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thedumpsterqueen · 4 years ago

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Standards of Performance, Chapter 9: Hesitancy

From the Beginning, Previous Chapter

AO3 Link

Changing the chapter naming scheme; my brain can't handle two-word summaries anymore. This one is a lil short but very soft and I promise relationship progress is made. As always, I hope you love it. <3

Summary: You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter Summary: “Are you prepared for this to go south?” he asked, eyes boring into yours.

“Why would it?”

Words: 1962

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

There was no way in hell you could go into work today.

You didn’t actually have a choice, which is why you’d driven there. But you simply couldn’t command your feet to walk you into that office, towards the teams’ inquisitive stares and deductive skills that were closer to mind-reading than you were entirely comfortable with. You’d adjusted and re-adjusted your lipgloss several times over in the mirror, brushed through your hair, and even though you knew there was no way the team could know what happened 20 minutes ago in the park, you felt like you might as well have been wearing a neon sign that said “Aaron Hotchner and I Just Kissed (On the Lips).”

So you were holed up in the parking garage of the FBI in your piece of shit 2007 Toyota Camry. Stalling.

You sighed when you felt your phone buzz, knowing what the notification was. You were only seven minutes late, but seven minutes was eight too many in Hotch’s book. You checked the message.

Hotch: Please come inside.

So he knew you were hiding out, then. You sighed and slammed the car door, trudging up the stairwell and into the building.

Exiting the elevator to your floor, you paused outside of the frosted glass doors leading to the BAU and tried to still your breathing. Despite Hotch’s apparent instant regret and quick departure occupying the forefront of your mind, you still couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect that kiss had been. The part of you that wasn’t filled with panic about his reaction was squealing like a little kid at the confirmation that holy shit, he liked you too. You took a deep breath, summoned every ounce of professionalism and composure you could muster, and walked in.

You made it less than halfway to your desk.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa; don’t just walk in here like I’m gonna let that slide.” Morgan swung his legs off his desk and stood up in front of you. “Every day you get in at least ten minutes early and now you’re walking in late looking like you got something to hide. Spill it.”

Your open-mouthed gaping by way of response was blissfully interrupted by Hotch calling your name from the balcony overlooking the bullpen.

“Garcia needs your help finishing up reports. Meet her in her office.”

You shrugged to Morgan. “Duty calls. Sorry!”

“Don’t think you’re getting off that easy!” he called after you as you scampered towards the safety of Garcia’s tech lair.

You knocked on her door, and she greeted you with her standard excess of enthusiasm.

“Come in! I’m just going through my keylogs for the past few cases and filling out reports of every database I had to access less-than-legally.” She shot you an evil grin. “Which is a lot. You can help me by typing up the information into the actual reports on your computer.”

Just happy to be away from the teams’ prying eyes, especially a certain someone’s, you nodded. “Let’s do it.”

***

Not half an hour had passed when Garcia swiveled towards you in her chair, clutching her pink feathered pen with a knowing glint in her eyes. “So. Tell me.”

“What?” you asked, trying to hide your shock with feigned innocence.

“Oh, honey, come on. I may not be a profiler, but I’ve picked up a couple things throughout the years. And I can tell something’s up.”

“God damn it,” you groaned and laid back in your chair. “I thought this was a no-profiling zone.”

She smiled even wider, if that was possible. “It is. But for you, my dear, I have made an exception.”

“Did Morgan put you up to this?”

“He may have possibly texted me telling me that you were late this morning.”

You rolled your eyes.

“But you’re never late! Even I know that! So -” she scooted closer and lowered her voice conspiratorially, “- spill.”

Sighing, you weighed your options. The last thing you wanted to do was create drama and jeopardize your position, much less Hotch’s reputation, but you were itching to tell someone - if only to get their opinion on the matter. And it wasn’t as if you had anyone else to talk to…

“Fine!”

Garcia rapidly motioned her hands to signify you to continue.

“But you can’t tell anybody, okay? I’m serious, Penelope.”

“Not even-”

“Especially not Morgan.”

She pouted but reluctantly agreed, and you took a deep breath and told her everything.

How you’d developed an innocent crush at first, how it had spiraled out of control, how you’d visited his apartment and he’d told you about his past, and finally, how he’d kissed you in the park just that morning. You stopped, awaiting her reaction, but she was uncharacteristically silent.

“...Garcia?”

She cleared her throat and leaned forward. “I’m sorry, are we talking about Aaron Hotchner, like Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner, like boss man Aaron Hotchner? Mr. Grumpy? Never smiles, always wears a suit, carries the weight of the world on his sculpted shoulders?”

You glared, waiting for her to finish.

“I’m sorry,” she giggled, “It’s just -” her voice softened, “- in the whole time I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him act like that. Bring someone coffee, breakfast, open up to them. The whole bit.”

Your heart fluttered more than you’d like to admit at that.

“Listen,” she continued, “I don’t have to tell you that life has not been kind to that man. And I’m not gonna give you the stupid speech about dating an older man or dating your boss, because I don’t give a shit. But I will tell you - he’s been through enough. So if this isn’t what you want, back out now.”

Her tone was kind, but the seriousness of her message was evident. You nodded in understanding.

“I get it, but I don’t think he’s the one that’s gonna end up getting hurt here.”

“Well, hopefully nobody will get hurt and you’ll both ride off into the sunset together. But you gotta talk to him first.” She ignored your pained groan. “I’m serious! Nothing good is going to come out of you guys dancing around this. People act really stupid when they’re pretending they’re not in love with each other.”

Cocking your eyebrow, you shot back, “Kinda like you and Morgan?”

She flushed scarlet and waggled her ostentatious pen in your direction. “Touché.”

***

The thought of being emotionally vulnerable to Hotch made you more nauseous than you’d like to admit, but the more you mulled over it, the more you realized Garcia was right. Hotch knew how you felt - your fervent response to the kiss had made that abundantly clear - so what did you have to lose, really?

(Besides your career and the respect of your boss, but you tried not to consider that possibility).

He’d kissed you, you reminded yourself as you tried to focus on reports.

He cares about you, you recited like a mantra as you waited for the workday to end.

He’s twice your age and a widower with a dead kid and your Unit Chief, you panicked in the bathroom as you avoided the knowing eyes of the rest of the team.

Still, 6 pm limped in eventually and you bid everyone a good night from your desk as they filtered out. Hotch, unsurprisingly, was not among them. You planned to wait until you two were alone in the office so you could approach him undisturbed.

What you didn’t expect was just how late he worked - it was nearly 9 by the time he locked up his office, briefcase in hand, and turned to see you still sitting at your desk.

“Oh,” he said. You tried to decipher the tone of the syllable - surprised? Pleased? Indifferent? But came up short.

“I thought we could talk,” you offer cautiously.

“About wha-” he began, then seemed to think better of pretending he didn’t know and sighed. “You’re right. We should.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it. “I wanted to apologize for my actions this morning. I took advantage of a situation where you felt comfortable spending time with me outside of the office, and I should have never let it get that far. If you want to speak to Strauss about transferring units, I completely understand.”

You gaped at him. Was it truly possible for a man this astute, this in-tune with human behavior, to be this stupid?

“Is that what you think this is?” you asked, practically launching yourself out of your seat from the sheer force of your bewilderment. “You think you took advantage of me? That I just went along with it because you’re my boss or something?”

The barely concealed shame in his eyes answered not only that question, but also the one you’d asked yourself beforehand - no, Hotch wasn’t stupid. He was broken. He was filled with so much self-hatred that the only explanation he could concoct as to why you were spending so much time with him was the one where you were trying to avoid offending your creepy, older boss. The realization filled you with such heartbreak that you nearly choked on your next words.

“Aaron,” you started, and it was strange how well a name you’d never before dared to say fit in your mouth, “I’ve -”

Don’t say loved.

“- liked you since that case in San Diego. I don’t know how you haven’t figured that out, considering the fact that I wake up an hour early every morning - I hate mornings, by the way - to get coffee with you. But I like you. And I know for a fact you feel the same way, so don’t try to pretend like you did after the bar.”

The number of times Hotch had been rendered speechless in his lifetime could be counted on one hand, and this made the list. You waited for him to respond, and he did, finally, in the most muted voice you’d ever heard him use.

“It isn’t right.”

“Please,” you implored, taking a step closer to him. “Don’t do that. You’re not going to talk me out of this, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop trying to talk yourself out of it too.”

“I’m your Unit Chief,” he said, his voice regaining the power that usually accompanied that statement, “and I’m old enough to be your father.”

“And I’m an adult fully capable of making her own decisions,” you responded.

“The practicalities; they’d be a mess. Informing the Bureau, the team…”

“Would I have to quit my internship?” you asked, your only genuine hesitancy surrounding the situation.

“Well, no,” he shook his head slowly, “but we'd be subject to a much higher level of scrutiny.”

“I’m prepared to be scrutinized.”

“Are you prepared for this to go south?” he asked, eyes boring into yours.

“Why would it?”

He didn’t say anything, but you could tell what he was thinking. A man like him, someone who carried more than a few lifetimes of trauma and guilt, wasn’t someone to get involved with on a whim - for both of your sakes. This was more so the concern, you suspected, than anything he’d already mentioned.

“I know what I’m getting into, Hotch. I’m not expecting this to be easy.”

“Well, I -” he shifted uncomfortably, more visibly nervous than you’d ever seen him. “Can I least give you time to think about it?”

“Doubt I’ll be able to think about anything else,” you teased, and, with a sudden surge of courage, you stepped forward on your tiptoes to plant a feather-light kiss on his cheek.

The flush that spread up his neck was, decidedly, the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

Taglist: @stop-drop-and-drumroll @criminalmindzjunkie @xoprincessmel @cevanswhre @addie5264 (Message me if you want to be added!)

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terrm9 · 4 years ago

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Cieli di Toscana

Words count: 1 600

Author’s note: I love Italy and Italian language, I miss hearing it, I miss eating gelato and the sea and I like Bocelli. That’s it, that’s all you need to know to understand this fluffy useless piece. Also, I tried to translate that one line the best I can, but my Italian is mediocre at best, so if someone from Italy sees it - please, feel free to correct my translation and don’t hate me if I got it absolutely wrong.

Takes place some weeks after the OHSY Finale.

It was raining heavily as Chiara stepped into Ethan’s car, making her sigh.

“This is absolutely terrible weather for a road trip,” she rolled her eyes dramatically, earning an honest chuckle from Ethan.

They weren’t going on a road trip. They were invited to attend a conference in New York and as much as Ethan hated those, the vision of three whole days with Chiara, out of reach of the chaos that’s been erupting in Boston ever since Edenbrook’s closing and its subsequent grand re-opening, was enough for him to make a decision to go.

The excruciating rate of their lives in those past few months has also been reason why Ethan decided to drive for four hours to New York. Four hours on their way back and another four on their way back, eight full hours of the two of them being next to each other without anyone else’s presence, with nothing better to do than to simply be together. Hell, even if Chiara decided to just sleep the whole time, those eight hours of her peaceful sleep would be worth the time spent in a car.

“Okay, if you don’t want to start with my playlist,” Chiara waved indefinitely with her phone in the hand, “you better have something else than an audio book to listen to.”

To be absolutely honest, Ethan wouldn’t mind listening to her playlist if that would serve her best, however he gestured towards the dashboard on Chiara’s side of a car.

“There should be some old CD’s in there.”

Opening a storage space of the dashboard, Chiara raised her eyebrow at him and exclaimed: “Some old what? Have you ever heard of the possibility of connecting your phone to the radio?”

Ethan resisted his urge to pinch the bridge of his nose as he was in the middle of overtaking a truck. He knew what was coming and that he didn’t dispose of any power that could stop it.

“I remember the times when the only way to listen to something of your choice in a car was to use a CD. I said they were old.”

Chiara rolled her eyes, not even trying to hide the smirk that found its way onto her face. Of course he would remember that.

“Remind me again, which dinosaur was your favorite? You know, since you were lucky enough to live among them.”

“This joke is getting old.”

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, knowing that they would backfire terribly.

“Yes, and so are you,” Chiara replied without missing a beat, her triumphant grin so wide Ethan was sure her cheeks hurt.

She grabbed the first CD, disapprovingly muttering under her breath.

“Vivaldi, Sinatra, Schoenberg, another Sinatra, Bocelli? I know this one,” she turned to him with Italian tenor’s album in her hand.

Ethan glanced at her quickly and nodded, encouraging her to develop her statement.

“My mom loves Bocelli, like really loves, loves. I remember when this particular album came out, I was maybe eight or nine at the time and my mom would listen to it on repeat, all day for two solid weeks,” she chuckled to herself at the memory and decided to put the CD into the radio, letting herself get lost in the memories of her childhood. “My dad was going crazy, always shutting himself in his study to listen to Queen or David Bowie. I would usually follow him and when I asked him why he didn’t tell her to turn it off, he’d just smile, shrug and say something about the music making my mom happy.”

Chiara listened to the first track, the melody all too familiar despite not hearing it for at least fifteen years. It sounded like her parents and home and love. The unconditional love her father always held for her mother, the one that grossed her out when she was a kid and caused her to have unfulfillable expectations from boys when she was a teenager.

She always dreamt of meeting a man that would love her that way, the man that would listen to the music he hated and she loved just because it would make her happy.

Shaking her head slightly to get herself out of the dangerous waters of her mind, the waters of nostalgy, the waters of infinite sadness she felt when thinking about her dad and her brother and how they would never get to decide if Ethan deserved their precious Chia, their light, she cleared her throat and read the title written on the plastic cover of the CD.

“Cieli di Toscana. Do you know what that means?” she turned to Ethan, thankful that the traffic kept him from noticing how lost she’s been for the last few minutes.

"Skies of Tuscany," Ethan replied, not tearing his gaze of the road.

Chiara smiled to herself, her mind taking her back to all those documentaries she's seen about that part of Italy.

"They must be bewitching. Skies of Tuscany, I mean," she leaned further into her seat, the soft melody of second song making it easier to just imagine being there, far away from struggles Boston had in store for her. "Have you ever been to Tuscany?"

Ethan nodded, his sharp gaze melting slightly as his focus has been divided between driving and reminiscing his time in Europe.

"Once. I've been attending a conference with Naveen in Florence. I hardly had any spare time for sightseeing and yet the city managed to render me speechless as I walked its narrow streets."

Despite his efforts to find a better word for the city, all he could think about, back then in Florence, was how romantic its streets were. He could still remember how his whole body both loved and hated the atmosphere and how, when he surly muttered that it was city made for couples, Naveen would laugh and say: „If you are clever enough not to repeat my mistakes, you will come back with a woman of your life one day and belong to those scandalous couples.“

Another memory flashed in his mind, too bright and fresh for his liking. The one where, laying on the thick fabric of hazmat suit that protected his chest, tears streaming down her cheeks slowly, Chiara admitted that she regretted not travelling more while she could.

„I’ll take you there, when this chaos settles down and we’re allowed to take some time off. I’ll take you to Tuscany then,“ he said softly, quietly, pretending to concentrate on the road, which must have looked absolutely ridiculous as the highway was currently deserted. He hoped Chiara didn’t notice how flushed the back of his neck suddenly became.

She didn’t.

Chiara was biting her cheek, staring back and forth at Ethan and the road. Her own cheeks were colored in a bright pink color, the sincerity of Ethan’s words making her weak.

It wasn’t only the fact that he remembered about her dream of visiting Italy. It wasn’t even about the way he told her, that he would take her. It was the fact that planning his future with her came so naturally to him at this point, he didn’t even need to think about it.

Lost in her thoughts once again, Chiara didn’t notice how Ethan’s eyes widened few seconds into fourth song when the recognition hit him.

It was the song he liked the most, the song that he would listen quite often to back in the days when this album kept him company on the roads.

It was the song that, just like the city of Florence, used to make that small, almost negligible part of him wish that he had someone to share it with.

With the rain falling heavily on the windshield, Chiara couldn’t hear Ethan’s almost unaudible singing. She could’ve easily miss it, if she didn’t notice his lips moving.

„Are you singing?“ she asked, absoltutely shocked. She caught him humming various melodies sometimes, but never in her whole life would she believe to see Ethan Ramsey sing.

‚Scusi se mi innamorai in un istante di lei per

l'aria serena che ha.‘

„Absolutely not,“ he shook his head, the wave of heat on his neck becoming almost unbearable. „I am reciting the lyrics, at best.“

How cute, Chiara thought.

However, she didn’t want to ruin the moment and so instead of teasing him mercilessly, she asked: „What does it say? The part that you absolutely weren‘t singing.“

„Excuse me if I, in an instant, fall in love with her for the air of serenity she has. Very freely translated.“

„How do you know the lyrics so well?“

„I like the song.“

„Sure, liking the song is one thing, but knowing – and singing – the lyrics is another. Especially when the lyrics is as soft as this one. Is the song special to you?“

She tried to ask it as casually as she could, as if she was simply curious, when really, there was a hint of jealousy blooming in her chest.

Was the song special to him? Did he use to recite it to his first girlfriend trying to impress her?

The car stopped at the red light, giving Ethan a chance to finally look at the woman next to him fully.

„It is now,“ he nodded, smiling softly as he caressed her cheek with his thumb.

The expecting and so vulnerable green eyes staring back at him made his heart flutter. At this point, it was useless to pretened that he wasn’t utterly and terribly sappy when it came to her. Taking a deep breath, just before the red light turned to green, he whispered.

„The name of the song is Chiara.“

#open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ohsy

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quietlyimplode · 4 years ago

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Whumptober2020 - Day 5 - Rescue

Tony/ Pepper + Clint/Nat

Day 1 - waking up restrained // Day 2 - kidnapped // Day 3 - manhandled // Day 4 - caged

“What if she’s not ok Tony?” Pepper says quietly. Pepper knows Natasha’s history more than most; disclosed to her through conversation and work. Tony only knows because he’s hacked all her files. Shield, the KGB, anything really he could get his hands on. He may know more about her history than she does. Not that he’ll ever tell her that. Natasha knows that he’s memorised all of her and somehow he’s not dead. Maybe it’s like having a witness; someone to see all your bad and all your scars and still treat you as human. Isn’t that all anyone wants?

“She’s always ok, Pep.” He says reassuringly. “She’s always ok,” but this time more to himself. Ending the call, he focuses on flying.

——-

The call comes through on his phone which, he chooses to ignore; he’s almost got it, he just needs to - if the damn thing won’t stop ringing. Sighing softly, Tony covers his ears and turns up the music outside. It’s rare for Clint to call him but he really hates answering the phone and does not want to hear what’s happening - not on his own terms at least. Let him leave a voice mail if it’s so urgent.

Continuing to focus on his build; Tony is blissful; for once competing priorities are at a low and he knows that he can dedicate his time to this, it’s something for him, and no one is going to-

“Tony?”

He feels his eyes roll to the back of his head. If he could, he would groan; but it’s Pepper and he respects her too much to tell her to go away. But he wants to; he really really wants to.

“Tony, it’s Clint.”

Pepper puts the phone on his table and puts it on speaker. Clint wastes no time.

“Natasha’s been kidnapped. She was taken off the roof of our hotel adjacent building. There was a struggle. I need your help. This is a secure line.”

Each sentence is like a blow.

He wants to ask Clint why he’s calling him. Why not go through the proper channels; though instinctively he knows why. He’s faster. He has way more of a chance of finding Natasha than any one else does - he has the tech and the ability to analyze quicker than any of them; and Clint knows it.

He starts hacking into their last mission debrief;

“Where are you?”

There’s a beat and Tony assumes Clint’s looking at the coordinates on his phone. Converting them quickly into a 3D model rendering he’s suddenly in Rabat, Morocco.

“Rabat? You’re in Rabat?” What the actual fuck. He saw the pair yesterday. Actually; was it yesterday? Maybe it was the day before. He forgets he loses time.. Maybe he needs a clock that sporadically says the date and time or he could program The Robot to do it. He does some quick calculations.

“That’s a 12 hour flight commercial, maybe 6 by quinjet, maybe 2 by suit. I’ll re-task one with medical now.”

Putting Clint on mute he looks towards Pepper who hasn’t left the spot she was standing in. She looks scared and worried and hasn’t moved an inch.

“Pepper?” Moving over to her, he tucks some loose hair behind her ear, “you with me?”

She gives a nod, “yeah.”

“Yeah?” He sees her try to swallow this down. He takes her hand. “I need your help. Will you be ok in the quinjet? We’ll need to pick them up once they’re safe.”

Pepper stands straighten herself and nods, confidently.

“I can do that, I’ll pick up the medical team on the way.”

She’s coming back to herself now. All business.

“Can you send the co-ordinates when you know them? The quicker I go, the quicker I get there.”

He’s shaken her loose now, Pepper knows there’s time for grief and worry and fear when this is over. Battle stations.

This isn’t the first time, he’s sure it won’t be the last. Today Natasha, tomorrow him. Who knows.

He does wish it wasn’t Natasha though and he knows it’s now personal for Pepper as well.

Their friendship borne of being in male dominated fields - a powerful alliance of friendship and knowledge.

Pepper sets off, transferring the call to Tony so she can make calls to the relevant authorities to land their jet in the airspace.

Tony unmutes Clint and turns back to the task at hand.

“I’m looking at satellite footage, when was she taken?”

The silence that hangs makes it clear that Clint doesn’t know.

“We got back to the hotel, ate and then she left for the scout point. She was on first watch. I think she has her earpiece in. Can you track that?”

Tony doesn’t even touch on the fact that Natasha and Clint wear Starktec earpieces in missions; and not the generic ones. Natasha must have hooked them up to the correct frequencies so that no one would be the wiser.

He types quickly, looking for the relevant frequencies and pings any radio waves off that one. He bypasses the ones that are in Spain and Portugal - whilst feasible she may have been taken there it’s more likely they kept her in country. Narrowing it down he finds a likely mark - it’s a weak signal but feels like it adds up.

“She’s about 21 miles from you, the earpiece is pinging from an importer warehouse.”

He checks his suit and calculates how quickly he can get there, maybe two hours at full speed? Grabbing a quick drink of water and granola bar he starts to head out, filling Clint in as he goes.

“I can meet you there but it’s going to take me around two hours flying at full speed; even if we get her the jets going to be 4 hours behind me. Do you have a plan?”

He waits for Clint to say anything and when he doesn’t he realises that Clint’s running on fumes.

“I’m on my way. Head to the warehouse; I know you are anyway, and I’ll meet you there. The warehouse is guarded - I would advise not to engage tactically it’d be better to have a diversion and get her out when attention is elsewhere.”

Tony is the the launch pad, pushing off he thinks out loud “Who are these guys?”

He has the warehouse on his holo, the warehouse is swarming. He wants to be clear to Clint that going in solo is suicide, Natasha appears to be in the bowels of the warehouse and he only knows that because the signal she gives off is so weak. Underground is the only thing that makes sense.

“Clint; so you know; they’re everywhere. If you can; wait for my signal. Get yourself in position I’ll be there as soon as I can, I’m swapping to your comms line now. The jets already left, Pepper is on board, and a med team”

He checks Pepper’s whereabouts, she’s done well to get out so quick.

“They’ll be there in just under 6 hours. We will have to get her out and get to the airport.”

Tony thinks for a minute. If they can get her location maybe they can talk to her.

“ Let’s try and get her on coms.. If she’s conscious…” he leaves that thought hanging.

He concentrates on the directions he’s getting and the trajectory path of New York to Morocco.

“Anyway. I’m now on comms, I’ll catch you soon bird boy. Hang tight.”

Tony disconnects.

He can zone out whilst flying but doesn’t; he calls Pepper to check in.

“You ok?” He opens, sending the airport coordinates to the quinjet.

Pepper answers with a yes, let’s him know she’s received the info and lets Dr Cho say hello. That’s good, Natasha likes (which may be a too strong a word) the good doctor. At least they have more of a chance of getting her stable and to a hospital should it be necessary. They’ve also picked up medical supplies and the jets stocked with some food and water.

“She’s always ok, Pep.” He says reassuringly. “She’s always ok,” but this time more to himself. Ending the call, he focuses on flying.

Clint contacts him to let him know he’s arrived. Checking the screen he lets Clint know he’s about 45 minutes out. He marks out Clint - knowing now where he is from the feedback of his earpiece and watches as he move around the warehouse. Less than ten minutes pass before he’s back to where he started. There’s static in his earbud and they’re just in time to hear Natasha yelling Clint’s name.

Tony double checks - Clint must have cleared up the frequencies. Clint's saying her name reverently but Tony needs to know what she knows; apparently though, Natasha knows less. She doesn’t sound good though. Her breath is hitching and there’s definitely something she’s not telling them.

“We’re coming for you,” he says; more to himself than to Natasha

He boosts his thrusters and tries to turn 30 minutes into 5. He’s twenty minutes away when it starts.

Screaming.

Natasha screaming. It is confronting and hurts him to his soul. His nightmares will have nightmares about this.

He sees Clint scrambling.

Fuck.

“Clint! Wait! Don’t go in!”

He gets it, he does, but there’s too many of them. He sets off two smaller missiles, targeted for the front of the building. He hopes the building has some sort of structural integrity that it doesn’t collapse on his team mates. He sends off another on to firework and draw fire. Natasha is still screaming and coughing and moaning. Sounds that no-one should be making. It’s going on too long. How many rounds of this were there for her?

And then there’s silence.

They’ve either injected her with something or killed her.

He pushes his body and his suit to get there faster, and upon arrival it’s a clean up mission. They don’t feel professional or well organised - but he draws more fire on arrival and takes a perverse pleasure in counting them out. He sees Clint arrive at Natasha; and almost feels that he shouldn’t be a part of this intimacy; this rawness.

Clint's trying to rouse her, he’s saying her name with tenderness, there’s nothing until…

Tony feels a bit like crying at whimper and moans that are coming from Natasha. It’s at odds with the woman who gives the best poker face; even when she’s stubbed her toe on the corner of a table or rocks up to debrief with a broken arm and a black eye like it’s nothing.

He lands close to the black car that Clint’s obviously stole, and waits for him to come out. Clint’s bundled Natasha in a blanket. Eyeballing her, she’s semi-conscious but not all there, he’s not even sure she’s aware that he’s there.

“I’ll meet you at the airport,” Clint acknowledges that he’s spoken and puts Natasha in the passenger seat.

Tony links in with Pepper who lets him know they’ll be there in less than an hour, thank god. He lets her know they’ve got Natasha but she’s in rough shape.

He’s waiting at the airport and greets the jet when it lands.

“They’ll be here soon.” He says by way of greeting.

Pepper nods. He acknowledges Dr Cho, and thanks her for coming.

Cho knows Natasha is a horrible patient, preferring to suffer in silence.

Tony could go a lifetime without Natasha being hurt and hearing those sounds ever again. He’s switched off the comms hearing Clint talk everything and nothing to keep Natasha awake.

They wait in relative silence. Tony watches them arrive and Pepper follows him out to greet them.

Clint is holding her and there’s blood everywhere. Pepper gasps audibly and heads back into the quinjet to find Dr Cho, they get her into the jet, and Tony helps straps Clint in - he goes to wrap it around Natasha as well but is stopped by the shake of a head.

“She needs to go to the hospital,” Tony says to no one in particular.

Cho is eyeballing Natasha from the side.

“Do you think she’ll let me look at her?”

They watch Natasha move and bury herself into Clint’s arms. They all hear her rattling breath.

“Clint,” Tony tries again, “medical are the only ones who can deal with all of this.”

He watches Natasha tremble in Clint’s arms and then as he brushes her hair away from her ear. He pretends not to hear Clint ask Natasha whether she wants to be sedated. The shake of her head cements her position in stone.

Tony looks to Cho, “anything you can do from here?”

Clint looks scandalous.

“Fuck off Tony, she said no.”

“She’s losing blood, Clint! She’s clearly got broken ribs, I can hear her breathing. Not to mention a concussion - and I can see the taser burns.”

Clint looks uncomfortable.

“She said no, Tony. I’m not going make her.”

Tony drops it. Sarcastically apologises to Cho for coming.

They’re about 3 hours in when Natasha starts to seize.

——-

Hopefully chuck this under a cut tomorrow. Tomorrow we continue from this one leaves off.

#whumptober2020 #no5 #rescue #no. 5 rescued #clintasha #natasha romanoff #black widow #clint barton #hawkeye #tony stark #pepper potts #pepperony #marvel fic #fanfic #torture tw #medical cw

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emmys-grimoire · 4 years ago

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Season 2 review

It is done!

I’ll preface this review with the obvious but nevertheless important: these are my opinions. I am fine with others criticizing my opinions, mind you, but I’m usually disinclined to changing them. Like most opinionated people.

And as with most things covered in this blog, spoilers ahead. Don’t read it if you don’t like ‘em.

The Good

I believe the devs did the side characters justice in terms of character development, which is impressive because they have to fixate on seven other characters for most of the story (the demon brothers are the draw, afterall). It’s a little frustrating because it shows they are capable of revealing a lot about a character in just a single conversation, but they spend a great deal of their time on fluff. It is nothing unsurprising given the aim of the game as a whole (romantic fantasy/escapism), but it does detract from… well, everything else. If you don’t care about everything else, this doesn’t matter. If you’re one of the few who do, like me, you’re in for a drought before you get to the next juicy story morsel. Alas, that is the price we pay.

But, this is ‘the Good’ section of the review, so I will focus on that. Diavolo, Luke, Simeon, and Solomon get fleshed out more than they did in the previous season as promised, and their growing closeness to MC doesn’t feel hamfisted; there’s little realistic hooks strewn throughout that makes the relationships grow organically compared to, say, the newt syrup arc.

At the end of the season MC is set to become Solomon’s new apprentice, they are now instrumental in Diavolo’s plan for realm-wide peace instead of just being a particularly charming exchange student, Simeon is more interested in learning more about MC due to MC’s meddling during the retreat and their performance in his play, and Luke finally can bring himself to admit that he actually enjoys being in the Devildom. Michael is being alluded to more and more and finally drops in to say hi, even though the game stops short of explicitly revealing that it is him. It all feels like a good transition into more romantic things with them in the next season, and I look forward to exploring more hidden depths.

I am relieved they steered away from additional time travel due to its potential to confuse everyone and everything. We need to learn what the deal is with Barbatos but I’m sure it can be done without meddling with the time continuum. The introduction of the Reaper has interesting worldbuilding implications: the souls of all beings are overseen by what appears to be an unaligned third party, though prior lore implies that the departed souls still return to their respective realms (Lilith allegedly forgot how to ascend to the Celestial Realm in her desire to watch over her siblings). But, like with Michael, they avoided actually showing him by having him take a vacation right before Solomon and the brothers arrive.

On the whole, I’m happy with the season’s ending. It’s probably as good as it can get, and sets up the next season well -- assuming there is one (I think there will be).

The Bad

It’s hard to frame this because there were never any explicit promises made but wow was the build-up wasted and the climax went down dry.

Diavolo’s wishy-washiness and reluctance to tell Lucifer about how MC’s presence was slowly tearing the Devildom asunder, his growing jealousy and his doubt in the strength of Lucifer’s loyalty, the foreshadowing in Simeon’s play, Barbatos warning Lucifer that one day he may need to choose between Diavolo and MC/his family and how he was reverting back to his angelic self, the very foreboding storm that was brewing outside, how Lucifer was certain “something bad” was about to happen… all that juicy potential rendered impotent because of the Ring of Light and amnesia.

It didn’t lead to a tortured, difficult choice Lucifer had to make that had the potential to put either his relationships or the realms in jeopardy -- and it really felt like it was headed in that direction. But it couldn’t really lead there because Lucifer lost his memories, and he was just re-familiarizing himself with all those relationships. Instead we had to choose whether or not we let Lucifer martyr himself, and of course he’s willing to do that because he loves us even if his memories aren’t fully intact, and it’s heavily implied that he’s his angel-like self again. The choices we made during the play don’t really come into fruition, and the Ring of Light helps make our choice ultimately irrelevant anyway.

It felt like they winded up for the pitch and then lost their nerve.

Though I’d argue that Lucifer would ultimately be okay with sacrificing himself for MC and the realms even if he was still his full-fledged, assholish demon self… but it definitely felt like fate was going to make him choose between his loyalty and his love. You know, the whole “love is the death of duty”/”duty is the death of love” shebang. It would have been more rewarding -- they can even let the Ring of Light ultimately fix everything and I’d be happy if it was that dilemma! But this isn’t Game of Thrones, so I can’t be too disappointed that my expectations weren’t met.

If you like Lucifer and Mammon fluff, this season gives it in spades. If neither of those two are your favorite you might have been bummed out. They give Asmo an arc but he ultimately concludes he was trying too hard to be like Lucifer which left me all ?????? How? Satan tutors you, but he doesn’t really deviate from what he usually does (though his minor tiff with Simeon when he’s physically affectionate with us was amusing). The devs did suggest they want to explore Satan’s origins more thoroughly in the future in one of the newsletters, and I think we’re due for that in the next season. There’s hope for the others yet... just not much in this season.

The Future?

I think there’s a high probability that we’ll get a season 3. Nothing about season 2’s ending felt like they were wrapping things up. The season as a whole felt like a transition.

I think we’ll get more romantic scenes with our “undateables” and they won’t officially be considered “undateables” any more. We’ll probably get more cards with them. I’m not sure if they’ll fully graduate into dance battle sprites because that’ll require more creative color assignments for glow sticks, but I wouldn’t entirely discount the possibility. There are many shades in the rainbow.

I think worldbuilding necessitates more exploration of the Celestial Realm, and an eventual conclusion to the game storyline requires officially mending relations between the angels and demons and healing the wounds incurred by both the wars of the distant past and the Great Celestial War (which was essentially a civil war). Such a thing requires an honest dialogue between the two factions for it to ring sincere, not just a continuation of the exchange program. The game doesn’t hesitate in stating how violent all of it was.

To that end, I think we’re going to at least get a full-fledged Michael eventually, though I understand the reluctance to add him due to the work that will follow in adding another handsome man fans will undoubtedly want to make blush and kiss. They may leave him a disembodied voice for as long as they possibly can, but at some point fans will start complaining at the teasing. It’ll be like continually having to skip a missing step on a ladder.

Until then, though, he’s a missing step that’s fun to conceptualize.

You won’t get routes. The setting is ideal for a harem: all the potential love interests loved each other before MC ever entered the picture, so they will eventually accept having to share them, jealousy be damned. I’m pretty sure they’re all aware of MC’s affection towards each of them already: it’s just a matter of contention of which among them MC prefers the most. If MC wants to pursue only one of the brothers, it is up to them to do just that -- in the confines of the presented story.

Conclusion

There were some good story bits to chew on here and there, but as a whole the writing fell flatter than season 1’s writing, in spite of the predictability in the latter. The general unpredictability of this season has made things more exciting than the conclusion we eventually arrived at; it’s hard to commend it when it just doesn’t lead to something intriguing.

Welp, at least we get time to level up our cards for the next season. I only have three URs so it was pretty rough.

I’ll probably do more analysis and essays in the interim, as I work through hard mode and think more about stuff. It’s been fun, in spite of my critique.

#obey me!#obey me #obey me spoilers #obey me season 2 #obey me season 2 review #review

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highfunctioningflailgirl · 4 years ago

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Whumptober No.26

Athos had always been a good rider, but now he realized how much of that ability was based on seeing. As his horse, tied to d’Artagnan’s, trotted along at what should be a comfortable pace, he had difficulties staying in the saddle. With his eyes bandaged, he had no inkling in which direction they were heading, what kind of ground they were navigating, if they were approaching an ascent or descent, and he was at the complete mercy of his animal’s whims. A few minutes into the ride, he’d given up on holding the reins and had been clinging to the pommel instead, his legs soon hurting from clenching them around the horse’s sides.

They’d discussed letting him ride together with one of them, but Athos had insisted on using his own mount. His dignity was taking enough of a hit already, and he hated being a burden. At least he had d’Artagnan as his navigator. The best rider of all of them and gifted with horses, he was doing what he could to help Athos, guiding the black Friesian with a calm hand and warning Athos about changes in territory or speed.

Nevertheless, when they reached the garrison, Athos was drenched in sweat and sore all over. Under the bandage, his eyes were sticky and stung incessantly, and he could tell they were swelling shut. The cuts on his face were burning and he felt a little seasick. Although he couldn’t see anything, he could hear the noises of the garrison dying down as they rode into the courtyard. Sparring matches ended abruptly, conversations stopped, and Athos felt curious and concerned eyes on him.

“Come on, slide off that saddle.” Porthos clapped him on the thigh. “I’ll give you a hand.”

Awkwardly, groping for his brother’s arms and shoulders, Athos dismounted and heard d’Artagnan and Aramis ward off fellow-soldiers who’d approached to find out what had happened.

“He’s injured, and we’re taking care of him,” Aramis’ voice rang out. “He’s not in any danger. Go back to your posts and give him some space.”

A background of disconcerted murmurs followed Athos as Porthos led him across the yard, and Athos couldn’t remember ever feeling this exposed and helpless. Porthos had hooked him under, and yet he almost tripped on a protruding cobblestone. Jaw clenched, he forced himself not to stick his arm out to feel for obstacles. He didn’t want to look like a fool.

Inside the infirmary, Porthos deposited him on a chair and, with a squeeze of his arm, left to report to Treville. Athos was grateful for the cool quiet of the room and for the lack of an audience. He’d always hated the infirmary, but today it felt like a sanctuary. Exhausted, he let his head sink, fingering the bandage around his smarting eyes. His face hurt. His head hurt. Everything hurt.

“Here, drink this.”

Aramis pressed a cup into his hand, and the familiar scent of Sister Marie’s calming draught rose into his nose. Gratefully, Athos drank it up in a few large gulps.

“D’Artagnan is fetching Doctor Lemay. Until he arrives, let’s make you a little more comfortable, shall we?”

Athos nodded in surrender. The mixture of herbs and alcohol was quickly taking effect, numbing pain and fear and embarrassment to something he could deal with. It made him quietly compliant, and he let Aramis unbuckle his weapons belt, strip him of his jacket and, very carefully, peel the makeshift bandage from his eyes. But he tensed when he heard Aramis suck in a breath.

“That bad?”

“No, it’s just…” Athos felt Aramis’ breath cool on his face when the medic inspected his injuries. “It’s very swollen, but that was to be expected. It will look a lot less dramatic once the swelling goes down. Sit back and try to relax.”

Aramis’ stool screeched across the floorboards when he got up and moved away. Athos heard him bustle about the room, pouring water, mixing medicines, gathering supplies, and he allowed himself to feel comforted by the familiar noises and smells. He’d witnessed Aramis work miracles within the walls of this room. Maybe there was one left for him.

D’Artagnan returned with Lemay surprisingly quickly. The physician was clearly out of breath when he leaned over Athos to examine him - the impetuous Gascon must have hustled him along at a merciless pace. Even before the doctor addressed Athos, he had identified the man by his clean, mildly perfumed smell and the jingling of the instruments in his medical bag.

“I’m going to be as gentle as I can, Lieutenant,” Lemay said in his schooled, caring voice. “But I’m afraid it’s going to be uncomfortable.”

Athos nodded but felt himself breaking into a sweat.

Once more, his eyelids were forced apart. Once more, pain stabbed into his eyes and tears welled, unstoppable. Once more, he couldn’t suppress a gasp and wanted nothing but to bat at the fingers that were causing him such torment. And, once more, firm, brotherly hands held him through the procedure.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of the ordeal.

Lemay ordered a treatment that found Athos squirming on his back on a table, Porthos pressing his shoulders down and Aramis’ palms firmly cupping his cheeks while an infusion of eyebright was poured into his eyes, streamed down his face and pooled at his neck, all of it, all of it, becoming so unbearable that he pleaded with them to stop until they did.

By the time they had him in a bed, his eyes thickly bandaged, he had to fight through a haze of exhaustion and disorientation to focus on the voices in the darkness.

“...Euphrasia twice a day. Summon me at once at any sign of inflammation.”

“We will. Thank you, doctor.”

Athos heard light footsteps retreat and a door being shut. To his right and left, leather creaked and weapons jangled on belts, and he felt the presence of a brother on either side.

“Aramis?” he asked into the swath of stinging black.

“What is it?”

“I didn’t... catch what Lemay said,” Athos admitted, swallowing. “About my eyes. Did he say if…?” He stopped, letting the silence finish the question for him.

“He said he cannot say if there will be any lasting damage.” Aramis’ voice was gentle and accompanied by a warm hand settling on Athos’ arm. “We will have to wait until you’ve healed. For now, it’s important that we ward off infection. We’ll know more in a few days.”

Porthos grunted. “You’ll be fine. I know you will.”

D’Artagnan, who, judging by the nervous pacing, had to be on his left, didn’t say anything, but Athos could physically feel the anxiety emanating from the Gascon.

“For now,” Aramis continued, “try to get some rest. Porthos and d’Artagnan have to report for duty, but I’ll be here.” The hand remained on his arm, an anchor in the dark. “Just rest.”

***

Athos had survived a lot of injuries in his life, but few of them had been as debilitating as this one. Although Aramis had assured him that all remaining glass had been washed out of his eyes, he could have sworn he was wrong: the constant scraping sensation drove him crazy and rendered sleep impossible. Rinsing them with Lemay’s prescribed infusion of eyebright- as harrowing as the procedure itself was - brought a few minutes of treacherous relief until the sandy feeling returned with a vengeance. And distraction was difficult. The darkness encasing Athos highlighted every sensation and made him feel helpless and claustrophobic.

To make matters worse, the day after their return, his eyes had swollen entirely shut and started to weep sickly fluid. An urgently summoned Lemay had diagnosed infection. He’d added a solution of milk, honey and cooked onion to Athos’ treatment that Aramis applied with determination and diligence, accompanied by upbeat remarks. Porthos and d’Artagnan did their best to cheer him up with banter and reports from their day at the garrison, but their kind voices and helping hands did little to dispel Athos’ mounting fear and frustration.

The nights were the worst. Although one of them - usually Aramis - slept on a cot right next to him in case he needed assistance, the silence that befell the garrison became oppressive. Once Aramis’ deep, even breaths announced that he’d fallen asleep, the pitch black behind Athos’ eyelids became an abyss, and he tumbled into it, blind.

Blind.

What if the infection took his eyesight? And even if not - what if he was left with his vision compromised? Whenever Armis cleaned and re-bandaged his eyes, everything still looked blurry, Aramis a mere blotch in front of him. What if things didn’t improve? He needed keen eyesight to remain a musketeer. If he could no longer see well enough to shoot, to fight, to read, he would have to surrender his commission. What would become of him then?

While he had no doubt that his brothers would stick by him, even take care of him, the thought was unbearable. Useless, helpless, dependent - it would be the opposite of who he was and not a life worth living. Not for him.

“Athos?”

A hand found him in the darkness.

“What’s wrong, Athos? Can’t sleep?” Aramis’ palm felt rough as he touched Athos in his by now familiar sequence - forehead, neck, wrist - checking for fever or pain.

“How did you know I was awake?” Athos asked back. He’d been perfectly still.

“I could hear you thinking.”

“That is ridiculous.” Athos huffed, no longer bothering to turn his head in his friend’s direction. He’d given up on that useless habit two days ago.

“Not when your thoughts are this loud,” Aramis said, and Athos could hear the medic’s soft smirk in his voice.

“If that is the case,” Athos replied, “I will make an effort to think quieter thoughts. I wouldn’t want to disrupt your beauty sleep any further.”

Aramis chuckled, and his cot squeaked as he settled back down.

“That is very gracious of you.”

More squeaking ensued and the flutter of a blanket being rearranged as Aramis made himself comfortable a mere arm’s length from Athos. Silence descended once more, and Athos waited for Aramis’ breaths to even out and confirm that he’d gone back to sleep.

Instead, softly, the marksman’s voice penetrated the darkness again.

“You’re allowed to be afraid, you know?”

Athos’ heart skipped a beat. His throat suddenly tightened.

Damn you, Aramis.

He was their best marksman for a reason, always hitting the bull’s eye.

Athos swallowed but couldn’t answer. He felt tears rise and, for the first time, he was glad about the bandage covering his eyes.

“You’re not alone, brother,” Aramis added, and the certainty in his voice almost broke Athos. “And whatever happens, you never will be.”

Fighting for control, Athos didn’t move, didn’t say anything for a few dozen more aching heartbeats. He just lay there, breathing raggedly and infinitely grateful that Aramis had the presence of mind not to touch him now. Eventually, he released a shaky exhale and nodded.

“I know.”

Dear god, he sounded like glass.

“Now get some sleep,” Aramis said, putting sternness behind his words. ”I’ll be here if there’s anything you need.”

And with that pledge, they both fell silent again, and, after a while, even Athos went to sleep.

***

There wasn’t a grand moment of truth. Not a momentous unwrapping of his eyes to find his sight suddenly and miraculously restored. Like any severe injury, this one took its time to heal, in stages, and at every stage there was no telling if further improvement would show itself. They were all relieved when the infection faded. The swelling went down, the leakage stopped, the stinging lessened. Every time Aramis changed his bandages, his vision improved just a little. Aramis went from a shapeless blur to a silhouette, to a body and a face whose details slowly, slowly swam a bit more into focus. The light didn’t hurt as much. Blinking was no longer agony. Finally, the bandages stayed off, and Athos moved back into his own quarters, one hand still on a brother’s shoulder to guide him through a blotchy, unreliable world, but grateful for his regained freedom.

Every day, he returned to the infirmary for treatment. Every day, Aramis played down the nervousness in his ever-same question: “Any improvement?” And every day, Athos looked around the room, seeing sharper edges, more nuances and, looking back at Aramis, familiar details reappeared: the scars and the stubble, the fine lines around his eyes and the well-tended tips of his moustache.

“Yes,” Athos said, and nodded while Aramis’ trepidation merged into joy.

There were milestones that he took. Losing the bandages was the first. Recognizing friends when someone called his name and he turned around, seeing them approach, was another. No longer feeling for the holes in his weapons belt, but actually seeing what he was doing as he dressed, tied strings, closed clasps and buckles was a step as little and as big as the memorable day when, hands trembling, he opened a book and the blurry scrawl morphed back into letters that he could read.

The damage did not heal completely in the end. When he looked at the bright sky, he saw tiny specks swimming across his vision that hadn’t been there before - scars, Aramis explained - but he got used to them, and they didn’t bother him in his daily life. Reading was more difficult by candlelight now, and Aramis predicted he’d need spectacles at some point in the future, but his long-distance vision had returned as sharp as ever.

Treville put it to a test. He had to. When rumours spread - fueled by the Red Guard - that one of the finest soldiers in the regiment was no longer fit for duty, the captain had set up a series of challenges for Athos to prove them wrong. Athos mastered an obstacle course on horseback without difficulty, demonstrated his swordsmanship in a duel that was over in a few dizzying strikes and - the trickiest test of them all - had to shoot at and hit targets from an increasing distance. While his marksmanship had never been as perfect as Aramis’, it was good enough: His friends whooped as another tin cup became airborne when the ball fired from Athos’ pistol sent it flying.

Afterwards, his fellow musketeers welcomed him back with friendly slaps to his pauldron and words of camaraderie, and Treville stepped in front of Athos with a proud smile to quickly pull him in for an embrace.

When he stayed behind to clean up with the other three, collecting bullet-riddled targets, sweeping up hay that had been strewn about and polishing weapons, Athos let his gaze roam over the garrison grounds, taking in every detail, every pebble and chip of wood, every glint of steel and dust moat floating in the slanting light of the evening sun. Then, he looked at his brothers. He saw d’Artagnan laugh and throw a handful of straw at Porthos, accompanied by some teasing joke. Porthos shook himself, grunting, and cast the young Gascon a sinister scowl before giving him a shove that was never meant seriously. Sitting at the table, an arquebus in his lap, fingers blackened by gun oil, Aramis rolled his eyes at the two but did not suppress a grin.

Athos saw grown men acting like boys, shedding the worry and seriousness of the last few weeks like dead weight. He saw their hands that had guided him, helped him dress, helped him orientate himself in a suddenly blackened world, now slapping each other across the back, cracking silly jokes. He saw their eyes that had been his eyes when he couldn’t see, now shining with joy, three different shades of brown, three different souls looking out of them at the world, Aramis’ gentle ones now settling on him.

“Is everything all right, Athos?”

Seeing worry return to his friend’s gaze, Athos nodded quickly and decided that it was his turn to smile.

“Yes,” he said, and sat down next to Aramis to clean his own pistol. “Yes. Everything is all right indeed.”

(Read all of my Whumptober fics on AO3, here.)

#Whumptober #i know it's november but who actually cares #musketeers whumptober #the musketeers #athos whump #fanfic #continued from prompts 24 & 25 #so you may want to read those first

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ladylynse · 4 years ago

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Hi again, "dead Bird" anon again! I was actually hoping for a musing (mostly 'cause I still don't really know where the idea was going in my head), but thank you very much for the 3 sentence! Love it lots :D

re this ask - thanks, Anon!

What would Ladybug feel/do when one day Cat Noir brings her a "dead" (or nearly dead) bird, except that bird is one comatose/sick wielder of the Peacock & he's distraught? What would he ask her to do?

if Adrien is bringing someone to Ladybug, he’s planning on asking for help. He might not have a better idea of what they need, so I can’t see him asking for anything terribly specific.

Marinette would have so many questions--what happened? What’s wrong? What is Chat Noir thinking, bringing Mayura to her instead of to a hospital? (We’ll go with Nathalie for this over Emilie this time; that’s a different can of worms that’s definitely associated with a reveal, if you ever want that one explored, too.)--but she would shelve the more irrelevant ones to deal with the most immediate problem.

If Chat Noir doesn’t know what happened, or doesn’t know the details, then she’ll focus on what he can tell her. And if that’s nothing, well, then she’s left with what anyone else is left with when faced with something like this: first aid and whatever useful background knowledge she might’ve gleaned over the years. Given that Marinette babysits Manon regularly, it’s likely she’d have some sort of knowledge on that front, even if she never specifically took a first aid course or a babysitter’s course.

The complicating factor is, of course, the Miraculous. With magic in the mix, some logic goes out the window, and I don’t think Marinette knows that the Peacock Miraculous is damaged. I think Tikki and Plagg and Master Fu would know, but not Marinette or Adrien. However, as they know from first hand experience how much the magic protects them, and what they’ve survived without slowing down, they’ll know that whatever this is, it’s not a small, easily fixed thing.

That’ll be why Adrien decided to call Ladybug in the first place. You can bet that he would have had all sorts of training, first aid included, but how good is a normal hospital from what might very well be a magical malady? Whatever this is, it wasn’t reversed by the Miraculous Ladybug spell. Treating the symptoms and not the cause will only get you so far, and he needs to make a gamble on whether it’s better to take the time to try to explain to someone in an emergency room what’s going on--even if he’s not exactly candid on Mayura’s identity, since she’s not really in the public eye and therefore might not be branded a supervillain on sight--in the hopes that they can do enough for her to get her through till more help comes, or whether he goes the slightly longer route of going to (or potentially through) Ladybug. And if they were coming back from a fight with Hawk Moth and he saw an ailing--a failing--Mayura, saw her collapse, he’s not going to hang around to see if Hawk Moth turns up to help. He’s not that kind of person. She’s in trouble. She needs help. And Ladybug can help him get that help.

Adrien might not know that Ladybug first found out about Master Fu because her kwami was sick, but he does know she’s got connections on that front. Even once he does find out about Master Fu, he’s not the one to decide they need additional help, at least not alone; it’s still usually Ladybug who has the final call on that, and she’s the one to go to Master Fu for it. And once he’s no longer the guardian, well, it only makes sense for Adrien to go to Ladybug. Even if she doesn’t know what to do, Wayzz probably does.

But you wanted to know what I thought Marinette’s reaction to all this might be, so I’ll get back to that. Chat Noir is asking her to help, and she doesn’t know how to help. Not really. She’ll just have to try her best.

If Mayura is out in a fight, and most likely brought down from the toll of being in that fight, she probably used her power. Given the logic in the show, she wouldn’t simply transform back when she ran out of time, but this Miraculous is damaged. It wouldn’t necessarily hold forever once she’s unconscious. There’s also the very real possibility that it got jostled while Chat Noir was bringing her to Ladybug, so I think a reveal of Mayura being Nathalie Sancoeur is a very real possibility here.

Marinette won’t have time to deal with the Mayura is Nathalie Sancoeur??? thoughts flooding her mind, nor what was definitely a squeak of recognition from Chat Noir. That might not mean anything, anyway; Gabriel’s brand is very well known in Paris, and for all that Nathalie tends to hide behind a tablet, it’s not unlikely that Chat Noir would recognize her. But if she’s recognizable to them, she’s recognizable to others, and Hawk Moth, wherever he is, could very well have realized that she’s missing by now and be looking for her. They need to get inside, set up shop somewhere close and somewhere semi-private, as much to protect them as to protect Nathalie. Marinette would get Chat Noir to find them a good spot while she checks Nathalie over, to give him something to focus on instead of panic, and she needs figure out what she can before to she consults anyone. That moving instead of freezing, acting and assessing instead of panicking, will help stave off the shock of Mayura’s identity and, at least for the time being, the worry over what that might mean.

At a point where Master Fu is around, Marinette would go to fetch him. She’d defer to his knowledge and experience before trying to guess at what’s going on herself. If he’s not, if it’s just her and Chat Noir, then she’d talk to Wayzz and pick his brain, or she’d find a spot to duck behind and release her own transformation so she could talk to Tikki. Marinette knows enough to know that this is bad, and she wouldn’t risk acting on what she knows is deficient knowledge. The kwami might not know what’s in the book, but they probably know something about the Peacock Miraculous.

Now. You’ll probably have noticed that I haven’t mentioned Duusu yet. That would be another narrative choice, I think, as to whether or not Duusu is released from the Miraculous when Nathalie detransforms or if the Miraculous is rendered inactive. Duusu doesn’t seem to be with Nathalie all the time, so that Miraculous seems to be inactive more often than it is active, probably because they’re aware that it’s damaged and having it active is dangerous to the user--and, for all we know, to the kwami, god-like powers or not. If Duusu is there, they’d question Duusu. If not, I’m not convinced Marinette or Adrien would attempt to use the Miraculous, even if they would confiscate it so Nathalie isn’t able to transform back once she’s conscious--or Hawk Moth finds them. (Like I said before, even if they don’t know the Peacock Miraculous is damaged in so many words, they would have reason to question how Nathalie came to be in such a bad spot and would therefore have reason to be cautious.)

So, in short? I think Marinette would panic, wondering why Chat Noir is bringing this to her, and then she’d force herself to calm down and assess. She’d delegate tasks, making sure they’re all safe, not just Nathalie, and then get as much information as she can--from Chat Noir, from Master Fu, from Tikki, Wayzz, anyone she can think of. If this is a situation where Tikki agrees that Lucky Charm will help, she’d use that. If it doesn’t look like Nathalie is going to wake up, she’d probably take Nathalie to the hospital, just to try to buy herself a bit more time while trying to figure out what’s going on. When she has a moment to herself, she’ll be even more likely to break down and panic and worry and stress, but as long as she has something to focus on, she’ll latch onto that to give her grounding, and it’ll help get her through this.

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purpleiri · 4 years ago

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Xu Mo: Revelation Date Translation

许墨【启秘之约】

When Xu Mo was in England, he once rented a small farmhouse long-term. Now, he needs to handle the cancellation of his lease. With an opportunity to travel, I naturally followed him there happily. What surprised me was that, there, Xu Mo had hidden an important secret concerning us.

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Please do not re-post my translations.

I’m not a professional translator. I do not claim that my translations are 100% accurate.

I hope that you’ll enjoy watching/reading the date! Text-only version under the cut.

This was the second day since we arrived at the farmhouse.

It also marked one week since I found out that Xu Mo had rented a small farmhouse when he was in England. It was located in Hampshire, adjacent to a magnificent large manor.

Now that his lease has expired, Xu Mo needed to personally come over to handle matters regarding rent. Naturally, I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to travel like this and so I followed him here happily.

Today, we woke up especially early to cook up a hearty English-styled breakfast.

MC: “Xu Mo, how do you cook these canned baked beans?”

Xu Mo: “You just need to heat it up a little. Let me do this, it isn’t easy to open a can like this.”

He took the can from my hands and cleanly pried the lid open.

The fried egg in the pan sizzled and oil started spattering. I quickly looked back and carefully placed the half-cooked egg onto a plate.

MC: “Xu Mo, Xu Mo, I managed to cook a perfectly round sunny-side up egg!”

Xu Mo was pouring the beans out of the can when he quickly glanced at my plate and chuckled.

Xu Mo: “Actually, I can also cook an egg like this. I just never had the chance to demonstrate it.”

MC: “Oh~ Really?”

I spoke with a deliberate drawl and looked at Xu Mo with suspicion.

MC: “Doesn’t Professor Xu not even know how to make dumplings?”

Xu Mo’s gaze stilled, looking as if he was rendered a little speechless by my ridicule.

Xu Mo: “I’ll have to admit, you are indeed my teacher when it comes to cooking.”

“But, Teacher, you need to have a little faith in your outstanding student.”

“My culinary skills will not just stay the same.”

With a smile, I carefully arranged some of the cooked ingredients on the plate according to how it was done by a food blogger shown on my phone.

MC: “Mm, the bread is done baking too……”

Xu Mo: “Besides these, is there anything else left to do?”

I stood in front of the refrigerator and thought about it.

MC: “Actually, we could also fry some potato wedges. But right now, we might not even be able to finish eating what we already have.”

“Let’s just have this for now!”

Xu Mo glanced at the plate filled to the brim with food and suddenly walked behind me.

Xu Mo: “You missed one most important thing.”

MC: “The most important thing?”

Sausages, bacon, shiitake mushrooms, toast, baked beans, fried eggs… aren’t these all?

And yet, Xu Mo grabbed a small, clean pot and placed it on the counter, pouring two full glasses of water into it.

Xu Mo: “It’s not an English breakfast without milk tea.”

“Come, I’ll teach you how to cook milk tea.”

MC: “Eh?”

Xu Mo’s placed his arms on the sides of my waist, surrounding me tightly in his embrace.

MC: “……but I know how to cook milk tea.”

My quiet protest was wholly ignored. He lowered his head and rested his chin on my shoulder, leaning even closer.

Xu Mo: “The first step in cooking milk tea is to wait for the water to boil before putting in the tea leaves.”

Before long, the water in the small pot started bubbling.

Xu Mo placed the bag of tea leaves in my hand. He held my hand in his and directed it towards the pot, gently pouring some of the tea leaves into it.

Xu Mo: “Now, we need to wait patiently for a while.”

As soon as the tea leaves came into contact with the boiling water, the tea’s light fragrance permeated the air along with the hot steam. I leaned against Xu Mo and took in the farmhouse a little curiously.

Although it has been a long time since Xu Mo has visited, this place seemed to be well-taken care of. Not only were the furniture sparkling clean, even the bouquets of flowers decorating the windowsills were fresh.

MC: “Xu Mo, when did you start renting this place?”

Xu Mo: “After graduation. Back then, I was working on some research and wanted to find a place where I could focus on writing the paper. So, I rented this place.”

MC: “You rented a farmhouse specially to write a paper?”

At my exaggerated tone, Xu Mo laughed.

Xu Mo: “You don’t have to be so surprised. The cost of rent and utilities here isn’t as high as you might think.”

“Moreover, I didn’t have plans to return to the country back then. I did need a place where I could stay for a longer term.”

As he spoke, Xu Mo turned down the heat of the stove.

Xu Mo: “It’s time to pour in the milk.”

I followed his instructions and poured almost half a pot of milk inside, gently stirring the pot continuously with a ladle.

MC: “After returning to the country, did you come back here again?”

Xu Mo: “I didn’t. I was too busy.”

“This is certainly a situation I didn’t expect…”

“Fortunately, the owner of this place would come here often to do some cleaning and take care of the flowers and plants.”

He touched upon the subject casually, and suddenly clasped my waist with one hand.

Xu Mo: “But coming here this time, I’ve had some new experiences.”

“Just now, I’ve been thinking, it’s no wonder that the old professors from the University love coming here to enjoy farm life after retiring.”

“This kind of leisurely and carefree way of life really does make one yearn for it.”

I turned around and smiled at him.

MC: “If Professor Xu wants to retire, he’ll have to wait for at least another forty years, doesn’t he?”

Xu Mo gently pressed his lips against my neck.

Xu Mo: “I think that one should decide when to hide away at the countryside based on how they feel.”

MC: “I say this on behalf of our motherland’s field of scientific research: this is not good.”

The milk tea in the post has started giving out an irresistible, delicious fragrance. I quickly switched off the stove.

MC: “What’s the next step? Filtering?”

Xu Mo: “Let me do it. During this time, you can set up the dining table and think about what to do after eating breakfast.”

MC: “I’d wanted to walk around nearby, but since it rained last night the ground must still be wet and muddy.”

“Let’s go up to the attic and read some books. While we’re at it, we could help the owner take care of the flowers and plants upstairs.”

Xu Mo: “Mm, that’s good too.”

After breakfast, I searched the bookshelves and found two novels that seemed easy enough to understand. Carrying the books in my arms, I was prepared to bring them up to the attic.

A thoughtful expression suddenly appeared on Xu Mo’s face, seeming like he just remembered something important.

Xu Mo: “Could I trouble you with going upstairs and tidying up first? I want to go and look for something.”

MC: “Look for something?”

Xu Mo: “Mm, I left it here on purpose last time. But I don’t know if it’s still here.”

I nodded my head. After bringing the books and tea cups up into the attic, I even grabbed two cushions from the sofa and brought them along.

After having done all these, Xu Mo still did not follow me upstairs. I was a little curious; listening carefully, I followed along to where the sounds came from and arrived at the entrance of the house.

Xu Mo: “Got it.”

Upon noticing me standing in front of him, Xu Mo turned around and smiled softly at me.

Xu Mo: “The keys are now being kept in a different place, so I spent some time looking for them.”

I looked at the keys hanging off his little finger, and then looked at the stack of letters in his hand.

MC: “Hasn’t it been a long time since you came here? Why are there still letters being sent to you?”

Xu Mo: “Let’s go upstairs first.”

After closing the mailbox again, he walked over and held my hand.

I still could not tear my eyes away from the stack of envelopes in his hand, and I could not help but feel that one of them looked a little familiar.

Xu Mo: “After having stared at it for so long, you still don’t remember it?”

Just as we stepped off the last of the stairs leading up to the attic, Xu Mo gently scratched the tip of my nose.

Xu Mo: “I’ll give you a little hint—do you still remember how we visited a bookstore in the past?”

MC: “Bookstore? …what bookstore?”

I felt puzzled by his question, but still used the clue to carefully recall what happened.

Xu Mo looked at me patiently. Lingering at the corner of his lips was a smile hinting at a restrain on his part. He looked as if he wanted to reveal the answer, yet at the same time hopeful that I could remember it immediately.

MC: “It’s from……”

I hesitated for a moment, worried that I might answer it incorrectly. But the colour of the envelope coincided with the one in my memory.

MC: “It’s from when we went to the New Light Bookstore and wrote down a time capsule?”

He responded with a gentle hum and solemnly handed the brightly coloured envelope in his hand over to me. At the same time, he drew another envelope from the stack of letters.

Xu Mo: “Do you want to open it?”

I held onto the envelope in my hand as my thoughts brought me back to that afternoon when I went to the bookstore together with Xu Mo.

It was a Saturday. The weather forecast said that it would be cloudy, but it suddenly started raining after we went out. As such, we could only cancel our original plans and hurriedly ran to the bookstore for shelter.

It just so happened that the bookstore was running a small readers’ event with emotions as its theme. I hid the feelings of pettiness in my heart and pulled Xu Mo along to participate with me.

The setup of the event was very simple. Besides having invited a few novelists to speak on the subject of emotions, participants were asked to take part in their time capsule activity.

Everyone had to pick one or several questions from a fixed set of questions on emotions. We wrote down our answers on pieces of paper, put them in envelopes, and handed them over to the bookstore for safekeeping.

MC: “I remember, the bookstore told us at the time that we could go back after ninety-nine days to retrieve our time capsules, didn’t they?”

Xu Mo: “They did give me a call. Unfortunately, there were some changes that happened between us.”

“By right, I should have given them a way to contact you instead. But I was selfish.”

“I requested them to have both of our letters sent to this address, just so that I would not give in to temptation for whatever reason and end up opening your letter secretly…”

“And to also give myself a chance.”

“If I could come back here together with you one day, I wanted to open this letter right in front of your eyes.”

His voice was peaceful, as if he were simply calmly narrating a story from the past.

In fact, right after saying all these, he lifted the cup and took a sip of hot tea with a smile. I looked at the way his eyebrow was shrouded by the swirling hot mist and smiled softly as well.

We were like two people recklessly determined on going forward with their backs to each other, taking a painful and long detour before realising that, at the end of our journey, our destination has always been the same.

And afterwards, we could only gaze upon each other and smile helplessly as we gently blamed the other for being a fool in our hearts.

MC: “…at that time, I pulled you along to write this with me because I also wanted to see your answer.”

After all, for a long time, getting along with him was more like getting along with my own little moods.

I needed to suppress my own uneasiness, and also get used to the suddenness of waiting.

He was the trickiest puzzle I have ever encountered; one that made me contemplate deeply and helplessly as I always eagerly waited for him to tell me the correct answer quickly.

Seeing that I have fallen silent, Xu Mo suddenly held my hand, the sunlight adding a layer of brightness to his deep voice.

Xu Mo: “I will now reveal the answer to you.”

We tore both of our envelopes open at the same time.

From my envelope, I took out the question card that I picked at the time, as well as the letter that I deliberately folded several times over because I was worried that Xu Mo would take a peek.

Written on the question card in a fancy font was: “What did he/she teach you?”

Curiously, I looked up and took a glance, and found that Xu Mo had picked the same question.

He calmly opened his own letter, which had three words written on it. His penmanship showcased the straightforwardness of his thinking at the time of writing.

MC: “Lack of freedom……”

When I read those three words aloud, Xu Mo laughed gently.

Xu Mo: “Why did you read it with such an unhappy tone? When I wrote this answer, I did not mean for it to be unhappy in any way.”

“Though, after meeting you, I have indeed started encountering many problems in life that I did not have before. For example…”

He solemnly started contemplating. I could not help but follow him closely; I wanted to firmly carve every word that he was going to say into my heart.

However, he sighed softly, and almost immediately afterwards he let out a laugh.

Xu Mo: “For example, what to eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

MC: “Huh?”

For a moment, I was stunned.

Xu Mo: “For another example, I can’t help but start noticing the flowers in spring, the rain in summer, the maple leaves in autumn, and the fine snow in winter.”

“Or, when I come across an unexpectedly good movie, I don’t want to watch it alone. When I encounter something interesting, I would start having the desire to share it.”

“The strangest of all is that even the time I spend alone has started becoming more and more dull.”

As he slowly described his thoughts, Xu Mo gazed upon me with an unfaltering smile in his eyes. He watched as my expression shifted between uncertainty and amazement. At last, he could not hold back from teasing me.

Xu Mo: “Is it strange that this is how I think?”

MC: “Ah…. Mm.”

MC: “In my eyes, you have always been……”

For a while, I struggled to find the appropriate word. I wondered if I should describe him as pragmatic or strong.

MC: “You look like… you won’t have the same worries I do.”

Xu Mo sensed the hesitation in my eyes and asked me seriously.

Xu Mo: “What kind of worries does ‘the same worries’ refer to?”

His tone was gentle and slow, mingling with a hint of mirth. Clearly, he already understood the answer to this question.

I had wanted to crack a joke with him, but when I saw the look of anticipation in his eyes, I could not help but confess what was in my heart instead.

MC: “No matter what kind of people you meet, what situations you encounter, or where you go, you will inadvertently think of one person…”

“The inability to control your own thoughts and feelings… this lack of freedom.”

Xu Mo: “……”

With a smile on his lips, Xu Mo slowly switched his sights to gaze upon the ceiling.

A soft, pure white cloud came into view. The blues of the sky and the whites of the cloud interlaced, reflecting a sense of long lost peacefulness and brightness in his deep, pool-like eyes.

Xu Mo: “Mm, they are indeed the same worries.”

At this moment, I unhurriedly opened my own letter. I did not know if it was due to our chemistry or if were a mere coincidence, but there were also three words written on it.

Xu Mo: “Lack of fear.”

When Xu Mo read the three words aloud, I could not help but laugh as well.

MC: “Why did you read it so hesitantly? Are you worried that I was feeling wronged when I wrote this?”

Xu Mo did not speak, but his knitted brows still revealed the tacit attitude he had towards my words.

MC: “It’s not like that at all.”

“At that time, I thought—no matter what happened afterwards, I would face everything willingly.”

I paused for two seconds, worried that I was speaking a little too seriously. As such, I showed Xu Mo a faintly silly smile.

MC: “Mm… either way, there is nothing left for me to be afraid of. Everything is fine.”

At my easy-going tone, the frown between Xu Mo’s eyes deepened.

He avoided my searching gaze as his eyes revealed his shifting thoughts. At last, he responded to me with his usual smile.

Xu Mo: “There’s still some milk tea left. Want to bring it up?”

My intuition told me that there was definitely a discrepancy between what he understood and what I conveyed.

I quickly grabbed onto him, wanting to express my feelings clearer.

Xu Mo: “What’s wrong?”

Xu Mo lightly brushed a strand of hair from my forehead and tucked it behind my ears, gazing upon me with his usual gentleness.

Xu Mo: “Is there anything else that you want me to bring up?”

I held onto his face and stared into his eyes directly.

MC: “The lack of fear that I’m talking about doesn’t merely refer to the fact that I’m not afraid of putting all my trust in you…”

“Rather, it means that I’m not afraid of anything.”

“I’m not afraid of the secrets that you hide, nor am I afraid of accepting the real you.”

“I’m not afraid of walking towards you, towards all the setbacks and bumps in the road that we must overcome—”

“And I’m not afraid of being with you, or the responsibilities and costs that I have to bear along with it.”

“Nothing else matters. Being able to meet you, and being able to have this moment with you—this is already good enough.”

Once I have finished saying it all in one breath, I realised that my heart was beating faster than usual.

Truthfully, these words should have been spoken much earlier. Once I have confirmed my own feelings, I should have told him everything…

Just like the answer hidden in the envelope, the time to unseal it had been a long time coming.

Xu Mo looked at me quietly, his eyes revealing a surprise that I have never seen before.

Hot steam was swirling out of the cup of hot tea, the bitter and sweet aroma of tea scattering in the air.

For a while he was silent, his eyebrows slightly furrowing.

Xu Mo: “In your eyes, am I some kind of big bad guy?”

“Why do you need to gather up this much courage to be with me?”

“Having to overcome setbacks, having to bear the costs…”

“Is it really this tough?”

Xu Mo spoke, showing a very troubled expression.

Xu Mo: “Actually, I thought that your lack of fear was the same as my own lack of fear.”

He pretended to be all mysterious, drawling when he spoke the last of his sentence. I could only play along with him and continued asking.

MC: “This same kind of lack of fear… what kind of lack of fear is it?”

Xu Mo suddenly pulled me into his embrace, whispering closely into my ear.

His voice was like the hazy clouds—gently spreading across my heart as it dispersed, and a ray of sunlight came shining through after the rain.

Xu Mo: “With you in front of me, I am not afraid of anything—this lack of fear.”

#mlqc lucien #mlqc xu mo #许墨 #my translation

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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The Mandalorian Season 3 Predictions: What to Expect

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This Star Wars: The Mandalorian article contains spoilers.

After eight exciting episodes of adventures all over the galaxy far, far away, The Mandalorian season 2 has come to an end. A daring rescue mission brings Mando, Bo-Katan, and the rest of their crew face to face with the evil Moff Gideon, who has worked all season to capture Grogu for nefarious purposes. What ensues is a battle to the death that includes lots of stormtroopers, killer dark troopers, and even a clash of blades. But even after that fight was over, no one could have seen the finale’s massive cameo coming.

Luke Skywalker swoops in on his trusty X-wing to save the day, just as the heroes are cornered by a platoon of dark troopers on the bridge of Gideon’s cruiser. Like a true Jedi Master, Luke easily fights his way through the Imperial combat droids, slicing his way to the bridge with his green-bladed lightsaber, putting an end to Gideon’s forces once and for all.

Stream your Star Wars favorites right here!

But Luke’s arrival on the show is bittersweet as it also means Mando’s time with Grogu has come to an end. With Luke taking Grogu away to train the little Jedi, you might be wondering where this leaves things for The Mandalorian season 3? What’s next for Mando and his friends, and when might we see Grogu next?

Here are some of the things you should expect from season 3:

The Liberation of Mandalore

It’s pretty clear by the end of season 2 where Mando, Bo-Katan, and Koska Reeves are headed next. Now that they’ve taken control of the Imperial cruiser and an arsenal of weapons, reacquired the Darksaber, and captured Gideon, the heroes seem to have everything they need to finally liberate Mandalore from the Empire.

It wouldn’t be surprising if the Mandalorian homeworld were the very first stop of season 3, as the stage seems set for a pretty large battle worthy of a season premiere. And we know Mando is along for the ride since he promised in the season 2 finale that he’d fight for Bo-Katan’s cause in exchange for her help rescuing Grogu.

In fact, Mando’s participation in the liberation of Mandalore seems mandatory at this point since he’s technically the rightful wielder of the Darksaber…

Darksaber Drama

…which makes him the new Mand’alor, the leader of the entire Mandalorian race. And as a cackling Gideon explains in the season 2 finale, the blade can only be won in battle, which means Bo-Katan will have to fight Mando for the Darksaber if she hopes to rule Mandalore once again. As reluctant as Mando is to keep the weapon, offering it to Bo-Katan several times, she can’t just take it, apparently.

These Darksaber rules of succession are a bit of a retcon since Bo-Katan first acquired the weapon when Sabine Wren awarded it to her on Star Wars Rebels. They didn’t actually fight for it, and she seemed fine with that then. But I guess Mando simply handing Bo-Katan the Darksaber isn’t quite as dramatic for a high-profile Disney+ series.

How this Darksaber drama might be resolved is anyone’s guess, but judging from the way Bo-Katan coolly stares at Mando as he holds the blade in the finale, it’s unlikely that she’ll move on from getting the weapon back. Does this mean Mando and Bo-Katan are going to become enemies in season 3?

One thing that does seem clear is that season 3 won’t see Mando ascend the throne of an entire planet. Not only does Mando have zero interest in keeping the Darksaber but the show’s structure wouldn’t really allow for this kind of story development anyway. The Mandalorian has found a lot of success by stringing together largely standalone episodes that see the protagonist hop from place to place, completing bounties and helping other characters he meets along the way. Making Mando ruler of Mandalore, and therefore stranding him on the planet for most of the season, seems like an unnecessary shift in storytelling.

Where’s Grogu?

Although The Mandalorian season 2 seemed to conclude Grogu’s story on the show, it’s unlikely Disney will bench the show’s most beloved character for very long. Even if he doesn’t appear alongside Mando throughout season 3, we could get at least one episode that continues the little Jedi’s story and shows where Luke and Grogu went after their meeting on the Imperial cruiser.

While the first few episodes of season 3 could focus on the liberation of Mandalore and the direct aftermath of Bo-Katan’s mission, the show could give Mando a reason to go searching for Grogu once again, picking up Luke’s trail and following it around the galaxy. It’s also possible that Luke could bring Grogu back to the bounty hunter if the little Jedi decided that he wanted to be with Mando instead.

More Thrawn Hints

One of the great things about The Mandalorian is the show’s ability to do quite a lot of world-building while telling an intimate story with just a few characters at the same time. While following Mando and Grogu’s adventures, we’ve learned more about the Imperial remnant, the power vaccuum left in the wake of Jabba’s death on Tatootine, the movement to take back Mandalore, Jedi lore on Tython, the state of the New Republic, and more.

“The Jedi” also gave us a big hint as to where the Disney+ Star Wars universe might be headed: the return of Grand Admiral Thrawn. We learn in arguably the show’s best episode so far that Ahsoka Tano is searching for Thrawn, and that after defeating the Magistrate, she’s one step closer to finding him.

The mere mention of Thrawn’s name likely sent fans of ’90s Star Wars novels into a frenzy, especially those who still hold dear Timothy Zahn’s Heir to the Empire, the book that introduced the Imperial villain and kicked off a new era of storytelling in the galaxy far, far away set after Return of the Jedi. Since The Mandalorian takes place during the same era as Heir to the Empire did in the no-longer-canon Legends continuity, many fans have speculated that “The Jedi” was the start of a rebooted version of the classic Thrawn saga.

Disney also recently announced two other live-action shows set in the time period of The Mandalorian, Rangers of the New Republic and Ahsoka, which will lead into a big event on Disney+. With Ahsoka’s clear ties to Thrawn and The Mandalorian establishing the Imperial remnant, the Grand Admiral’s story could continue to develop on the original Star Wars live-action series before he finally makes his arrival in Ahsoka or that big event.

Star Wars Movie and TV Release Date Calendar

By John Saavedra

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Rangers of the New Republic

Speaking of “The Jedi,” the episode was also the jumping off point for Ahsoka’s very own live-action series, serving as a backdoor pilot that re-introduced the character for general audiences as well as teased out her motivations and future adventures. The Mandalorian season 3 could do the same for Rangers of the New Republic, an upcoming live-action series we currently no nothing about besides the fact that it takes place at the same time as Mando’s adventures and that it has a cool title.

Perhaps Mando runs into the Rangers while on another mission in the Outer Rim? One theory suggests it’ll be a new group of New Republic lawmen led by Cara Dune. We’ll just have to wait and see.

Sabine Wren?

We speculated during the final weeks of season 2 that Rebels protagonist Ezra Bridger could be the Jedi who would find Grogu in the finale. There was some evidence to support this theory. Not only had many other characters from the animated series appeared on The Mandalorian by that point but Ahsoka’s very own storyline on the show was tied to finding Thrawn, who went missing with Ezra at the end of Rebels. It made narrative sense for Ezra to appear on the show as a surprise character who would save the day.

But it wasn’t Ezra who showed up on Gideon’s cruiser to take Grogu away. And now that an Ahsoka series has been announced, it’s more likely that the character will make his debut on that show.

That doesn’t mean one of the other Rebels characters yet to appear on The Mandalorian couldn’t make her debut in season 3. We’re of course talking about Mandalorian warrior and former Rebel operative Sabine Wren, who not only has ties to Ahsoka but also to the Darksaber and Bo-Katan. She fought on Mandalore the last time Bo-Katan and her fellow Mandalorians fought to free the planet from the Imperial puppet government. It would make sense for Sabine to join this new mission to liberate Mandalore and protect the Darksaber.

Crossover Episode with Boba Fett

Disney seems very interested in creating a cohesive shared universe of live-action Star Wars series. Ahsoka really kicked off on The Mandalorian and so did The Book of Boba Fett, the series that will premiere this December ahead of season 3. And what better way to keep that shared universe going than to have crossover episodes between shows? Since Boba Fett has already appeared quite prominently on The Mandalorian, there’s no reason he couldn’t return for an episode on the original Star Wars live-action series.

Another Cobb Vanth Adventure

Timothy Olyphant’s Tatooine marshal was an overnight hit, which makes him a good candidate to become a recurring character on the show. With so much of the show taking place on the legendary desert planet already, it wouldn’t be surprising for Mando to make another stop next season to see what Cobb Vanth is up to. Maybe Freetown is in trouble again and Cobb needs Mando’s help to protect it. Or perhaps Mando recruits Cobb for his crew of gunslingers. Either way is fine as long as we get more Olyphant.

The Mandalorian season 3 goes into production this year and will air after The Book of Boba Fett.

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vin-taege · 6 years ago

Text

decaf (m)

summary: taehyung was the cute barista who hated caffeine, yet worked at a coffee shop. you’re a semi-organized college student who’s always late to lectures.

genre: smut, fluff, pwp

pairing: barista!Taehyung x reader

words: 8k+

warnings: baby boy!Taehyung, femdom, accidental nudes, mentioned masturbation, pain kink, grinding, dry humping, oral sex, thigh-riding, fingering, dirty talk, overstimulation, degradation, newly discovered mommy kink

note: now freshly edited

Mr. Min’s history class was supposed to be five minutes ago, and the twenty-six year old with the mindset of an eighty-year old hated tardy students. However, you figured you were already late, so why not stop over at the café to pick up your breakfast (which you would also serve as your lunch)? Late nights of completing last minute essays and studying for exams due in two weeks’ time brought you closer to the staff. They’d fix you a small sandwich and a cup of coffee with just one text from you the night before.

Usually, the person in-charge of “VIP” breakfast duty was Kim Taehyung, not that he complained.

It wasn’t like the staff assigned him the task on purpose. There was no way the whole staff knew of his huge, in-depth crush on you and used this as an opportunity to bring you close together.

The bell rang lightly, alerting the arrival of a new customer. Taehyung looked up from behind the counter, almost dropping the sugar packets Jimin had asked him to find. Half of your hair was tossed up in a messy bun, the other half in tangles around your face. One backpack strap was slung over your shoulder, your fluffy hoodie underneath.

Jungkook almost groaned at the heart-eyes his co-worker made for you if it wasn’t for the long line of business men and office workers getting more impatient by the second. Jimin rushed over to Taehyung, visibly distressed with his lack of sugar packets, when he saw who the younger boy was looking at. With a sigh, he grabbed the brown paper back containing your food for the day, and shoved it against the blue-haired boy.

You have been doing this exact routine for almost two years, steadily building up your relationship with the barista. It was so refreshing seeing a friendly face outside of your usual college peers. You friends are deeply loved and appreciated, but seeing them also reminds you of the copious amount of essays all due within the same week.

“Good morning!” You have Taehyung a close-lipped smile, still a bit groggy from your late-night study session.

“H-hey, beautiful! I just re-heated your food five minutes ago, so it should still be warm. Thought you would’ve been absent today,” he handed you the paper bag, boxy smile not leaving his face. “Overslept?”

You hummed, taking in the scent of toasted bread, gouda cheese, and bacon. “Unfortunately. Mr. Min would have to endure the catastrophe of my presence being unable to grace his lecture hall,” You threw a hand dramatically over your forehead, ignoring the looks you got from the other customers. After all, you didn’t have to wait in line.

A chuckle rumbled from his throat. “Don’t forget your coffee. I have a feeling you’re gonna need it.”

“That feeling is correct, my good friend. I wouldn’t hold you any longer- don’t want Namjoon scolding you about professionalism again,” you waved him goodbye, exiting the café with the same light bell ring behind you.

You debated running to catch up to at least the last bits of the lecture, but your rough morning rendered your body sluggish, and you ended up walking anyway. Even when you knocked on the door, your professor gave you a pointed glare, to which you returned a sheepish smile to. Fortunately, there was still a free seat near the middle.

Half of the lecture already passed by, but you knew Seulgi would be more than happy to lend you notes. Not that she could say no to you or avoid you, since you dormed with her.

Taking the sandwich out of the paper bag, you realized Taehyung must’ve mistakenly packed two. It was risky to spend excess money on an extra sandwich, especially with rent day coming up, but looking closely into the bag, you were relieved you didn’t have to.

“On me :)” was written on a yellow post-it note, neatly placed on top of the second sandwich. Subconsciously, you smiled, taking a mental note to thank Taehyung later. Min didn’t really mind students eating in class - he did it himself. So, unabashedly, you tucked into the bacon and gouda cheese, while taking notes.

Halfway through, you caught a glimpse of a string of black ink scrawled onto the side of your coffee cup. You put your pen down and turned the cup over, revealing a phone number and a small message under it. “Text me when you’re free, beautiful.”

“___, I would appreciate it if you found my class more interesting than your coffee cup. I already took marks off you for being tardy, don’t make me do it again,” you looked up to see Min staring straight at you. Blushing, you mumbled out a small apology, though it wasn’t your professor that got you flustered, but a certain blue-haired barista.

“You gave her what?!” Taehyung was ready to rip his hair out, or even fight Jimin at the café parking lot right there, right now, maybe even both. The older barista looked at him over his phone, lollipop still in-between his lips.

“I did you a favour,” he took the candy out with a pop. “I swear, if you silently pine over her for even one more minute, Jungkook will leap over that counter and punch the glass,” he punctuated, jabbing the lollipop at the wide, glass panes of the café.

“Oh my God, she’s going to think I’m some freaky weirdo,” Taehyung muttered, head still in his hands. “Even worse, a stalker.”

Jimin was drowning out the younger one’s ramblings, opting to check his watch instead. Fifteen minutes until break was over. He looked over to Taehyung again, sighing when he still heard his panicked mumbling.

“Tae, nothing bad’s going to happen. You could just tell her I was the one who wrote it, if you want to,” he rolled his tongue over the hardened sugar, artificial coffee flavour washing over his taste buds. “I don’t think you need to though. She definitely likes you back.”

Taehyung’s eyes lit up. He immediately stopped, standing straight. “You think so? I mean, I always knew she was nice to me, but I thought she was nice to everyone, so I didn’t assume-“

“Literally everyone in the café knows about your unspoken mutual pining for each other,” He offered the lollipop to Taehyung. The younger one grimaced at the spit-covered candy and shook his head. “Funny for a person who dislikes coffee to be working in a coffee shop.”

“It has your saliva on it.”

“If it had her saliva on it, you’d bite the whole thing off in a heartbeat,” Taehyung sputtered, making the older boy smirk. “Wow, you’re into that? Kinky boy.”

“Hyung!”

Before Taehyung could further protest, he felt his phone buzz. He shot Jimin a glare before holding a finger up. Confusion, excitement, then an arrow to the heart; Taehyung jolted up, even surprising Jimin himself. “What? What is it?” he moved to glance at the younger barista’s phone, lips curling into a pleased smirk when he saw what was on the screen.

[unknown]: hi it’s ___ :)

[unknown]: thanks for the extra sandwich btw, I really appreciate it

Jimin patted him on the back, words of congratulations flowing through one ear straight out the other. He couldn’t focus on anything else aside from the two texts – both of them already making his day better.

[cutie barista dude]: hey

[cutie barista dude]: it’s Tae from the café

[cutie barista dude]: u could call me café Tae lol

[cutie barista dude]: or not

[cutie barista dude]: are u busy?

Seulgi puckered her lips, smacking them before squinting harder at the lit screen. “Oh no, honey. He’s a multi-texter. Seems like the clingy type. And ‘café Tae’, really?”

Letting out a sigh, you rolled your eyes at her. “He’s nice. He makes me breakfast almost every day, and he’s actually pretty cute.” Stunning. Awe-striking. Breath-taking. Ethereal. ‘Cute’ was an understatement for this boy’s beauty.

“Just because a man makes you scrambled eggs, doesn’t mean you automatically jump on that dick and ride it into the sunset,” you almost spit your food out, hand thumping your chest to ease the chewed lump down. Seulgi didn’t even bat an eyelash.

“I don’t even like my eggs scrambled.”

“Oh, right. You like them fertilized,” In a blink of an eye, a notebook smacked her straight in the face. A scream of frustration left her, along with whines of how long it took her to do her makeup. Before she had a chance to pry your phone of your hands, you quickly replied.

To [cute barista dude]: nope. We’re on break :)

If you could only see Taehyung now, you’d realize how much of an impact you had on him. It was the café’s dead hours, or the short time frame where there were only one or two customers in the shop, giving the staff a breather. It was during this time almost the entirety of the staff were crammed inside the cleaning closet, circling around Taehyung, and egging him on to ask you out.

And if he only saw you right now, he’d realize how much of an impact he had on you.

It was Hyuna’s threat that got him to pressed send, “Kim Taehyung, if you won’t make a move on her, I will!”

[cute barista dude]: oh, in that case, do you want to maybe hang out tonight?

This time, Seulgi raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk. She hummed, drumming her fingers on the social science notebook you threw on her. “I don’t know about you, but if this boy’s as pretty as you say he is, I wouldn’t pass the opportunity up.”

It was rare whenever you listened to Seulgi, since she’s the personification of bad advice. However, she had a point; you were in dire need of a break, maybe even a boyfriend.

You typed in a small text confirming you were available, before standing up to go to your next lecture. Though you were roommates, you only shared one lecture hall with Seulgi – history. She walked next you in the hallways, still gushing about your “mini impromptu date” tonight.

“Just know that I’ll be holed up in my room all night. We have a thesis defense in three days, so if you want to take him out for a ride, don’t do it in our dorm.” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, making you laugh.

Taehyung was a nervous wreck. Maybe Jimin was right about him turning into a walking nervous system whenever he was with you. He didn’t even know what got into him, or where he got the sudden burst of confidence from.

All he knew was that it worked; because somehow, you were in his house, pressed against him, eating pizza while some surprisingly well-produced horror movie played in the background. You munched contentedly on your slice, snuggling into the warmth radiating from the lean boy.

“You know, when you said ‘hang out’, I expected like a park, or a restaurant. What I got was way better,” you smiled up at him.

Taehyung had to pretend his heart didn’t just sink, then explode back to life in a matter of milliseconds. “I was a little stumped with what movie to pick. Couldn’t choose between,” he took a glance at the DVD cover. “- El Orfanato and Your Name.”

“Your Name? Didn’t take you for a romance-anime type of guy.”

“My co-worker is. I saw it once with him, and it was really good though,” He shuffled closer to you, pulling the blanket over your bodies. You shifted in your seat, turning your body so you laid on top of him.

It was silent for a while. The only sound was the occasional Spanish from the film and your soft breathing. The fact that it wasn’t the usual rom-com or shallow-plotted movie – the usual picks for Netflix and Chill – really shed a light on how Taehyung genuinely wanted you to unwind with him, and not just get into your pants.

The movie itself was actually interesting. Knowing Taehyung was someone who had a passion for arts and photography, you didn’t expect any less from his taste.

“How did you find this film?” you murmured into his t-shirt. He shrugged, trembling fingers tapping rhythmically on your back.

“Watch Mojo list,” you threw your head back in laughter, him giggling with you.

“Heathen,” you managed to say in between breaths. “And I thought you were a man of class.”

“God forbid I actually take you out based on a Watch Mojo video. I like underrated films, the type that isn’t easy to find. I thought you might’ve wanted to take a break from cheap jumpscares and slasher gore.”

You hummed, “This is a nice change. I could get used to you taking me out.”

Red blossomed from his cheeks, heart soaring at the implication. “Oh, how convenient. I could get used to that too.” He cleared his throat, trying to meet your sparkling eyes. “Maybe I should start making you lunch too, aside from breakfast.”

“Like a date?”

The cola burned his nasal cavities, some of it spewing out his nose and mouth when he quite literally choked on it. Hurriedly, you thumped his back, voicing out your concern as he coughed his lungs out. Taehyung wished the ground would just swallow him whole. There was cola over his shirt and hands. Not to mention, half of his face was a sticky mess. He groaned, covering his face in shame.

“I’m sorry. That was very disgusting, I’m so sorry,” he sounded like he was about to cry.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, really. Are you okay now?”

He gave a half-hearted nod. “Can we just pretend that never happened?”

You took some tissue from your bag and started wiping his face. Although it was pretty funny, you gave into him – you will never speak of the incident.

“Were you serious about going on a date with me?” he asked bashfully after an awkward period of silence.

“Why not? You’re a great guy, and I’d love to know more about the cute barista making me breakfast each morning. You know, outside your pre-established, in-depth nerd persona,” His mood was quickly lifted, though his smile still didn’t reach his eyes. “I need you to smile for me though.”

“But I am,” he whined. Admittedly, he was still embarrassed by the previous stunt he pulled. Fortunately, you could see right through him. You pounced at his sides, fingers scrambling all over his tummy. Taehyung yelped, wriggling away from you. Even though he was half your size, and can easily push you off, he decided to let you have your fun.

In the midst of trying to tickle him, you pressed your palm into his crotch, the action going unnoticed as you straddled him. Taehyung however, noticed it all too well. His eyes widened, and he begged himself not to pop a boner with you sitting right on top of him.

He couldn’t forget it, even after you’ve gone home and it was just a black screen on the TV. He couldn’t forget it even as he was cleaning up, finding himself with warm water running down his back, phone placed by the sink, the echo of a slow saxophone beat filling the room.

The heat and thoughts of your hand wrapped around him, mouth taking in his length, sent blood rushing to his head. Your scent still lingered at the back of his mind, pretty eyes looking up at him through your lashes. Jimin would tease him for jacking off just after the first date. Was it even considered a date? After all, he said ‘hang out.’

Nevertheless, he grunted as he wrapped his hand around himself. Placing a steady hand on the shower wall, he shuddered, teasing himself with slow strokes before getting faster and faster. He closed his eyes and leaned into the wall, drowning himself in the thought of you.

Taehyung let out a groan, bucking into his hand. The warm water poured heavily on him as he slowly got closer to release. Chasing his high was an easy task; his mind was filled with thoughts of you moaning as he buried himself deep in you, the way you’d whimper under him, your breathy whines. Pre-cum was steadily flowing out his dick, his fingers getting sticky from it before the water would wash it away.

He let out low grunts, breaths getting heavier. Almost there. Just as he was about to release, the buzzing of his phone cut through the music. Huffing, he thought twice whether to continue or not, but decided against it. The text might’ve been important, especially since Namjoon hinted towards a promotion last week.

Head still reeling from his self-denied orgasm, he clumsily wiped his hands on the towel, hands still slightly wet. He trudged over to the sink, fumbling with his phone. The water dripping off his hands made it difficult to press the right buttons, and after two times of accidentally exiting to the home screen, he heard a camera snap, accompanied by a flash bouncing off the mirror.

“Shit.”

Taehyung put his phone down, thoroughly wiping his hands off this time. As soon as he deemed them dry enough, he checked his messages – only to come close to fainting.

To [Goddess]: photo sent

The picture was slightly blurry, but clear enough to make out what was going on in it. It was a mirror selfie. The flash did a good job of covering his face and most of his shoulders, but not too much of his lower body. His dick, still hard and even redder then before, stood against his stomach, water still dripping off his body.

To [Goddess]: I’m sorry I didn’t mean to do that I swear im not a creep please don’t hate me I fully understand if you don’t want to talk to me anymore or if you want to break up with me im so sorry oh my god

To [Goddess]: I mean I assume we’re already together-together?? I don’t know, then again, im so sorry please ignore that picture forever

[Goddess]: seen

Fuck.

He really was the unluckiest guy in the world. The relationship started quickly and ended quickly, all because of a nude. He didn’t even know if he could face you tomorrow when you pick your breakfast up. Fuck indeed.

On your end, it was definitely a surprise. Shocking? Yes. Unexpected? Definitely – you never would’ve anticipated it from Taehyung. However, unwanted? No. Hard no. As hard as his dick.

He was mouth-watering, a true monster by the sheer size and girth. Your cheeks heated up, tongue flicking over your lips. You clenched your thighs together, trying to seek friction under your flimsy shorts.

You had been snuggled up in bed, a good night text just sent to your possible future boyfriend when he had sent you this gem. You would’ve felt bad for him, the frenzied texts sent immediately after making your heart melt, but you were way too turned on to reply.

The thoughts of his large hands roaming your body, cupping your breasts, distracted you. The thought of him being the dominant one was worth contemplating - if he was, then you’d have no problem switching from time to time. You wanted to ride him, slide down that enormous length. If it looked that big in picture, you couldn’t even imagine its size in the flesh.

You went to sleep that night tired from the pillow humping, but extremely satisfied with your orgasm. If you only knew Taehyung didn’t get to reach his own, you would’ve laughed; all good things are worth waiting for. You couldn’t wait to have your way with him – he was a strong baby boy, you could tell just from how pliant he was when it came to you.

The reply you typed out was forgotten and left unsent.

There was no trace of Taehyung the next day. Jungkook was the one to hand over your breakfast, much to your disappointment. No offense to him – you had a soft spot for the kid – but you really wnted to see your starry-eyed boy today.

“Hey where’s Tae?”

Jungkook gave you an uneasy look. Nervously, he glanced towards the back of the room, where the kitchen was. Through the large connecting window, you could see a mop of blue hair weaving in between the metal stands.

“He’s on kitchen duty,” he blurted out, snapping your attention back to him. “I mean, he’s not here. He’s sick. Ask Jimin!”

With that, he chucked the coffee stirrers under the counter and scrambled off. Just as he stepped foot into the kitchen, Jimin went out, mid-yawn in a flour-smeared apron. You smashed the service bell repeatedly. Thank God the café had less people in the morning on Saturdays.

Jimin shot you an exasperated look, begrudgingly trudging over to you. He gave you his best “Employee of the Month” smile. “How may I help you?”

“May I speak to one of your employees at the back?”

“Taehyung is on kitchen duty.”

“Jimin, we both know Taehyung can’t even boil an egg,” you hissed, leaning farther on the counter, your nose almost touching his. Jimin bit his lip – you were right. Why did they even come up with that stupid excuse?

“Okay, fine. As far as I know, he’s beyond humiliated. He thinks you hate him. Ever since this morning, the only thing he’s been talking about is how much he hates his dick.”

You didn’t know whether your heart melted or ached for him. Men, in one way or another, can be adorably stupid and naïve. You tongued your cheek, considering your options. There was the choice of storming in the kitchen right there, right now, to confront Taehyung personally; but you didn’t want that going down your student record, especially since vacation’s just a month away. You muttered a quick thank you, turning to walk back to your dorm.

To [baby boy]: Meet me after your shift. I’ll be staying at my usual spot. Don’t even think of avoiding me.

Five minutes until the end of his shift, and here Taehyung was; in the bathroom, washing his hands for what will be the fourth time. He was practicing what he was going to say to you, apart from giving himself a tiny pep talk in an attempt to boost his confidence.

Your last text glared at him from the screen. An overwhelming feeling of déjà vu hit him when he found himself in front of the bathroom sink, staring at the mirror again. Three loud knocks on the door made him flinch.

“Lover boy, your girl’s been waiting for you for about two hours now,” Jimin’s voice rang through the other side of the door.

“Just a minute,” The mere thought of him seeing you again just after he sent an unsolicited dick pic made him shiver. Lost in his cluttered thoughts, he didn’t even notice he left the door unlocked.

Jimin pushed open the door, letting out an exasperated sigh when he saw Taehyung looking blankly into the mirror. “For God’s sake, man up and just get it over with.”

When he saw the younger boy’s shoulders slump further, his gaze softened. He didn’t really take Taehyung’s situation seriously, not until he saw how much it upset him.

“Hey,” he walked closer, nudging the tan boy’s elbow. “If she really hated you, she would’ve left an hour ago.”

Taehyung scoffed, though a small smile played on his lips, encouraging Jimin to continue. “We both know ___. If anything, she might’ve thought it was a bit funny. Hell, she might’ve liked it.”

“Hyung!” he was flustered beyond relief, delivering hit upon hit to the older boy. “Don’t say that about her!”

“Just go out there, okay? Sort things out with her.”

He came out in a white undershirt he wore under the cafe’s light beige, long-sleeved uniform. You were down to your third croissant and fourth coffee when he spotted you. The nearer he got, the more he saw cluttered papers spread on he desk, the one you’re working on decorated with different highlighters. Blue for people, yellow for terms, green for dates - you had told him your color legends back then.

The chair was dragged back, making you flinch in surprise. Taehyung, despite his height, seemed to shrink in his seat. His hands were folded neatly on his lap; you didn’t have to peek under the table to know his legs were spread wide, thick things just barely fitting on the chair space.

You slid the pastry over to him, capped the highlighter, and melted back into your seat. Your bones let out a satisfying crack when you stretched; Taehyung was right about taking breaks in between study sessions.

“Hey,” he offered, picking up a fork to lightly stab at the croissant.

“Are you avoiding me?” His wide eyes met yours, eyebrows knit together. He resorted to lightly scraping at the side of the plate instead.

“Don’t you find it weird?”

“Find what weird?”

“I don’t know. Maybe how you saw my... thing just hours ago, and now we’re here, pretending everything’s perfectly normal. Don’t you hate me? I literally acted like a fuckboy.”

You snorted, throwing your head back in laughter. He just stared at you in confusion. “No, what the hell? You are the opposite of a fuck boy. And you sent about ten apology texts right after. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”

“So you’re not mad?” He leaned forward, mouth brought into a pout. Pinching his cheek lovingly, you chuckled.

“No. We can just pretend it never happened,” You winked, quoting his words from the cola incident. He quickly recognized them, groaning from more embarrassment.

“Why do you do this to me?” he moaned, but didn’t pull away from your touch. “Is this the karma I get because of that WatchMojo list?”

“You did get it from a WatchMojo list!” you gasped, chucking him a highlighter - which he caught with no problem. “Talk about top ten anime betrayals.”

The atmosphere seemed to relax after that. Taehyung finally began eating the croissant, much to your doting. He sat up straight in his chair, compelled by the need to impress you, while also giving out a “no big deal” attitude.

The conversation shifted to your current situation at university. You couldn’t resist telling him about your history professor - Mr. Min and his seemingly endless collection of ties, plus rumors of his friends-with-benefits relationship with Mr. Jung, the biology teacher in the next building.

“Wait but, oh my God, I think he’s actually cool? We were going to watch a film for the whole period, and he accidentally clicked on the wrong thing. And guess what?”

“What?” Taehyung’s eyes were wide like a kid’s in a toy shop.

“It was his mixtape! I swear it was! The guy rapping sounded exactly like him.”

“No way! Isn’t this guy, what, thirty?” He crinkled his nose in disbelief. You waved him to move closer. getting your phone out to show him the video evidence you secretly took. Even if you filmed the whole thing in plain sight, Mr. Min would’ve been too busy frantically pulling every extension cord to notice.

Scrolling through your gallery with Taehyung by your side, you froze, spotting a fresh, all too familiar picture just before the video. You skipped a beat, before swiftly tapping on the video, careful not to tap the nude you saved. Hopefully, Taehyung didn’t see it, the singular picture sitting among other pictures of lectures and notes.

You pretended to concentrate hard on the video, as if it was the most interesting thing you’ve ever watched. Taehyung leaned closer, his broad chest pressing against a part of your back. You could feel his breath fanning over your neck, the feeling doubling each time he laughed. In a way, it assured you he didn’t see anything. You sunk back into him, trying to get more comfortable.

“He isn’t bad,” he murmured. From the black spaces on the screen, you met his brown eyes, a sultry look hiding behind the mischievous crinkles. You gulped, nervousness starting to crawl its way back in.

As soon as the video stopped, you locked your phone and shoved it back in your bag. “I just remembered, we actually have a test tomorrow so I better go-”

“Can I come with you?” You stared at Taehyung, mouth hung open. He had a serious expression on, emotions unreadable behind his piercing gaze. “I could help you review.”

“That... wouldn’t be necessary. I could really do it myself. Plus, you look tired and I think you should re-”

“No. I insist,” His lips curled into a smile, almost daring. He leaned closer, lips just centimeters away from your ear. “I think we need to talk some more.”

The ding of the elevator signaled you it was already your floor. Thank God Seulgi was out for a group project tonight. The history test was partly a lie; you definitely remembered, but had already reviewed. Miraculously, you managed to get your sleep schedule under control, while also studying everything you needed to study. Taehyung would be proud.

Speaking of, he has now claimed his spot on your couch, less than gracefully plopping down. At least he had the decency to leave his shoes neatly by the coat rack.

“So, what’s your topic?” You laid your notebooks down on the table, the post-it notes wedged between the pages almost falling out. You set the table up first, Taehyung’s question dissolving into thin air. Instead, he resorted to flipping through some of the pages, gnawing on his lips with each bit of information he took in.

“That’s a lot,” His whisper didn’t leave unnoticed. You perked up, flashing him a mocking grin. “I thought you said you insisted?”

Immediately, his face burned red, resembling that of a child whenever he throws a tantrum. “I did! It’s just a lot, okay? Even I don’t take this much notes. How many pens do you go through in a day?”

You rolled your eyes, picked up your self-made flashcards - which really were just small, index cards scrawled on with gel pen - and handed them to Taehyung. “Quiz me with dates first, then we’ll work our way through important people and events.”

He fumbled with the cards for a while, taking a brief glance on each of them, before straightening them out and facing the “answer” sides of the cards away from you. “Great Depression?”

Your pace in answering was pretty quick, so in order to trick him into thinking you’ve just memorized it, you had to slow down, throw a few “uhm’s” and “hm’s”. There were times you’d get a question wrong on purpose to make the act more believable.

Slowing down the pace wasn’t too difficult too. He was so distracting, in a way. He couldn’t be doing anything and he’d still be the most attractive person in the room. His hair fell lightly by his brows, cheeks full and glowing like his sun-kissed skin. The shirt he wore was a size too large for him, the neckline dipping just above his chest, showing his parts of his collarbones.

The mass of index cards was thinning out when a particular question snapped you out of your daze.

“What was that picture in your gallery?” Taehyung’s eyes were trained on you, the flashcards still in his hand. You prayed you weren’t blushing right now.

“What picture?”

“The picture. You know what I’m talking about,” His serious expression slowly cracked, a smile coming through, along with a darkening gaze in his eyes. “You saved the picture I sent, didn’t you?”

Before you could think twice about it, you had chucked him a pillow, Taehyung effortlessly dodging it. “No! No, I didn’t! What the hell, Tae?”

Instead, his grin grew wider. He threw the cards on the table, and began crawling near you. You shuffled farther back into the couch, one of the armrests eventually hitting your back. He had you pinned down.

“I saw it, ___. Don’t even deny it,” He licked his lips, the stupid smirk still on his face. “You liked the picture, didn’t you, ___?”

His voice was low, eyes piercing into your very soul. Instead of replying, you slipped a hand around his nape, bringing him closer then smashing your lips together. His lips felt like cotton on yours, and you treated them as such, licking the soft flesh to ask for permission.

He parted his lips, granting you access. You let yourself explore the cavern of his mouth, engaging his tongue in a battle of dominance. Naturally, he let you win. You drew back for a split second, only to say, “Little brat.”

You heard him snicker, before connecting your lips once more. You wrapped a leg around his waist, bringing him closer to you. Your hands busied themselves by tangling them in his hair. In all the haze of the steamy kiss, you felt him growing under his pants.

You pressed your foot more forcefully against him, making his crotch press into yours. The uncomfortableness of his jeans could be felt by how hard his cock was straining against it. You wrapped your other leg around him, then brought your lower half up, grinding straight into his erection.

He groaned into the kiss, pulling away only to focus on your neck. He left a trail of love bites, hues of purple and blue, coming from your jawline to the base of your neck. You continued grinding into him, with slow, hard rolls of your hips. His head lolled downwards, slotting into the curve of your neck. His increasingly heavy pants could be heard, no matter how hard he tried to conceal them under the guise of nipping on your neck.

A light sheen of sweat was starting to cover you. The leather of the couch felt sticky on your skin, but it felt too good to pull away from. You allowed yourself to let out only a few long, groans, careful not to show him how much you’re loving this.

Your panties already felt soaked. The button of his jeans would get caught in the thin material of your shorts, rubbing against your clit. You jerked into him, borderline humping his boner.

Somehow, you still had your presence of mind, and you had to remind yourself to calm down. Shakily planting your feet on any flat surface you could feel, you pulled your hips away from him, eliciting a whine from the boy.

“You look uncomfortable there, sweetheart,” you said, hands working to unbuckle his belt. You took it off, unbuttoning his jeans too. Instead of releasing him already, you slid your hand in his boxers, squeezing the rock-hard length lightly. He screwed his eyes shut, a sigh of relief escaping his lips.

Your other hand pushed at his chest, steering him into a new position. He sat on the couch, feet planted on the ground while your straddled him. You brought your hips down again, his boxers being the only material separating you from his cock.

“Help me get this off, baby,” You murmured, about to shrug your shirt off. He shed you off the material at once, flinging it to the side. Then, he started grabbing at your shorts, running his hands around your ass too. With two, swift tugs, your shorts were pooling at you knees.

As soon as he got them off, he grabbed at your hips, forcing you to grind on his clothed cock again. You slid one of your hands from his hair, touching the broad expanse of his chest, his toned stomach, until you reached his boxers. You slipped your hand, fingers wrapping around his cock, making him gasp into your mouth.

You gave him a couple light strokes, before pressing your hand flat against the head of his cock, then digging your palm into him. He threw his head back in a groan, grip getting looser on your hips until he was back in his original position, head buried in your neck.

The room felt hotter, more humid even. Taehyung’s hair began to stick to his forehead the more he leaned into your touch. The picture wasn’t lying to - even without seeing him yet, you already knew he was big. His girth alone made it difficult for you to wrap your fingers around the entirety of him.

Each jerk of his hips into your palm sent more pre-cum dripping out his cock. You angled your hand a little so that you could thumb lightly at his slit, spreading the pre-cum over the head. He was leaking so much that a wet patch started to form on his boxers. You knew the wet fabric sticking to his skin might make him uncomfortable, but you waited before making him take it off. You wanted him to suffer for a bit.

After letting him grind himself into your palm, you switched tactics and instead, gripped the base of his cock, jerking him off rapidly. His whines sent shivers down your spine, made you gush more into your already ruined panties.

More pre-cum dripped down his cock, coating his entire length. It was easy for you to tug on his cock, but you didn’t want to make him come yet. You retracted your hand, wiping off the slick on his sweat-covered chest. “Take it off.”

He almost fell off the couch in his eagerness to get the fabric off. By the time he did, the mess in his pants was on full display. His cock sprung into his stomach, twitching when air hit it. There was pre-cum reaching until the top of his thighs, smeared all over the area surrounding his dick.

“Do you want me to clean that up for you?” You purred into his ear. A choked sob made its way out of his abused lips while he profusely nodded. “Sit properly, my messy baby.”

Taehyung got off you, sitting on the couch with his legs spread wide. You placed yourself on the floor, kneeling before him. With one hand, you grasped his leaking cock, licking a strip from his balls up to the tip. He sighed out in relief when you licked the tip, before taking in the head of his cock.

You sucked hard on his cock, the bitter taste of pre-cum filling your taste buds. He shuddered at the feeling of your warm mouth around him, tongue pressing firmly against his cock. A sudden jerk of his hips sent his cock hitting the back of your throat.

Gagging, you slapped the inside of his thigh harshly. He whined, murmuring a quick apology. You rolled your eyes at him, sinking farther down his cock, until your nose nestled between his fine hairs.

You trailed your nails down his thighs, trying your best to relax your throat. Taehyung was taking in big gulps of breath, arousal flooding him when he saw you innocently looking back at him. “Baby, can I fuck your mouth?”

You hummed in approval, guiding his hands to your hair. With a tight grip, he pushed your head firmly against his pubic bone, before holding you in place and thrusting deep into your mouth.

He hit the back of your throat each time he bucked his hips towards you. His head was thrown back, swimming in pleasure. A wanton of moans filled the room, along with your lewd gagging. His fingertips burned at your scalp, grip so tight his knuckles turned white.

Desire coursed through your veins. You could faintly feel your essence dripping down your thighs, your fingers itching to insert themselves into your throbbing pussy. However, you wanted to focus on the writhing boy in front of you for now.

He felt so big - was so big. You could feel him down your throat, cock squeezing through the tight confines. Saliva trailed down your mouth as you dig your nails into the soft flesh of his thighs.

“Ah! A-ah fuck! You feel so good,” His thrusts were turning sloppy, the need to come burning at the pit of his stomach. He gritted his teeth in an attempt to hold his release, chest heaving slowly, a pleading look in his eyes once he stared down at you. “Can I, please?”

In response, you swallowed around him, sending him headfirst into his orgasm. Hot spurts of his cum shot down your throat, the rest falling on your lips when he pulled out. You coughed a little, before licking your lips and swallowing the remaining drops of his cum. Finally, you released your grip from his thighs, admiring the red marks left on the tan skin.

His thighs were still quivering, breath shaky. Taehyung was still reeling from his orgasm, giving you an opportunity to sit yourself on his thighs, hands placed on his chest. “Hm, this looks like a nice spot.”

Taehyung didn’t have time to respond before he felt your hot mouth on his chest, sucking and nibbling on the skin. He whined, but placed his hands on your ass nonetheless. Once you were satisfied, you pulled away to admire your work - a purplish mark sitting nicely above his collarbone.

“You didn’t get to cum,” He pouted almost cutely at you. Chuckling, you re-positioned yourself so you were sitting with his thigh between your legs. You brought your hips down, clit brushing against his thigh. “Don’t worry, I will.”

With his strength gradually coming back, he flexed his thigh, providing you a firmer surface to grind on. Your arousal coated his thigh, making it easier to buck your hips into him. His hands were still on your ass, helping you ride his thighs.

You brought your lips against his again, puling him in for an open-mouthed kiss. You moaned into his mouth, his tongue finding its way into yours.

Suddenly, you gasped; Taehyung slipped two fingers into your wet pussy, arching the long digits to rub against your g-spot. You groaned, increasing your pace and begun bouncing up and down his thigh.

He thrust his fingers in, reaching spots so deep inside you, shooting sparks through you. One of your legs brushed his already hardening cock, making him flinch in overstimulation. The action caused him to draw his thigh away, cutting you off from your pleasure.

Abruptly, you stopped. You tugged his head back and forced his jaw open, spitting inside his mouth. He swallowed it immediately, big eyes looking back at you in arousal and slight fear. “Stay still or else I’ll grind my foot into your pathetic little cocklet.”

The movement was fast, just from the corner of your eye, but you caught it. His dick had twitched. The moment you put two-on-two together, you smirked down at him. He bit hard down his bottom lip, relishing your words.

Of course you didn’t mean it. Obviously, he was nowhere near having a cocklet, but his reaction pushed you to kept going. If he wanted to feel small, you’ll make him feel small. “Dumb baby. The only thing you know is to fuck, right? Can’t even control your fucking cock. Much less stay still for me. You’re just such a needy bitch, huh?”

This time, he let out a long groan. Tears threatened to fall from the corners of his eyes. He was babbling, didn’t have enough presence of mind to form a coherent sentence. “Mouth... My mouth- baby- pl-please. C-Cum.”

“You have to use your big boy words, honey.”

He took a deep breath, mouth slack for a few moments. A strained moan made its way through his lips. “P-Please cum on my face?”

“You have to try better than that,” You sighed, feigning indifference. With another whine, he said, “Please, mommy, please cum on my face. I want mommy to feel good. I want to taste mommy please.”

“Lie on the floor.”

He scrambled on his feet, in a rush to lie down on the cold, hard surface. He grimaced at first when the cool marble hit his skin, but all discomfort he had melted off when you settled both knees on either side of his head. You knelt facing his cock. “Use your mouth.”

You lowered your hips, letting your pussy meet his lips. He lapped at your wetness, licking in between your labia, underneath your clit. He latched his lips onto the sensitive nub, sucking hard on it. His hands were wrapped around your thighs, bringing you closer to him.

Your hands clutched at his hair. You could feel the coil in your stomach about to snap, with only one strong lick from his skillful mouth pushing you over the edge.

You cried out, thighs spasming, clenching his head against your pussy. You leaned over, grasping his cock and tugging on it harshly. He jerked away from your touch, but your grip was strong. He choked on his sobs as you milked his cock, a smaller amount of cum spurting out his dick.

You slumped down next to him, both of you panting hard. Taehyung’s tears were freely flowing, every part of him a mess. Some of your cum was still scattered over his face, his cum equally a mess on his thighs and on your hand. His hair was in tangles, lips red from how much you abused them.

“You’re very scary and mean during sex,” He said in a small voice, though his tone was teasing. You looked at him, a small smile on his face. “I liked it.”

You chuckled, gaining your breath back. “Hey,” you touched his forearm. “Let’s go to my room, okay? There’s a proper bed there you can lie down on.”

After you got him a glass of water, you ran a bath in the small tub you had. The bathroom that came with the dorm was small, but one of the only ones that had a tub in it. It was easy to say it was one of your most prized possessions. You mixed the last of your bubble bath formula in, and went back to fetch Taehyung.

When you got to him, he was huddled under the blankets. Light snores came from his still figure. You nudged him lightly, shaking him awake. “Baby? The bath’s ready.”

He looked groggily up you before nodding. You held his arm, supporting some of his weight.

He sighed in relief once the warm water touched his skin. You placed yourself in front of him, leaning onto his chest. You both closed your eyes, feeling yourself relax more in the bath, with each other. You were pressed closely to him, his arms around you.

“I didn’t go too far, or anything?” You murmured. You were honestly worried you did because he was in such a haze when you were walking him towards the bathroom.

He hummed, sending vibrations at the top of your head. “It was amazing, promise. You were amazing. And it felt really good.”

“Thank God. I thought I might’ve scared away my potential boyfriend,” He let out deep chuckle, chest rumbling.

“I’m not that easy to get rid off, baby. Wait- I’m your boyfriend now? Am I?” His face lit up, mouth in his signature boxy smile. You nodded your head, sporting a wide grin of your own. He did a little fist pump before taking your cheeks in his hands and peppering them with kisses. “I love you so much.”

The morning after, Jimin noticed an unusual glow emqanating from Taehyung. He had the same love-dovey look on his face, only amped up by a hundred. He left his things at the locker room, humming a small song as he smoothed out his uniform.

“You look especially... dreamy today,” Jimin said to him, two macchiatos in his hand. He shrugged, continuing to work the coffee machines. “I guess you worked things out with ___?”

“Things worked out very well for us,” He set the coffee cups on the tray, along with a some pasta and a sandwich. He picked the tray up, smiling back at Jimin. “You could say did she liked the picture.”

It was one of the rare days you didn��t wake up late. Taehyung had prepared you breakfast while you got ready, and you left for university and work together. Seulgi was, thankfully, still not at home, but she sent you text saying she spent the night over at her group mate’s house.

If Taehyung remembered it correctly, you were supposed to have History by now. He smiled, knowing you’ll effortlessly ace the exam - thanks to his help of course.

He finished drying the rest of the plates when his phone buzzed. He excused himself to the employee’s washroom before unlocking it to see a message from you.

It looked like you were in a bathroom stall. You were wearing your shirt, but your nipples were visibly peeking through the material, stretched ridiculously tight over your boobs. “Thinking of you. Finished the test early.” Your next messaged read.

He gulped. He may not be getting the Employee of the Month award after all, not with how much time he is about to spend in the washroom.

#bts smut #taehyung smut #bangtan smut #taehyung x reader #taehyung #kim taehyung #bts #taehyung scenarios #taehyung imagines #bts scenarios #bts reactions #bangtan scenarios #bts imagines #bts au #bts v

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experimentaldata · 5 years ago

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When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go

A Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood fic. 2748 words. Rated T - Smoking and alcohol mentions, war mention, mild language. Set in Season 1 roughly, pre Maes-Hughes-you know what.

6:00 PM = Ed

It was raining again. He hated the rain.

Not as much as the Colonel, of course. It’s not like it rendered him totally useless. But losing his limbs had turned him into a human barometer. Each drop in the pressure meant that his stumps ached, and the the pain usually lasted until the weather changed. He’d woken up the night before from the pain, then slept uneasily until it was time to report for duty that morning, careful not to stir. He didn’t want Al to see how much it hurt him. Al had enough to worry about as it was. And he’d only blame himself. Ed could see the looks Al gave him when he thought he wasn’t looking. So he’d stayed still, and gotten up like he normally did, exuding only his typical amount of grumpiness. Thankfully, their day hadn’t involved a lot of moving around. They’d spent it in the East City library, reading and re-reading alchemy texts until Ed’s eyes ached almost as much as his arm and leg. Lieutenant Hawkeye had borrowed the Colonel’s car to drive them back to their hotel room, and left them with a picnic box for dinner, courtesy of the Hughes.

Ed ate the entire crock of chicken soup and four whole wheat rolls despite himself. It had been a long day, and the warmth from the food sank into every crevice, warming him inside and out. He described the taste to Al, who added it to the “to eat after my body’s back” list. The pain receded to the background as he ate. In its absence, he felt hollowed out - the tension keeping him on alert had finally let loose. Then it hit him. The wall he had held up all day against fatigue was finally breached. That darned soup. He told Al not to wait up for him, he was just gonna finish some research in their room. And he tried, he really did. Sprawled out on the bed, his jacked and boots tossed over the chair in the corner, he willed his eyes to stay open. Just one more page. Maybe chaper 5 of Complete Biological Processes for Alchemists would have the answer. Maybe if he held his head up. Loosened his collar. Put his head on his arm. Rested his eyes just for a second.

8:00 = Al

Al hadn’t heard from Ed in awhile. He wondered how long it would take him to fall asleep. Ed thought he could hide it, but Al knew it had been a bad pain day. He always knew. It must’ve been really bad for him to go to bed this early--usually he stayed up at least until he had eaten dessert. The double slice of cherry pie Mrs. Hughes had packed was still on the table though, next to the bottle of milk, both untouched. Al could only imagine how warm and fragrant that pie was. He scribbled a note about it in his food journal, then went to go check on his brother. As he suspected, Ed was sprawled out face-down on the bed, his head laying on his right arm. His shirt was hiked up a bit from tossing and turning, and one of his socks had fallen to the floor. Al shook his head. Sleeping with his tummy out again. And no blanket. He crossed the room softly and laid the blanket from his bed over his brother. Ed didn’t move. Out like a light, he thought.

He sat down in the chair by Ed’s bedside. It would be nice to sleep himself. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to fall asleep. He remembered so much about what it was like to have a body - he could imagine the taste of foods he’d tried before, the feeling of his favorite clothes and blankets, even smells he liked. Falling asleep, however, was a memory that eluded him - it was something you felt by not feeling anything, after all. But about a year into heir quest to get their bodies back, he had developed a work-around. He couldn’t sleep anymore, at least not like other people. But he could dream. It had started as small bursts of deja vu during the lonely nights he spent watching over Ed. Over time, he had figured out how to enter his memories at will each night, reliving them in a daze until he lost track of time. It wasn’t quite as good as sleeping, but it took him away from this body, and this strange place they were living, if only for a few hours. He leaned back in his chair and looked inward, calling up whatever memory his soul decided to play back for him tonight. And then Winry walked into the classroom, and those boys were teasing her, and he was telling Ed not to--

10:00 = Riza

Riza felt like a frayed rope. The week had been meetings on top of PT exams on top of paperwork Roy forgot to file. She’d strangle that man, Colonel or not, one of these days. All he had to do was sign his name and save the both of them from a week of heartache and a note to his file. But that might get in the way of his sucking-up time. Stupid state dinners, that sort of thing, she thought with a laugh. She poured herself another ounce of bourbon and sighed. It was getting late. Black Hayate was curled up in her lap, twitching in his sleep every so often. Probably hunting rabbits in his sleep, she thought with a smile. At least one man in my life never lets me down.

She took a long sip of her drink and sighed, letting her head sink into the back of the chair. No end in sight to all this chaos. Roy’s ambitions of becoming Fuhrer and current position as colonel meant he was forever in strategy meetings, personnel conferences, and diplomatic events. And he always wanted the hawk’s eye there to watch his back. She could read a room faster than he could blink, and their five-minute post-meeting conferences proved more useful than weeks of departmental consulting. Never mind that she had her own men to attend to, and that she was stuck cleaning up the mess after Roy was inevitably late with something, again. And he wonders why I drink, she thought. Well, that was one reason. There were other reasons why she needed help from a bottle to sleep at night. But she wasn’t going to dwell on that. No need to remember the past, in all its technicolor gore and misery. That was then. This was now. Now was a fireplace, and an armchair, and Black Hayate snoring, and her clock chiming - ten o’clock already? Better head to bed, then. Early morning PT drill tomorrow, and she had some new recruits to beat some sense into. Slowly, she peeled herself up from her chair, swaying slightly as Black Hayate jumped down off her lap. She laughed at his little sleepy whine and--was that a hiccough? Damn. She’d had more than she thought. Oh well. Her head was going to hurt tomorrow regardless. She slunk back to her bedroom, undressed down to her undershirt and threw herself into bed.

12:00 = Jean

What a night. First the cafe, a delectable steak and an even more delectable date. Damn, he thought, flipping over onto his back and pulling the blanket up. She was so hot. His eyes danced across the void of the ceiling as he traced the memory. From the cafe to that dive bar, where she had impressed him with both the quality of her conversation and the quantity of shots she could take down. She could drink him under the table, he thought, if they were going for that. But this was a Thursday night, so they left the bar and went instead to...a dance hall. Jean wasn’t exactly sure how that had happened. But he was sure of how he felt watching her move through the crowd. She had waist-length hair that tumbled down in waves to her waist, swaying as she did in time to the music. He chuckled to himself, and kicked his feet out from under the blanket. Still feeling the warmth from that one, he thought. He hadn’t wanted that night to end. But by eleven, the weeknight crowd had started to thin out, and in the absence of its energy, their conversation had stalled. A few minutes later, he was waving sadly at the bus as she sped off to her apartment. He stumbled back to his, alone.

He didn’t know what it was about him. Every date he had had for the past long while started out well enough. They would talk, offer a cigarette, maybe get a coffee. Something would spark. They’d go out. And at about the 6-hour-of-acquaintance mark, she’d mumble some excuse about an early morning shift, or an elderly aunt, or...he thought one girl had even made up a kid sister she needed to babysit. Regardless, they’d thank him for the lovely evening, and there he’d be. Sleeping alone, like he always did. He heard the clock in his neighbor’s apartment strike midnight. Tomorrow morning was gonna be rough, he thought. He had to report at--0400? 0430? Sometime. The lieutenant would have his head on a plate if he was late one more time. Sleep. Now. Gotta focus on not focusing, Jean. Don’t focus on falling asleep. Just let it happen. Just breathe. In and out. In. Out. in. out. in...out...

2:00 = Gracia

Being a mom is hard work, Gracia’s mother had told her. She remembered it well. That day when they had finally made it to her family’s hometown, six months after they found out they were going to have Elysia. Her mom had thrown a big party at her childhood home, and invited all the surrounding friends and relations to stuff themselves on her home cooking and wish the newlyweds well. Gracia joked that she was trying to make everyone as fat-looking as she was to save face. Her mom had just laughed. And that’s when she told her, her eyes blinking back proud tears, how hard it was to be a mom, and how proud she was that Gracia was going to be one. It was one of her favorite memories of her mother. Her mother lived just long enough after that to see her granddaughter one time, on her first birthday. Three generations of her family were under the same roof, for the first and last time she could remember. It was heavenly. With her mother there, it seemed like nothing could go wrong.

What she wouldn’t give for some of that magical mom power right now, she thought. She could see Elysia’s outline in the doorway, lit from behind by the hall nightlight. Somehow she had woken up right as her daughter crossed the threshold of their room, though she couldn’t hear anything over Maes’ snoring. Must be that special sixth sense moms get. Elysia had thrown up, it turned out. Her little face was stained with tears. She had tried to clean it up herself with her blanket, then stood in the doorway until mommy woke up. She knew she would. She was right. One set of fresh sheets, a warm washcloth, and a changed nightgown later, and her baby girl was tucked into bed again. She looked up at her mother and tugged at her sleeve. Would mommy sleep with her tonight? Gracia sighed. Between the kicking, the stuffed animal tossing, and the sleep talking (she inherited this from her father), sleeping with mommy meant mommy not sleeping much at all. But those brown eyes looked up at her, and Gracia melted the same as she did the first time she saw them. Yes, mommy will sleep here tonight. And now, installed in the toddler bed with her daughter’s feet planted in the small of her back, there was nowhere else she’s rather be.

4:00 = Pinako

Old age changes a person. It used to be, Pinako thought, shifting to her left side, that she could just look at a bed and fall asleep. A lifetime of hard work will do that to you. She had proudly worked her way through four years of uni, two more of automail training, and another two of apprenticeship without ever missing a night. Early mornings were when she got her best thinking done, anyway. And that’s how it had been for the past forty years. But as she neared seventy, things were changing. She slept fitfully now. Every small noise might wake her up, even the ones she was used to. Tonight, it was the dog barking at heaven only know’s what. She muttered some choice words and eased herself off of the bed. Better go shut that dog up before he wakes up anyone else.

She found the dog on the porch, holding the freshly-killed mouse he had caught in his mouth. More like a cat, that one was. Well, it was good for him to earn his keep. She patted him on the head and sat down in her rocking chair. She had left her pipe on the end table beside it. Hmph. Getting forgetful in her old age as well as sleepless, she thought. She tamped down the bowl and lighted her pipe, blowing a test smoke ring out into the starry night sky. Yep, still got it. She smiled contentedly and smoked for awhile, the dog curled at her feet. It was quiet out here. A light breeze whispered in the apple trees her and Yuriy had planted so long ago. The pipe got a little too warm, so she set it down and just rocked for a while. Maybe I should just stay out here tonight, she thought. Not like I was getting much sleeping done inside. It was going to be time to get up in a few hours, anyway. Just stay here, keep rocking. Let the wind blow. Stay quiet. Be still. Rock back. And forth. and back. and forth.

6:00 = Roy

Ishval. All he ever thought about these days was Ishval. The rain wasn’t helping. He had been stuck inside going to meetings all week. Mind-numbing stuff. This is not why he’d signed up to be a state alchemist. All these meetings and paperwork were getting in the way of...what? Sometimes, if he was being honest, Roy didn’t really know. At first, the path had been clear. Take this job, accept this assignment, fill out these forms. Drag yourself through enough mud, they’d assured him, and your gilded cage was waiting for you at the end. So he had, in central command, then at Briggs, and then - Ishval. There were some things you just couldn’t unsee, things that played out again and again on the blank wall you were staring at, trying desperately to put out the fires in your mind so you could sleep.

Tonight, it was the hospital camp they had taken, early on in the conflict. His superior officer assured him that the wounded were to be taken alive, as prisoners, unless absolutely necessary for the safety of their men. The position they held was valuable, and wounded Ishvalans didn’t pose much of a threat. But of course there’d been complications. It was an ambush. The rebel troops burst at them from all directions, and the order was given to light up the camp. Together, he and Kimblee had reduced the entire area to ash and rubble. They’d celebrated that victory that night, bits of wheelchairs and stretchers littering the ground around their bonfire. Another victory like that might have killed him.

Roy rolled over to his other side and willed himself to close his eyes. He hadn’t slept a wink all night. Make that the past three nights. Damn, this rain had to stop. He could hear it pattering merrily on the windowsill outside, mocking him. He felt so useless in the rain. Lately, he’d felt useless anywhere. What was this all even for? What was he trying to do? Could a country like Amestris really be saved? Could it come back from the brink of destruction? Could it ever atone for Ishval?

Just as his mind had given up trying to solve that conundrum, he jerked awake. His clock struck 0600. Time to get up.

#Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood #FMA:B #Edward Elric #Alphonse Elric #Riza Hawkeye #Jean Havoc #Pinako Rockbell #Yuriy Rockbell #Roy Mustang #Fanfiction

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evien-stark · 5 years ago

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✧I Need You✧ Chapter 66

This press conference should have been a relatively easy one. It was just a tech demo, really. To finally put to bed the naysayers about the Tower’s clean energy output so that you could move on to bigger and better things. But, for that reason, for the idea you’d concocted, Tony needed to be at the forefront. The idea scared you. He seemed a little unhinged, especially after the previous night’s incident. He was definitely frantic, thinking about too much. Trying still to convince himself and you that he was okay. When he clearly wasn’t.

But, when you’d put the idea to him that you’d put on a show for the press at the front of the building, using connectors from the grid to power up his suit, he seemed to be fine with the thought. It was going to take a little maneuvering but nothing your tech and maintenance teams couldn’t handle. However, an hour before air time, he posted a very good question:

“Couldn’t we do this with your suit?”

The answer was, of course. Of course you could be the one to demo. But you didn’t want to. You hadn’t put it back on since the events, and at this point… maybe if the world stayed quiet you’d never have to climb in again. You were no hero. Not like Tony or Steve or Thor. You had just gotten thrown into the heat of battle with no other options. “Sure. We could. But Iron Man’s more recognizable. And you’ll do just fine talking through it in your suit.”

You knew the real reason he was asking. The same exact reason you’[d asked him to stay and talk instead of run that nice. You both had demons you were fighting alone. Weren’t you supposed to be a team? Weren’t you supposed to face your problems together? And yet… it seemed impossible. More than that, he was struggling, you couldn’t bear the idea of burdening him with something you’d eventually work out. And he was probably of the same mind. And so the healing would never get started.

You knew this. You knew it and you thought about it constantly. And yet you did nothing about it. No idea how to move forward. Or from it or closer to an idea of healing. Instead the two of you just asked each other light questions of knowing implication and skirted around one another. It was a nightmare.

“Fair enough.” He shrugged, zipping up his hoodie. Because he wasn’t going to prod more. He’d gotten his answer. He’d tried to ask you if you were ready to open up and you’d said no. Like you always did. Like he always did. “You’ve done more than your fair share of pressers anyway.”

At this you couldn’t help a smile. “Yeah, it would be nice if you pulled your own weight once in a while.” Teasing, not meaning it in the slightest. “People are starting to forget I’m not a Stark.” You owned stake in the company only because Tony had made it so. It wasn’t actually yours.

His brows lifted softly, a little sweetly sassy look directed your way with a curve of his lips upward. “You know, that’s a pretty easy problem to fix.”

Holding a hand up to him, “No. Don’t start. Stay focused.”

“I can focus on more than one thing.” Even going so far as to give you a little brow wiggle.

“No, Tony.”

“No- like- no no? Or no like… not right now, no? I’m just asking- I gotta be sure-”

Needing to put an end to this, although you desperately would have liked staying in a moment that felt so normal, you leaned into him to press a kiss to his lips. And then, just so he could be sure, “Not right now, no.”

The tip of his tongue swept out against his lower lip before he bit it lightly. You weren’t sure what he was trying to accomplish- scratch that, you knew exactly, but now was not the time. “Not right now. Got it. So. Next week?”

“No!” Batting at him, some giggles leaking out, shaking your head. He really needed to stay focused.

--------------------

The press was already gathered out on the front steps, watching eagerly behind the barricades security had set up as you helped the tech crew hook the back of Tony’s suit up. A small specially designed modification for the purposes of this exercise. Although if he ever ran out of power somewhere else, hopefully it could be implemented much the same way. Large pipe wires from the building had been drawn out and were now being securely linked to the new access ports at the back of the Iron Man suit.

You had a tablet with the suit’s readings in one hand, eyeing the charts closely. “Alright… suit’s all hooked up. We ready to disengage?” The demo was simple. Disengage the Arc Reactor’s power source from the suit so that the suit would only be powered by the clean energy the Tower was generating. While visually it would be impressive, although hard to really ascertain what was happening, you’[d send out copies of a finished report later to top it all off.

Tony had the facemask slid back and gave you a grin with a thumbs up. “You heard the lady, JARVIS. Let’s cut power.”

None of this should have been nerve wracking. It wasn’t like they were cutting Arc power to the suit in mid flight. So even if, by some chance you were wrong, the suit didn’t take in enough power from the Tower, nothing would even happen.

You watched as the levels on the suit activity plummeted in a sheer drop, but then steadily started rising as the suit started drawing in its power from the cables in the back. You gave him a return thumbs up and an equally bright smile. “Golden.”

It worked. Of course it worked. You may not have been a genius but, hey. Credit where it was due. This would be more than enough to finally shut everyone up. Hopefully.

For visual, you swiped the tablet’s screen onto a bigger one just behind you so the reporters below could follow along. Tony turned to them, but offered his arm to you to give the opening words. Sweet consideration, honestly. He could have easily stolen the show. That was kind of what it was about, but you didn’t mind. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming!” You called their attention and their murmurs died down. “By now I’m sure you all know that the Stark-Avengers Tower is the first completely clean-energy powered skyscraper in Manhattan.” The double name was your idea of bridging the two thoughts together.

It was clear to you and your team that the Tower now belonged to the Avengers, but it had only been Stark Tower in its prime for less than a week. Giving it a new image fully so soon was too much.

Tony waved a hand, “But we’ve heard some people express doubts. They say we can’t possibly have developed clean energy tech that’s as powerful and efficient as the old methods. And I get that.” Smirking a little. It was at this point you knew you should have prepared something beforehand. “People think- Tony Stark is so handsome, he can’t really be a genius too. It would just be unfair.”

“Alright.” Giving him a little hip nudge. “Let’s stay on topic here.” The press at least was eating the interaction up, encouraging with their chuckles. “Let us assure you it’s true, though. More than assure you, we’re showing you, right now.” Screens linked, you clicked on one of the graph readings to enlarge it.

“We’ve shut down the connection between my armor and the Arc Reactor in my chest. You’re watching me charge the Iron Man suit from the Tower’s solar panels alone. And once I’m fully powered up you’ll see-”

It was too much to ask of the universe to just give you one thing that didn’t go wrong. It must have been, right? Absolutely. You just must have done something terrible in a previous life. This was such a simple tech demo. And yet somehow, much like everything else in your life recently, it was just destined to go wrong.

A strong blast cut between you and Tony, severing the wires from the Tower and knocking him forward. A gravelly voice cut in after the explosion. Your mind wasn’t registering a lot. “You’ll see Iron Man rendered obsolete!” You’d dropped to your knees to help Tony up, but he raised his arm aside you and the two of you looked up at man in half a mechanical suit- very much reminiscent of all the knock offs on the market. Wearing thick goggles over his eyes and a bulky helmet- black sweater underneath his orange bits of armor and ugly brown pants to match this terrible ensemble of nonsense. No accounting for taste. “By the next generation of offensive weapons. By me! The Melter!”

With his hand up, Tony fired off a shot to throw… The Melter off kilter. “Is he serious?”

“Time to suit up.”

The words threatened to paralyze you to your core. You didn’t want to do that. You shouldn’t have to do that. But as Tony took off, you knew that you did. You couldn’t leave him alone to face this, especially with the press watching. If you just stood there like a frightened child it invited so much more chaos. And you weren’t, right? You weren’t a scared child?

No. You’d told the world you were Iron Lady. And you would follow Iron Man into whatever came. Taking your Heart Reactor from your jacket pocket, never too far even if you’d stopped wearing it, you stuck it to your chest and double tapped it to activate the suit. The feeling of the metal building and sliding down you made you a little dizzy.

Stay focused. Stay focused…

Once you were fully engaged, you rose up without a second thought, following Tony’s lead in firing a double blast. “I’m sorry.” Tony said, voice booming out. “The middle school science fair is just down the street.”

So. He was unimpressed with what he was seeing, was that it? You’d guessed this guy wasn’t really a threat. Anyone who chose The Melter as their villain name wasn’t really someone you were super threatened by. “Though I think there’s a kid with a baking soda volcano who might be more impressive.” Adding fuel to a fire you probably shouldn’t have.

The Melter shot off a blast hitting Iron Man square in the chest, and Tony seemed completely unfazed, not even moving. “Nice try, pal. But these suits stand up to atmospheric re-entry.”

Trying to knock him off balance, even if he wasn’t doing anything, you put a hand up to get another shot off. It effectively blew him sideways, but his attention turned on you. “You’re out of your league here, why don’t you just put the little melting rays down and we’ll take you in.”

His next shot was on you. And, Tony may have had a point. Not very effective. There seemed to be no warnings blaring, which was usually a good sign, and it hadn’t even knocked you back. It was why you felt confident, even as he continued to concentrate that beam on you, taking a few feet above him and aiming a two handed shot his way-

One you were two seconds into firing off before, finally, the rest caught up with you. LUNA’s voice caught you very off guard. “Internal systems failing! I have to reboot!”

“What?!” Both you and Tony seemed to be in a synced state of confusion.

Yours lasted a little less than his did as your suit went completely dark from the inside out. You weren’t sure you’d ever experienced a terror like that before. Or even enough time to feel it. “LUNA hey- hey!” The free-falling happened immediately after that. But oh so luckily for you, this Melter man caught you from your drop mid air.

“Here. Let me give your useless suit a little help!” And then promptly flung you right into Tony.

The two of you went down to the ground in a heap, and the hits didn’t stop coming, as your villain of the week lasered off a balcony portion of a high floor on the Tower, sending it toppling down on the two of you. You weren’t sure how Tony’s systems were faring, but with your internal circuitry going haywire, you really felt those hits from all sides.

Metal and glass crushed you tight on top of Tony, sending a breath out in a wheeze. And with your suit helmet still on but not registering sound, it was a little hard to hear the man who had caused so much damage with one little burn beam. His voice was muffled, but as you shoved aside rubble, rolling off Tony to allow him to hopefully breathe the two of you simultaneously pulled off your helmets.

Melter was hovering somewhere midair, going on and on. “-in the next few days I’ll hold another demonstration. After that, the Melter technology goes on sale to the highest bidder! If you have what it takes to be a bidder, you’ll hear from me-”

Having had just enough of this, and not needing your suit to do all the work here where it had failed, you called out, “JARVIS, lock Tower defense and fire!”

JARVIS’ voice boomed out from the Tower itself. “Analyzing target now.”

That was about all the Melter man needed to finally pale and take off without another word. High into the sky. Fast, for such a poor recreation of a much superior suit. ...although, after all that…

Tony put a hand to his head. “Worst press conference ever.”

Calling the pack’s attention was probably the worst mistake of the afternoon. As soon as they heard his voice, all the press still waiting (no preservation instincts to be heard of) turned. “Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark!”

You had bruises in brand new places and a headache that was strong enough to put you under. Now was no time to be dealing with the microphones shoved in your faces. How to even begin to explain what had just happened? Fairly simple. Some rando b-story had broken through your supposedly superior defenses, wrecked both your suits, and brought you down to the ground. Then taken off to who knew where.

Iron Man and Lady had been downed by what they’d deemed a school science lab experiment. Embarrassed on their own front lawn.

“No questions.” You groaned out.

--------------------

It was a sad sight to see, really. Both armors in heaps on lab tables. You’d taken to pacing endlessly, which surely wasn’t helping Tony’s mood as he was analyzing and reanalyzing and re-re-re analyzing what had gone wrong. Bruce was standing by. Mostly for emotional support.

With his hands clasped together, he dared to ask, “So. Uh… who’d you piss off now?”

“Why is it our fault?” Tony asked, hands on more than a few keyboards, reading over dozens and dozens of graphs and tables and formulas and…

You sighed, wrapping your arms around yourself. “We don’t have the best track record for that sort of thing, is what I think he’s trying to say.”

Bruce nodded. “I mean… come on, now. Let’s get honest about it. First big bad guy on your file was your partner, and he hired terrorists to kill you. And then there was that Hammer guy and… Vanko… personally speaking, when people come after the both of you it’s…” Rolling his hands around, trying to figure out a delicate way to put this.

Tony looked up, hands coming down just a little hard on the table. “My fault. Yeah. I get it. So. You’re right. Who did I piss off this time?”

“I think more importantly first…” Trying to get in the middle of Bruce being too honest and Tony’s penchant for self-loathing, “Melter said he was putting on another presentation. What does that mean?”

“He wrecked the suits- well. Not the outside. That little heat ray couldn’t touch the exterior. It’s the internals. Something about it breaks down the internal circuitry.” His dug his hands deep into the open chest piece of the Iron Man suit, grabbing a few tools, starting to work his magic. “You think he’s stupid enough to announce he’s coming after us for a double feature?” He slipped on some goggles, leaning in close. Sparks starting to fly.

You shook your head. “Guy doesn’t seem like he has a lot of brains. Even if he did stumble on to whatever it is that did this to our suits.” And you did mean that quite literally. Not for a second could you believe he outsmarted Tony. The suits the both of you were wearing had been redesigned more than a few times now. A heat beam? It didn’t seem like it could do much damage. So he’d lucked into some technology on accident, and came after you two. Why?

A mystery, still. But as for the rest of it…

The lightbulb went off. He went after you two, maybe because he had some unfinished business, sure, but he’d come after both suits. And who else had a suit like this worth damaging for a show of control?

“JARVIS call Rhodey.”

Tony clicked his tongue against his teeth. “One step ahead of me.”

“You’re busy with something else. We’ll call it even.” You moved to sit down next to him at another console as Rhodey’s face came on screen. “Hey, listen. We just got our asses pretty much handed to us-”

He let out an amused scoff. “Yeah. It’s on every TV at the base. What the hell is going on over there? You’re making me look bad.”

Tony leaned over. “Thanks for the support. Oh. And asking if we’re okay. We are, by the way, but thanks for asking.”

You waved him away. “The guy that did it is probably on his way to you. Just be careful, okay? Tony’s working on the suits now.”

Rhodey shook his head and then shrugged. “Why announce to the world his next biggest move?”

The chest piece of the Iron Man suit swung shut loudly. “Because he’s trying to sell his tech. And after today?” Tony gave you a long look. One you returned. You knew where this was going. “He’s not gonna be the only one we have to worry about our history with.”

Under the desk, your hands clenched together. “Just. Be on the look out, Rhodey. That’s all I’m asking. We’ll work on this here and come to you after.”

“He’d have to be a moron to come after me.”

Tony turned, sticking his hands into your suit next. He grunted. “Didn’t stop him from coming after us, did it?”

“Seems like he made out okay on that bet.”

“He won’t the next time.”

They were about to get into a fight that none of you could afford. Bruce was the one to break it up. Hand to his chin he made a murmuring noise, waving at some of the findings on one of the screens. “Tony.” Calling him over.

It was enough to end the bickering. And as Tony left his station, pulling his goggles up to go confer with his resident science buddy, you gave Rhodey a wave at the screen. “We’ll figure out what he did to the suits and bring the upgrade to you. I’m just asking you to be on high alert.”

He nodded. “You got it. I’ll be alright.”

Another wave and a smile and you ended the call. Going over to the two babbling at each other, it was useless to try and make out the science mumbo jumbo coming out of them at rapid speed. “Figured it out?” Hopeful. Because more than all of this, you’d have to deliver a statement to the press. That man had interrupted a tech demo and beaten you red. It made the Avengers thing look like a joke. Too soon to start spreading doubt about that sort of stuff.

“That ray…” Tony walked away from the screen, going back to your suit. “At first I thought it was just intense heat, but it actually loosens the bonding forces between the molecules of non-organic matter.”

While you weren’t sure you understood all of that, you got the gist. This was extremely dangerous. “We can’t let him sell this to anyone.”

Bruce nodded. “And you gotta take it off him.”

Another big sigh escaped you. “Gotta find him, first.” The best way to curb doubt about you or Tony or the Avengers was to deliver this guy to the police. And to do that… You walked over to Tony, setting a hand on his arm. “You good here? I’m going to start digging. See what I can find on this guy.”

He stopped what he was doing for a brief moment, looking up at you. “Yeah. I’m good. I won’t let this happen again.” There was a steady stream of anxiety leaking from him, but you couldn’t work through it all right now. It was understandable. The suit he’d designed to keep you safe had malfunctioned. Guilt was not too far behind. Leaning in, probably in an attempt to silence your probing, he gave you a light kiss. “I love you. Go. I’m serious. Do your thing and I’ll do mine. And… then we’ll-”

“Clean up. Like we always do.” Giving him a sure nod. And one more little kiss. “I love you, too.” Trying not to fall into a too-deep display of affection. You weren’t the only two in the lab. So, parting, you gave Bruce a wave. “Thanks for your help.”

“Glad to be of assistance.” Waving back with a tired smile.

Seemed none of you could escape the feeling. And while it would have been nice to lie in a hot bath to soothe the aches out, or fall asleep curled up…

You had work to do. You always had work to do.

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #INY Chapter Sixty Six

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amethystdarkwolf · 5 years ago

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Split [Part One]

AU: X Ship: X Prompt: X Requested by: X Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit, Sympathetic Remus, Panic/anxiety attacks, angst with a happy ending and yelling. If I missed any Let Me Know! Summary: Patton gets frustrated with Virgil, as Virgil tries to actually show Thomas again that he is Anxiety that he can be a bad thing. Patton ends up snapping and causes Virgil to split in two, much like Roman and Remus. F/A/H-C:Angst POV: 3rd ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Side Note: This is a two part fic written by both me and @chimchar1009 We hope you enjoy!! Also I stopped doing my taglist, it’s too much work, use my Writing tag ‘Amethystdarkwrites’

[Part Two] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thomas, you can’t go. You really don’t know what would happen! You know only one person if you would be going! And to a place like that you need to go with a group, there are so many things that could-” Virgil was cut off, Patton interrupting him.

“Virgil it’ll be okay! We know what we’re doing and how to be careful, and plus we promised! It’s their birthday after all!” Patton tried to explain, they were safe, everything would be okay. But Virgil was having none of it. He went off listing danger after danger, while Patton tried to reassure him that those wouldn’t happen. Both completely ignoring Roman, Logan and Thomas, every suggestion they gave was immediately ignored as if they weren’t even there.

Until Patton snapped.

“Virgil! That’s Enough!!!” He shouted, almost loud enough to echo across the apartment’s walls. He balled his hands into tight fists, shutting his eyes closed as he put his arms down forcefully to his sides, separated.

He heard the sound of screaming for a moment, painful, blood-curdling screaming. But it stopped as soon as it started, rendering the room completely silent.

When his eyes opened, he was made just as speechless. In Virgil’s spot, stood two versions of him. One that was leaning against the wall, clearly exhausted, having a white hoodie on with small blue patches residing on it. While the other was leaning against the banister, in a way that resembled him as scared of the other as he clung to it like a lifetime, having a dark gray hoodie with faded red stripes. Similar looking to Virgil’s old hoodie. They both had logos as well. The first had a light grey cloud with cobalt blue stitching around it. While the other had a black lighting bolt with crimson red stitching around it.

There was only silence for a few seconds as Patton and the others stared at the two new sides in front of them. “Virgil?” Patton asked breaking the dead silence. Both of the two new sides looked up at Patton in response.

“Dad? What did you do to me?” The white and blue clothed side asked. “Us.” The second new side corrected, his voice in Tempest Tongue. “What did you do to us? To Virgil?!” The red and dark grey side growled at Patton.

Patton was speechless he had no idea what he had done to his dark strange son. He glanced quickly at the others. Thomas looked like he was about to start to panic, Logan was just frozen and Roman… Roman, he had a look of horror on his face. A look of horror that showed he knew exactly what Patton did.

“Patton… You- you split Virgil into two just like you did with me and Remus…” Roman paused for a second to compose himself, now wasn’t the time for him to start crying. “We may never see our stormcloud again…”

“But there has to be a way to get him back! Virgil can’t just be gone forever!” Thomas replied.

“The only example we have to go off of is Roman and Remus and they never re-fused. So, unfortunately, it’s a safe assumption to say that it’s not possible for these two halves of Virgil to refuse.” Logan answered visibly troubled by this answer.

Patton can only stare in horror at Logan with what he said. Did he really get rid of Virgil for good?

“Patton… this is… what you’ve done to Virgil… it's so bad I don’t even have a word to describe it.” Roman refuses to look at Patton while saying this.

“That was messed up even for me.” Remus said after he appeared next to Roman.

Tears began to well up in his eyes. He really messed up and he had no way to fix what he did. “Are you happy now?” Deceit asked as he appeared to Patton. He started crying no he didn’t want this. He would never want this. He just wanted Virgil back, he wanted his best friend back.

“Deceit?” The black and red Virgil whispered. Deceit looks up at him. “Yeah, V?”

“Are we gonna be like this forever?”

“I honestly don’t know.” He glared at Patton as he said that.

“Well… If they’re gonna be here possibly forever do they have names? We can’t really call them Virgil or Anxiety.” Thomas interrupts.

“We don’t have a name beside Virgil…” The side against the wall replied.

“Well, we can give you names!” Roman said and points to the white and blue side. “Your name can be Vito.”

“Vito… Ok, I’m fine with it.”

“Ok and you!” Roman says pointing to the other side. “Your name can be Viho.”

“Ok yeah, I’m not letting my name be picked by you princey. That names fudging stupid.” He growls at Roman.”

“Ok wow, no need to be so mean we’re friends.”

“Who said we are friends?!” He shouts at Roman.

The room falls into a shocked silence. Tears well up in Roman’s eyes but he quickly wipes them away like nothing happened.

“How bout Volt?” Remus says changing the topic.

“I like that, Remus. My names Volt.” Volt says with a smirk. Roman just stares at Volt shocked and hurt. Volt only glanced over to Patton, who was still in tears, but instead of having any kind of remorse in his expression, there was a glare.

Patton tried to speak, tried to apologize, but his sobs muffled his words. “Virgil- I-I mean, Vito, Volt. I didn’t want this… I didn’t mean for this to happen! I-” He was cut off as Volt interrupted him, “Well obviously you did! Because we’re here! The good and the bad! Just like Roman and Remus” He huffed, “What are you going to do, huh?”

Logan sighed, “Volt-”

“Split Logan next time he disagrees with you??”

“Volt! Enough.” Logan snapped, causing silence to fall across the room. “I understand your frustrations-”

“No you don’t, you robot.”

Logan took a deep breath to not let that get to him, “You are upset, but we all are to some degree, you have to try to focus so that we can properly fix the issue. We are unsure if you can be fused again, but we will try to do what we can if you cooperate with us.”

Volt leaned against the banister once again, “I don’t see the point.” he muttered harshly. “I mean, again if Patton had wanted Virgil here, he’d still be here. He banished Virgil to the dark side so what’s to say he wouldn’t do it again with me or if we did get back together.”

Vito glances at Volt, “Patton won’t do that, I won’t let him.”

“You can’t stop him he always gets what he wants!”

Thomas covers his face with his hands, his breathing slightly beginning to pick up, “So he’s never coming back?” He asked, his voice having the slightest quiver to it. “But he’s my anxiety!” His hands shook as he ran them through his hair, “And-and Patton- you’re my morality! Why would you want to do that?!” He could barely keep up with all that was happening, quickly becoming overwhelmed and spiraling into a panic attack.

Vito looks at Thomas concerned, “Thomas, remember to breathe.” He turns to Volt. “Volt stop! Your making Thomas have a panic attack!”

“Why should I? You’ll listen to me better this way and Thomas will forgive me anyways.”

“Volt! Please!” Vito begged as he went over to his half, “This isn’t the way to handle this!”

“Why? Because he’s feeling bad? Guess what he feels bad almost all the time thanks to how strict Patton is! And ya know what? In some cases he deserves it!”

“He didn’t know that this would happen? Volt, please Virgil wouldn’t want this!”

“Maybe your part of him wouldn’t but mine does! How are you not hurt by what he did?! How are you not feeling betrayed?!”

Vito is silent for a second before looking at his other half in the eyes. “I am hurt and I do feel betrayed but revenge isn’t the answer.”

“I’m not after revenge! I just don’t want to be hurt anymore! I don’t want him to be hurt anymore!”

“We aren’t going to be hurt-”

“How do you know that??”

Finally, Logan snapped, “Volt, this is not the way to handle this situation… Thomas himself had nothing to do with this, causing him to have a panic attack will only delay our time to get this back in order. You are now only harming Thomas. None of us... Take a deep breath and we can figure this out.”

Volt went quiet for a moment, but then just crossed his arms as he leaned against the banister, refusing to look at anyone directly as he muttered out, “Fine.”

Vito took a deep breath and walked a bit closer to Thomas, “Thomas, remember what you’ve learned, breath in for four seconds,” he tried to keep his voice a lot softer and calmer than it had been, especially in comparison to his other half.

He slowly guided Thomas through a few breathing exercises, glancing to Patton every once in a while as he did so to make sure he was following along to. The other sides were finally able to find their calm as well, even if Roman, Remus, and Deceit were furious with Patton over what had happened. They were able to calm down at least.

Volt glanced back from the floor, and over to Thomas and Patton, both sobbing messes at this point. That’s when the realization hit him. He looked between the other sides, making sure the attention wasn’t on him and grinned a wicked borderline malicious grin before sinking out to Virgil’s room.

#amethystdarkwrites #sanders sides #roman sanders #remus sanders #deceit sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders

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pass-the-bechdel · 5 years ago

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Brooklyn Nine-Nine season five full review

How many episodes pass the Bechdel test?

68.18% (fifteen of twenty-two).

What is the average percentage per episode of female characters with names and lines?

30.03%

How many episodes have a cast that is at least 40% female?

Two (episode seventeen ‘DFW’ (42.85%), and episode twenty-one ‘White Whale’ (42.85%)).

How many episodes have a cast that is less than 20% female?

One (episode nine ‘99′ (15.38%)).

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Thirty-two. Four who appeared in more than one episode, three who appeared in at least half the episodes, and ZERO who appeared in every episode.

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Sixty-four. Thirteen who appeared in more than one episode, six who appeared in at least half the episodes, and three who appeared in every episode.

Positive Content Status:

Fairly standard expectations for this show, that is: above-average compared to most tv. That said, their biggest progressive move of the season came off more prescribed than genuine to me, and sometimes I felt like they were including little remarks and things just to half-ass being ‘on brand’ rather than because they actually believe in it. This season often lacked the heart to make its social commentary really land (average rating of 3.04).

General Season Quality:

They had a whole bunch of good episodes around the middle of the season, but they started and ended weak, and a lot of the story and characterisation is starting to meander and go stale. They lifted their game in season four, but this feels like a return to the dissatisfaction that was rife in season three.

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) under the cut:

Well, this is the worst they’ve done on the male:female ratio, decisively. It’s not the worst they’ve done on the Bechdel, but it is worse than what it has been in recent seasons. And while the positive content score is above average, outside of the single episode which raised that score they really did a lot less to impress than what I would consider this show’s standard (and even that one episode, I maintain, could have been much better). Setting aside the critical aspect of what I do here to speak on a pure entertainment level, this season seriously lacked one of the best qualities of the show in previous seasons, which was the basic guarantee of a good time; some episodes will always be better than others, but if nothing else, you used to be able to rely on that good time. There were no episodes this season that were just utter garbage, no, but if I were a casual viewer, then the majority of this season would probably fail to hold my attention or convince me to tune in next week, and that’s not what you want. As ever, when the show is good it is really, really good, but when it is bad it is DEEPLY mediocre, feeling phoned-in or, sometimes, like it was written by someone who does not understand the appeal of this show in the first place. To touch on some various aspects of all of the above, lets talk about character arcs.

Now, I am not one of those people who believes that every character has to have a definable ‘arc’. They really don’t. What they DO need is to feel like they’re part of the story for a reason, and giving them their own task or journey which traditionally lays out in an arc format tends to be the go-to method for achieving that. It is easily possible to have a character without a personal arc still fit into the story and feel necessary and wanted: my case in point for this season of B99 is Terry. Terry was seriously underused, and that’s a shame because he’s great, and yes, giving him some kind of arc to bring him to the fore a few times across the season would almost definitely have been a good move...but. The fact that he had no arc to speak of did not render his character obsolete, and he worked and played really well as a character whose stability can be an anchoring quality for the show sometimes: Terry is still a reliable good time, even if the writing is sliding in other places. Vitally, there is a confidence about the way that Terry is presented which allows his character to function fully regardless of the attention level; I would have LIKED more Terry, but his character is firmly established as a constant such that he can occupy a regular space without seeming superfluous. On the flip side of that, we have...Gina.

I’ve never ‘got’ Gina in that fan-favourite way that has worked for so many people, and her selfishness and her constant put-downs have often made her the antithesis of the feel-good mentality that - to me - has defined what makes this show worthwhile when it is at its best. But, setting aside my personal opinion of Gina as a character, this season failed utterly to achieve the very thing they used as the driving purpose of her return to the show at mid-season: to prove that she is ‘needed’. Real-life maternity leave is necessary and I would never advocate for axing a character just because the actor needs the time off, so I’m not suggesting they should have just ditched her and moved on despite Chelsea Peretti’s evident desire to return to the show, but what they NEEDED to do was to...give Gina literally anything meaningful to do once she returned, in order to re-establish her as someone with a reason to be around. They didn’t. Even the one subplot where Gina admits to Terry that she’s having a hard time balancing being a working mother lacked the impact to drive home a real-life struggle, and that’s pretty dire; Gina never felt right, when she was around at all, and it made the decision to bring her back on board after the show had got on just fine without her for half a season feel like one long false note. How hard would it have been to turn that weakly-delivered subplot into a proper mini-arc as Gina settled back in to work? How hard would it have been to make it clear that becoming a mother has changed Gina in a fashion which plays out in the long-term instead of just being a few remarks she made in a single episode? These are trick questions, of course. It’s not hard. It requires a bare minimum of effort which usually doesn’t even register AS effort, it’s just the writer asking themselves the question ‘What is going on with this character right now?’ and then answering it in their script. That’s just how basic character consistency works, really. And yet, they fumbled it.

In other dissatisfying news, we have the ‘Sad Excuse For An Arc’, featuring Charles Boyle. I really wish that I never had to talk about Charles again because I really hate him, for reasons elucidated constantly across my posts for this entire series which ultimately boil (heh) down to him being an emotionally manipulative nightmare of a person with possessive overtones who regularly disrespects and disrupts the lives around him without ever taking proper responsibility for his actions or recognising and working on his desperate need for self-improvement, and who somehow continues to be packaged by the narrative as just ‘ha-ha well-meaning but awkward’ while other characters pander to his manipulations and weather the many and sundry inconveniences he introduces to their lives without complaint. I still haven’t forgotten that he was an A-grade creep to Rosa in the first season and the show just kinda glossed over it and never mentioned it again, because damn, maybe if they had owned their mistake and had Charles actively tackle his flaws back then, they might have inadvertently written the character with literally any kind of development over the course of five freakin’ seasons. Because as-is, he has not changed at all since the show started (even adopting a child hasn’t changed him, it just gives him something to reference every now and then - what is it with this show and failing to incorporate major home-life changes (LITERAL! CHILDREN!!) into the character’s daily lives?), and this is how we end up with an ‘arc’ like that crap with Charles and the food truck. It goes like this: Charles buys food truck. Charles is a megalomaniac asshole chef in the food truck (significant food wastage ensues). Charles’ food truck gets destroyed. Three episodes across the season, one two three, and only the last one is the A plot of the episode instead of a minor subplot. And this? This is Charles’ personal story for the entire season. Unfortunately, he’s around constantly in the rest of the season as well and it feels like there were nowhere near enough episodes which offered a reprieve from his noxious personality, so he doesn’t suffer from Gina syndrome in the sense of seeming pointless, but that kinda...proves my point about arcs. The one Charles has here is a joke, and not the funny kind. He was used excessively throughout the rest of the season without the assistance of an ‘arc’ to legitimise his presence, he didn’t NEED one to function in the season, but the Sad Excuse For An Arc that he DID have only highlighted the wider problem of the character over the whole series thus far, which is that he has NEVER had an arc which brought about meaningful development or change.

And then there was Rosa. There was actually a sneakier amount of character fodder for Rosa this season than what may seem immediately obvious: the dominant development was her bisexuality, but there were also other pieces to pick up with her reconnecting with her family after her stint in prison, and also some welcome focus on her career in the latter end of the season (notably ‘Show Me Going’ and ‘White Whale’), which did a solid job of re-anchoring the character professionally after a season disproportionately interested in her romantic life. I feel very cynical, complaining about the bisexuality storyline, and I’d like to reiterate that I am genuinely glad to have this openly-declared positive representation for a frequently ill-treated branch of the big queer tree. I stand in unequivocal solidarity with my bisexual brethren. THAT SAID. I also sincerely dislike the way this show went about including bisexuality as a part of Rosa’s character, and it’s because of the ‘arc’ element: specifically, that the ‘arc’ is literally just about her being attracted to women. Rosa’s ‘coming out’ is not the arc - there is just the one Very Special episode about that specifically - and I’m ok with that because it’s rare to have a character whose queer sexuality is revealed comparatively late in a story without it being a revelation for the character themselves and not just the people around them. My problem is that - once the bisexual cat is out of the bag - the way the show packages the arc is just to double down, triple down on reminding the audience that Rosa is into women, is dating women, is being set up with women, is being wowed by hot women she sees...and there is no further mention of her interest in men. After four seasons of her only ever being depicted in relationships with men or having active interest in men, the narrative packages her coming out as bisexual in the same way as shows typically package a character realising that they’re gay: by giving them conspicuous subplots that revolve specifically around same-gender attraction. And that comes across to me as a brownie-points grab, as performative queer content designed to get attention, rather than the kind of inclusive representation I have celebrated this show for in the past re: Holt. It feels like the writers aren’t comfortable with the reality of Rosa’s bisexuality, that they’re subscribing to the idea that if she’s shown to be still interested in men that she’ll become magically not-queer and they’ll lose their brownie points, and so they’re throwing women at her in the kinds of meaningless subplots that they never assigned to the character before she came out. As a rule, if you treat a character differently for being queer than you would if they were straight, that’s bad representation. The way that Rosa’s life is presented to us should not spontaneously change just because we know she also likes women, especially because this is the status quo for her; the ‘arc’ here is about the expectation of an audience reaction, and not actually about the character at all.

The good news? Jake, Amy, and Holt all have successful, meaningful arcs this season, with Jake and Amy’s journey from engagement to marriage, and Holt’s gambit for his dream job as commissioner. While both arcs came to lacklustre closes in the predictable season finale, through the course of the season they supplied various A and B plots, never slipping entirely from the audience’s memory or causing glitches in the sense of character or narrative continuity, but also never dominating the show in a manner that became distracting or tedious. Both plots were told as stories, with ups and downs and complications large or small, like proper arcs instead of perfunctory beginning-middle-end or ‘three times makes it a pattern’ ideas (which is more than I can say for the Seamus Murphy misfire which made a Sad Excuse For An Arc for the first half of the season at large - it may have ended on a high note, but it failed to generate any tension as a long-term plot or deliver on its initial promises from the ultimately-weak time-wasting two-part premiere). Honestly, as a whole this season felt like they were winging it on the bulk of the story, with the Peralta-Santiago wedding and the fate of Holt’s career the only things that were planned for the finale from the outset and everything else just fabricated as they went along, and the looseness of the entire rest of the season is the messy disappointing result of the ‘we’ll figure it out when we get there’ ethos. Last season had me so hopeful for the show getting back on track, getting back to its roots and remembering what made it work with quality story for the characters, a solid narrative backbone, and a social compass at the forefront. After the vague characterisation of this season, the shapeless meandering of so much filler plot, and commentary that was ham-fisted and anvilicious when it was there at all...It’s not like this was bad. It wasn’t bad. It was just so much less than what I expected or hoped to see.

#Brooklyn Nine-Nine #Brooklyn Nine-Nine season five #Bechdel Test #female representation #full season review #B99

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wheremytwinwatches · 5 years ago

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[Where My Twin Watches]: Puella Magi Madoka Magica Episode 7

*Finishes re-rewatching Treasure Planet* Ah, what a good movie. That and I,Robot and Terminator 2 and Captain America: The Winter Soldier and Star Wars and- Wait, why did I start watching all these movies again? I remember it had something to do with Transhumanism. Something about contracts and a Bunny-cat being a dick and girls who were actually lichs… Oh crap, the thread! That is a very big moon.

Sayaka’s slowly walking back to her apartment, her face shadowed and… what, seriously? Madoka isn’t there? What the heck, Madoka? You just let your friend leave on her own after that whammy? She’s entered her apartment now, not being very quiet about closing the door. Does she live on her own? If it turns out she’s an orphan too I’m going to snap. Lights on, Sayaka tosses her Soul Gem (which is actually herself, what the heck) onto the table KYUBEY. GET OUT. BACK TO THE LIST CORNER WITH YOU. “You tricked us, didn’t you?” She didn’t even have to turn around and see he was there, did she? It’s obvious that the little jerk would waltz in uninvited. Oh you are such an asshole! “I just didn’t explain exactly what form you’d be taking to do that”? Oh yeah, that’s such a minor detail, not worth mentioning, really! “Because you never asked.” Because they never asked?! Informed consent, Bunny-cat! Learn it! Aw HELL no. You don’t get to use “even Mami never noticed to the very end” as an excuse. Ever think that maybe if she knew the risks she wouldn’t have worn her literal soul as a hairpin?! The little jerk keep on listing the advantages of Soul Gems. He really doesn’t see anything wrong with what he’s done, does he? Kyubey? What are you doing with Sayaka’s Soul Gem? What the hell is wrong with you, Bunny-cat? You want to show how relatively fragile a human body is to pain? Fine, there are plenty of other ways to show that without inflicting Sayaka with enough pain to make her collapse! WHY ARE YOU STILL DOING IT?! We get it, Soul Gems dampen pain reception between the mind and body! Stop torturing Sayaka! Please, she’s crying! Friggen finally. Sayaka, you need to get up, grab that little demon, and chuck him out the window. And never let him get close to your Gem, alright? As Sayaka recovers, Kyubey is rambling about how Magical Girls can control the degree of pain reception on their own, but he doesn’t recommend it at it lowers reaction time. ...wow, ok. Even I can see that manipulation at work there. You inflict Sayaka with severe pain, and then ‘offhandedly mention’ that she can make it so she feels no pain at all? Real subtle, Bunny-cat. Because why worry about the well-being of these girls when you can make them that much more aggressive in getting you food? And then he uses the “I’ve granted the Wish that you (unintentionally) sold your soul for” card. Yep, I just saw the show’s familiar torture one of the main characters, manipulate her into unlocking a pain-free fighting style (who needs the warnings that a body part is damaged, anyway?) and claim that she owes him for services rendered. So of course, we go into the bright and poppy Intro of Lies! Ugh. Get out of Madoka’s room, you jerk. And get away from Mami, too! Episode 7: Can you face your true feelings? It’s school the next day, seems that Sayaka skipped out. Wonder if the attendance office would accept a “I was tricked out of my soul by a Bunny-cat” as an excused absence. Aw. Looks like she’s been curled up under her blankets since last night, she didn’t even change her clothes. But hey, why worry about what you meat-puppet is wearing, right? On Fancy Rooftop now, Madoka’s meeting with Homura. Hey, that’s right, she knew about the “MGs are actually inside the Soul Gem” thing, right? Why didn’t you say anything, Homura? Damn! Madoka’s actually calling Homura out on it, asking if she really did know… but she says she tried telling others in the past. And nobody ever believed her. Ouch. I mean… yeah, it’s a really farfetched story. And I guess the only way to prove it would be for her to purposefully get far away from her Soul Gem. And that’s way too big a risk to take. Now they’re talking about how Kyubey doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong. Interesting how Homura’s calling him an it now, saying it cannot comprehend human values. I’ll be using that for Bunny-cat from now on, matches the clinical detachment. Sure, it insists that “a (short) lifetime of fighting Witches to feed me” is equal to “granting a single Wish”. Yup, Madoka’s not agreeing to the exchange rate. Healing one person’s non-fatal injuries does not equal service as a Magical Lunch Lady. But Homura’s simply saying that it was a miracle, something impossible made possible. ...oh stop being so moody, Homura. You can’t know that medical science would never be able to heal his hands. The guy’s still in middle school, for crying out loud, he has his whole life ahead of him! Just because current science isn’t able to do it, doesn’t mean you should assume that it never will. I will concede that a miracle, a proper miracle, is a Big Deal. I’m a little more iffy on whether it is of greater value that an entire human life. But you will NOT convince me that healing one person’s hands is equal to the life of a Magical Girl. Ooh, good point Madoka! For all of Homura’s “give up on her” talk, if she hadn’t become a Magical Girl then Madoka, Hitomi, and all the other people in that factory would have died! (Urgh, I’m am so torn between my I WAS RIGHT from that episode and my understanding now of what becoming a Magical Girl does) Oh. “Don’t confuse gratitude with responsibility.” That’s… that’s pretty heavy. Homura’s hammering home the point that Madoka is just a human, who has no ability to save Sayaka Miki. She shouldn’t try to ‘repay’ Sayaka to alleviate her sense of guilt. ...wow. That is… wow. Somewhere the ghost of Thomas Hobbes is applauding Homura’s self-interest philosophy. Well, ok. I guess one’s sense of morality can be slightly affected by being an undead magic user. It’s a lot easier to justify self-interest when the Muggles you know die of old age and your associates keep getting killed by these monsters. Why stay constrained by human ethics when you see yourself as no longer human? So does that make Mami a Pro-Human Transhuman, then? Sayaka’s still in her bed… Oh. Oh DAMN. That’s… Um. I mean, it’s, uh, not really that bad? I mean, just because your soul now fits in your pocket that doesn’t mean you can’t still date and… Damn. That’s something I didn’t even consider. The basis of Sayaka making the Contract was to heal Kamijo, and we have to admit there was a degree of “I can get his affection” in that Wish. But with the realization of how she relates to her former body now? Not to mention the whole “eternally young” thing. Damn it, Bunny-cat. The hell? Who just spoke? Kyoko? She wants to talk? Sayaka’s dressed and following Kyoko through the park now, who’s busy chomping down apples. Huh, she says she’s ok with the whole zombie thing. Well, you can’t deny that the powers of a Magical Girl can be useful, I suppose if you focus enough on the benefits you can rationalize the whole lich thing. Sayaka calls her out on her “you get what you pay for” attitude. Although I’m suddenly wondering if she paid of all the food she’s been eating. Having MG powers probably makes it easier to get five-finger discounts. Kyoko cheerfully agrees. Huh. “And if you live only to benefit yourself, you’ve got to pay for your own mistakes too.” And suddenly you’ve made self-interest sound noble. If you don’t involve others, then you don’t- *Suddenly remembers that Kyoko has advocated letting Familiars kill bystanders in order to get more Grief Seeds* Nope, never mind, still hate you. The sun’s sinking lower as the two girls reach some sort of old building, which Kyoko kicks down the door of. Broken stained glass? So is this an old church or art gallery or something? Well, whatever this place is, it’s certainly seen better days.

We're at the dilapidated stained-glass building, I'm thinking it's a church of some sort as the camera's looking at an altar sort of thing in front of where the biggest window would be.

Sayaka's asking why Kyoko had her come out here, Kyoko says it's a long story and tosses her an apple. Huh, is this like when she offered Homura pocky, a sign of trust?

Ooh, but Sayaka just tossed it to the ground. I don’t mean to nitpick, Sayaka, but it looks like Kyoko’s extending an olive branch here. You don’t have to like the hard-line MG, but maybe a truce could

WHOA ok Kyoko did not like that, she rushed forward and his lifting Sayaka off the ground. And that is a gruesome crackling sound, I really hope that’s just her uniform.

“Don’t ever waste food. I’ll kill you if you do.” Don’t waste food around Kyoko, got it.

Yup, Kyoko is bodily lifting Sayaka by the collar, until she calms down and lets her drop. Then she picks up the apple, dusts it off and puts it back in the bag.

Ooh, new music? Backstory for Kyoko? I still hate her for the whole “letting Familiars go” thing, but after my Homura rage was shown to be a little excessive and Kyubey proved to be a dick I’m willing to hear this story out.

“See… this was my dad’s church.” Aha, it is a church! Wait, ‘was’?

Aw, paper-cutout stick puppets! That’s adorable. We see Kyoko’s pastor dad get passed by two smaller cutouts… little sister? Aw dammit, this is another “How a MG became an orphan” story, isn’t it?

“He thought that in order to save a new generation, we needed to have a new religion.” Well, hopefully without sparking any religious debate, that sounds pretty good to me. Not quite sure about the “preaching stuff that wasn’t in the Bible” part, but he seems earnest at least.

So people stopped attending the church, and he got excommunicated by the overall Church? Harsh.

“From the outside, he probably looked like some raving cultist.” Good to see that Kyoko recognizes that while she believes (believed?) in what he taught she understands it could be seen as radical. Although was it really necessary to dump water on the guy, random person? Yes he’s preaching at your house, but that doesn’t mean you should treat him like that.

Side note: dumping water out a window? Do people still do that, now? Or is this Backstory set in a time when it was more common? After all, with the whole meat puppet thing, I don’t think it’s that much of a stretch to place this way back when.

“It got to the point where our entire family didn’t even have food to eat.” Oh, explanation for why she always has food! Nice touch, show!

...damn it, this show’s making my sympathize with the character who argued for Muggles as Monster Chow by showing how her family was starving… ok, fine, Kyoko. You can have a cushion for your chair.

Nice art style here! Showing Kyoko playing with these paper stick puppets while the girls’ art style stands out against the background.

Little Girl Kyoko just couldn't understand why all this was happening. Why people couldn’t just hear her father out and see that he was right.

And then she met Kyubey.

“And so I asked Kyubey to make everyone listen seriously to what my dad said.”

Oh. Oh no.

The very next day the church was packed full of people again. And each of their paper cutouts has red eyes and an image of Kyoko’s Soul Gem on their chest.

Damn it, Kyubey. She asked for people to listen to her dad, not get mind-controlled by him.

Bunny-Cat Jerk: “What’s the difference? They’re hearing the same words either way.”

It must have seemed so perfect. Her dad’s church is doing well, and she’s got cool new superpowers and monsters to fight. Her dad got to preach to the world, and she took care of the Witches. So she threw herself into Witch-hunting. Because between the two of them, they could save the world.

Hey, cutout of a taller woman holding hands with them! Wasn’t sure there was a mom in the picture until now.

But then her dad found out. And when he found out that the people were compelled to come by magic rather than belief, he “flipped out”. He called Kyoko “a witch who tainted people’s hearts”. WOW. Ok, in any magical setting that would be some harsh words, but when the demons are called Witches…when she hunted real Witches every night...

Oh no.

Yup. Orphan story.

Damn it. This doesn’t excuse her letting innocents die, but when it resulted in her father killing the rest of the family and then committing suicide…

I’ll be right back, going to get Kyoko some pocky to snack on.

“My wish destroyed my whole family.” Kyoko says that because she went and made a wish for someone else, without really knowing what he wanted, it brought everyone misfortune.

“Right then, I vowed in my heart never to use magic to help anyone else again.” Ouch. So Kyoko’s self-interest stems from the results of her Wish. If helping others only ends up in misfortune, then it is best to use if for your sake and yours alone.

This show seems to really be stressing a philosophy of ‘equal and opposite reaction’. Is karma the right term? “If you wish for hope, an equal amount of despair will be rained down upon you, too”. Seems that’s what Kyoko believes now, seeing it as preserving the world’s balance.

Sayaka asks Kyoko why she told her all of this. Huh, Kyoko really is trying to teach Sayaka, isn’t she? Like Homura’s trying to keep Madoka from making a contract and losing her soul, Kyoko’s trying to get Sayaka to, from her perspective, stop wasting her energy on helping others when whatever good she does will be countered by despair… I don’t think that Sayaka’s going to really approve of this philosophy.

Sayaka questions where “teaching others about how the world sucks” falls in a self-interest philosophy, Kyoko says that she’s trying to stop Sayaka from a life that will bring more regrets. You’ve already “paid your dues”, time to get your money’s worth! (Unintentionally) sold your soul? Then live it up on earth!

“I was really wrong about you.” Sayaka?

Oh! She’s apologizing for her initial opinion of Kyoko. But she still doesn’t regret making her wish for someone else’s sake. Go Sayaka!

“I’ve decided that I’ll never regret anything. Ever.” Um. Go Sayaka? I mean, good words, but I’m not sure that anyone could live up to that.

Huh. You don’t think you paid too high a price? We are still talking about your soul here, right?

“Because, depending on how we use it, this magic can be used for wonderful things.” Alright! Ally of Justice, everyone! Screw how dark this show’s gotten, we can still turn this around! Right?

Right?

Oh dear. She wants to know where Kyoko got her apples from.

Aw crap. Just when I get all excited about Sayaka not getting turned away from being a Hero, she goes full-on Paladin. And not the Paladin that you want in your party, either, but the “Almighty Babysitter” type a DM would use to keep the players in check. Yes, you want the rogue to exercise some self-control, but nobody likes partying with a Lawful Stupid character.

Sayaka. Kyoko just told you her Tragic Backstory in the ruins of her father’s church. Are you really going to chastise her about where she stole a bag of apples? Yes, yes you are. *sigh*

Kyoko is not happy about her advice getting so totally rejected, angrily eats an apple while Sayaka walks away.

Well this is just great. I can admire Sayaka not regretting her choice, but you do remember your last ‘fight’ with the more-experienced MG? It did not end well. What makes you think you could do better next time?

Sayaka’s walking to school now, I assume the next day. Hey, Madoka and NPC, I mean Hitomi! All three are walking along, Sayaka claims she was feeling sick the day before-

Hey, Kamijo! Oh. Kamijo. And Sayaka didn’t know he was going back to school

In class Kamijo’s the center of attention, chatting about he’s aiming to set aside the crutches next week. Madoka suggests that Sayaka go talk with him, but she says that she’s fine.

Closeup of Hitomi?

Wait, why are they at Fancy Food Court again? And it’s just Sayaka and Hitomi.

“About love.” Wait. Wait, no. No no no NO.

Hitomi has a crush on Kamijo.

Hitomi, please stop. This is…

Hitomi. You have no idea what damage you are causing right now. I understand from your perspective you are just expressing your intent to a friend of yours in an attempt to prevent any bad feelings. That’s commendable, really, a proper thing to do. Good manners.

But this is the boy that Sayaka, while unintentionally, sold her soul to heal.

I am begging you, do not do this.

Great, a deadline. Hitomi’s waiting until after school the next day to confess her feelings to Kamijo, so Sayaka has a chance to.

Well, great.

Later that night, at Sayaka’s apartment complex…

KYUBEY. SCREW YOU.

Bunny-Cat Jerk: “Ah, whatever. Time for my magical lunch ladies to get me more food!”

Madoka’s waiting for Sayaka again. What a good friend. And after the wtfery of the last few days, from listening to Kyoko’s Tragic Backstory to Hitomi’s deadline, Sayaka starts crying. She had a moment that day where she almost regretted something…

Sayaka, it’s ok to regret things. Nobody is perfect-

WOW OK. That’s a little different, thinking “If only I hadn’t saved Hitomi that time…”

Let me try that again. Sayaka, there are things that it is ok to regret, but succeeding in saving a life is not one of them. By all means, never regret that. And stop trying to hold yourself up to Mami’s level, you are at most a few weeks into the job, if not days. You’ll become a worthy Magical Girl in your own time, there’s no shame in that.

And I’m sorry about the Hitomi situation, that you feel that it’s inevitable and there’s nothing you can do because you’re “already dead”. Please, Sayaka. It sucks that your life is now this because of Bunny-Cat’s dick move, and I can’t see a painless way to get out of this. But please, talk with Madoka. Be a good example to Kyoko and Homura. Don’t let the problems of today weigh you down. You are Sayaka Miki, student of Mami Tomoe. You will be a glorious Magical Girl, a hero. Just stay strong.

Sayaka’s doing a little better after Madoka give a shoulder to cry on. Keep being a good friend, Madoka. Now, let’s go save the Muggles!

In what looks like an old construction site…

Kyoko’s there, chomping on a popsicle as she looks at a labyrinth. Are the others in there already?

Oh hey, Homura! She questions why Kyoko is on the sidelines right now, Kyoko says that Sayaka’s fighting a full-fledged Witch tonight. So since it’s sure to drop a Grief Seed, no reason to let the Familiar go to eat more people. As for why she’s letting someone else fight the ‘prey’? She doesn’t answer. Hmm, did Sayaka’s response leave an impact?

Inside the labyrinth, the art style seems to be black silhouettes against a white background.

Hey, this is Sayaka’s theme, isn’t it?

Sayaka’s charging the Witch, but keeps getting blocked by these dragon-head things. She almost reaches the… bonsai tree? But a branch grows and traps her. Madoka runs forward- oh hey, Kyoko’s here and cut her loose! She scoffs about Sayaka’s performance and gets ready to atta- nope, Sayaka tells her to get out of the way, that she’ll do this alone. Are you sure about that, Sayaka? This is a Witch, after all.

Ouch, that’s got to hurt. Good thing she can heal, though.

Wait. Is she laughing?

Um. She’s not dodging anymore, just charging. And now she’s slashing wildly at the Witch while still laughing.

“It’s really true! If I just detach myself…”

Oh no.

Ranubis said:As Sayaka recovers, Kyubey is rambling about how Magical Girls can control the degree of pain reception on their own, but he doesn’t recommend it at it lowers reaction time. ...wow, ok. Even I can see that manipulation at work there. You inflict Sayaka with severe pain, and then ‘offhandedly mention’ that she can make it so she feels no pain at all? Real subtle, Bunny-cat. Because why worry about the well-being of these girls when you can make them that much more aggressive in getting you food?

Well, this is just GREAT. Sayaka’s gone and turned into a Berserker Paladin, hasn’t she?

“...I really don’t feel any pain! *crazed laughter*”

Sayaka. Sayaka, please. Don’t do this. Going into a Berserker Rage never helps.

Can’t you hear Madoka begging you to stop?!

Well. That was certainly a cheery point to end the episode. Last time we discovered that the girls were lichs. Now Sayaka’s gone and started fighting in Berserker Mode. What’ll happen next, Madoka’s Mom gets killed by a Witch?!

Ugh. This show, you guys.

After Credits Picture! And adorable image of Kyoko, Sayaka and Madoka snacking on fish treats, while Sayaka yanks Kyubey away from the bag. If only this was the show that we had…

“I’m going to be a different kind of magical girl from all of you...That’s what I’ve decided...I don’t need thanks or recompense. I’ll be the one magical girl who won’t use her magic for herself.”

Well, that’s a good Hero Statement. Good for you Saya-

Episode 8: I Was Stupid… So Stupid

...what. No. NO. THAT IS A HORRIBLE EPISODE TITLE, WHY WOULD YOU-

#wmtw #where my twin watches #ranubis #pmmm #puella magi madoka magica #pmmm 7

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