innovations!

Lance: I think I understood, like, three of those words.

Keith: Allura, what do you think?

Allura: Perhaps a trip to Olkarion is best.

Hunk: Alright! Let’s do this!

Pidge: Hailing Olkarion. Be advised the Paladins of Voltron are en route. This is Pidge… hailing Olkarion. Do you copy?

Hunk: Are they not home?

Lance: Probably too busy untangling calculations. Am I using that right?

Hunk: No, not even close.

Pidge: I’m guessing there’s a delay due to our distance. We’ll probably receive their reply on the way.

Keith: Paladins, if we want to get to Olkarion quickly, there’s only one way to do it.

[Voltron transformation sequence.]

Keith: Engage wings!

Lance: Welcome to Olkarion’s galactic neighborhood. Did we ever hear from them?

Pidge: Actually, no, which is strange. I’ll try and contact them again. Whoa! We got incoming! Something big is headed our way at an incredible speed.

Lance: A Galra cruiser? Some kind of weapon?

Allura: Is it a robeast?

Keith: Shield up!

Lance: What the heck is that thing?

Hunk: It’s a weblum! Keith, look! We’ve been inside one of those!

Keith: How could I forget?

Pidge: Um, what’s it doing?

Hunk: Actually, it’s creating scaultrite. Pidge, you would love it. It’s this amazing chemical process--

Lance: Science talk later! We’re in its line of fire!

Keith: Thrusters!

Lance: Should we go on the offensive?

Hunk: No, no. They may be dangerous, but they’re essential for the universe. Think of them like giant space bees. Keith and I learned all about them from a video that Coran made. There was some rule, like, “If you don’t want to be killed stay away from its gills”?

Keith: That wasn’t the rhyme. It’s “If you don’t want to be dead, avoid its head.”

Allura: We don’t have time to listen to you rhyme!

Hunk: You just--

Keith: Hunk!

Allura: Where is that weblum going?

Pidge: According to my calculations, it’s headed towards… Olkarion.

Keith: Then we better get there first.

[Transition to Olkarion’s surface.]

Pidge: They were our allies, our friends.

Keith: Paladins, I know this is a difficult moment, but we need to get to work. That weblum is headed here right now, so time is short. Our top priority is search and rescue. If there are survivors, we need to find them, and we need to find out what happened here.

Allura: There is only one thing capable of this.

Keith: Well, let’s confirm it.

[Cut to each paladin conducting their search.]

Keith: I think our worst fears have been realized.

Hunk: What do you see?

Keith: The physical wreckage and destruction patterns are just like those on Earth.

Allura: Our findings are the same. It appears the quintessence was siphoned out of Olkarion as well.

Hunk: Lance and I took readings. We picked up trace elements of psyferite. That’s the same metal the creature on Earth was made from.

Allura: Why did this robeast attack Olkarion of all places?

Lance: Maybe because it was a central part of the coalition.

Allura: Maybe. I just get the feeling there’s something more to it.

Keith: You might be right, but we don’t have any way to confirm it. Right now, we just need to focus on finding survivors.

Allura: Pidge, have you picked up anything? Pidge, do you copy? Pidge?

Pidge: I know this place. This is where Ryner taught me how to bond with the forest. The Olkari people helped me to make that connection. I learned more from them than I ever thought possible. Allura, they had so much more to teach the universe. And now they’re gone. Huh? Huh?

Allura: Pidge. Are you alright?

Pidge: You didn’t see it?

Allura: See what?

Pidge: The forest, it was back to how it was before. There were girls playing.

Allura: Maybe this place is trying to show you something.

Pidge: What?

Allura: The Olkari had a profound connection to the land, just like you do. Their history could be etched into the very soil for you to see. Concentrate. See if you can tap into its energy.

[Transition to a flashback of Olkarion shortly before its destruction as Pidge watches.]

Olkari Girl: Come on! Follow me!

Pidge: Huh? We need to get to the city!

[Cut back to the present as Allura and Pidge return to the city, then the flashback resumes with Pidge watching.]

Pidge: Ryner.

Allura: You can see Ryner? What is she doing?

Pidge: The robeast! It’s here! We need to get closer. Ryner!

Ryner: Get civilians to evacuation pods and launch them immediately! Have all military personnel report to battle stations. Scramble the mechs for counterattack. Come with me!

[Cut back to the present.]

Pidge: Ryner. It seemed like she was talking to me. Or it could have been to the soldiers. I don’t know.

Allura: All the answers we’re looking for could be here. We may be able to find out where this beast came from and where it’s going next. There might be some clue here about the Alteans.

Pidge: If there is, I will find it.

Hunk: Guys, we have a, uh--we have a major problem here.

Lance: Hunk released some low-orbit trackers outside of Olkarion on the way in. The weblum just set them off. We have about ten minutes to evac!

Keith: Copy that. Everyone to their lions! Let’s go, now!

Allura: We can’t leave yet. How long do you think you can hold it off?

Lance: Hold it off? It’s a giant space worm! We can’t hold it off. What are you talking about?

Allura: Pidge found a way to tap into Olkarion’s history. She may be able to find out what we need to know, but we need a little more time.

Keith: Alright, we’ll buy you as much time as we can.

Allura: Copy that. Thank you.

Keith: Hunk, Lance, we need to hurry! I got it on scanners. Let’s intercept it.

[Flash back to the fall of Olkarion.]

Ryner: Go, go, go! We need to preserve the information from the communications tower! Keep the beast at bay as long as you can.

[Cut to Keith, Lance, and Hunk in space.]

Keith: We need to get it to divert its course.

Lance: And how do we do that?

Hunk: How about like this? Uh, my idea isn’t working!

Lance: Okay, okay, well, what were the rules with this thing?

Hunk: I’m drawing a blank. I’m not good under pressure!

Keith: It’s still heading for Olkarion! We haven’t slowed it down at all!

[Cut to Pidge and Allura on the communications tower as the flashback continues.]

Olkari Officer: How did we not pick this thing up on our scanners?

Female Engineer: It just appeared!

Pidge: Just like on Earth.

Olkari Officer: How could that be? Wait, bring up our scanner logs. Those anomalies we detected recently. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. The anomalies are from the warping of space-time. This creature came through a wormhole.

Ryner: Transfer all data from this facility to a safe location off-planet, then evacuate immediately!

Olkari Officer: Understood. What we just discovered could save billions of lives.

[Cut back to the present.]

Pidge: It was a wormhole. That’s how they travel.

Hunk: Pidge, Allura! I’m sorry, but you’ve gotta get out of there immediately!

Pidge: I need more time.

Allura: I’m coming up to help.

[Cut to Keith, Lance, and Hunk in space with the weblum.]

Lance: Over here! This way! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Too close! How’d you guys beat this thing the first time?

Keith: We never beat it. Trying to get it to alter its course is an entirely different thing than collecting its scaultrite.

Hunk: Alright, that’s it. I’m calling Coran. Coran, come in!

Coran: Hunk! Hello there.

Hunk: Coran! You’re there! Okay. Um, I’m sorry to make this quick, but we need to stop a weblum from eating a planet, like, right now! Any chance you know how to do that?

Coran: Well, it’s definitely been a while, but in my younger days, me and my cohorts would have a little weblum fun.

Hunk: Coran! We’re kind of in a rush here!

Coran: Right. Let’s see, if I remember correctly, all you need to do--[static hissing]--on the trilo-mutarth, which you’ll find under its dorsal--[static hissing]

Hunk: Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no! Not this again! Our connection is breaking up!

Coran: --resulting in face boils, a runny nose, and cosmic light radiation poisoning. And if you don’t do this, you’ll expand to twice your size and pop like a balvax.

Hunk: Okay, that conversation took a lot longer than I expected, and I learned nothing. Allura, thank you!

Allura: Please hurry, Pidge.

[Cut back to the fall of Olkarion.]

Ryner: Hurry! Everyone on board. It came for something. Find out what.

Pidge: It came for the cubes. Why? Ryner, can you hear me? Do you know why the beast wanted the cubes? Please, talk to me!

Ryner: Hurry! Everyone on!

Pidge: Ryner, please! Ryner!

Olkari Girl: I’m scared. I don’t want to leave!

Ryner: You mustn’t cling too tightly to the past. The Olkari have always been able to adapt and move forward. It is our greatest strength. And it will live on in you.

Olkari Girl: But, our home…

Ryner: The old must give way to the new. It’s the way of the universe. Now please, go.

[Flashback fades away and Pidge becomes aware of the present again.]

Allura: Pidge! Pidge, are you there? We can’t hold this thing off any longer. You need to get out of there!

[Cut to Hunk in Yellow Lion.]

Hunk: There she is! The planet is clear!

Keith: Everyone, fall back away from the weblum!

Lance: It’s… it’s all gone.

Allura: I’m sorry, Pidge.

Keith: I wish we could’ve done more.

Pidge: Thanks, everyone.

Hunk: If you think about it, this isn’t really the end of Olkarion. Weblums eating dead planets is just the first step in a process that leads to the growth of new stars, planets, and galaxies.

Pidge: The old gives way to the new. We need to contact the Atlas.

Allura: Why?

Pidge: Because it turns out the Olkari weren’t done teaching us a few things. They showed me a way to track the robeasts. Their information is going to save billions of lives.

End.

#vld #voltron #transcript #pidge #allura #hunk #keith #lance #ryner #coran

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alarawriting · 4 years

Text

52 Project #9: The Timeless Tunnels of Crystal Station

Three people come down from the ships docked at Crystal Station. Hundreds of others do the same, but these are important. Focus on them--

Stepping down from a two-man ship, which is a shuttle from the starship Rhiannon, are the captain of Rhiannon and his best friend, Rhiannon's computer engineer. Matt Pison, human, terratype, Martian, is the captain. He is tall, blond, muscular from his life in the Martian colonies but pale from little sunlight, brown-eyed. Next to him is D'mir Colotho, draine, Bcoilica. He is short, corded muscle unusual for a draine, dark hair, dark eyes and brown draine skin. They are at Crystal Station, outside the boundaries of the Web of Eyes but still within the Alliance, to relax, refuel and restock. Nobody ever told them about Crystal Station.

Wardra knows. She comes down from her one-person cruise craft. Wardra Gyuunyushiligni, farla, Evstarb, with pale green skin, an upsweep of pink hair, lavender eyes. She is tall, thin, but more powerful-looking than the usual farla, with muscles in slender cords and the electric scent of power about her. Wardra knows the dangers of Crystal Station, but she has something to prove.

Crystal Station Central is a place bustling with people. It's a huge room, with milky crystal walls and twelve doorways leading from it. They all look identical, with opaque tracker fields hiding what they conceal behind, but for numbers over their doors. Eleven doorways lead to rest and recreation areas, stores, other such things. The things that people come to Crystal Station for, braving the dangers outside the Web because Crystal Station's prices are so much cheaper than anyone else's. One doorway leads to the mazes around Crystal Station, and that's why the prices are so cheap.

If the powerful ones in the Web of Eyes or the GalConfed knew of this link, Crystal Station would be destroyed. But they don't. No one listens to the mystic Evstarb farlae. And no one else who knows can speak.

***

Matt and D'mir head for a glowing information booth. Matt asks, "Information?"

"Yes," the booth answers.

"Where can I go to get my ship refueled?"

The correct answer is Doorway 12. Random numbers in the computer juggle. Not many have gone through Doorway 9 lately. Does this weigh the decision? No way to tell.

"Doorway 9," the Information Booth tells them. It has no face to keep straight. The faceless are the best liars.

Matt and D'mir go toward Doorway 9 with their fueling schedule as Wardra approaches another glowing information booth. She asks, "C'lianp?" She is about to ask the same thing as Matt. It's a different booth, but the same computer controls them all.

"Ad," the booth acknowledges.

"Hafar eszgi tram l'notla ofir?"

Random numbers in the computer juggle. Wardra is an Evstarb farla. Does this weigh the decision? No way to tell.

"Alfi 9," the C'lianp Inl tells her. It has no mind, and gives off no psionic telltales to be read by a mystic.

Wardra feels a tiny thrill of excitement. She has come here, despite the danger, to prove that she is not a coward. 1 chance out of 12, and if her gamble is successful she will get fuel cheap enough to see her into the Web-controlled territory, despite her limited funds. She will finally be free of Evstar, once and for all. But if her gamble fails... Shaking with excitement and more than a bit of fear, she heads for Doorway 9.

As she steps through the opaque tracker field that covers the door, an arrow of pain stabs through her mind, and she staggers and falls to her knees. Terror overwhelms her. Her gamble has failed.

Somebody pulls her to her feet. She looks up at Matt.

"Are you all right?" Matt asks. "What's wrong?"

He speaks GalConfed Standard. Though Evstar is outside the GalConfed, Wardra had always hoped to go to a world inside its domains, and so she learned Standard, though she speaks it with an accent. "I'm-- all right," she says, getting her balance. "I'm an Evstarb farla. That should explain it."

"I'm afraid it doesn't," Matt says, frowning. "I don't know much about farla, except for those in the GalConfed. D'mir?"

"Evstarb farlae are mystics," D'mir says. "They tend to have powerful psionic abilities. Most likely she sensed something unpleasant. What was it?" he asks her.

"You don't know?" Wardra asks. "That was the Barrier. Now that we've gone through the Barrier, we'll never be allowed to leave."

"What are you talking about?" Matt asks.

D'mir, being a draine, is quicker on the uptake. He presses a hand against the doorway. "It won't reopen," he says. His voice is calm, but then draine voices are almost always calm. "Does it block psionic transmission as well?"

"Yes." Wardra is shaking. On her homeworld they called her Jliga, coward, because she would not bear children. She left Evstar to prove she wasn't-- or to avoid the pressure to risk childbearing? Perhaps she is a coward after all?

"What are the two of you talking about?" Matt asks again.

"We can't get back," D'mir says. "The doorway is locked from this side."

"That's ridiculous! Why?"

Wardra takes a deep breath. "This place, Crystal Station, runs on the psionic output of-- things, creatures that feed on humanoids. They don't put out emanations if they're not well-fed. Crystal Station doesn't pay for fueling costs-- that's why everything is so cheap. Everyone who comes here pays in risk-- one out of every five hundred gets misdirected through this doorway. And those who get caught, like we did, pay in blood. There's a maze around Crystal Station, populated with these creatures. That's where we are."

"That-- they can't possibly get away with this," Matt says. "The Web of Eyes would‑‑"

"Crystal Station is outside the Web's range," D'mir reminds him.

"But-- we'd hear something. All those people disappearing--"

"People disappear from stations outside the Web all the time-- they're hotbeds for vice and crime. Unfortunately, if Crystal Station polices itself reasonably well, they can keep their disappearance rate under the average, even if one out of five hundred disappear." D'mir presses himself against the Barrier again. "There must be a way to bypass this," he murmurs.

"They get away with it because there's no proof. Nobody who disappears ever comes back out," Wardra says.

"So how did you know?"

"The Evstarb mystics can talk to the dead, sometimes."

"So why'd you come here? Why did you go through the doorway?"

"I didn't know what doorway it was, any more than you."

"Why don't the Evstarb mystics tell someone?"

Wardra smiles, bitterly. "Who believes farlae?"

"She's right, unfortunately," D'mir says. "All the other humanitypes, such as us draines, are genetically close enough to pure humaniform that we treat each other as if we're reasonably close to the same species. Farlae are usually treated as true aliens, and farlae from worlds like Evstar, that don't even make an attempt to fit in, are heavily stigmatized."

"Still, someone would listen," Matt says. "Did your people even try?"

"My people are narrow, short-sighted fools. And I am one of them. I didn't even think to warn anyone about Crystal Station."

There's not really anything Matt can say, in the face of her self-directed fury. "Well, there'll be investigations when D'mir and I don't come back. We're very important men-- I'm a starship captain, for god's sake. They'll have to investigate. My crew will tear this place apart looking for us."

"They won't find anything," Wardra says dully. "The computers are probably programmed to erase references to Doorway 9 from their banks."

"Then anyone I trained will wonder why no one ever goes through Doorway 9, and try to find out what it is," D'mir says.

"I'm sure they've thought of everything," Wardra says despondently.

"Hey! Don't give up hope so soon," Matt says, trying to cheer her. "D'mir, any luck with the door?"

"I could bypass it, but I don't have the tools."

"Can you jury-rig something?"

"I don't have the tools," D'mir repeats patiently.

"Is there any chance we can find the tools, somewhere in the maze?"

"I don't know what we're likely to find in the maze. I don't think it likely, but anything's possible."

"Well then. We've still got some hope. And we've both got weapons. We'll beat this yet. Come on."

"Come on where?" Wardra asks, fear in her face. "Where is there to go?"

"If we stand around like sitting ducks, something's sure to nail us sooner or later. We need to set up a secure base of operations, something we can defend, and start scoping out the place. I'm Captain Matt Pison of the starship Rhiannon. This is D'mir Colotho, our chief computer man, a draine from Bcoilo. And you?"

"Wardra Gyuunyushiligni. I have an independent cruiser-- I was trying to get into the GalConfed. That's why I came here, even though I knew about the risk-- I didn't have much money."

"Farlae outside the GalConfed aren't known for wanting to get in," D'mir says. "Why did you decide to leave Evstar and head for the GalConfed in the first place?"

"That, conv'ril, is a story too complicated and personal to discuss now."

Matt looks around. "I don't like being exposed like this. Let's go into the maze, see if we can find food, shelter, the works. They've got to feed us, or we'll die before we can feed their creatures."

And so they go. The halls are grayish-white in and of themselves, but the lights that shine on them are dim and faintly reddish, single bulbs poking out of the ceiling. Dust is everywhere, thick on the ground, turning the air musty and old. They pass alcoves with food dispensers, and Matt discovers that they can get packet rations-- tasteless chalky things, but nutritious-- from them. Finally they find a room with a lockable door, a water tap, and supplies all around, such as blankets and aged empty packets. There is a makeshift bed in the corner.

"This looks like someone made a shelter for themselves, left to get supplies, and never came back," D'mir pronounces, examining everything with sharp draine intellect. "Good."

"Good?" Wardra asks disbelievingly.

"There's no sign of a struggle in this room, and no filled packet rations. It looks like whoever it was was safe while they were here, and weren't attacked by the creatures until they left. I do have to say that I've seen no spoor-- no droppings or animal tracks."

"Maybe this isn't near where they live," Matt says hopefully.

"That doesn't make sense, unfortunately. This is near the doorway-- if the humanoids who come through that doorway are the only victims, and the only food, they'll have to forage out this far."

"Why couldn't we find a shelter nearer one of the food dispensers?" Wardra asks. "If it's dangerous to leave the shelter--"

"Did you see any rooms near the food dispenser?" Matt asks.

"No." Wardra shakes her head apologetically. "I'm sorry-- I don't mean to whine. It's the tension. How do we want to work this, then? Safety in numbers? Do we stick together when we go out?"

"Yes, at least for now," Matt says. "I can't think of a better way to do it."

***

They set up a makeshift camp, making three beds out of the spare blankets and depositing the food packets Matt had collected. Then they go out to explore, map out emergency routes, and try to find the tools D'mir will need.

As they pass by a food alcove, a thing screeches in. It is a flying beast, and yet it has no wings. It is like a huge black tube with rotating silver teeth. Set into its head is an eye, bright purple. Wardra drops to one knee, pulls out a gun, and blasts at it. The thing flips backwards, but keeps coming. It aims itself at D'mir. D'mir and Matt shoot lasers at it, but the thing keeps coming. Wardra's missiles hit it in its mouth and eye, repeatedly, and eventually it drops.

"That's an iver," D'mir says. "It's highly psionic, but slightly repelled by psi sources-- it prefers null-psi meals."

"Like you," Matt says.

"Yes. Like me." D'mir has gone gray and bloodless, but shows no other sign of the fear he must have felt. "Thank you, Wardra."

"What'd you hit it with?" Matt asks.

Wardra shows him her gun, an ancient projectile weapon. "Our technology isn't as advanced on Evstar," she says. "Does that mean you're psionic?"

"Not really," Matt says. "Most terratype humans have a slight psi rating, though, and draines typically don't have any. They're true nulls. Let me see that?"

He examines her gun, and hands it to D'mir. "What do you make of it?"

"The creature might be an energy-eater, capable of absorbing the lasers without damage. This would tear through its flesh."

"I also put push behind it," Wardra says.

"Push? What do you mean?"

"I-- called to it, mind to mind. I told it to die. I didn't put my full effort into it-- I didn't need to. But I think it helped."

"Told it to die?" Matt stares at her. "Could you have killed that thing with just your mind?"

"I don't think so-- and it'd cripple me to try, so I'm not going to unless it's an emergency."

"Do you have enough ammunition to kill another one without trying to kill it with your mind?"

Wardra examines her ammunition clip. "No." She puts it back. “I could kill it by feeding myself to it, but I think you’ll understand if I’d rather not.”

Matt laughs. “Of course not.”

“Farlae are poisonous to ivers?” D’mir asks.

“I didn’t know that was an iver until D’mir said so, but yes, that’s what we’re taught. It won’t save our lives – the things may be psionic, but they’re too stupid to know we’re poisonous. But if it makes a meal out of me, at least I’ll be avenged.”

“I’m not going to let it come to that,” Matt said. “We’re all in this together.”

***

The days pass without distinction, an endless river of unchanging time. Occasionally a scream is heard. There is nothing to focus on-- everything is the same.

They explore, sometimes, searching for weapons or tools. They find dead bodies, and plenty of energy weapons, and money and valuables, but no weapons they can use against the ivers, and no living people. Carefully they avoid running into the creatures, as best they can. When they're tired, they go to their room and talk.

Matt is convinced that the crew of the Rhiannon must be looking for him and D’mir, but how could they possibly guess the true nature of Crystal Station to even begin to look in the correct places? D’mir, bluntly, suggests that their crew probably think they are dead and spaced, or kidnapped and taken into slavery, somewhere far from the station.

They encounter another creature, not an iver. D’mir identifies this one as a neskelly. Imagine a crab, with octopus tentacles that it walks on, crab-like. Now imagine it the height of the average human. This one is more interested in Wardra than the human or the draine, and the venom in its tentacles disrupts her psi. Matt fires at it from a distance, but it seems to be bothered by that as little as the iver was. It ignores D’mir, so he is able to get in close enough to batter its head with the butt of his energy weapon, and when its mouth gapes open to bite him, he shoots it in the mouth. That actually works.

“Did we try shooting the iver in the mouth?” Matt asks.

“We hardly shot it anywhere else,” D’mir says dryly. “I suspected a thing like this would exist.”

“A giant crab-octopus thing?”

“A thing that would prey chiefly on beings with psi, rather than beings with none. If ivers were the only creatures in here, the Crystal Station algorithms would have never sent a farla in here.”

“I should have realized that,” Wardra says. “How many kinds of creatures do you think there are in here?”

“No way to guess,” D’mir says. “But we’ve seen a type that prefer psionic victims, and a type that prefer null-psi. I imagine there may be types that prefer low psi, like humans, or are completely indifferent to the level of psi their target has. A balanced ecosystem.” His voice doesn’t change, but a subtle shift in his face tells Matt, at least, that he is making the draine equivalent of a joke.

“We’ll have to be even more careful,” Matt says.

***

Time passes, and Wardra tells them finally of why she fled Evstar. When childbirth kills 1 out of 3 farla women, the remainder are pressured to bear all the more. It is her duty to her species to risk her life in childbirth. Wardra chose not to, and so they called her coward, and drove her from her homeworld.

Time passes, and Matt tells stories of his adventures, faring the spaceroutes of the galaxy, traveling amidst the GalConfed and the Zermiloni Demesne and the Ananranjan Net, all the worlds of the Orlon Alliance.

Time passes, and D'mir tells how he came to leave Bcoilo, where he would have had a promising career in the sciences, because he had a desire for adventure that the stolid, practical draines frowned on. And as the endless days and nights go past, it seems as if they have known each other eternities. As if they are soulmates, born to each other.

Then they find a dead engineer, with tools he obviously hadn't been able to use. As one, they recognize this as their chance. As one, they turn and run down the corridors, heading back for the Barrier.

***

As they approach closely, they begin to walk, unwilling to attract unnecessary attention. Before, they were in iver territory, and there it was necessary to move quickly. Here, those few marauding ivers still around will tune in on the sound of running feet more readily than in the deep areas of the maze, where more victims are to be found, searching hopelessly for a way out. They walk down the timeless tunnels of Crystal Station, tense and wary, watching for anything. There is hope in all their eyes, but fear as well-- because if this doesn't work, they are all doomed, sooner or later.

Wardra and Matt stand guard as D’Mir takes the wall apart, looking for anything that ties into the controls. “I wouldn’t expect to find the actual control board on this side of the barrier,” D’mir says. “They’d want it to be accessible to them, without risking being eaten, and they don’t want us to be able to access it.”

“So what are you going to do about that?” Wardra asks.

“The power conduits run through all the walls of the station, including these. The lights and the food dispensers wouldn’t work without them.” He locates a power conduit. “In addition, the engineers who need to perform maintenance over here would want to make absolutely certain they couldn’t accidentally be trapped, so there is a manual release for this barrier, somewhere. Controlled by a passcode, or perhaps even by removing a panel and completing a circuit, but wherever that is… either I’ll find a bundle of control wires passing through to the board on the outside, or it’s going to tap into the power conduits and provide a means of shutting the power down briefly.”

“Which way’s going to be faster to get the door open?” Matt asks.

“Whichever one I encounter sooner, which likely depends on exactly how they implemented it,” D’mir says.

“Well, take your time. No big rush,” Matt says, joking.

A third type of creature, which looks like a rolling ball with short spikes that flatten as they approach the ground and pop back up again as they roll off the floor and upward, attacks them. It’s not immune to energy weapons like the other two they’ve encountered, so Matt is able to make short work of it. Wardra saves what little ammunition is left in her clip in case another iver or neskelly or something else resistant to energy weapons comes.

The lights flicker and then turn off. “Now,” D’mir says, and Matt grabs Wardra’s hand and pulls her through the now nonexistent barrier, D’mir right behind him. The barrier flickers back on with the lights only seconds after they’re all through.

An alarm shrills.

“Let’s go!” Matt shouts, and runs, D’mir and Wardra right behind him, heading for the docking bay.

Crystal Station looks much like a wheel, from outside the station. There’s a circular central hub. 12 spokes come from this hub. Each, ostensibly, connects to the outer ring. Each also connects to a second hub-like layer, “above” the first in the orientation of the main gravity panels… though only one of the spokes uses that connection. From the central hub, there are staircases and elevators and person-movers and escalators leading “down”, below the hub’s floor, to the docking area, which sticks out of the base of the hub like the bottom of a muffin. So there are 12 doorways visitors can take when seeking the food, shops, hospitality and fuel sales kiosks in the outer ring – though one of those 12 will never reach that area. But the docking area is all one area, large and divided more by markings on the floor than anything more substantial. Matt and D’mir’s shuttle and Wardra’s single-person craft are both located there.

The fastest way to go is to take the escalator and run down it, but silver robots swarm all over the hub and cut them off from the escalator. These robots have wheels; they won’t be able to handle stairs, so Matt, Wardra and D’mir end up taking the stairs. It won’t save them from the robots in the long run; the robots can easily take the people-mover. But the goal is to get to their ships before the robots stop them.

D’mir stops at a computer terminal, removes an object from his pocket, and inserts it into a slot in the terminal. An image like a sphere appears, the color slowly draining from it as it spins.

Wardra’s ship has a fingerprint lock. She places her hand against the door. It does not open.

“Matt! D’mir! They may have overridden the locks on our ships!” she yells, and sees the robots come down off the people-movers.

“Of course,” Matt pants. “They can’t let us get away, knowing their secret.” He fires his energy weapon at one of the robots. It drops. There are people milling around, though, boarding or disembarking from docked ships, doing maintenance work, refueling ships, and Matt can’t get a clear shot at the other robots as they weave in and out of the crowd.

D’mir’s sphere has turned translucent and he’s typing frantically, the characters spelling out nothing that would make sense to anyone accustomed to the friendly interfaces of the computers. Bubbles appear all around him with additional information, and every so often he quickly glances at them and then returns to his typing.

Wardra can’t risk firing her gun when there’s so many people around, either. She bangs on her ship’s hatch. It still doesn’t open. Robots come rolling toward her, so she runs, knocking people in her way aside, but the bay is full of the robots and the outcome’s never really in doubt. She’s still got a wrench in her hand from the engineer’s tools D’mir used to take the wall apart, and she bashes one of the robots in its delicate light sensors, smashing its ability to see. But then the next one is behind her, wrapping long silver arms around her. She shrieks and curses and thrashes. None of this matters to the robot; it rolls into a faint green beam of light and follows the beam back to the people-mover, rolling back up toward the hub. Toward Doorway 9 and the monsters and the barrier.

The robots have now detected D’mir; presumably the fact that he wasn’t trying to get to a ship delayed them from recognizing him as one of their targets. He finishes typing, and the spinning sphere starts filling with color. Then he turns around, takes a step, and is immediately hugged by a silver robot. It, too, rolls toward the people-mover.

Matt manages to reach his ship, and shoots a couple of robots that get close enough to him that there’s no one in the way. He sees large docking clamps holding it in place, which hadn’t been there when he’d docked, and realizes – without D’mir to make the computer release the clamps, he won’t be able to get the ship to lift off even if he gets through the door. Still, if he can get inside, he can barricade the robots out and he can call Rhiannon for backup. There’s an emergency manual override for the lock, but as he flips the panel that hides it open, a robot grabs his arm and pulls him toward itself, wrapping the other arm around him as it does.

It rolls him upstairs on the people-mover, and toward Doorway 9. He shouts, the whole time. “Listen, all you people! Don’t take Doorway 9! Crystal Station is a trap! It’ll kill you! Tell the GalConfed, tell the Web of Eyes, somebody! Tell someone, it’s a trap! Don’t go beyond Doorway 9—”

Then it deposits him past the barrier, which flares blue, and now no one in the hub can hear him anymore.

The people who run Crystal Station are annoyed. It’s a good bit of work to mix up the doorways, and now they’ll have to do it again.

***

The three reconnoiter at the sanctuary they’d established. It looks no different than it did before their abortive escape. For D’mir, this is entirely expected, but for Matt and Wardra, it seems strange, as if they left far longer ago than this morning.

Wardra is angry at herself. “The Evstarbs were right all along. I am a coward.”

Matt blinks. “Exactly how do you figure that?”

“Did you hear how I screamed when that thing grabbed me?” Wardra complains. “Like a child. I should have shot it.”

“It was wise of you not to try,” D’mir said. “You would probably have hit one of the people, and at best you’d only have taken out one of the robots. There were too many for us to realistically fight. As for screaming… I’m a draine. I’ve been raised since infancy to be stoic and accept the things I cannot change. And I was tempted to scream when it grabbed me.”

“But you didn’t actually do it,” Wardra said.

“Wardra. Screaming because you’ve been attacked by a thing that might kill you, and does, in fact, take you back to a place where you have to face monsters to survive, is not cowardice by any stretch of the imagination,” Matt says. “It really doesn’t help you or anyone else to beat yourself up over something so trivial. You fought as hard as you could. That’s hardly cowardice.”

“It’s not particularly relevant in any case,” D’mir says. “What’s more important is that I believe I may have succeeded in convincing the computer systems to release our ships and the barrier in somewhere between 2 and 4 hours.”

“Really!” Matt says. “That’s excellent news!”

“Why not immediately?” Wardra asks.

“There is a power cycle,” D’mir explains. “I wasn’t able to determine exactly when the cycle should take place, but it’ll be somewhere between 2 to 4 hours from now. We’ll know exactly when it’s happening if the lights flicker. Power will fluctuate and weaken for five to ten minutes and then drop, because I believe I’ve delayed the cycle from beginning after the end of the previous one. We may have as long as fifteen minutes or as little as five to get through the barrier and get to our ships.”

“What about the robots?” Wardra is nervous. The robots plainly frighten her.

“If I can get to the computer before they get loose and intercept us, I can override the subroutine that sends out the robots. We’ll have to be ready to move the moment the barrier goes down.”

“Which means we’re going to have to be out there, in the open, waiting for the power outage,” Matt says solemnly. “Down between 2 and 4 hours from now means we’re going to be exposed for up to 2 hours, because we’re not going to have enough time if we’re here when it goes down.”

“It’s not ideal,” D’mir says.

“It’s actually awful!” Wardra says. “D’mir, I don’t have enough ammo to take down another iver.”

“That is a concern,” D’mir says, “but I wasn’t able to narrow down the window beyond 2.5 to 3.5 hours. So it’s actually only one hour, not two, that we’re going to be exposed.”

“But what do we do if an iver shows up?” Wardra asks.

“Whatever we can,” Matt says. “If D’mir is killed, he’s not going to be able to stop the robots.” He takes a deep breath. “We’ve been out for as long as an hour before without being attacked. We’re just going to have to hope luck is with us this time.”

***

They pass the time by telling stories about their lives, the same as they’ve done for the past – how long has it been? Two weeks? A month? Three months?

When it’s time, they head toward the barrier. They’re careful, never stepping around a corner until they’re sure it’s clear. They reach the barrier without problems, but now, they have to wait. Anytime within the next hour, the barrier might go down. Anytime within the next hour, they might be attacked by a creature.

It actually happens half an hour later.

An iver sails around the corner of the corridor, up ahead, cutting them off from any escape route. They’re up against the barrier and unless it goes down right now, the iver is going to reach them.

The barrier does not go down right now.

Both Matt and D’mir fire their energy weapons at the iver, knowing it’s not going to do a lot of good, but there’s not much else they can do. The shots affect it very little. Wardra empties her own gun into the iver, four shots. It bleeds and slows down, but it doesn’t stop. Cursing, Wardra runs toward the iver, holding her gun to use it as a blunt instrument, the way D’mir used his energy weapon against the neskelly.

The iver is much bigger than the neskelly was.

Matt runs at it with his own weapon, firing it directly into the thing’s mouth. “I’m going to try to hit the thing in the head with this!” he yells, brandishing the gun.

“Don’t be dumb, the iver’s much too big! My gun’s heavier!” Wardra reaches the back of the thing and tries to leap up on its back. The iver flicks its tail, smacking into her and throwing her into the wall.

D’mir manages to hit the iver in its eyes with the energy weapon. It blinks and cringes, but doesn’t seem to react beyond what an unpleasantly bright light would do.

Matt grabs one of the thing’s fin-like protrubances and pulls himself up, onto the iver. He bashes the back of its head with his gun, once, twice, three times. Then the iver flips upside down, dumping him on the ground, and then reverts to its previous orientation. Matt’s plainly stunned.

D’mir’s firing into the thing’s eyes over and over, but it doesn’t slow much. In another ten seconds he’ll be dead. Matt is trying to get to his feet but there’s no way he can get to D’mir in time.

Wardra’s had a chance to recover from being hit. She’s running toward D’mir and the iver, with farla speed, long legs covering the distance in moments. “You ne’harfda!” she screams at the iver. “Look at me!”

She flings her gun, and it hits the thing in the head. It turns, its mouth open wide, to face the threat it just detected, and she throws herself at its mouth.

D’mir rolls away. The iver crashes to the ground, its levitation gone, and it begins to convulse. It spits up a green broken thing covered with holes and white farla blood, a thing that used to be their friend.

It is obvious that nothing can be done to help Wardra. The logical, intelligent thing to do, the draine thing to do, would be to run from the convulsing creature, to ensure that Wardra’s sacrifice wasn’t in vain. Instead, D’mir waits for his moment, when the creature’s violent spasms have turned its head away from Wardra’s body. He charges in, grabs her body and throws it over his shoulder.

Matt reaches him. It’s been seconds. “Can we save her?” he asks.

“If the field goes down right now. If we get back to the ship and get her to the medical ward within ten minutes.”

The field does not go down right now.

The iver finally dies, poisoned by the parts of Wardra’s flesh it managed to tear off and swallow. D’mir and Matt sit with her body. Matt tears off his clothing to bandage her. D’mir does not. He’s already done something supremely stupid by draine standards, out of hope rather than logic. From his perspective, there is no longer any hope.

Eventually the field does go down, and they run. Matt carries Wardra’s body, drawing stares from the passersby at Crystal Station. D’mir’s going to need his hands free.

The robots get loose just as D’mir spoofs the credentials he needs to get into the system. They’re within meters of D’mir and Matt when D’mir manages to shut down the routine that commands them, and they roll back to the alcoves they came from.

The lock on their shuttle is released. Matt and D’mir climb into the shuttle and do not file a flight plan. Wardra’s body is strapped into a chair as if she’s riding with them. Matt pilots, D’mir watching the instruments as a second line of warning if Matt misses anything, because he’s on full automatic with no clearance from the station.

The station actually fires on them. Matt expected that they would when he first got into the shuttle. He releases chaff to draw the fire as D’mir raises shields to maximum. GalConfed ships, and shuttles, are designed for defense in a hostile universe. Crystal Station is unable to stop them as they shoot outward, toward Rhiannon.

***

Rhiannon is where they left it. The crew hadn’t been willing to move on before they’d completed their investigation into the disappearance of their captain and chief technologist.

D’mir asks the doctor if she can keep Wardra’s body preserved and restore it cosmetically – stop the bleeding, seal the wounds. Matt informs the GalConfed about Crystal Station. Rhiannon does not refuel there; they proceed to another station, more expensive.

That night, Matt does not sleep. This morning, he was a prisoner on Crystal Station, desperately looking for a way to escape, and Wardra was alive. Three weeks ago, he didn’t even know Wardra. Amazing how quickly everything can change.

He’s been staring at the walls, the ceiling, the clock slowly changing, for hours. He doesn’t think he’s asleep yet, but Wardra is there, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” he says, and then is angry with himself, because telling himself he’s dreaming seems likely to wake him up.

“Yes,” Wardra says, “but I’m actually here. You’re not psionic enough to see me as long as your mind is taking in inputs from the real world; I had to wait until you had just fallen asleep to make you see me.”

“How?” Matt asks.

“Farlae can leave our bodies,” she says. “You’re seeing my spirit. I can’t show myself to D’mir; he’s got no psi at all. I need you to talk to him.”

“About what?”

There are tears on her face. “I am a coward. I didn’t want to die. I still don’t want to be dead. But what he’s doing won’t work. He can’t save me.”

Matt sits up, staring at her. “First of all, you just gave your life to save a friend. That, by definition, makes you not a coward.”

“But I was so afraid,” she whispers.

“Of course you were. Who wouldn’t be? Being afraid just proves you had a sense of self-preservation, not cowardice. You let that iver eat you to save D’mir.”

“And he’s consumed with guilt about it.”

Matt shakes his head. “He’s a draine. He knows it’s not reasonable to feel guilt because of the choice you made. He didn’t ask you to do what you did.”

“He’s trying to save me,” Wardra says, “and he can’t. And I don’t want him to try, because I can’t read his mind and he keeps his feelings off his face but I know he’s doing this because he feels guilt. Because it’s burning him up that I died to save him. Tell him it was my choice, tell him he has to let me go.”

“What is he doing?” Matt asks, and then realizes he is awake, the sound of his own voice still ringing in his ears, and Wardra’s not there anymore.

He gets dressed and goes to find D’mir. ***

D’mir is in sickbay. Wardra’s body lies cold on a table, in a sterile field.

“What are you doing?” Matt asks.

D’mir turns. He’s calm, no sign of emotion on his face, but he’s a draine. Matt knows better than to look at his face to see his feelings. His hands on his tools are the stark pale color of tightly clenched muscles cutting the blood circulation to the skin. “I’m trying to repair Wardra’s body.”

“Repair?”

D’mir nods. “I did some research. Farlae can create a psionic construct to house their consciousness and memories – they describe this in somewhat fanciful terms, claiming their spirits can leave their bodies, but it’s a fairly concrete and documented fact.”

“Do you think you can bring her back to life?”

D’mir turns back to his work. “Well, the problem with a psionic construct is that after the brain that created it is destroyed, it has no means of replenishing its energy. It’ll fade. Farlae traditionally cast their ‘spirits’, for lack of a more precise term, out of their bodies at the moment of death if they feel they have something they need to accomplish before that energy runs out – very similar to the human legends of ghosts that continue after death because of unfinished business in life, but I’m not sure any human has sufficient psionic energy to create one of these constructs in the first place.”

“That’s not what I asked, D’mir.”

D’mir does not face him. “Assuming that she created such a construct, and that the construct followed us onto the ship, and that I can successfully get enough of her body repaired with cybernetics that I can restart her heart and lungs, repair any brain damage, and prepare the body for the psionic construct to return to it… yes. Yes, there’s a small but non-zero chance that I can save her life.”

“You can’t save something that’s gone. You’re not talking about saving her life, you’re talking about restoring it.”

“It’s hardly some sort of fictional necromancy,” D’mir says. “If she didn’t, in fact, create a psionic construct before she died, there’ll be nothing I can do.”

Matt takes a deep breath. “She did. She spoke to me, while I was asleep.”

Now D’mir looks at him, startled. “Are you sure it wasn’t a dream?”

“Since she explained to me exactly what you just did… no, it wasn’t a dream. Apparently I’m just psionic enough that she can appear to me while I’m asleep. But she says that you won’t succeed at this, and that trying will just hurt you.”

“I cannot imagine a circumstance in which giving up on a friend causes less pain than trying to save them and failing,” D’mir says. “But if it’s possible, I’d like to know why she doesn’t think it will work.” He turns back to his work. “It’s the brain damage that needs to be repaired, primarily. A great deal of her body was damaged, but most of that can be replaced with cybernetics, and could even be replaced after she’s alive again. I’ve gotten her heart and lungs restarted; Dr. Pryhh can repair her gastrointestinal tract, and we can replace her damaged limbs easily enough. I’m optimistic about the restoration of her physical brain, and if her brain is restored and she still exists as a psionic construct… she should be able to return to her body and live. If she knows something about why that might not work…”

“I don’t know how to ask,” Matt says. “I can’t see her now; I was only able to see her because I was asleep. And while it’s still the middle of the night, I don’t think I’m getting to sleep anytime soon.”

“It’s theoretically possible that a state of meditation will allow Wardra to appear to you. The sensory data you’re getting from the world around you will drown out anything your rudimentary psi can show you, which is why she needed to wait until you were asleep. But if you were enter a state of deep relaxation and quiet your mind, she might be able to manifest to you.”

Matt does not know how to explain to D’mir that the vast majority of humans cannot possibly enter a state of deep relaxation and quiet mind if they’ve just been woken by the ghost of a dead friend, and have found out that their other friend is attempting to resurrect their dead friend as a cyborg. “I’m not sure I can do that right now,” he says diplomatically.

“Perhaps Dr. Pryhh can help.”

“It’s third shift, D’mir. Dr. Pryhh and everyone else on first shift is likely asleep.”

“Hmm. So it is. I hadn’t noticed.”

“D’mir, draines need sleep just like humans do.”

“True, but I can consciously choose to put off the need for another thirty hours if I need to. And what I’m doing is extremely time-sensitive. Even in the cold field, decay and apoptosis are continuing to do damage.”

Matt sighs. “I doubt I can stop you.” He could order D’mir to stop, but he doubts that would have any effect but to drive a wedge between him and his friend. Besides, what if D’mir can succeed?

***

When he sleeps again, Wardra appears.

“Why won’t it work?” he asks her, before she speaks.

“My body is dead,” Wardra says.

“I know, but he thinks he can resuscitate it. You.”

“You don’t understand. A dead body radiates no psionic field. I can’t just force myself into a body willy-nilly. The body has to have a psionic field for me to be able to merge with it.”

“He restarted your heart and lungs; can he restart your psionic field? I assume it doesn’t require that you be conscious and in control of your body, or it would disappear when you sleep, and that doesn’t sound healthy.”

“I don’t think he can.” She looks as if she’s crying, but there are no sounds. She doesn’t breathe, so there are no sobs. All there are, are the tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Can he at least try, Wardra? Or would that cause you suffering?”

She shakes her head. “It doesn’t hurt me, what he does to my body. It hurts to see him hoping, and trying, and I wish his plan would work, but I know it can’t.”

“Let him try, if you can,” Matt says. “He won’t forgive himself if he doesn’t try.”

“It won’t work,” Wardra says. “But he can try.”

***

In the morning D’mir is still working. “I believe I have most of the issues resolved,” he says. “Within the next hour, I’ll try running a low-level current through the brain to see if I can, in effect, restart it.”

“I spoke to Wardra again last night.”

“Did she clarify anything for you?”

Matt nods. “She says this can’t work because she needs the body to have a psionic field. Without starting up the body’s psionic field, she can’t merge herself with it, but she doesn’t think you can make her body produce a psionic field if she’s not in it.”

“That’s a complication,” D’mir says. “Captain. There are psionic enhancers. I don’t have any psi to enhance, but you do. If you were willing, we could set things so that you could speak to her while awake.”

“Do you think that will help?”

“If she can give me advice in real time, it might.”

And so they prevailed on Dr. Pryhh, who was awake now, to give Matt psionic enhancers. He could tell when they had taken effect, because he could see Wardra.

“I’m glad you can see me,” she says to Matt. “I won’t exist for very much longer. I’m sorry D’mir can’t see me.”

“Why won’t you exist for very much longer?” Matt asks. “Aren’t spirits eternal?”

“In your mythology, but farla spirits are real. We’re limited by thermodynamics just as everything else in this universe. There’s only so much psionic energy in this construct; without a body to anchor myself to, I’ll run out.”

D’mir had said something about that. “How long?”

“No more than a day, I think,” Wardra says.

He relays the information to D’mir. “I’ll know within a few minutes if this will work or not,” D’mir says.

He runs the current through the body. Nothing happens.

Another time. Nothing happens.

“It won’t work,” Wardra says. “A brain has to be alive to generate a psionic field.”

“Why do your people do this then?” Matt asks. “What’s the point of leaving your body when your body’s about to die, if there’s no way to return?”

“It’s not for living on after you’ve died; it’s for solving any problems that you were unable to resolve before you died.” She closes her eyes. “I shouldn’t have done it. I won’t exist long enough to see Crystal Station destroyed.”

“That’s what you wanted? To live on for?”

Wardra looks at him. “I’m a coward,” she whispers. “I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to end. I still don’t.”

“That doesn’t make you a coward. That’s normal. No one wants to die.” Matt reaches his hand out toward Wardra. “You don’t sound like someone who’s resigned to nonexistence. Tell me what we need to do to save you.”

“There isn’t—”

“A living mind produces a psionic field, right?”

“Some minds do. Farlae. Some humans. Draines don’t.”

In the real world, D’mir tries activating Wardra’s brain again. It still doesn’t work.

“You said you can’t enter your own body because it’s not generating a psionic field. But my mind is generating a psionic field.”

D’mir can hear Matt’s side of the conversation. He turns. “Captain, no.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Wardra says. “Your body is yours. Your brain is yours.”

“But you could. If you chose to.”

“I could enter your brain and merge this psionic construct with you, yes. And either I’d overwrite you, or I’d disappear into you, or we’d merge into a new being. There’s no way it could work to leave us both individual and safe.”

Matt shakes his head. “That’s probably true of farlae, but are you familiar with some of the strangeness of human brains? We can support multiple egos in the same brain. With access to different memories, different personalities, different skills. Some of us spontaneously create such egos, and live that way, multiple minds in the same body.”

D’mir says, “Wardra. If you can hear me, the captain is telling the truth, but that doesn’t mean what he’s suggesting will work.”

“D’mir. Stop,” Matt says. “This is my decision, and Wardra’s. Don’t try to talk her out of it.”

“I’m not going to do it!” Wardra cries. “I’m not going to be such a coward as to take your body and your life – even if we both could co-exist in your body, what kind of life would that be for the both of us?”

“Captain, if you sacrifice yourself—”

“D’mir.” Matt puts his hand on D’mir’s shoulder. “I know you want it to be you. I know you want to be the one to save her, because she died to save you. But you’re my friend, and so is she. If I could have sacrificed myself for you, I might have, but human flesh wouldn’t poison an iver.” He shakes his head. “But after everything we’ve all been through together…”

“Tell him I won’t do it. Don’t let him think I want to be this selfish,” Wardra says.

“She doesn’t want to do it because she thinks it’s selfish, and that she’s a coward,” Matt says to D’mir. “But she’s wrong.” He turns back to Wardra. “D’mir’s a draine. He can live with failing to save you, as long as he knows he tried. But humans are more emotional. I’m a starship captain; I should have had a better plan. I should have had some strategy for protecting us while we were waiting for the barrier to fall. I should have saved you.” He reaches toward her again. “If I know that now, I could save you, and I fail, again… how will I live with myself? You were afraid of D’mir destroying himself in trying to save you – but you’ve admitted that this could possibly work. You’re just more afraid of being thought of as selfish and cowardly than you are of dying.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she says.

“I don’t think you will.” He comes closer to where her spirit stands.

“Have you thought this through, Captain?” D’mir says, and Matt hears emotion in his voice. Torn between saving the woman who died to save him, and protecting his captain, D’mir is starting to crack. “What if Wardra accepts, and the two of you do merge into one? Or her mind overrides yours? Or yours, hers? We don’t know what happens to a human brain when a farla psionic construct merges with it.”

“No, we don’t,” Matt says. “But I’m willing to take the risk.”

Wardra is crying. “Please stop. Please don’t offer me what I want if it’ll destroy you. I don’t want to be selfish.”

“You’re not,” he says. “You’re the most unselfish person I’ve met. I can only hope to achieve a tiny fraction of what you are.”

D’mir lowers his head. “Wardra, if you can hear me… he is correct. You are not selfish. You are not a coward. And if the captain is this determined to offer his body to you, so that you can live – refuse, if you wish, because you don’t want to live sharing a body with a human, or a man, or another person at all, perhaps. But don’t refuse because you think it would be selfish to accept.”

She squeezes her eyes closed, but it doesn’t stop the manifestation of tears. They aren’t real, after all. Imaginary eyelids cannot hold back imaginary tears.

“Please, Wardra,” Matt says, and she finally takes his hand.

***

Crystal Station still exists, but it’s been annexed into the Web of Eyes. Everyone who was previously employed there is gone, as are the creatures. The people who once ran Crystal Station may be in prison, or dead. Matt and Wardra don’t particularly care which.

They speak in different accents, they have different body language. D’mir has been able to tell the difference since the day Wardra took Matt’s hand. Other crew members found it hard to tell, at first. D’mir expresses amazement; how is it not obvious?

There are issues. Wardra finds it painful to be no longer farla. Having different genitalia and a different build doesn’t disturb her nearly as much as not being a farla. Her psionic senses are mostly gone; the drugs that let Matt be psionic enough to sense her are dangerous to humans if overused, so mostly she is limited to the very, very dull psionic ability of a human. She has never been comfortable around other people, and now her body is a starship captain’s, and she is surrounded by other people all the time, and she occupies a brain alongside another person.

Matt does not regret his decision, because it was the only way Wardra could live. But it bothers him as well, having to let another person who lives inside his head take control of his body sometimes.

It’s hard to live as one of two minds inside the same body, only able to interact with the world and be heard outside of one’s own head when the other permits. They try to be fair with each other. Wardra recognizes that she is a guest and defers to Matt; Matt doesn’t want to steal Wardra’s life from her after working so hard to give it back. But there is no denying that it is painful for both of them.

Wardra’s body is frozen in cold storage. D’mir hasn’t given up hope of getting the body working and somehow transferring her mind into it, someday. His friends are suffering and he wants to fix it, but there are things beyond the reach of anyone, draine, human or farla. He has brought up the possibility of talking to farlae – not Evstarb farlae, as Wardra would never tolerate asking them for help – but so far, she is uncomfortable with the idea and Matt won’t push her.

But there are those who lost loved ones to Crystal Station, who never knew what had happened, who have closure now. There are those who made the calculated decision to murder innocent people at random for the sake of greater wealth, and they have been brought to justice. And life is hard, but wasn’t it always? It’s harder now, but there are things to see and discover, people to help, acts to accomplish. Friends to talk to. It’s better than death and better than grieving and better than survivor’s guilt.

Space is dangerous and no one expects happy endings. The best anyone expects is the ending that lets you go on, after the story ends.

#52 project #science fiction #galconfed universe #farla

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