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sup-hoes-its-me · 4 years

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A Hero (Shinsou x Reader)

A/N: okay so shinsou is such a cool character, kinda relatable tbh, so here we go. Friends to lovers, lots of fluff, cuteness. It took a lot of strength to take a break from writing my fav bakugo lol.

tw: you almost get assaulted

word count: 4400

Part One/ Part Two/ Part Three

So technically, Y/N wasn’t related to the Bakugos at all. She was the orphaned child of a family friend, who died a horrific hero’s death when she was only a couple years old. Without any other relatives in the area to adopt her, Y/N’s mother’s best friend took in the two year old, despite the trouble of raising two toddlers being quite daunting. Yet, her quirk wasn’t very dangerous nor special like Katsuki, so she wasn’t hard to manage in that area. Just a shy little girl, confused at the transition after the loss of her parents.

Y/N was never very strong willed like her new family. She was passive, the perfect representation of type B personality. Dependent, reliant, and fearful of adversity. The only reason she was never mercilessly bullied in her primary days was a result of her “brother’s” unrelenting defensiveness. He was an asshole, very much so, but he never let anyone pick fun at the girl. Not only did he kinda, sorta love her unconditionally as a silbing should, but his mother would murder him for not standing up for her.

But when they both got into U.A, suddenly the two weren’t equals anymore, nor would he always be by her side to watch out for her. Y/N was left behind in class C, while he soared into the top hero course. Y/N was support for the soon-to-be pros, not that she minded. The girl knew how weak she was, and unless she had a change of heart and decided to work harder on her quirk, she would never be able to succeed. She wasn’t motivated like those in Class A. Y/N never wanted the responsibility of being so good people relied on her, civilians putting all their faith into her. It was nerve wracking.

On the first day of class, Y/n said goodbye to her parents and walked to class with her brother. He carried both their bags, one on each shoulder, eyes staring straight ahead, brows furrowed with irritation as per usual. She kept her hands clasped behind her back, wandering slowly next to him, head hung.

She was scared, admittedly. This school was huge and so prestigious. How could she ever compare to the others there? It was impossible.

“Stop being such a baby.”

“Katsuki-”

“You’re gonna be fine, and you know it. You’re more powerful than those losers anyway, if only you tried,” he grunted, turning the corner to see dozens of other students in their uniforms walking around and entering the school. She bit her lip and sighed, wringing her fingers out of nervousness. “Seriously, don’t make yourself out to be a weakling. People will target you if you do.”

She paused, not taking another step as she confessed, “I know what I should do, it’s just putting that ideal into practice that gets me everytime.”

Time was running close to class starting, and he rolled his eyes down to her slightly quivering form. Handing her her bag, he told her calmly, “Listen, if anyone bothers you, I’m two doors down anyway. Just call me right after class if something happens, got it?” With a nod, he patted her on the head and walked away to the main entrance.

Her eyes drew up the high building, taking in all the shiny windows and the huge shape of an H made out of the numerous floors. This place was bigger than she had ever imagined, and that only scared her more. Yeah, it was bigger because it housed a lot of students who needed room to exercise their quirks, plus they were a very wealthy institution.

She had to tell herself that just because the building was scary certainly did not mean that the people inside were just as bad.

So she held her head a bit higher and walked through the crowds of students. She tried to remember where the counselor told her her classroom was, so she didn’t embarrass herself by getting lost on her first day.

Yet, that was exactly what she did. The school was just too big, and she was too anxious about her first day to think properly. So, with tears gathering in her eyes, she watched at the time ticked by on the clock. Her nightmares were filled with this scenario. Showing up late on her first day and everyone in the class laughing at her.

“Are you lost?” a voice deep and smooth spoke up behind her, and she jumped a couple inches in the air, placing a hand over her heart after it started to rapidly beat with shock.

She turned her head, brushing her loose hairs from her eyes. He stared down at her with an almost bored expression, just as his voice had sounded. He was tall, and very purple. Dark undereyes, wild violet hair in every direction. She didn’t really know what to think of him other than he was unique, dare she even say attractive in a strange way. He looked older than her, probably 16 or 17 even, based off his height and old soul aura he radiated. One thing she did notice about him though, was he felt gentle, passive and even a bit dismissive. It wasn’t the least bit intimidating, and she relaxed.

“Yeah…” she mumbled, a bit embarrassed.

He nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “Seems we’re in the same boat.”

“Where are you headed?”

“Class 1-C,” he hummed, beginning to walk forward again. She told him meekly that she was going to the same class, and he raised a brow. “Really? What’s your quirk?”

“My quirk is kinda lame.”

A small smile crept at the edge of his lip, her embarrassment and shy attitude amusing him. “And what would that be?”

“Well, it’s kinda weird so don’t make fun of it. I can um- well, my blood is highly basic and burns any skin issue it touches,” the girl mumbled sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. Her cheeks burned so much she felt like she had a fever. This is why she never liked to talk about her quirk. It was just plain absurd and kinda disgusting. Every time she used her quirk she had to slice her skin and sprinkle blood everywhere. “But, like, it does so much damage to me to lose blood that often I can rarely use my quirk.”

He nodded. “That’s definitely strange, you’re right,” he stated bluntly, and her heart stopped beating for a moment. “But useful. Really don’t know why you’d be embarrassed about it. Just because you don’t have endurance doesn’t mean strategy and technique can’t make up for that.”

Y/N caught up to him, walking at his side now although his strides were longer and harder to keep up with. She looked up to him, feeling a bit at ease seeing as he wasn’t rude about her quirk. “What’s your quirk?”

He didn’t miss a beat, his gruff voice sounding bitter and angry with his next words, “Something I’d rather not talk about. Don’t want you to spread rumors and lies about me.”

She had never heard someone so visceral about their own quirk. It couldn’t be that terrible, not to mention she wasn’t rude like the people he must have encountered before. She felt a pang in her chest, knowing that this reaction was no doubt from prior experience being hurt.

With a short shake of her head, she replied, “It’s okay, if you don’t tell me, but I wouldn’t judge you for your quirk, and definitely not gossip about it. I don’t have the social skills to do that kind of thing.” She laughed awkwardly. The bell rang overhead, signalling the beginning of the first period. They were officially late. “Oh, crap. We better hurry.”

“For what? We’re already late, doesn’t matter if it’s by a minute or ten.”

“I-I don’t know about that one.”

As they entered the stairwell to head up the stairs, he turned to her and paused, staring into her eyes deeply. She blinked, seeing so much purple looking in her direction. Quickly, she averted her gaze, and tucked her hands behind her back out of nervous habit.

“I’ll tell you about my quirk if you promise me one thing.”

She opened her mouth to agree but then shook her head. Don’t just make promises to strangers, Y/N, so stupid. “Um, depends on the promise.”

He took a deep breath, never taking his eyes off of her own averted ones. Waves of pain radiated from his form, hitting her square in the chest. “Just don’t call me a monster or shit like that.” And that was the moment she felt her entire heart crumble in her chest for this boy she had just met. He expected her to think of him like a monster for something as silly as his quirk? She wanted to cry for him, being as sensitive as she was.

“I promise.”

He started walking up the stairs again, done with his intense observation of her face, except it felt to her like he was examining a portion of her soul, her compassion. It seems he saw something he liked in her.

“My quirk is brainwashing, or mind control, if you want to call it that.”

Her eyes widened at the words, not believing that someone so powerful was right beside her, in the same class as her even. “Like, what do you do?’

“If a person verbally responds to me, I then have complete control over anything they do.”

“That is so sick,” she whispered under her breath, but he still heard her. His brows quirked up, and he gazed down at her.”Sorry, I just think that’s a really amazing quirk.” She smiled sheepishly, her eyes reaching his. He almost had to look away once he saw the sparkle of excitement and admiration in her gaze. Those emotions were directed towards him…

As they walked past a classroom, a loud voice called from inside the room. “Bakugo Y/N and Shinsou Hitoshi. I believe you’re late to my class.”

She rushed into the classroom in front of him and he followed. They conveniently were directed to the back of the classroom, two seats directly next to each other. She took a seat in hers and he slumped down in his, rolling his eyes at the glare the teacher had given him.

He looked over at the girl beside him, who he now knew as Bakugo Y/N. She peeked over at him, and a small smile grew on her soft lips, the bit of sparkle still present in her gaze towards him. He smothered down the urge to smile back, just lifted the corner of his lip in return.

Shinsou wasn’t exactly interested in making friends. He didn’t need them. This girl, though, he wouldn’t mind if she stuck around.

______________________________________

“So, uh, Y/N, do you need someone to walk you home?” Shinsou asked as they shuffled out of the nearly empty classroom save for a few stragglers. “Not that you aren’t capable of walking yourself home, it’s just that-”

“It’s fine. And actually someone already walks home with me, so no.”

He cringed, feeling awkward now. He shouldn’t have been so forward with this impending friendship. They had just met, she probably didn’t want some weirdo knowing where she lived either. “Oh, gotcha.”

“In fact, there he is,” she smiled, waving to a particularly angry blond walking down the hall with his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his sagging pants. Shinsou cringed even harder at this point, not expecting her to already have a guy walking her home. She probably didn’t have much room for another good guy friend in her life, he thought, obviously overthinking things. “Katsuki! How was class?”

He frowned, shaking his head. “Deku made a fool of himself as usual, but it wasn’t awful,” the boy replied as his eyes slid from his sister to the daunting guy beside her. “Who’s this?”

“This is my new friend, Shinsou. He helped me find the classroom this morning since we’re in the same class.” Katsuki blinked in surprise, definitely not expecting his shy little sister to already have made a friend. It took her years of middle school just to have a few close acquaintances.

“I gotta get going. My mom is expecting me home soon,” Shinsou told the girl, even if he was lying. He could go home at any time he wanted, he just didn’t want to feel awkward anymore. This guy was obviously close to her, and was giving him the evil eye for a minute now. Possessive much?

“Wait, before you go, let me introduce you to my brother.”

“Brother?’ he asked aloud. They didn’t look alike, like, at all. Nor did their personalities seem to resemble each other in any way.

“This is my brother Katsuki. He’s a class 1-A hot shot.” A pang of relief turned his stomach.

“Yeah, uh, nice to meet you.”

The blond rolled his eyes, gruffly brushing off the purple haired boy’s greeting.“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Y/N, are you ready to go?”

Y/N sighed, waving softly to Shinsou, a smile ever present on her lips when she looked at him. She mouthed as she walked away, ‘sorry’, and he just waved.

Maybe he was a creep for watching her as she left, waiting for her to turn a corner before he let out a breath of air. All he knew was that he felt as if he was sucked in a trance. His heart felt heavy in his chest, as if it were about to explode. The feelings were so foreign but pleasant, some of the best he had ever experienced.

It just felt so good to see someone’s warm smile directed at him, not an ounce of malice behind a guise.

Yeah…He really, really liked her.

_____________________________

The pair were friends. Honestly, Y/N was the only person you could get him to admit, albeit begrudgingly, that she was his friend. They trained together, and he assisted her a lot with her quirk. There were times when they were training alone and she lost too much blood that she would pass out and he would carry her to the infirmary. Time and time again though, teachers told him in private to monitor her. It was unhealthy to constantly lose pints of blood, and she wouldn’t be able to do it on the daily even if she wanted to. Since he and her brother were the only people she truly listened to and appreciated advice from, Shinsou recognized it as a sort of duty to take care of her.

Yet, with a bit more encouragement at the new school from dozens of teachers and other students, she actually improved on her quirk quite a lot. It wasn’t as if she had a useless quirk; it was very powerful in fact. She could burn directly through someone’s skin and the bone if enough blood was spilled. Therefore, the quirk could only be exercised in moderation.

For the first time in his life, someone actually trusted him. Not once did he consider using his quirk on her. Not only was she perfect on her own, but if he betrayed her trust like that, he might lose his closest friend. She was kind, but he wasn’t sure where her limits lied.

“Are you sure you’re okay walking home alone?” he asked his friend, who sat beside him packing up her books. Katsuki was out for the day with the flu, so she would be walking back home alone. He was kinda worried about her. She never walked by herself, always having the protection of her brother.

But she was a strong girl. There was nothing to worry about. He had seen her fight and she was definitely capable. It was just overthinking that sent his anxiety through the roof.

“Yes, I’m totally fine,” she laughed, finding his concern humorous. “You live in the opposite direction. I’m not gonna make you walk me 20 blocks out of your way.”

Although he nodded in understanding, he definitely did not agree. He would walk all over the city for her if she needed him to. Still, when it came time to part ways on the sidewalk, they waved and went in opposite directions. It was only after five excruciatingly long minutes that the lanky boy turned and started walking in the direction of her home. Even though he shouldn’t have, and easily could have texted her, he wanted to make sure she made it home. He knew the general direction of her house, and if he walked moderately fast, he could catch up to her.

So what if she didn’t want him walking an extra 30 minutes? If that made her annoyed, so be it.

Y/N walked slowly down the street as she usually did, her feet tapping lightly against the sidewalk. If she were being honest, she was a bit disappointed in herself for refusing Shinsou’s offer to walk her home. They would have a lot more time to talk in person before the weekend, and she never wanted to miss a beat with him.

Maybe it was stupid of her to be so attached but she thought of him as her best friend, practically the only true one she ever had. Dozens of people came and went from her life, but this friendship felt so special. It would last a long time she thought, and hopefully she was right.

Unfortunately, she was too lost in her own dreamy thoughts to notice someone standing right at the edge of the alley she walked by in a particularly deserted area of town. A hand reached and snatched up her arm swiftly, yanking her into the darkness of the alley and covering her mouth with his other grimey hand before she could make a sound.

Her back hit the cold wall behind her, feeling the rough bricks scratch her shoulder blades through her uniform. Her wrist felt like it was on fire, burning from the harsh grip of the snatcher. Using his knee, he pinned her other hand to the wall at her side, completely immobilizing her. She could have used her quirk, if she was able to produce some sort of blood-pouring injury, only she was trapped.

“Don’t fucking scream, you hear me?”

He removed his hand from her mouth for a moment to reach for his pocket, and as he did so, she let out the loudest scream she possibly could. Just as the sound came from her mouth, a cold object pressed against her throat and her heart stopped beating in her chest from sheer terror.

To think she was a hero in training at U.A., and she couldn’t even defend herself from a quirkless criminal on the street. She felt like crying, feeling a knife against her throat, wrists held down. If only she was just a little smarter or a little stronger; anything to get her out his mess. The air was tense and heavy, and she could barely get a breath in without feeling the bitterness of the blade against her skin.

She prayed, closing her eyes and letting the hot tears drip down her cheeks. If only someone would come and help. All Might was always there to help people, wasn’t he? Where was he? She couldn’t hope for her brother to back her up as he was sick at home, and she definitely couldn’t text Shinsou to come get her. Her phone was tucked safely in her backpack where she couldn’t dream of reaching.

God, she was hopeless.

The thug opened his mouth to say something else no doubt cruel or vulgar, but just as the first syllable fell from his chapped lips, a shocked voice echoed down the alleyway.

“Y/N?”

Her eyes widened at the voice, relief running throughout her entire body.

“Dumb punk, kid, just run off now.”

“No.”

“You don’t want to mess with-”

That reply was all it took for Shinsou to take control. The thug felt all control of his body lost in the air and a sort of tenseness to take over. “Drop the knife,” the student commanded, and the man indeed dropped the rusty knife to the ground, a metallic clang rang out in the darkness. “Now back away.” And so he did.

Tha man sputtered, not knowing what was happening to his body or why he was doing these things. His face turned a bright shade of red and he threw a dirty glare at Shinsou Hitoshi, hating him with every sense of the word for making him look this pathetic.

“Now stand still right there like the piece of shit you are. Move, and I will kill you,” he said calmly. Before turning to Y/N. “I’ll be right back with someone to help. I saw an officer go into the coffee shop across the street.”

When he left, she inched away from the man, watching as he couldn’t do more than just stand there and look completely bewildered. A mind control quirk definitely wasn’t something you see everyday. Plus, he probably was facing the realization that he would be arrested and sent to jail to get his ass kicked by quirk users there.

He came back with a couple officers and pointed out the situation, explaining what he saw when he came to the alley. They asked Y/N for a quick statement and she just reaffirmed what Shinsou had told them and added how she was walking home alone and he grabbed her when no one was looking. And so they took him away, thanking the kids for helping catch the guy, who apparently had tried to assault and rob other women in the area recently.

That was a close call, the closest one she’d ever encountered actually.

As they exited the alleyway, she felt sick to her stomach from what had happened, stress filling up her chest and threatening to burst out in the form of tears, only she composed herself the best she could to be strong. There really was no need to be strong. Shinsou was her friend. He was kind and brave and very intelligent, but most importantly he was kind to her. If she cried, he wouldn’t shame her. But she still felt the pressure to keep them from falling. “Shinsou-”

“I’m so glad I turned around to follow you. I swear, it’s almost like I knew something bad was going to happen, I just knew it,” he mumbled more to himself than her, really. He looked down at her finally, his eyes searching hers for any sign of distress. She looked terribly shaken up, but no tears were falling. “Are you okay? Did that guy hurt you or anything?”

“No, nothing else happened,” she told him. “I-I can’t believe you came to save me. I’m so grateful, I don’t even know what to say. I felt so helpless back there without my quirk at disposal.”

“It’s okay. It’s over now, and you’re alright. That’s all I could really hope for.” He looked down the street and then back to her, flashing a weak grin. “You wouldn’t mind if I walked you home from here, would you?” he asked, to which she silently shook her head. So, he began walking and she followed very closely behind, so close that he could feel her arm brushing against his. He figured she was scared enough, a little bit of friendly comfort was going to help her out. She obviously didn’t want to speak, too shocked to say anything much.

After a minute or two of walking, he felt her hand slip its way sneakily into his own, tightly grabbing on as if he was going to yank it away from her. Although he could feel how shaky her hand was, it was so warm and soft against his cold and rough hands. Her fingers fit perfectly between his own. It was sappy of him to think, but jeez, it felt like those hands were meant to interlock. It just felt so fucking good.

He shoved down those selfish feelings. Y/N was just attacked, and he was thinking about how he felt. He shook his head subconsciously, knowing that he was being rude. She was holding his hand because she desperately needed to feel safe and comfortable, not because it necessarily felt nice. She would probably hold the hand of any random dude that saved her like that. Jesus, Shinsou, so dumb. Get a damn grip, you sap.

He squeezed her hand back reassuringly. He wasn’t sure what she was feeling, but he hoped he was helping.

Her house was relatively close to the spot she was grabbed, so it was a short walk. Part of him wished it had been longer so he could have spent more time with her hand held in his. As they stopped at her doorstep, she dropped his hand and went to grab the strap of her bookbag anxiously, eyes hidden from his view.

“Shinsou, thank you for stepping in back there. I really can’t tell you enough how much I appreciate that.”

With a wave of his hand absentmindedly, he brushed off her praise and thanks. “Don’t thank me. Anyone would have done the same, you know.” he didn’t feel like he deserves any thanks. He barely did shit back there except say a few words, and she was thanking him. Anyone would have done the same. He wasn’t special. He wouldn’t be special with the quirk he possessed.

But god, the way she looked at him in that way, adoration and admiration staring into his eyes, completely entranced with him; it made him feel invincible, like he was on top of the world for a lifetime. He would never forget the shine in her beautiful e/c eyes in that moment, he swore it. That was a memory he’d hate to lose.

“I-I know- It’s just that…well…” Her words trailed off into silence before he felt her reach up abruptly to wrap her arms around his shoulders, falling to rest against him. He caught his balance last second, not expecting that of all things. Her head rested snuggly in the meet of his shoulder and neck, hot breath tickling his skin there. He tensed at the sudden embrace, but nevertheless wrapped his arms around her shoulders, bringing her closer. He could feel her shaking once again, and her rapid heartbeat pounded against his quickening one.

“Hitoshi,” she whispered, “You are my hero.”

Shivers ran down his spine at those simple five words, laced together by the most angelic voice he’d heard before.

That took his breath right from his lungs. He was her hero. A real hero. That was all he wanted in his life, to show people that he could be someone’s savior. The feeling of the one person he cared for more than anything saying those words to him. The feeling was unbelievable.

She pulled away after a silent moment, and waved to him gently, taking a step up to the entrance of her house. “I’ll see you on Monday, okay?” she said sheepishly, feeling something weird herself after that hug. Her skin felt all warm and gooey, like she was going to fall apart at any moment or her knees would collapse beneath her.

“Y/N, if you need anything, you know you can call me night or day, I don’t care,” he called after her. “I swear, anything for you, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Shinsou-kun.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye.”

“You’ll call me sometime, right? So I can make sure you’re feeling better?”

“If you want.”

“Of course.”

“Okay. I promise I’ll call.”

“Yeah, well, bye then.”

“Yeah, bye-bye.”

She shut the door finally, catching the eye of her brother immediately.

Katsuki stood in the living room of their home, sipping some soup with a spoon, blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He raised a brow when she peered over at him, obviously having seen what happened outside through the front window. “What was that about, Y/N? Care to explain why that boy was all over you?”

“Shut up, Katsuki.”

He grunted, rolling his eyes at her reply. “Hey, I’m just worried for you. You can’t trust teenage boys. Take it from me since I am one. ”His voice was quite hoarse from the sore throat he had that morning, and he sounded like a frog whenever he spoke. How could she possibly take him seriously?

“He’s just my friend. You really don’t have to lecture me on anything,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Sure, sure.”

She waved off how annoying he was, and walked down the hall to her room. When she shut the door behind her, she finally felt herself heat up with embarrassment. Shinsou Hitoshi held her hand the whole way home. He saved her like the glorious hero he always wanted to be. The feeling of relief she felt when she heard him enter the alleyway and call for her, it made her heart melt. She would definitely take up his offer and call him over the weekend, just to hear his soothing voice in her ear. Just hearing him, or even thinking about him made a smile grow on her cheeks.

She wasn’t sure what she felt for him. If it was simply a friendship or if her attachments were growing into something more.

Y/N just really, really liked him.

_____________

Part two coming later this week. Should it be angst or fluff? I’m torn

#bnha shinsou #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou x reader #bnha #boku no hero academia #boku no hero #my hero academia #mha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha oneshot #bnha imagines #mha imagine #mha oneshot #shinsou oneshot #shinsou hitoshi x you #reader insert #x reader

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onthevirgeofdestruction · 4 years

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Dreaming While I Wake

Sanders Sides Foster Care AU - Roman-centric Angst & Hurt/Comfort & Abuse Recovery

Roman tries to be upbeat and hopeful despite all the shit that’s happened to him. And a lot of shit has. Luckily, his new foster home is with two literal rays of sunshine (and a sarcastic asshole).

Words: 3,445 Warnings: Anger issues, Talk of JDC, Over-Apologizing, Food, Talk of Cryptids, Death Mention, Blood Mention Characters: Roman, Patton, Virgil, Thomas Universe: Dreaming While I Wake Genre: Family Fluff, actually

Chapter 22

chapter 1 for new readers - ffn mirror

Roman mostly fumed for the drive home, and Patton let him do so without a fuss. He also let him take a nap. Roman was certain he ended up falling asleep at some point. He was awake when they got home, but the music changed to classical and he didn’t remember that happening. It also happened much faster than it should have in theory, not that Roman had any understanding of time. He was thankful for the space to process. He was mad about having to leave Remus again, but the ride home helped him get through that so he wasn’t as bitter anymore. Stupid anger issues. Stupid being resentful about being angry. Emotions were dumb.

He accepted Patton's assistance to the couch, and with as much as his feet hurt, he didn’t bother complaining. Patton looked a little shell-shocked himself as he sat down near the corner of the couch, honestly. Roman wasn’t entirely sure what about, but the whole experience was both shitty and amazing, so he couldn’t blame him. Roman was somewhere between happy, sad, angry, and just straight vibing.

Patton examined Roman for a moment as he settled down on the couch. “So, kiddo… I can’t say I followed all of that. Because somehow you two broke some kind of weird time barrier along with using fake words, jumping subjects like hopscotch and cursing as if you were sailors. But I think there are lots to unpack there,” Patton intoned, being careful with his enunciation.

“Let’s throw out the whole garbage bag,” Roman shrugged, kicking out of his shoes to put his aching feet up on the couch. He didn’t feel like discussing it. He only just calmed down and wasn’t sure he could work down from being pissed off again.

“I’d ground you for that language, but you are sort of already stuck at home and that feels uncharitable to take away video games or something,” Patton said off-handedly, looking a bit defeated as he leaned forward on his thighs.

“See, too nice for your own good,” Roman chuckled, motioning with his arms towards Patton. Patton just blinked at him for an awkward moment.

“I have literally never seen you so alive and animated. Ever. Even when you were sprinting with Lita,” Patton said, looking somewhat baffled. He scrunched up his lip to the side and kept staring unnervingly at Roman. “Also, I had no idea anybody could talk that fast,” Patton added, sounding a little impressed.

“Remus and were always ‘if you stop moving you die’-type individuals,” Roman replied, fiddling with his jacket sleeves. He didn’t understand why he was being watched so closely. Did he do something? Was he supposed to do something? Roman chewed on the inside of his lip apprehensively.

“I’ve just never seen you be that… high-energy. I mean, I knew you were energetic, but that was a whole other level. It was kind of overwhelming,” Patton stated, leaning back into the couch with a sigh.

“Sorry,” Roman muttered, looking down at his lap.

“No, no! I think I get why you were having so much trouble with following your homework yesterday if it’s always like that in your head. And why you act restless so often,” Patton held up his hands and shook his head. “You don’t have to say sorry,” He added gently.

“I don’t follow what you’re saying, either,” Roman looked at Patton in confusion. “Am I in trouble for cussing?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows in concern and still chewing his inner lip nervously.

“Yes, but I don’t think it’d be right to punish you over it. Just try not to do it next time,” Patton said considerately with a small shrug.

“I was 100% not thinking before speaking at JDC. I barely have that capacity in the first place,” Roman rolled his eyes and leaned back against the couch arm. He didn’t want to make promises he couldn’t keep.

“Well, that explains how you can talk so fast,” Patton chuckled and shook his head. “Seriously, you boys cussed more this afternoon then I’ve heard all year,” Patton said weakly, sounding kind of disappointed in Roman. The tone almost hurt, and Roman winced a little and played with his jacket zipper.

“Sorry, I don’t have much of a filter,” Roman apologized dourly, tugging his zipper up and down.

“It’s something we can work on, I guess. That kind of language doesn’t fly in the real world,” Patton said firmly, holding up his finger.

“We were at Juvie. If there’s anywhere to cuss like prison inmates, it’s with the prison inmates,” Roman said and signed ‘inside prison,’ while he rolled his eyes.

“That doesn’t mean you should do it,” Patton frowned at Roman. “Oh, hi Virgil,” Patton smiled towards the staircase. Roman signed hello as well.

‘Chips,’ Virgil signed, passing by. Roman blinked twice at Virgil actually explaining what he was up to, which didn’t happen that much. It was strange to see Virgil do non-cryptid of insults-like things. Unless maybe he was just powered by salt. What does a sodium-powered insult cryptid look like? Probably some kind of gangly demon. Virgil needs red eyes or something. He has bright hazel, but he deserves to be more of a cryptid in real life.

“That whole event has me very confused. But first thing’s first, why didn’t you mention you had an identical twin?” Patton asked and shook Roman from imagining the various ways Virgil could look if he was skulking through the woods as a supernatural entity. Roman blinked and sat up straighter, his eyes shooting to Patton.

“I didn’t realize the state hadn’t told you! You said you knew I had a brother. I didn’t realize you didn’t know we were born 17 minutes apart,” Roman threw up his arms. “I figured you’d find out soon and really wanted to see the face you made,” Roman explained sheepishly. Patton sounded upset at him about it, and it put Roman on edge a bit.

“That’s kind of dishonest, Roman,” Patton chided, frowning at Roman. Roman scratched at his finger for a moment, feeling bad.

“Letting the situation speak for itself isn’t dishonest. It’s shady at worst,” Roman shrugged slightly, trying to excuse himself. He didn’t understand why it would be a big deal. Virgil walked back into the living room munching on a bag of chips, looking interested. He placed the bag on the top of the couch.

‘Damn. Photo?’ Virgil signed while he stood behind the couch.

‘No phones allowed,’ Roman signed back the reason he couldn’t get one. He wanted a photo, too.

‘Shit,’ Virgil signed and snapped, looking disappointed. He came around to sit on the opposite couch arm while eating salt and vinegar chips by the handful.

“There’re lots of things that I think I heard that just make me more thankful you’re already going to be talking to someone. I have to admit I feel awful that Remus has no support system in there knowing what I do now,” Patton said a little shakily. Roman stared at him incredulously for a moment. He was not entirely sure what Patton was going on about still until his brain caught up.

“Oh! Well, he’s probably got friends if he’s teaching them our made-up twin language,” Roman replied with a slight shrug. “I don’t think anybody who doesn’t like him would put up with it. It’s a hard one,” Roman signed ‘impossible’. It was nearly a bitch to learn because of all the contextual words, so anyone putting up with that probably liked him. Patton hummed, not sounding that satisfied.

“Do you know why he wants boxers?” Patton asked carefully after another pause of Roman fiddling with his zipper and the crunch of chips from Virgil.

“Yeah, I heard about that,” Roman drawled in distaste. “They have communal underwear. The state doesn’t buy them any separate clothes,” Roman explained. Patton shivered in disgust. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but he had a visceral reaction to the idea no matter how he looked at it. He has known some revolting dudes in his life and would rather go commando than share cleaned underwear with them.

‘Fucking gross,’ Virgil signed and shook his head. Virgil must have agreed with the sentiment because he also stuck out his tongue and grimaced.

“And, um,” Patton shot a glance to Virgil. “I think he said you were bi?” Patton asked quietly.

“I mean, we can’t all get assigned gay by J. K. Rowling. Some of us have to settle on our twins maybe being the less repressed ones. I said I’d consider it, don’t go throwing me a pride parade,” Roman said dismissively. He didn’t wish to speculate about it, he didn’t want to deal with it, he wouldn’t prefer to hear a single slur from his dad’s mouth in his head again, so he’d just rather… not. Maybe later. Maybe. Is hermit a choice? Hermit sounds nice.

‘I got assigned gay by Nintendo , loser,’ Virgil fingerspelled with a teasing expression.

‘Lucky,’ Roman signed back, shooting Virgil a sarcastic grin after he scrunched up his lips. Well, there’s his confirmation. Virgil just ate his chips smugly.

“I’m still very confused,” Patton creased his eyebrows and looked at Roman.

“I’m saying I don’t know,” Roman motioned widely with his open palms as if motioning to all the shit he didn’t comprehend.

“Okay, that I understand. I support you no matter what,” Patton said with a small reassuring smile. He appreciated the acceptance and all but considering Patton married a man, it was kind of a given.

‘Barf,’ Virgil signed with a grimace and his tongue out again. Roman couldn’t help but chortle at Virgil’s ridiculousness.

“What if I come out as an asshole? Would you support me then?” Roman asked an absurd hypothetical just to make Virgil laugh.

“What? No!” Patton objected and put his face in his hands, shaking his head slowly. Roman chuckled at Patton’s over-the-top reaction.

‘Owned,’ Virgil signed and snickered silently before shoving another handful of chips in his mouth.

“I think I need to go process this with Thomas. Would you mind slipping your gloves back on?” Patton asked, sounding weary. Roman sighed dramatically and pulled them out of his pocket, making a big show about putting them on. “Thanks, kiddo,” Patton got up from the couch and went to Thomas’s office and closed the door.

‘How was the slammer?’ Virgil signed curiously.

‘Bullshit. There go our diabolical plans,’ Roman fingerspelled with a small eye roll.

‘Curses. Plan B, then. Attract vampires. Gay ones,’ Virgil signed back with a smirk and bounced his eyebrow once.

‘Perfect. Plan C is metal limbs. Now is Minecraft time,’ Roman signed, getting up to grab the laptop.

‘I’ll join you. BRB,’ Virgil signed and got up from the couch and headed upstairs. Roman sat back down and laid across the couch with the family laptop, elevating one foot against the arm of the couch. Virgil came back down with his laptop and sat on the top of the couch with his laptop in his lap. Like, join him in the living room or playing Minecraft? Did Virgil play Minecraft? Did he want to spend time with Roman of his own free will?

‘Make a world to join,’ Virgil signed. Roman shrugged and created a new world with a random seed and opened it to LAN. So Virgil played Minecraft. He didn’t strike Virgil as the sandbox type. And he wanted to play with Roman. That was unexpected. It wasn’t like he hadn’t played with foster siblings before, but he just hadn’t expected Virgil to want to do anything with him that didn’t involve watching TV and insults.

Virgil’s demon avatar popped up a few moments later and immediately started punching trees. Roman joined him in the massacre of the local flora right away. He had set up a small house for them to wait out the night by the time the sun finished setting. However, Virgil was perhaps too feral and ran into the night with a wooden sword. Roman built the house close to the spawn point, so there wasn’t much harm in crafting up some wooden swords and joining him. Virgil played much differently from Roman. He just ran off and murdered until he ran out of supplies and then came back to the base Roman was building up with materials. He messaged for help sometimes, but just seemed content running headway into hoards of spiders in caves. He was clearly terrified of creepers, but who wasn’t? Everything else he wanted to murder without exception. Keeping up with Virgil’s need for torches was an event in itself.

It was nice playing with someone that wasn’t a little kid, though. Roman got to focus more on the building when he preferred to and had someone to back him up in the caves when he would rather explore. They also insulted each other incessantly. Roman had been called a ‘ball-brained hamster’, a ‘sock full of hot go-gurt ’, and ‘hysterical trilling inanity’ in the last few minutes alone. He called Virgil a dark void where dreams go to die when Roman suggested a new addition to the base Virgil didn’t like. Virgil created a sign for the chest Roman kept filling with mining and murdering materials with that very name he liked it so much.

“Boys, it’s past noon. I made lunch for everyone since you were playing games together. Get to a stopping point and come eat,” Patton called from the kitchen while Roman was harvesting a vein of gold. His inventory was nearly full, so he may as well turn around and head back to base. Roman retraced the trail of torches back, where he joined Virgil in setting stuff to smelt while they were eating. Virgil got up and Roman followed him into the kitchen.

“The food smells good, Patton. Thanks for cooking for us when you didn’t have to,” Roman said, sitting down at the table and joyfully serving himself some broccoli-chicken mac-and-cheese at the plates already set. It smelled marvelous, and Patton hadn’t seasoned it oddly like that food last night.

“I didn’t want to bother you. Plus, it’s an excuse for a bonus eat-together time!” Patton smiled, though he still looked exhausted. Virgil grabbed the salt and vinegar chips he was eating earlier and crumpled them up on the top of his serving of mac-and-cheese. He held the bag over for Roman and raised an eyebrow. Roman shrugged and took a small handful of chips to do the same. The crunch and bite were pretty good on the creamy mac-and-cheese when he tentatively tried it.

“Oh, that’s awesome,” Roman nodded and Virgil smirked, putting the bag down on the dinner table between the two of them. It wasn’t like Virgil to share his salty potato products, so the gesture weirdly flattered Roman. His standards for flattery had gotten low, it seemed. Thomas came into the kitchen and smiled at Roman.

“Comfort food, Pat?” Thomas asked, arching an eyebrow at the food on the table.

“ Roman is fine, but I’m not,” Patton said somberly as he served himself some mac-and-cheese.

“Hm?” Roman looked up with his mouth full of mac-and-cheese when he heard his name and swallowed. “I’m sorry?” Roman apologized, but he did not understand what was happening.

“No, Roman, you didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t have to apologize,” Patton held up his hands and shook his head.

“I heard my name and the fact that you’re not okay, so I think I kinda do ?” Roman said carefully, furrowing his brow nervously.

“Do you remember what you talked to Remus about?” Thomas asked mildly, sitting down at the table in the remaining spot.

“Uh-” Roman thought for a moment, trying to remember. “Um. Frozen, gayness, juvie, killing each other through a mirror universe… my family, I think,” Roman listed off. “Probably some other stuff, we were there for an hour,” Roman shrugged and took another bite of mac-and-cheese. It was a weird question to ask, but it’s not like he and Remus were talking about bad things, so he had no reason to hide it.

‘Can twins kill each other through a mirror universe? Metal,’ Virgil signed, looking darkly excited at the concept.

‘Only if they’re perfectly identical,’ Roman put down his fork and signed back while he chewed.

“Agreed, he’s probably fine. Comfort food is excellent, though. Thanks for cooking, love,” Thomas rubbed Patton’s shoulder appreciatively.

“It helps me process things, but there’s never a bad time for mac-and-cheese,” Patton said sagely, nodding and rubbing his chin wisdom.

“Maybe not so much if you’re lactose intolerant. Unless it was your last meal, then it’s the perfect time for mac-and-cheese,” Roman provided with a small shrug. Virgil looked considerate and also nodded after a moment, chewing his food.

‘Poisoned mac-and-cheese would be a good method to die,’ Virgil signed. Roman raised his eyebrows and considered it, then tilted his head and nodded enthusiastically.

‘Only with bacon and serranos,’ Roman added. Virgil nodded in agreement, looking satisfied.

“I really hope that’s table appropriate talk,” Patton narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“We’re just talking about variants of mac-and-cheese,” Roman provided dismissively. It wasn’t wrong, but he assumed Patton didn’t want to know that one of those variants was poison.

“Pre-digested, right?” Patton asked carefully, pointing with his fork.

“Gross!” Roman shot and Virgil stuck his tongue out. They both grimaced at Patton. “We’re not animals, geez,” Roman muttered bitterly and shook his head.

“We discussed lactose intolerance. I had to be sure,” Patton said seriously as he looked between the two of them.

“Well, you brought that part of the issues up, not us,” Roman rolled his eyes and slumped back in his chair dramatically.

“Are your feet okay after having to be on them today?” Thomas asked, clearly in an attempt to change the subject. Roman could respect that since he’d rather be able to eat his food without feeling disgusted.

“They’re not bleeding, I don’t think? They just hurt,” Roman replied, sounding just as unsure as he felt. He didn’t exactly check them when he got back. Bending down to do that hurt like a bitch and they didn’t feel weirdly hot or anything like that.

“I’m not sure about you walking to school still on Monday,” Thomas deliberated, sounding concerned again. Thomas and safety, geez.

“A proposed compromise: I call you if they start bleeding again,” Roman offered. Thomas seemed to like compromises, and it was reasonable in Roman’s opinion.

“How about we check if your feet are okay in the morning and then make that the agreement if they’re healed enough?” Thomas suggested back an alteration to the compromise, and Roman narrowed his eyes and chewed his cheek for a moment.

“You know I’ll be too out of it to argue with you in the morning,” Roman objected, stabbing at his mac-and-cheese.

“I’m counting on it,” Thomas smiled knowingly and Virgil silently snickered at Roman.

“ Hey ,” Roman glowered mildly at Thomas, pulling his lip to the side.

“If they keep opening up and bleeding, it’ll just take longer to get back to your regular life, Roman. They need to heal fully,” Thomas reminded him, tapping the table with his finger to punctuate his point.

“It’s just that one on my right foot that doesn’t like staying closed. What if I hop there?” Roman asked facetiously, rolling his eyes dramatically.

“I’d love to see you try while not hurting your broken rib,” Thomas said glibly.

“Okay, you know what?” Roman replied faux-angrily. “That’s fair,” Roman finished blithely and snickered. He reached in the chip bag and crumpled up one more chip on the remaining mac-and-cheese.

“You had me going there, kiddo, not gonna lie,” Patton chuckled nervously after a second.

“Sorry,” Roman apologized. “I was just having some fun,” Roman said sheepishly, curling in his shoulders.

“I thought it was funny,” Thomas laughed lightly. Roman relaxed a little and continued eating, glad he wasn’t upset. Patton settled down too, though he was still eating much slower than his usual vacuum pace.

‘Want to continue playing after food?’ Roman put down his fork and signed at Virgil. Virgil scooped some more mac-and-cheese out before signing.

‘Father, I crave violence,’ Virgil signed back with an evil smile, and Roman laughed, not anticipating that response in any sense, and got a smaller portion of seconds for himself.

Personal Taglist: @bunny222 @elizabutgayer @prinxietyforever @kanene-yaaay-o-retorno @the-sympathetic-villain @croftersjam15 @ollyollyoxinfree @xytiiko

the taglist repository:

High school: @dragonwithproblems @starlight-era @averykedavra @potatsanderssides

Roman Angst: @k1ngtok1

Hurt/Comfort: @callboxkat @nonasficcollection @supernovainthenightsky @evoodo123

Roman-Centric: @smileyzs @robinwritesshitposts @thatgaydemigodnerd

Fostering AU: @i-am-not-a-dinner-roll

literally everything sanders sides: @katelynn-a-fan @dwbh888 @grouptalekindnesssoul @the-hoely-bleach @anvil527up @fanficloverinthesun @brain-deadx0 @the-grounded-raven @ananonsplace

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lorablackmane · 5 years

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Why I enjoy The Tower Boss Battle

I find the boss battle with the Boss of Tower Corp to be an amazing piece of storytelling. From how it’s introduced to the mechanics, to just how it flows. And I’m gonna talk about all that under the cut. (also ignore the fact Lore keeps changing colors in these. I got a mod as a gift based on my Tower Lore and Haven’t removed it).

First, let’s talk about the intro. We’ll start off after OScar tries to kill you. You enter this big room with a desk as big as you are, surrounded by video screens showing the employees working. You’ve come to the Boss’ office.

Everything about this place screams power -the giant chair, the monitors watching everyone, the desk with spikes that’s so big you can’t actually see above it. Everything here screams power and makes you uneasy. And who is it that’s sitting in the turned away chair? The boss of Tower Corp, who is revealed to be your mother.

Look at how uneasy Lore looks when the chair turns around. He looks terrified of her and he’s been in this room for less than a minute. She hasn’t even done anything. This visceral reaction from Lore from someone we have only seen once makes the player dread this even more - why is he so scared; what can she do to him?

The next thing you notice is how quickly she changes her tune when she’s talking. 1st she says something that shows her true feelings about you - hatred, disgust, scorn - and quickly hides it with sweeter, nicer words; making you either only see the 2nd text or wonder if you truly saw the 1st set. You start to wonder if what you saw happened (which will be a common theme in this essay). This is a pretty common tactic among abusers - making their victims doubt the truth. They love to change the truth and past events, often telling their victims the bad version of events (the truth) were just dreams.

Lore’s reaction to past bad events suddenly clicks in your mind. He denies things that are right in front of him - the Barghest, Binder, the Nightmare area. His immediate response is to ignore it, deny the bad things are happening and say they’re just a bad dream. It is a common tactic for young kids to do this, but not as heavily as Lore does. But this interaction helps paint this reaction in a new light - it isn’t a childish wish, it’s a coping mechanism for Lore. This is how he’s learned to handle the worst parts about his life. But he can’t change the truth. The truth is there, caught between the sweet words and the repressed thoughts - and she shows this when Your father appears.

She finally shows her hostility openly, revealing the darker thoughts beneath her nicer words. She sees these two as beneath her. And her abuse becomes physical when Lore’s dad tries to protect him. She throws him into a wall and viciously states, “he got what he deserved,” before quickly stating, “he’s just having a time out, honey.”

And she does this right in front of Lore. This fact is vital to this battle - she did tangible, physical damage right in front of him. She did something that Lore can’t fully deny happened like he can with her insults and thinly veiled threats.

And this causes him to act out against her.

Then the battle truly begins. It starts off by tricking you into believing it’ll be like the Barghest, bringing up a battle box that’s stylized for her and you.

And then she completely destroys the arena.

Her line here says exactly why she does this: she doesn’t want him to have equal influence and power in this fight. We’ve already fought on this battlefield before, so the battle box would have given us an equal playing field. Abusers hate it when their victims are in any place that’ll give them some amount of equal power to them. She’s the one who’s supposed to have all the power, all the cards. She’s the boss, and he’s just a pathetic, worthless, spineless whelp. And just for a second he goes back into this role in her power scheme.

And that little change changes how she acts too. She goes from her more monstrous and unhinged form...

To her calm and controlled one, pushing the buttons she’s placed into him to get the reactions she wants from him.

Causing him to feel powerless, just like when the Artifact appeared for the 1st time.

And we finally get to the meat of this battle: the memory scenes. She brings up a memory using a lie, and you have to choose the truth. Not matter how cruel or painful it was - even if you regret it. You need to tell the truth in these instances.

And by doing so...

He hurts her. He damages not only her health bar, but the amount of power she has on this field. As you destroy her health bar Lore’s weak bark to into a resounding bite. He finally, after all these years, lets out his own words and defends himself and by using her own power against her - words. But unlike her he uses the truth. He does this several times, destroying her health and influence until she’s at 50% health.

And by then she is. desperate. She make up a lie that the player can immediately see through, hoping she can get the power back. And while this lie is weird, it makes sense from a power play oddly enough. After all, who would lie about someone’s death?

But it doesn’t work. And the anger Lore has against her deflates, leaving him feeling sad at how pathetic this battle has become. His mother has gone from the woman who could make him cry from fear just by being in the same room as him, to a pathetic jerk - a regular schoolyard bully in terms of strength.

She’s lost... and her health bar isn’t even gone yet. She’s lost because throughout this battle Lore has been slowly but steadily been detaching her influence on him, removing her hold over him. She’s lost one of her victims...

And she realizes it.

She changes the area around her and asks you a simple question, hoping to make you feel guilty and stop fighting back.

And the answer Lore gives... I’m gonna be honest with you... that one hit close to home. I’ve had a bad relationship, one that destroyed my trust for a long time; yet I can’t bring myself to hate them. I tried to for awhile, hoping that would make it hurt less; but it didn’t. Lore... Lore says how I feel now better than I can.

And it does. It really does. Thanks to her he knows what to look out for, what the red flags are for people like her. Which people to never allow to influence his life. She’s made him stronger against people like her and he won’t let anyone like her near him again.

And she realizes that she’s lost, yet she still screams at him. In fear? Anger? Probably both.

And with one sentence he destroys what little influence she had on him.

And so ends the battle.

#heartbound #heartbound Lore #heartbound spoilers #lbanalysis #Heartbound Mom

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why-this-kolaveri-machi · 5 years

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what does this have to do with clownfish?

i know this was a mostly sad episode that ended on a rather disquieting note, but i was grinning from ear to ear by the end, you guys. I LOVE THIS SILLY SHOW SO MUCH, and i want to tell you why, so let’s talk about titans 2.04:

SPOILERS ahead

1. i get why we’re getting a flashback episode now--the titans’ ~sordid past~ with deathstroke has gotten a fair bit of build-up, and now that slade has jason, we need the history between him and the og team to contextualise the upcoming confrontation. still, i was really looking forward to having kory reunite with the team, goddamit!

1.5. i like the convivial, almost collegiate vibe that the original titans have about them--the idea of them getting together both desperate to prove that they are more than what their origins and youth might suggest, and to dick around (pun not intended) and just... be, in a way that their individual circumstances wouldn’t allow them. costumes on, in mission-mode, they are trained and hyper-competent, but in their downtime they apparently like adorably warbling off-key at each other and re-enacting 90s/00s cheesy rom-coms. it’s great! i would’ve loved to see these kinds of flashbacks drip-fed to us right from the beginning of the season--putting it all in one episode, from aqualad’s introduction to demise all in forty minutes, not only screws up the pacing, but also robs us of more of garth’s genuinely warm chemistry with the rest of the team.

1.67. besides, the immediate contrast between this and the way dick conducts the titans now would’ve been funny and quite impactful.

2. for all that dick seemed standoffish and genuinely frightened of himself in s1, the slightly less filtered look we get into his mind in this flashback--well before his existential crisis--is somehow even more disquieting?? the way he talks about batman and his relationship with dawn and even his friendship with donna smacks of an alarming emotional disconnect; a space where his sense of self has fallen and been replaced by a role that he has been trained to play. he smiles more in this episode than probably all eleven of s1 combined, but he’s far more reserved, afraid of vulnerability, and completely unwilling to express any emotion that would come in the way of him being who he Needs To Be.

2.45. this episode puts into sharp relief just how far dick has come to make peace with bruce in 2.01. here batman is a glowing symbol against the night sky; a shadowy figure promising justice is vengeance and not the other way around; a hulking figure that he can hate and love without reserve, that orders him to be better no matter how exhausted he is, even while standing between him and incomprehensible evil like a bulwark. at the heart of the titans tower--a skyscraper on the opposite side of the country from gotham--is another batcave, a sign that how no matter how far he goes, dick’s perception of himself and his relationships is still inextricably tied to batman and his ways.

it’s the missing link between the angry, grieving boy we saw in flashbacks last season, and the man rapidly spiralling into crisis at the beginning of season 1. he’s internalised batman’s mission before he can decide for himself what he wants to be, and he’s been like this well into his adult years (unlike the comics). no wonder when the moment he goes Too Far finally comes, when he’s so burrowed into himself that vengeance becomes an end rather than a tool, it’s such a violent upheaval, and one that he hasn’t quite been able to put to rest in over a season.

2.65. honestly the matter of fact way he talks about being dawn’s rebound relationship after her breakup is haunting me?? dick grayson--robin, batman’s partner, the First Sidekick, leader of the titans, friend, brother, lover, a valuable asset with trackers in his arm and neck--is so utterly subsumed that his feelings, his self, automatically comes second to the role he’s playing. i wonder if he had found that he’d had a tracker installed in his body without his knowledge at this point, he’d have accepted the cold logic of it (of course batman needs to keep track of him), instead of the visceral reaction he has five years later, when he immediately picks up a knife and cuts it out of his skin.

2.95. (retrospectively it lends so much more meaning to the opening scene of 1.08??? where dick says he needs to go off on his own to get his bearings right instead of staying on to be the Leader after their traumatic time at the asylum and kory and the others are quietly accepting of it?? where’s that ‘that’s growth’ gif when you need it)

3. donna! it’s interesting that her role as a titan was always meant to be a pitstop before she moved on to Greater Things, and her struggle to reconcile that with her growing attachment to the team came across really well. jillian’s never really pressuring her to leave immediately--six months! two weeks! idk, forever! really, it’s your pick!--but donna tells dick she needs to leave that very night, either because she’s hoping that he’ll protest and ask her to stay, or that she’ll fall for garth and lose her wavering conviction to leave if she stayed any longer, or both.

3.5. donna and garth’s relationship followed so many wonderfully cheesy conventions, with all of their attendant adorableness and Problems. the scions of two different royal families of two different races falling in Forbidden Love! garth clumsily flirting with donna even as she keeps turning him down! (not cool, garth!) bonding over reminiscing about quirky childhood memories! consulting a put-upon mutual best friend! the last minute reconciliation and confession of love at the airport! garth dying right after celebrating his birthday! (that cop was just a day away from retirement!) PERFECT

like. i have NO IDEA why people still insist on calling this show ‘dark’ and ‘edgy’. don’t let the weird lighting and occasional blood spatter distract you from the goofy, well-intentioned heart right at its centre, you guys!

(but man, dick and donna’s quiet heartbreak at the prospect of separation was harder to watch. for a moment, dick really let himself feel the burden, sinking onto his haunches, his head in his hand like he was about to cry. just a moment.)

4. the others’ reaction to garth’s death is very telling. donna is devastated; hank and dawn are upset, but in a distant way that suggests that they didn’t really know him very well or for very long; and dick... well dick is hard at work in his batcave, because that is how he knows to react to disaster.

4.5. i know that i spend quite a bit of my reviews harping on and on about dick, but he is more than just the team leader, or the one with the most well-defined arc so far, or the connective tissue between the old and new teams: the titans is HIS, in ways both subtle and insubtle. batman is funding the whole thing; their resources, their tech? all wayne enterprises. by extension, this shindig is dick’s idea, dick’s operation, something he shaped after himself--serene, beautiful, somewhat impersonal on the surface and batman-the-symbol, batman-the-phantom, right at the centre.

4.65. so when the burden of morality-bending vengeance falls squarely on dick’s shoulders, it seems natural. it also seems entirely natural that when dick does follow through on what the team wants from him, the fallout is also put square on him: he’s the one that’s gone completely off the rails, the one that would sacrifice anything for a mission (like hank implies in the previous episode), the one haunted by his own darkness. this, of course, is patently false, as trigon demonstrated earlier this season.

5. the opening scene of slade wilson doing the Thing He Does Best was so fun to watch. i love that this show is always trying to do interesting things with the camera. (tho i wonder, who hired him to take out donna troy in san fran? was that even his original objective? was it dr light? i am Confusion)

5.5. ... even tho the villain-confrontation scenes seemed hampered by low effects budgets and a lack of... kineticism. i can’t figure out how dr light works even after two episodes of seeing him do his thing. he can apparently implant light bombs in people but never seems to use this awesome ability again, when it can actually help him against the titans?

6. the moment i saw joey wilson’s profile through the window of his home, i knew he was going to be my favourite character on this show. i love him and his enthusiasm and his cute shoes and his love for vintage records SO MUCH! i know it’s been hinted that he died, but i can’t bear the prospect for even a second. HE’S ALIVE AND WELL SOMEWHERE HAVING TEA AND LISTENING TO GREAT MUSIC WITH AMY ROHRBACH, I JUST KNOW IT

6.5. dick (and the others) wouldn’t be so horrified with themselves and think about shuttering the titans for good if they hadn’t felt some kind of attachment to jericho. dick especially i think is going to fall into an actual honest friendship with joey and is going to extremely disgusted with himself when it all ends in tragedy anyway.

6.75. we’re probably not going to find out what actually happened to joey for a while, but here’s hoping the Unforgivable won’t happen.

7. on the brightside tho, KORY’S BACK NEXT EP! can’t wait.

#titans #titans spoilers #dick grayson #donna troy #garth #joey wilson #jericho #meta

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junker-town · 5 years

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How sports is Seven Worlds, One Planet: Episode 6?

Kei Nomiyama / Barcroft Media via Getty Images

David Attenborough’s new show is epic ... and sports.

We continue our extremely important mission to conduct a scene-by-scene review of the BBC’s new nature documentary, Seven Worlds, One Planet, in order to see how sports it is. We determined that Episode 1, which focused on Antarctica, was reasonably sports. Asia was very sports, as was South America. Australia was more drinking than sports, and Europe was extremely sports. Now it’s time for ...

Episode 6 North America

Scene 1: The Hare Hunt

Unless you’re either exceptionally lucky or exceptionally cynical in your choice of teams, following sports can be a thoroughly miserable experience. Every year, most teams fail, and they fail in heartbreaking ways. A sports obsession is a form of emotional gambling, and the house tends to win. Why do we do this to ourselves? I think it’s because we have to. Humans are fascinated by games, and, once captivated, it’s difficult to escape.

Sports might be a bad bet, but for many people they’re nourishing in a way that — the efforts of political punditry aside — cannot be found anywhere else. Also, while there’s not much joy in watching your team fail, it’s a lot of fun to watch everyone else’s also fail. Sports are schadenfreude.

Anyway in this scene a lynx repeatedly fails to catch a hare.

I spy with my little eye...a snowshoe hare #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/Y2nCQi8tDe

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) December 1, 2019

I think, if we were somehow turned into wild animals, most of us would choose to be apex predators. Being a prey creature, constantly at risk and having to stay on high alert all the time ... well, that sounds really too stressful. But most hunts end in failure, and barring freakish luck, predators seem hungry all the time, which can’t be any less stressful.

I think the lesson here is not to be a wild animal.

This particular lynx is stalking snowshoe hares in the depth of the Yukon winter. It looks cold, hungry, and miserable, and has to walk hundreds of miles in search for food, and when it finds one the hare just hides in a bush. A second hare also runs away and hides in a bush. Being a hare and getting chased by a lynx can’t be fun, but being a very peevish and hungry lynx would hardly be a good time either.

Aesthetics 10/10

Cats must be nature’s most stylish terrestrial predator. Even the smaller ones, like lynx, move with an instantly-recognisable grace. They’re beautiful creatures, made even lovelier by the pristine snow of the Canadian north.

youtube

Good lynx.

Difficulty 8/10

It’s obviously quite hard to catch a snowshoe hare.

Competitiveness 8/10

Frankly the hares seem to have the lynx overmatched, although the continued existence of any lynx at all implies that the contest is closer than it looks from these scenes.

Overall 26/30

I hope we’ve established that failure is, perhaps, the essence of sport.

Scene 2: Chubby Fish Boys

In Tennessee, a fish is building a fortress. And honestly, it’s pretty impressive:

BBC Earth

This contraption is the responsibility of a male river chub. In early spring, these foot-long fish embark on a quest to breed. The males seek out a quiet section of river in which to build a nest. These structures can get rather elaborate — they’re significantly larger than the fish themselves and can contain up to 7,000 pebbles, all placed by mouth. The males, for some reason, also decide to get much uglier:

What you would see looking out from a microwave. #SevenWorldsOnePlanet #isitready pic.twitter.com/V64RyDcyUo

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) December 1, 2019

Sorry boys, but bloated-foreheads-with-weird-growths is very much not my aesthetic. But my opinion doesn’t much matter to a river chub. What matters is the nest. These rocky piles provide shelter from both current and predators, should a female chub choose to lay her eggs there, and so building the best nest becomes fiercely competitive. Pebble theft is common.

Eventually the lady chubs make their choices, the eggs are laid and fertilised, and a new generation of fish is reared as the Mississippi slowly washes away those hard-build nests.

Aesthetics 1/10

These are some ugly fish and I really don’t like them.

Difficulty 4/10

Granted, it would be more difficult and time consuming without arms, but I imagine I could make a pile of several thousand rocks without too much trouble.

Competitiveness 8/10

Fighting over building materials and doing your best to build a very good nest? It’s a cut-throat chub world.

Overall 13/30

This is architecture. Architecture, while cool, is not sports.

Scene 3: Tidal Bears

Thanks to various quirks of geography, sections of the eastern coast of North America are subject to some of the planet’s highest tides. Tide present opportunities for land animals to harvest the rich bounty of the seas, and there’s no more opportunistic land animal than the bear.

Tidal zones might be rich in food but they’re also disgusting, rank places, with the stench of half-rotten seaweed everywhere. You can almost smell it coming through the screens. But we’ve dealt with the turd penguins, so we’ll forgive this bear family their rancid crab snacks. This is, or so we’re told, the cubs’ first visit to the seaside. They seem to be enjoying it:

A fierce hunter retreats with his starfish catch#SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/QjLDxWpig7

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) December 1, 2019

Sibling rivalry...a tale as old as time#SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/0zgCE3yKzp

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) December 1, 2019

However! Much like last week in Europe, the baby bears encounter a male whole isn’t their father, and are forced to flee up a tree to avoid his wrath. Fortunately, just like during the Finnish forest scene, nothing too bad happens. The grumpy male bear leaves a scent mark on the tree — how anyone might smell with so much seaweed around is beyond me, but bears have noses many thousands of times more powerful than ours, poor things — and the family skedaddles back to safety.

Aesthetics 5/10

These are some adorable, bears but while I love the seaside I have a visceral reaction to seeing much exposed seaweed. Gross.

Difficulty 8/10

The various climbs the little bears undertake seem sort of difficult, as evidenced by:

He’s beauty and he’s grace, he’s fallen on his face #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/UYONQtceiT

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) December 1, 2019

Did I add this just because it’s cute? Yes, obviously.

Competitiveness 0/10

Despite things threatening to happen, nothing actually happens.

Overall 13/30

A stroll down the beach to munch on some crabs is not sports unless someone actually tries to fight the big bear at the end.

Scene 4: Fireflies

If you’re lucky enough to live in a part of the world inhabited by fireflies, make sure you take advantage of those lazy summer evenings when the temperature is just right to draw them out. The little beetles twinkle in the air like borrowed stars, adding magic wherever they go.

BBC Earth

Since this is nature, of course, the flashing of their lights is basically morse code for “S E X M E P L S”, the sort of neon signs one might imagine populating a red-light district, but the lurid nature of the show hardly takes away from the beauty.

And since, again, this is nature, sometimes the lights are a trap. There are some species of fireflies which have evolved the ability to mimic others species mating signals, using their lights to attract an innocent bug looking for a mate and eating it.

This sequence doesn’t show that degree of aggressive mimicry, but we get an accidental one instead, with fireflies finding themselves glowing postmortem in a spider’s web, which summons more fireflies which etc. It’s a very pretty dinner.

Aesthetics 10/10

Yeah this is an easy call.

Difficulty 7/10

This isn’t talked about at all during the scene, but I really wonder how on Earth individual fireflies manage to cut through the noise of tens of thousands of other fireflies to hone in on potential mates. Is their vision short-ranged enough that most of the lights gets diffused into the background? If you tried to get me to pick a specific firefly out of that video I would not do a very good job.

Competitiveness 7/10

Following on from the last part, I’m slightly baffled as to how fireflies differentiate themselves from their firefly competitors. Many mating rituals have an obvious ‘fitness’ component to them, but I can’t tell here. Is it because the world of coleoptera sex is just too alien for me to comprehend? I hope so. (The spider part gives this zero bonus points because that shit is really just too easy.)

Overall 24/30

If humans could glow, synchronised people-glowing would be an Olympic sport.

Scene 5: The Tale of the Naughty Prairie Dog That Only Listened To Its Mother Sometimes

Once upon a time, there were six little prairie dogs living in a hole in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains. They were good little prairie dogs, or so they thought. They played nicely with each other (sometimes), kept the burrow clean (sometimes) and even listened to their mother (sometimes). They liked their burrow, and had lots of good grass and seats to eat. The six little prairie dogs had a good life.

They were neighbours with a burrowing owl family, and were good friends with their chicks. They didn’t see them very much, because the owls preferred to come out later, but the chicks liked to play almost as much as the prairie dogs and the mother owl wasn’t nearly as strict as the prairie dogs’.

The prairie dogs thought that their mother worried at little bit too much. She insisted that they not go too far from their burrow — the world was “big and dangerous,” she said, and they were small and many creatures might find them tasty. Their mother also forced them to return to the burrow at a moment’s notice, even if they were having fun playing or had found a particularly tasty patch of grass!

Their mother, the prairie dogs decided, was clearly overthinking things. Surely the world couldn’t be as dangerous as she thought. Nothing scared the cubs.

She is having none of it #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/JHIYxbTc9u

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) December 1, 2019

So slowly, as they got older, they started sneaking further away from the burrow. Whenever they could, they’d also wait a little longer to respond to their mother’s recall shout. Nothing bad ever happened. The world didn’t seem so big and dangerous after all.

One day, as they were playing, the little prairie dogs noticed the burrowing owl mother driving off a badger. “I wish she was our mother,” the eldest and most rebellious of the little prairie dogs. “Look how safe she keeps her family! Our mother just tells us never do to anything.”

The prairie dogs kept playing, glad that the badger had gone away. They’d never seen a predator before, but something told them them the badger was bad news. But with it gone, they could eat and play all day.

The eldest of the little prairie dogs was wrestling with his youngest sister when they heard their mother shouting for them to come home. “Let’s go back,” said his sister.

“Don’t be such a scaredy-dog,” said the eldest. “There’s nothing here that can hurt us. That badger went away ages ago. Mother’s just being ridiculous again. Stay and play.”

“Are you sure?” said his sister.

“Of course I’m sure.”

So the two little prairie dogs kept on wrestling.

The look your dad gives you when you announce that the whole family is going on a juice cleanse.#SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/v7DH1OxmyS

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) December 1, 2019

For the rest of his short existence, the eldest of the now-five little prairie dogs had to live with the guilt of his sister’s death.

Aesthetics 7/10

The prairies are not the continent’s finest scenery, but the little prairie dogs are very cute. And quite tasty-looking.

Difficulty 6/10

The ending wasn’t very difficult, but the badger did a lot of hard work to sneak up on the prairie dogs. The burrowing owl attack was pretty good too.

Competitiveness 10/10

Badger against baby prairie dogs? Not a contest. But a little burrowing owl (8 ounces) taking on a whole-ass badger (20 pounds) to defend her young? That’s the stuff right there.

Bonus point for the, uh, ill-judged prairie dog wrestling.

Overall 22/30

Depressing sports. Also, listen to your mom, kids.

Scene 6: Meep Meep!

Like many others, I was devastated to discover that roadrunners were neither blue nor locked in an elaborate, contraption-fueled feud with technically adept but curiously stubborn coyotes. Roadrunners are, in fact, little brown birds that like to eat lizards. Here is one on the hunt.

Practising for when Coyote turns up.#SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/vbRCqA2zxW

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) December 1, 2019

I was also devastated to find out that they don’t actually say “meep, meep”. It’s as though Looney Tunes was lying to me all along.

The roadrunner hunt is really quite odd. It doesn’t go after a gila monster (fair enough), and fails to chase down a couple of spindly-legged speedsters (fair enough), but it totally ignores a half-buried horny toad, and then at one point investigates a tasty-looking lizard of unknown description and instead of catching it lets it run away. And then chases after it.

I’m starting to suspect that roadrunners aren’t that smart. And with the lizard hunt not going very well, this one settles on a centipede. Job mediocrely done — my kind of bird.

Aesthetics 7/10

There’s a pure component to aesthetics, certainly. A goldeneye duck, for instance, is a beautiful bird in any context. But there’s also an aesthetic of time and place, and a roadrunner in the American West just feels right. It’s dusty and dirty chasing, after other dusty and dirty things, and while I might have preferred something blue and meepy, this’ll do.

Difficulty 5/10

Catching lizards in the heat can’t be easy, but there are so many unforced errors here it’s hard to give this a high difficulty score even when the hunt ends up mostly failing.

Competitiveness 8/10

Idiot bird vs. lizard seems like a pretty good fight.

Overall 20/30

Running aimlessly and mostly failing to get the job done? That’s a sport. I mean, I’ve just watched an Arsenal game.

Scene 7: Mullet Hunt

Somehow this is not a hair metal tribute band’s tribute band. I’m sorry if this disappoints you. Instead, we have grey mullet, a medium-sized coastal fish moving south with the currents off Florida. They’re moving south in vast numbers, too, with millions of fish heading towards their spawning grounds.

The mullet stay close to the shore in order to avoid the worst of the predators, yet somehow manage to go more or less undetected by the human sea-goers. But running in-shore only works for so long. Eventually the mullet draw the attention of a group of tarpon, large fish with a very large appetite. And so the hunt begins:

To get close to the mullet in the shallows, the tarpon turn on their sides now the mullet can’t see their shining silver flanks.#SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/mhgpgzO4Jx

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) December 1, 2019

The tarpon gorge on the mullet, and are soon joined by sharks and pelicans. But no matter how many predators converge upon the giant school, they can’t make much of a dent in its numbers, and the mullet keep moving south sans a few thousand fish.

Aesthetics 9/10

I very much enjoy the overhead shots of bait fish, and it’s especially fun to see them having to move around predators (the tarpon are magnificent) as well as human interlopers.

Difficulty 6/10

The tarpon, sharks and pelicans have it pretty easy. The mullet are jammed so tight to the shore that there’s nowhere to escape, so they mostly don’t. For the mullet there’s safety in numbers, but only for reasons of sheer probability.

Competitiveness 5/10

Not much of a fight, but I think sheer weight of numbers plays a factor here. The tarpon are trying to reduce a population 10,000 times their size. Granted, they probably think that sounds more ‘delicious’ than ‘intimidating’, but it’s a relatively tall order.

Overall 20/30

Sure. Fishing is a sport.

Scene 8: Sea Cows

America’s swamps aren’t always hot and humid. The shape of the continent allows arctic weather systems to penetrate right down to the south coast, dropping the temperature below freezing. Alligators can go into a sort of cold fugue state, dropping their heart rate to a beat per minute and sticking their snouts above the ice to make sure they can still breathe. But manatees cannot, and so they need to migrate somewhere warmer.

The waters off Florida should still be too cold for them during the winter, but Florida is an unusual place, and that strangeness manifests itself here through some surprisingly benevolent hydrology. The peninsula’s underground river systems are significantly warmer than the sea, and that’s where manatees see out the cold.

Some manatee babies get bored of all the waiting and play an unusual game:

BBC Earth

Yes, that is an alligator

In the depths of winter it’s not sleepy alligators which threaten the manatees. Instead, it’s boats. Florida’s water-ways are obnoxiously packed with motorboats, and dozens of manatees are killed by propellor strikes every year. Many of those that don’t die bear the scars of collisions, which are common even on young manatees.

Maybe learn to sail, Florida?

Aesthetics 7/10

Manatees aren’t cute, but the overhead shots have a sort of dreamy quality, like we’re watching a surrealist film about ambulant gnocchi. Also, the frozen alligator is very cool.

Difficulty 10/10

The baby manatee annoys an alligator. ANNOYS. AN. ALLIGATOR.

Competitiveness 4/10

Ok, let’s be fair: it’s a pretty sleepy alligator.

Overall 21/30

Most of this sequence is not a sport. Annoying alligators? That’s definitely a sport, albeit one I must legally recommend you not partake in.

Scene 9: White Whaling

I knew I shouldn’t have used so many Herman Melville references in the first episode, because we now have a genuine white whale hunt on our hands. Canada is warming faster than any other country on the planet, which has led to some difficult times for polar bears. Used to hunting on sea ice, which gives them a platform and a means to ambush the marine mammals they eat, the bears have had to adapt to a warming climate in which ice is much rarer.

Fortunately, bears are adaptable. Along Hudson Bay, a group of bears has developed a new hunting technique: they go whaling.

Polar bears are so dependent on the ocean, they are officially classed as ‘marine mammals’.#SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/pZzBtdLbFc

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) December 1, 2019

Bears, as it turns out, are not very good at chasing down belugas by swimming at them. But the older, smarter bears have a better technique: standing on a small rock, conveniently placed some distance into the water, and dive-bombing the whales as they swing by. This technique proves more fruitful, and one bloody encounter later, the bear is dragging a very dead whale to shore to share with his friends.

Polar bears are fucking terrifying.

Aesthetics 8/10

We’re used to seeing polar bears in icy conditions, so it’s quite nice to see them frolicking somewhere else.

Just a polar bear lying in a flower meadow #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/jiU5WDG7TO

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) December 1, 2019

As ever, the drone shots are magical.

Difficulty 10/10

An adult beluga can weigh up to 4,000 pounds. Imagine having to kill one in an ambush fast enough that it couldn’t escape.

Competitiveness 10/10

It takes a lot of brains and patience for the bears to overcome the fact the whales are far superior swimmers.

Overall 28/30

Diving is a sport, and it’s even more of a sport if you have to try to kill a whale with your teeth as you dive. From hell’s heart I bite at thee etc., etc., etc.

0 notes

darlinggod · 7 years

Text

title: take my heart and put it in your pocket (AO3)

summary:

The way Clarke sees it, there are only two ways to explain the situation; Clarke and Raven have the same secret admirer with remarkably bad taste, or Clarke and Raven have two separate secret admirers with similar, but remarkably bad tastes.

Or.

The one where Clarke is in love with her best friend and, also, someone is secretly giving her and Raven lame gifts that she kind of likes.

word count: 2588

A/N: This is really bad fluff. Not even in a self-deprecating way. Like, I think I just needed to write this much fluff for some reason. It was almost therapeutic. Anyway, there’s some background sea mechanic, if that’s your thing.

Raven, on the other hand, has a different approach to the whole thing.

“I don’t like hand-outs.” They’re at lunch and Raven has barely touched her food, too busy glaring at the piece of paper she's holding. Clarke’s afraid she’s going to puncture it with her fingernails. From what she can see, it's just a standard map apart from the words; “you mean the world to me” written in flowy, pink script. Raven had found it in her locker earlier, and Clarke was witness to her going from blushing teenage girl to mildly inconvenienced to genuinely pissed off in, like, twenty seconds flat.

“If this is a hand-out,” Clarke tells her as she slowly extricates it from her hands, “it would be, like, the worst kind.”

“You’re just saying that because you like them.” The disapproval in Raven’s voice is plain and, honestly, she gets it. She doesn’t understand why she likes them either. Only that she had found an orange on her desk with a note reading “orange you glad the week is over” a few Fridays ago, and a heart-shaped cupcake a couple of days later and she hasn’t stopped looking forward to them since.

“I think it’s cute in a weird way.”

Raven shoots her an unimpressed look. “It’s just weird. I bet they’re hoping for sex in return.” She frowns. “It’s always sex.”

She shakes her head. “Doesn’t sound like them.”

“We don’t know anything about them,” Raven reminds her.

“You’re right,” Clarke concedes, stealing a French fry from her friend, because if she’s too annoyed to eat them, someone should, “But for now, it’s harmless fun. And, it’s not like anything’s going to happen.”

“Because you’re in love with your best friend?”

Clarke’s had this conversation with Raven too many times and has accepted that she’s right far too long ago to have any sort of reaction to that. “And you’re in love with the new girl?” she retorts instead. Raven doesn’t react either. Though, she thinks that that might have more to do with who Raven is as a person.

“You’re not denying Bellamy.”

“And you’re not denying Luna.”

“Whatever,” Raven says, which is as good as any show of emotion she’s going to get from her, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, they're not doing anything bad. It’s just a little sleazy for this person to go after two girls at the same time.”

“It could be two different people," she suggests, irritated by the edge of hope she hears in her own voice.

Raven laughs, dry. “That’s not likely. Two different people can't be the same kind of lame.” She glances down at her plate. “You’re eating my fries.” Clarke chews a little louder, half to annoy Raven, half because she’s annoyed at her for pointing out that her secret admirer is probably just another creep.

“What? Do you think it’s Finn?” Clarke asks, grimacing only slightly. Wounds do heal, but she could never say his name without it leaving a bad taste in her mouth.

“No. Finn dropped it a while ago. Wick, maybe?”

“He’s not into me,” she replies, “Lexa?” They both wince at the same time. “Never mind. Wells?”

“He moved to Australia last semester,” Raven reminds her, not unkindly.

Clarke sighs deeply. She doesn’t miss him as much as she used to— like she was missing a limb— but she still has trouble remembering that they aren’t physically in the same place anymore. He’s been in her life too long.

“Now I’m bummed.”

Raven puts an arm around her and Clarke rests her head against her shoulder. Raven’s not very tactile. It’s a testament to how much she misses him too that she would initiate any physical contact at all. Clarke doesn't have the same reservations.

“What are we talking about?” she hears Bellamy ask. She has a visceral reaction to the gravel in his voice. Like, she was fine before— having fun, even— but he makes it all so much better. She watches him sit next to Raven out of the corner of her eye. His hair is messy and his eyes are bright and they lock with her own almost immediately. She sticks out her tongue at him and he grins at her. She hadn’t been separated from him for long, but she still finds herself realizing that she missed him. Stupid, she thinks.

“Clarke’s lame secret admirer.”

Clarke sneaks a glance at him again. It’s not the first time her secret admirer has been mentioned, and she doesn’t think – or can’t bear to hope— that Bellamy has feelings for her, but she stills feels a slight sting of disappointment when he doesn’t look back at her, his expression remaining annoyingly neutral. He doesn’t care. Well, that’s not exactly accurate. Clarke’s sure she ranks in the top five most important people in his life, at least. Of course, he cares. Just not in the way she wishes he would.

“I don’t think they’re that lame,” she tells them, “A little dumb, maybe.”

Bellamy finally looks up at her, a soft smile playing at his lips. She smiles back, all unpleasant feelings gone in a second.

Raven snorts. “Dumb?”

“Or, they know how to make me laugh. It really could go both ways.”

“Like us,” Bellamy says.

Clarke snorts and Raven rolls her eyes. Bellamy looks stupidly proud of himself, and Clarke is so irrationally endeared by it, she panics for a second. Not for the first time, she wonders how much she actually likes him. Loves?

Soon they’re falling into regular conversation. Bellamy had admitted to Clarke that he couldn’t really talk to Raven when she wasn’t around. But you couldn’t tell from the way they were bickering, friendly until it edges into dangerous territory and Clarke has to cut in and defuse the tension. Still, she thinks they have a good thing going. Certainly, better than she hoped for when she had first entered high school, still grieving her father’s death, still unspeakably angry with her mother, and attached to Wells by the hip, too afraid to drift too far. Even as she aches with the absence of her childhood friend, she can admit that she’s done well for herself.

When Clarke looks up, she’s only mildly surprised to find Luna gazing over at Raven. Luna’s not someone you can ignore with her big hair, dyed in the bisexual pride colors (which she respected) and even bigger presence. Something about her makes you want to go up to her and ask her for advice on what to do about your non-existent relationship with your mother (which Clarke has) or brat sister (which Bellamy has) or if she likes strawberry flavored ice-cream better than chocolate (which Raven has— though for completely different reasons, she’d imagine).

Point is, Luna is something. And Raven has a thing for that something.

Bellamy, by the looks of his amused smirk, has noticed too. Clarke raises an eyebrow at him. What do we do? He shrugs. It’s not our business. Clarke shakes her head. You’re no fun.

Raven makes a disgusted noise. “Use your words, god. You guys are nauseating.”

Bellamy levels her with an unimpressed look and Clarke looks away quickly to hide the flush she feels creeping up her face. She prays Bellamy doesn’t notice.

“Don’t panic,” she hears herself say, still too embarrassed to look up, “But Luna’s at your ten o’clock.”

Raven’s neck swivels around so fast, Clarke’s afraid she’s broken it.

“Sorry,” she winces, “my ten o’clock.”

Bellamy snorts. Raven glares at him— to Bellamy’s credit, he doesn’t flinch— before looking the other way.

When Raven has crushes, she bursts into life. She becomes this mess of emotions Clarke hadn’t been completely convinced Raven deigned to have. Clarke rarely saw her this way. And when she did, it was always a toss-up between feeling scared and amused. Today, she’s amused.

“I’ll be right back, guys.” She doesn’t really make eye contact with either of them and her face is bright red. Clarke doesn’t laugh, but it’s a close thing.

“Take your time,” Bellamy yells at Raven’s retreating back.

Raven flips him off. With Raven gone, Clarke moves to bridge the gap Raven left behind.

“Woah. We don’t want to make your secret admirer jealous,” he teases. There’s something else there, too. It’s wishful thinking maybe, but she hears a hint of jealousy. It means nothing, she scolds herself. But, she thinks, it could mean something, everything.

“Eh,” she says, her voice steadier than she feels, “I like them less than I like you.”

“Really?”

She looks up at him. He’s always like this with her. Wide open. It makes her heart soar, just a little.

“Of course, you dork. You’re special.”

“Special,” he echoes.

Clarke has a feeling she’s said too much. Like she’s given a part of her she can never quite get back. She feels like she’s at the edge of something. So, of course, she takes several steps back. “Besides,” she says with levity she doesn’t quite feel, “No offense, but you’re not the one they should be jealous of.”

She gestures to Raven and Luna who are now sitting closer to each other than she’s ever seen Raven with anyone. Luna says something and she throws her head back and laughs. The kind of laugh she reserves for things that really do make her happy. Clarke feels a swell of joy for her friend.

He hums thoughtfully. If he notices her change of tone, he doesn’t show it. “What if your secret admirer isn’t hers?”

“Raven doesn’t think so.”

“And what do you think?”

“You’re going to think it’s stupid.”

“You think gif is pronounced like the peanut butter. It can’t be worse than that.”

Laughter bubbles in her chest and spills out of her. How does he do that? She wonders, Make everything so much easier. She thinks she might know the answer. She’s pretty sure she isn’t ready for it. “I’m not even getting into to that, but you’ve made your point.” She leans in closer, like she’s telling him a secret. In a way, she is. “I think my secret admirer really likes me.”

He blinks slowly. Clarke looks at him. Really looks at him. He’s always been handsome. All curly hair and freckles and smiles that are as beautiful as they are hard to get out of him. But there’s something else there. It’s too familiar. It breaks her heart a little. Bellamy looks away, sudden and sharp, and his curls fall into his eyes. She tucks her hand between her thighs so she doesn’t do something stupid like push his hair back, or something.

She shrugs instead.

“Do you want them to?”

She shrugs again. “It would be nice, I guess,” she admits, “But even if they don't, you like me enough to make up for it.”

Bellamy smiles. The kind of smile Clarke feels like she can't possibly earn, can't possibly deserve. It makes her skin feel hot and her heart thud in her chest.

“I do,” he tells her, smiling as wide as she’s ever seen, “I really do”

When Raven finds her later, she’s by her locker, still thinking about what Bellamy said.

“So,” Raven greets.

“So.” She stuffs her books into her locker, barely looking her way. She’d kind of gotten side-tracked, and she and Raven had history in five minutes. Emotional crisis aside, they really had to get to class.

“Luna’s my secret admirer.”

Clarke drops her textbook on the ground, narrowly missing Raven’s bad leg. Raven shoots her a look before she can apologize and Clarke thinks better of it. “No fucking way,” she says instead, because, really? “New girl?”

She can’t be absolutely sure, but she thinks Raven’s blushing. It’s shocking on own its own. Even without the news. “Uh-huh.”

“I didn’t think lame gifts would be her style.”

She’s bending to get her book so she only sees Raven shuffling awkwardly when she says; “Me neither.”

She stuffs the book into her bag and starts down the hallway because they're really going to be late and Ms. Indra’s kind of scary. “I mean, I would more likely believe she told you she looked into your heart and saw love and you fell in love with her.”

“Fuck off.”

Clarke laughs. “Come on,” she calls, “We have class.”

Raven jogs a little to catch up with her. Now Clarke’s sure she’s blushing.

“I think she wanted to come off as non-threatening as possible. It’s kind of sweet.”

Clarke’s eyes widen with realization. “So, she’s not my— “

“Nope.” Raven puts an arm around her, but she’s grinning this time. Clarke likes this too. “So, you have your own problems.”

Clarke grins back. “I wouldn’t call it a problem.”

“Do you think the person who has the hots for you is in this class?" Raven asks right as they're about to enter the classroom.

“No. He doesn't have class— “she stops dead in her tracks. Oh, god, she thinks. Her whole world feels like it’s tilting on its axis with the realization she just had. Somewhere, she’s always known. Maybe she wasn’t ready. But right at that moment? She felt like she could grab the stars from the skies if she wanted. She doesn’t think. She just turns around and breaks out into a run.

“Where are you going?” Raven yells after her.

She looks over at her, still running. “To see Bellamy!”

The last thing she sees before the turning the corner is Raven’s face blooming in delight. Although, her maniacal laugh does follow her far past that point

In the end, she finds him in the library, hunched over a book. Because he’s predictable. Which means she’s more of an idiot for not seeing it sooner than she had previously thought possible. She plops down on the seat next to him and watches him start, the glasses he only wears when he reads, slipping down his nose.

“Clarke?” His eyes are wide in surprise. He has a lot of things to be surprised about, frankly. Her disheveled state, her not being in class, her breathing so hard you’d think she just ran a marathon. There was also the fact that she was grinning like a crazy person.

“I figured it out,” she tells him breathlessly.

“Figured what out?”

She kisses his cheek before she can think better of it. “They know how to make me laugh.”

His look of confusion only lasts a second, because, really? She’s pretty predictable too.

“Oh.”

“You’re a cheesy dork.”

He laughs and when his hair falls in his eyes this time, she doesn't hesitate to push it back. Her hand lingers on the side of his face. His skin is warm beneath her palm. She's pretty sure she's shaking. He looks up at her and there’s that look from before. She can’t believe she hadn’t understood why it was so familiar. She’s probably looking at him the same way right now.

“Yeah,” he says, “but I’m your cheesy dork.”

It occurs to her, right before she leans in to kiss him, that just may be perfect for each other. When he kisses her back, soft and sweet and too-long-waited-for, she knows she’s right.

#bellarkefanfiction #bellarke #background sea mechanic #friends to lovers

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ellebeebee · 7 years

Text

Seachange

Part Five/Nine

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four

Liam has impulse control problems, we know this. He thinks it might be a deal breaker (yet somehow it still doesn’t deter him??)-- spoiler: it’s not.

4866 words, Liam x f!Ryder, teen rating

AO3

It’s not like he went out of his way to put himself in danger.

Okay, maybe there’s a bit of untruth in that statement, but look. He couldn’t help being ‘on’ all the time. He’d tried to switch to ‘off’ before; after all the parent-teacher meetings, the lectures, the hospital visits. The girlfriends that got fed up with his bull.

He didn’t mean to scare people. If he’s being honest, sometimes it surprised him when others were concerned about his well-being, when they got angry on account of it. It’s not exactly the caring that surprised him-- more like, oh, shit, I should have considered that first. But it was hard to think first when a clear goal sat in front of him, and the direct, simplest route was totally possible. It just happened that most of the time that direct route was the nutty one. The one most likely to put him in a cast or break a rib.

And the other times? The ones that weren’t, y’know, life-and-death situations?

Well. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, and a laugh was a helluva gain in his opinion.

And having a guy like Jaal around? Damn, if they don’t have some fun on this constant world-shattering hellride, well, they’d all go bonkers, right? Or Liam would, anyway. Jaal was the same. Yeah, at first the guy was trying to be all tough and suspicious or whatever, but they all warmed his little angaran heart. Not a small part of which was on account of Liam, of course. Duh.

So they had fun. Risked life and limb. Whatever. So sue them.

“So, that is ‘dextro’ food,” Jaal stated, staring into the contents of the fridge. Liam peeked over his shoulder.

“Yeah, that’s Vetra’s stash,” he agreed.

“And turians and quarians are the only dextros from the Milky Way,” Jaal reiterated.

“Yeah. I mean, as far as I know?”

“And ‘levos’ cannot consume the same food? Does this also extend to production?” Jaal mused, continuing to stare intently at the innocuous sealed tub of food. Chilled air began to permeate the rest of the galley.

“Umm,” Liam hummed. “I don’t really know? Drack and Mira use the same pots don’t they? I think they do something when they switch? Uhh.”

“I mean, with regards to mass production. Are there separate ‘dextro’ and ‘levo’ factories?”

“Okay, that one’s filed under generalist-specialist info,” Liam quipped, clapping the angara’s shoulder.

They’d come to recognize that some questions during all this cross-species cultural exchange were just beyond a single individual’s experience. That stuff they called ‘generalist-specialist.’ Or: I have no fucking clue and don’t really have an inclination to find out.

“Hmm,” Jaal just mused.

They kept staring into the fridge. For whatever reason.

Liam cleared his throat. “Are you daring me to taste it?”

Jaal finally glanced at him and frowned. “I never said--”

“‘Cause if you’re daring me, and you think I’m not gonna do it, you clearly don’t know me well enough yet.”

Jaal looked at Liam, and his silly grin. And he looked back at the tub of dextro food. And he looked back at Liam.

“That is extremely stupid,” Jaal stated. “Aren’t you afraid one day Lexi will just stop treating you?”

“So what you’re telling me,” Liam said, nudging the angara out of the way, “is that you’ll let me wear the rofjinn for a whole day if I do this?”

“What? No!”

“Deal!”

And even though he made his disgruntled remarks about the human’s intelligence, Jaal (with not a small amount of curious light in his large blue eyes) watched Liam pull the tub out and drop it loudly on the counter. He started pulling out little individual containers full of things he half knew the names of, half had no idea how could even be digestible. That was when Mira stepped through the hatchway.

She stopped in her tracks, and Liam froze with a large morsel of a brownish dextro something halfway to his face.

“What are you doing?” the Pathfinder asked, brow lowering.

Liam wasn’t sure what exactly overtook him at that moment. It was like just the sight of her turned on that particular switch that was already always set on a hair trigger with him. Oh God. Shit shit. It was fucking stupid, but there she was: cute as fuck, and looking at him, and yes! Give! Me! Your! Attention! Mira! Ryder!

Liam jammed his whole damned mouth with that chunk of dextro-whatever.

And it didn’t taste bad. Sorta pudding-like texture, which wasn’t exactly great cold, but it had a brown gravy-like thing going on. And. Like a weird beer-y, fermented, fatty pork thing? It wasn’t terrible at all.

“Oh my god,” Mira gaped. “Liam, don’t swallow that--”

And really, it wasn’t funny. It wasn’t funny at all. But he had an ultra intense impulse to laugh at the face she was making, all horrified and open-mouthed and stuff. But he didn’t laugh. Oh no. That might actually be funny-- him laughing and the disgusting result with a mouthful of food. But no, not Liam Kosta. He’s never satisfied with just the straight gross-out joke.

Liam chewed for a good moment (“Stop, seriously!”) and he swallowed.

All the while staring her down.

Jaal made a sound half-way between exasperation and a laugh. “That was very stupid.”

Mira slapped her hands to her face, probably struggling with the exact wording for her incoming outburst. Then she lowered her hands, and her face wasn’t the mask of anger and irritation he was expecting. She stepped forward, grabbed him by the wrist, and tugged him out the galley hatchway.

“C’mon,” she sighed.

“And, no, you still can’t wear the rofjinn!”

And in the short walk down the hall to med bay, Liam was already getting short of breath, his throat tightening painfully. Mira’s hand was firm on him, and he couldn’t help staring at her expression. There weren’t storms in her eyes. No furious squall, but a dark indrawn… something?

It was hard to think with his entire mouth on fire, though.

Lexi took one look at them from her desk, sighed, and made a straight beeline for her supply cabinet.

“I take it all that swelling is an allergic reaction?” she said dryly, facing a wall of little bottles and medical things.

“He got into some of Vetra’s food,” Mira replied. They were talking about him as if he were some kind of dog. She kind of pushed Liam into an examination table, which he hopped on easily.

His feet swung, and he was reminded of being a little kid. Mum dragging him to the doctor’s and holding his hand, promising a lolly if he would just sit still for one goddamed minute.

Mira didn’t exactly hold his hand, but she did keep close to his side with her fingers on his forearm. His head was starting to swim. Yet he could still distinguish the knit in her brow. He wanted to poke it.

While he was busy staring at Mira’s face and fantasizing about poking it, Lexi poked him in the thigh with a very sharp needle.

“Oww!” Liam tried to complain, but he mostly brayed like a moose.

And the fingers laid lightly on his forearm (those thin fingers with the trigger callouses) tightened. They didn’t grip or dig in, a painful and visceral reaction, but just momentarily closed around him. Held onto him. As if afraid of what would happen otherwise. It lasted only a millisecond, and she let go, resettling into her light brush across his skin.

What was that about?

He swiveled to look at her, but Lexi pushed him down into the bed, giving him her standard scolding for the umpteenth time. She threatened to tie him down if he wouldn’t stay put while the injection did its work, and plied him with some mystery white tablet. Mira let go of him at this point, which made the absence of her hand burn. Pathfinder duties or something. He caught a last glimpse of her, glancing back at him, as she exited the med bay.

He turned to see Lexi giving him a very pointed, very knowing look.

“Wha?” he asked, tongue thick and useless.

“I’m trying to decide if you’re trying too hard or if you aren’t trying nearly hard enough,” she informed him sharply.

He sighed, which caused him to choke sharply on shallow breaths. Fully exerted, he lay back limply on the examination bed and tried to ignore Lexi’s judgment.

She doesn’t wear the name ‘Ryder’ for nothing.

It would surprise anyone that had only met her off the field, that had never seen her work (her being a bit of a mess out of her armor-- well. In civvies, not-- uh, you know.) But she knew her tactics, had incredibly agile ‘battlefield intelligence,’ and he’d once watched her clean up an entire kett squad at two thousand meters.

Plus there was SAM, so in general the Tempest’s squad felt pretty comfortable with letting her make the calls in the field (giving allowance for occasional ribbing).

And that was exactly why Liam should not have broken formation. He’d gotten his though. Served him right, he guessed.

He recovered from the self-poisoning pretty quickly. Spent the night in med bay fiddling his thumbs and vegging out to a series of vids on his omni-tool, then bound out the next morning with a sincere promise to take the little bottle of tablets Lexi gave him as instructed.

They were running ops on Kadara, some of it dodgy stuff like sifting through the bullshit between the Exiles and their top assholes, trying to find the kernels of truth through all the-- you know-- shit. Once it was clear he was no longer slurring around a swollen, foot-sized tongue, Ryder pulled him and Peebee out for the final push to activate the next vault. They made good time in the Nomad, mostly avoiding trouble when they could (which was always Mira’s style, frankly) until they encountered a gang of trumped up bandits who thought a roadblock and a few pistols entitled them to your shit.

Should have been a quick clean-up, but it turned out that this particular gang had a skilled engineer with them, probably ex-infrastructure or something from the Nexus. Anyway, this jerkoff techie kept alternately throwing these annoyingly small and agile drones at them and then handing off portable turrets to his assfaced friends so that they could place them somewhere incredibly inconvenient for the Pathfinder’s squad. And, cherry-on-top, this engineer was hunkered down behind the roadblock, completely inaccessible to their bullets.

They could turn around, try another way. But they were already on a delayed schedule for their mission to board the Archon’s ship. And every minute, every day wasted made it more and more likely that something would go wrong, a leak would weasel its way over to the enemy.

Liam watched all this go through Mira’s eyes as they continued to trade fire with these two-bit fleabags.

She made an angry, frustrated grunt over the comm.

“This is a freaking waste of time!” she yelled.

“Yeah, no shit!” Peebee answered, blue force thrown from her fingers to pluck up a raider.

Mira went quiet for a moment, fiddling with something on her rifle. With an oomph, she slid away from her position against the cover of the Nomad. Liam was too busy taking potshots to watch what she was doing.

“I’m going up the ridge under cloak; flank ‘em and take out that engineer,” she announced. “Maintain this position.”

“Roger,” Peebee called, relief flooding her voice.

“Make it hurt,” Liam added.

She didn’t say anything, and he didn’t see her leave the immediate area. Kind of the point. He had no reason to worry; this was exactly her kind of thing, the maneuver she honestly liked to use the most. And it was routine. There really, absolutely, was no reason to get antsy or start getting smart ideas.

And yet.

This was Liam Kosta.

He and Peebee spent a few moments working on a real cockroach of a turret that seemed made of, like, magical phlebotinum or some shit. Until Liam got kind of sick of it and had A Very Bright Idea. Really, all he needed was a beer to tell Peebee to hold.

“You think she’s on the ridge yet?” he yelled.

“What?” the asari answered distractedly.

“You think she’s on the ridge-- Nevermind. You got this for a minute?”

He didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, Liam Kosta, ultragrade genius, pulled out two fistfuls of grenades, set off all of them, and hurled the bundle of carnage and mayhem at the raiders. And he bullrushed through the resultant upwaft of scree, debris, and dust, towards a set of crags on the other end of the shallow valley they were entrenched in. He ignored the outraged protests Peebee shrilled at him and hoofed it as fast as he could.

“Liam!” Mira’s voice rang over the comm. “What the hell are you--”

“Distraction!” he yelled back. “Or flanking! All of the above!”

Except it turned out that his plan b was not the Very Bright Idea his brain had told him it was, and he should have left well enough alone and kept his ass glued where it was. Long story short: it was a fucking mess.

His grenades shielded his sprint across the field, but they also obscured visuals for both Peebee and Mira. When things settled back down, the raiders quickly realized their squad was completely split and fanned out to pin each individually. Mira finally got that annoying engineer, Peebee managed to gun and blast her way to Liam, and Liam made a whole lot of noise that mostly pushed all these filthy Kadara types back to their blockade.

It was ‘mostly’ because, while he was striking what could only be termed an omni-tool bitch slap on one raider, another appeared out of nowhere and scored a glancing hit with his shitty jerry-rigged rifle on Liam’s shoulder. He swore, and lifted his own gun-- only to watch as the turian’s throat exploded with a viscous spray of blood. Mira’s work, without a doubt.

By the time they were mopping up the last stragglers, his suit had already internally sprayed a disinfectant on the wound and was patiently pinging him to do a field repair for the perforation.

And when they were back in the Nomad, and the adrenaline from the firefight had worn off, Liam finally became aware of the searing sharpness radiating from the wound.

“This location isn’t secure, though,” Mira was saying. “I don’t have time to deal with curious scavvers.”

He glanced over at her. She was already starting up the Nomad again, gasing forward. She seemed to be in conversation over a private line, her eyes staring through the vehicle’s port at some point in midair. They hadn’t exchanged much words beyond ‘How bad is it?’ and ‘Not too much.’

“Okay,” Mira said, and then switched tones to address him and Peebee. “We’re heading to the vault; it’s not too far.”

During the ride, the Nomad’s interior mostly filled with Peebee’s pointed passive-aggressive remarks about humans and their impulsive natures. Which Liam countered with a long, detailed list of the asari’s own incidences of impulsive behavior. Peebee eventually just blew a wet and deafening raspberry at them, and with her sitting behind them not a little spit hit his hair. Which he complained about. Loudly.

But the entire time Mira kept her mouth shut and her eyes on the road. A weird feeling in his stomach kept building, and the pain shooting out of his shoulder wasn’t easing up. He resisted the urge to look over at the bullet graze; he’d take care of it later.

But, shit. If he were being honest, he really, really needed Mira to say something. Yell at him. Shit, he hated this sort of thing. The waiting, the silent tension.

When they reached the vault entrance, Mira parked the car. She swiveled to look back at Peebee.

“Go on ahead. Need to do some first aid.”

“‘First aid’? Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Peebee smirked.

“Wh- Peebee,” Mira sputtered. “Just go on.”

“Alright, alright.”

As the asari jumped from the Nomad with all her gear thrown over her back, Mira turned herself around to go scrambling in the back for the first aid kid.

“Sooo,” Liam tried, stifling his nerves. “That was Lexi earlier?”

“Yeah,” she answered and settled back up front with the kit in hand. “She was looking at your suit’s biosensors. You’ll need stitches, but I can do a field butterfly for now.”

She popped open the little aluminum case on her lap, and then looked up at him. Her dark eyes studied him over the breather unit of her helmet. She had on the ‘professional’ face; the one that threw him for a loop, because it differed so much from her usual, so easily flustered one.

“Well, you’re gonna have to strip,” she told him, waving vaguely at his chest.

“Oh-- yeah,” Liam coughed.

Don’t laugh, don’t flirt, don’t make the joke, our cams are on observation--

“Are you at least gonna buy me--”

“Liam.”

“...Right.”

They managed to get him undressed to the waist, but only after a lot of quiet swearing and they had to pop open the wing doors to make enough room. He had to rotate in the seat to give her access to his right shoulder, and she was sitting backwards and really close, his thigh lightly leaning against her thigh. Her reaching across him had her helm so close, his breath occasionally ghosted across that blue translucent surface.

And he couldn’t tell what she was thinking just by looking at her eyes looking at the nasty gun graze on his shoulder.

When she was finished with the dressing, he was really bursting at the seams with all this silence and uncertainty.

“Mira,” he said. “Look, about before--”

“Later,” she cut him off, putting up the first aid kit. “We’ll talk about it later.”

And before she dropped over the side of the Nomad, before she even finally turned away from him, her eyes rove over him, seeing who the fuck knew what. Saying, with her gaze, who the fuck knew what.

And he wished he was the fuck that knew what to say to her. Just him, just this dumbfuck right here.

Back on the Tempest, Lexi sewed him up and chewed him out. And he may have exited the med bay at a jog. He wasted some time in cargo chatting with Gil, all the while wondering when exactly the ‘later’ she’d mentioned would come around. When a message from her popped up on his omni-tool, Liam didn’t even say good-bye to the engineer-- just walked off in the opposite direction with Gil calling annoying jibes at his back.

He walked to the pathfinder’s quarters with barnacle-thoughts growing on him like: Please don’t yell at me and Please just yell at me already.

He reached her door, exhaled heavily (‘Alright, go and take it like the experienced adult disaster that you are; not like you’ve never done this before.’), and the hatch hissed open before him.

She sat at her desk, back turned to him and reading some mail off her terminal. Her hands were scrunching at her hair with a towel; she’d already washed off the residue of the vault’s killer fog and the sweat of running and gunning all day.

“Just a second,” she called to him.

He hadn’t been in here often; they mostly stuck to storage. Her quarters were just… awesome though. Plenty of space, big bed, nice couch. The view. The whole cluster, just lined up there for your perusal.

He dropped into the sofa and watched her. And when she finally looked up, and finally stood and threw her towel over the back of her chair, and finally sat across from him-- he felt like he’d eaten a whole bucket of that weird piggy dextro pudding stuff because his chest was tight and there seemed a shortage of oxygen in here.

“Okay, Liam,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

And he could breath again, thank goodness-- this, he could handle. He knew how to do this.

“Right,” he sighed, raising his hands-- as supplication or explication, it was hard to tell. “Look, I know I screw up a lot. Like, a lot. And I know it seems like I’m not trying, but really I am-- and you know, I mean, I know that it hardly makes a difference if I just keep pulling the same shit. But. But-- I mean, I guess I can’t really explain why this keeps happening; they’ve tried to tell me-- Look, I promise--”

“Liam,” she said. And when it was clear his momentum wasn’t permitting him a pause, even for her, she tried again. “Liam.”

She took his hand into her own. And that made him shut up, her skin still warmed from her shower and clinging to his. And the awareness that she smelled clean and good.

He forced himself to look up at her again, meet her gaze. The serious attentiveness of her dark, round eyes on him.

“I didn’t say ‘What’s wrong with you,’” she stated. Her hand squeezed his. “I said, ‘What’s wrong?’”

He used to know this guy back in sixth form whose dad had a hobby flying those old mechanical planes. With like, the two wings and everything. Once, he got to ride behind his friend’s dad, his cheeks flapping in the wind and his stomach leaping pleasantly every time they did some nutty loop-de-loop or whatever. And he’ll never forget that feeling when they kept rising and rising, the earth a distant memory, and this heaviness in his ears popped and his head felt a bit dizzy but better. You can’t get that in modern ships with the mass effect stabilizers and all.

But he remembered that feeling clearly, and recognized it as a lot like what he felt now.

Except on a ridiculously expanded scale.

That pop and that relief and that disorientation times a million.

That’s what she did to him, what she had him feeling. And so it was that bit of dextro food all over again, with his throat closed up and his chest tight. Mira had her eyes on him, so concerned and as calm as the stars. So he needed to say something, anything.

“I’m sorry--” he started, but she shook her head. He tried again, “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t be sitting here asking if I wasn’t,” she said softly. And she still held his hand.

He ran a thumb over her skin, needing that contact, that tactile thinking process.

Liam swallowed. “I guess-- shit, I don’t know. I’ve always been like this. Maybe different place, different people. But you know, always.”

“And… this particular place and people?” she asked.

She was asking for something specific, and as he watched, her eyes careened and if he pushed his fingers up just millimeters, he thought he’d probably feel the flutter in her heart through the pulse in her wrist. And in the heat that rose in both their faces, he knew she probably needed to hear the thing he needed just as much to say. Acknowledge.

He breathed. “I guess… Lately, I think I’ve really needed something from you. Your attention, your regard. I think I… I’ve gotten to the point where I need you.”

She exhaled, her lashes fluttering. Shifting, she leaned back against the couch, and he had to fight the urge to follow her.

She gazed at him. “Can I show you something?” When he nodded, she swiveled to look at the monitor on the wall across from them. “SAM, play back my helm cam footage from the last mission. Fast-forward.”

“Yes, Ryder.”

Her screen was mounted a lot farther from her couch than his, and it was a lot smaller, but even with SAM speeding through the recording, it was clear what she wanted him to see: if she did not have a target on sight, then eighty percent of the time her gaze was gripped by him. Her helmet turned to watch him load-up on grenades, kid around with Peebee. Stared at him, his back turned, silhouetted by the lucid Kadara sun.

Her camera trailed after him, following, persistent. Orbiting.

When her hand squeezed his, he turned back with his eyes like saucers, he knew-- and she shifted forward, gentle rustle of her shorts sliding across the couch, and placed the other hand on his cheek. Her body shifted the pressure between them, even with an eternity of space still dividing them. Strands of damp, dark hair swung close with their shampoo smell.

“Liam,” Mira whispered, gazing at him. “You always have my attention. I’m always looking.”

And she hesitated. Hesitated on the next words that she maybe wanted to say. He didn’t blame her; he’d hardly given her much foundation to take the next leap. Her eyes lowered, lifted again, and he couldn’t ever get enough of that face. Dark honey and amber. All rounded and softened. Her fingers burned his flesh where she touched his cheek.

Her breath dropped, and she lifted from her seat on the couch, moving closer and her intention clarifying.

“Yes…?” she asked, so quietly.

He answered, simply and in his opinion best-ly, by surging forward and kissing her.

It wasn’t the first kiss. Far from it. And it was his biggest hope that there would be plenty more. But if there were, and if he could he would etch this in his heart (maybe tattoo, at some point?)-- if he did end up lucky enough to have another kiss after this, and another after that, and another and another-- he would do his best to make each and every single one as good and meaningful and world-shattering as this one.

She bent into him, bent backwards and forwards like she’d already been by him and his shit. But there’d be more-- god, would there be more, just please, please, stay like this. Too good to him and too able and willing to go through it with him. His throat was tight, yeah, like it had been since the day he met her, but it itched with hot emotion too.

Freely, impossibly invited, his tongue slipped through. Sweet and warm and bitter acid of another person’s mouth. Her hands flew up to clutch at him with fingers biting into his back, at the base of his neck. His lips moved, in that awful and painful way that was too much and not enough, against hers-- a tidal motion, a dance of Scourge that ate and ate and ate.

And he was bending into her, whether by the strength of her sniper’s fingers pulling him under or by his own volition-- it didn’t matter, ‘cause he wanted all of it. Fuck some of it. He wanted all of it and then some. Everything.

She parted from him, gasping, (a sharp little inhale, that’s all) and that sound went straight to his pants. Somehow one of her legs was scrabbling for purchase along his side, and his hands were pushing along the bare skin of her back, threatening that t-shirt. And somehow it was only his clinging to her that kept her from falling back into the couch-- orbiting is just the act of perpetually falling, and he was sure Sir Isaac Newton had been a psychic because he’d always be orbiting her, falling into her for an eternity and may death do us part.

When she sort of rose up though, to press into him, Liam’s thinking processes came back online. He slowed down the ferocity of the face-devouring and slid his fingers down from their dangerous path.

Sensing his shift, she paused too, and drew back.

Neither of them could summon the amount of brainpower for words, glazed-eyed and swollen-lipped.

She slid back from him (how did she get into his lap?), pushing damp hair out of her flushed face and off her neck.

“Umm…” Liam attempted, a sheepish hand coming up to cover his sheepish grin.

“Yeah,” she said, too quickly. “I mean…”

“Yeah,” he repeated.

Although what the hell that meant, who the fuck knew.

She was further away, but her legs still rested around his; and he should move, but he really, really didn’t want to.

He tried again. “Uhm. I hate myself for saying this, really, like it’s crazy difficult-- but I think we’ve already put the pedal to the metal enough? Maybe, like, take it slow?”

She blinked at him; probably because he was speaking with the most obvious reluctance ever. She snorted, grinning, and looked down. All freckles and-- fuck.

Mira glanced back up. “Yeah. I think that’s, like, a good idea.”

He deflated. “Well, shit, now that you’ve said it…”

She laughed outright. And he laughed too.

They ended up staying in her quarters, watching a vid just like any other night. And yeah, it was predictable of them, but whatever.

They had exactly what they needed.

#mass effect andromeda #me:a #fanfiction #liam kosta #liam x ryder #rydam #sara ryder #fem!ryder #my writing #uuhm this might be a good time to mention that i'm 99.9% that the rating is firm #ya know.#reasons #hahaha kosta u are a disaster how are u still alive #what even #mira has the patience of a saint i swear #lol #these two

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