#void!verse

Johnny had been exiled to the Void long enough to accept that it was permanent. Sure, they continued to fight back against Cassandra because that was what heroes did. They didn't know any other way. But he'd accepted that it was a matter of time before he caught a bad run of luck and bit it, and it didn't even matter much at this point. This wasn't his world. There was nobody to miss him except the other rebels, and they typically had bigger problems. In a place that was essentially the garbage dump of the universe, dying didn't matter because nothing they did mattered. Nothing ever changed here. It had been a wasteland long before Johnny got there, and it would continue to be a wasteland long after he was gone. Acceptance was recognizing that there was no way back, and that his friends were never coming to get him. They probably didn't even know he was gone.

The only thing that counted anymore was trying to help the other people here. It had taken being erased from his life to show Johnny what it really meant to be a hero. There was nothing in this for him, no money or fame, no cheering crowds, not even the adrenaline rush he used to live for. He helped people now because it was the only thing left to do, and because it might spare them a little bit of pain, but he didn't kid himself that he could really save them either. On a long enough timeline, they were all Cassandra's victims or food for Alioth.

When it wasn't his turn on patrols or raids, he spent his time working on the derelict Fantasti-Car. He'd been an excellent mechanic in another life, and in his world, he would have had it fixed several times over by now. In this one, he lacked parts and machinery, and so he was forced to be creative and come up with work-arounds with the scant resources he had on hand. Most of them didn't work. He didn't think it would make a difference even if he could get it running again. It was just a way to pass the time, a small thing to remind him of home.

He was half-contorted under the engine, and he swore when the metal bit into his knuckles for the nth time, finally crawling out from under it. "My kingdom for a decent socket set. Y'know, like the really good stainless steel ones… I think I miss them even more than my phone." His top ten list of things he missed the most from the real world shifted constantly depending on how hungry or helpless or injured he was. There were never any people on it, though. That list was too painful to contemplate.

This is all of them together. I’ll upload some, like, AU info? or something like that I guess, also. But seperately. K.

Very long whole thing. I don’t know how to make it so you can make it larger or zoom in or whatever so it’s really small:

So I cut it apart by house so it’s actually decently visible:

Benedikt, Leopold, Maggie, Isaak

Sam, JD, Henry, Tibi, Noah, Dominik, Reto, Tess

Esk, Lili, Knopf, Fox, Heinrich, Nikola

A whole lotta updated information about Isaak, plus some pictures.

His name is generally meant to have an Austrian German pronounciation, for the record, assuming it was not pronounced in some dialect, which it usually is. I’m not sure if the phonetic script is right or not, so take it with a grain of salt. I just thought it would be fun to include.

I’ll put the text underneath a cut, in case it isn’t ledgible on the picture. Sometimes tumblr seems to make my stuff more blurry (smaller?) than it is/should be, i don’t know why.

Not long ago Thomas Haden had visited Germany for his studies and returned to England half a year later with the love of his life by his side. And so it happened that, not long after, Thomas Haden married Maria Heidrich. They moved into a small house in the outskirts of London, happy as could be. Now Thomas was a gentle man, kind and patient, very much unlike his wife, a fierce and headstrong woman. Not that Maria wasn't kind, of course, she just wasn't one to tolerate what she believed to be a wrong. It was her determination and independence that had caught Thomas attention first, after all. And so he just smiled when she went to protests, spelled paroles and tried so hard to fix what she believed broken. Still, he liked to believe that he had a calming effect on her.

Of course, people were talking. Seeing as Thomas father was a fairly well known and important man, his sons unusual life was quickly the topic of choice among the more gossip-prone locals. About that weak, soft man who had married that foreign girl. And what a dreadful girl it was, a stubborn thing who doesn't know her place. Not that the Haden boy does anything about it, of course, he just goes along with it all. Even their names… They hadn't gone with Mr. and Mrs. Haden, like sensible people, not them. Mr. and Mrs. Haden-Heidrich they were, thank you very much. His father doesn't talk to him anymore, and who can blame him? Having a son like that!

It was nasty talk, and at times Maria had half a mind to have a word with some of the worse offenders, or better yet a fist fight. Only Thomas calming words ever seemed to change her mind. He would tell her not to bother with it, to let them talk. So long as they don't do anything else, it would be alright. And for a while, Thomas words rung true. The gossip died down a bit eventually, flaring up only when something particularly 'outrageous' happened.

And then the world stopped in it's track and a single shot threw a continent into chaos. When the war started, all men were called to arms. For God, King and Fatherland. For the Glory of Britain. When Thomas Haden-Haidrich received his call, he refused to listen. He was a doctor, he said, it was his job to save people, not to kill them. Even as a medic, he would have to break his oath, he claimed. After all, a doctor ought to treat anyone who requires his aid, no matter who the patient is. Leaving an enemy to die was just as much a breach of his oath, thus, as killing one outright would be. Not that he found many people that would agree, even at the hospital he worked for. Thomas didn't mind. He may have been mild mannered, but there were things he believed in, and he wouldn't let his mind be changed easily on them. And as long as he had Maria, who supported his choices, it didn't matter much to him what others thought.

So when the war began, he was more than ready to face the judges and pledge his case. He was ready to be a conscientious objector, be thrown into a prison if it must be. Just to hesitate at the finish line. It wasn't for his own sake that his confidence faltered, but for that of his wife. He had seen what happened to those close loved ones and supporters of conscientious objectors, and it made him second guess. Maria told him to go along with it anyway, of course, she could deal with whatever came her way just fine. Thomas didn't doubt that. Still, he was growing more uncertain with every day that passed, inevitably bringing him closer to the hearing that would decide his fate.

And then someone threw a brick through their window. The person had written the word 'Traitor' on it. While Thomas had been preparing and worrying, people had started to talk yet again, and this time the rumours went past nasty gossip. After all, wasn't it just a bit suspicious that the man who had married a German, and taken her name no less, was refusing to fight for his fatherland now? Those two had always been unsavoury, strange folks anyway, it wouldn't be that surprising, would it? If that coward was to become a traitor for his deceiving wife? And it wasn't that far from a coward unwilling to fight for his fatherland to a traitor, right?

The rumours had become louder and louder until they weren't just harmless words any more. Actions were about to follow words. So when Thomas found himself before the judges, while still unwilling to become a soldair, he did not refuse their order to aid in the war in another way. He did not go to jail. For the sake of his wife, of his family, he would be shipped off to France. Thomas Haden-Heidrich would count tattered corpses somwhat off the front line and try to aid whomever he could with the few supplies he was given. And maybe one or two of them were Germans or Czechs, and maybe that was treason, but he couldn't just cease to do his duty, could he?

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Okay, last picture in this series of questionably drawn icon-y thingies I created when bored,