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babyboibucky · 4 years ago

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The Match

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You come across your boss’ Tinder profile.

Word Count: 1,446

Warnings: HMMMM sexual tension 😏

A/N: I wrote this in a whirl and tried to format it through the app last night and it SUCKS so I’m posting this just now. Anyway, there will definitely be a smutty part two to this lmfao ya know it

Edit: PART 2 IS UP!!!

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

Saturday night and you’re on your bed, wine-drunk and all as you mindlessly swiped through Tinder. You start to frown when none of the guys impressed you enough to swipe right. Their bios were all the same, revolving around their egos only to end up with the good ol’ “DTF” line.

Bored and disappointed, you almost exited the app until a very, very familiar face appeared on your screen.

“Holy shitballs, it’s our boss.” You sat up immediately, bringing your phone to your face for a close inspection.

Indeed, it was your boss James Barnes but he was using “Bucky” as his profile name. You wondered whether it was his real account or a poser one. But then you remembered his closest colleagues calling him that.

You snorted as you checked out his profile. He didn’t have a bio but had a couple of photos uploaded. And oh wow, is that a shirtless mirror photo?

You rarely worked closely with your boss but goddamn, sometimes you wished you did because he was a hot piece of ass.

“Should I swipe right...” you mumbled to yourself.

Would it be unprofessional to do so? But then again, you never really interacted with him that much. Just a couple of polite nods and greetings whenever you passed by him at the office. You weren’t even directly reporting to him.

That being said, you were quite sure that he wouldn’t swipe right on you given that you’re his employee. Of course he wouldn’t want to be the unprofessional one so being tipsy and all, you decided to take one for the team.

“Tss, what the hell.” You huffed out and swiped right.

Not even a second later, the “It’s a match!” message popped up on the screen almost immediately. You choked on your wine and dropped your phone, eyes wide and heart racing because you just matched with your fucking boss.

“Shit!” You hissed, diving onto the floor the pick your phone up.

If the message popped out as soon as you swiped right on him, then that means...

“He swiped right on me first, what the fuck!”

Monday came quickly and you’ve never been this restless before. You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that you matched with your boss on Tinder. Neither of you messaged the other over the weekend but now that you were headed to work, you honestly didn’t know what to expect.

You debated whether to call in sick or maybe, pretend that you died? Pack your bags and perhaps fly to a different country and start anew? You were overacting but matching with your boss on a dating app known for hook-ups should be a valid reason to justify your thoughts.

Maybe James didn’t recognize you that’s why he swiped right. That was possible since you and him didn’t really work together. It’d be better if he swiped right by accident, his phone probably slipped from his hands. He probably doesn’t even know he matched with you, yeah, you decided to settle on that conclusion.

Taking a deep breath in, you fixed your hair before stepping out of your car. Mondays were meant for meetings so he probably wouldn’t be around the office anyway. You rushed over to the elevator and let out a sigh of relief when you didn’t have to share it with anyone.

That was until someone managed to slip a foot in between the doors, catching up to you before the elevators slammed shut.

“Oh.”

Well, well, well if it isn’t James “Bucky” Barnes. Out of all the people you had to share an elevator with, it just had to be him! And judging by how his eyes widened at the sight of you, the Tinder incident wasn’t simply an accident.

“Good morning.” He greeted, clearing his throat as he stood beside you.

James’ scent wafted in the air as soon as the doors slid close and he smelled divine. He smelled like a man, a man man and it almost made your eyes roll. You greeted him back with a soft voice, fighting so hard not to look at him because as always, he looked pretty damn good.

He was restless beside you, adjusting his suit and then his tie. You could see him through your peripheral vision, he kept on fixing his hair as well. Did he get a haircut? It was shorter than before, not that you were paying way too much attention to him.

Meanwhile, you too were fidgeting with your shoulder bag, picking at the leather and praying for this torture to be over before you could even lose control and slam your lips against his.

“How was your weekend?” James asked, glancing at you.

This was probably the longest conversation you had with your boss. You weren’t even sure which was more awkward, striking a conversation after the match or simply remaining quiet for the entire ride up.

“Um, it was good. Yours?” You asked, stammering a little as you stole a quick glance at him.

James nodded, “Good too. Interesting actually.”

Fuck! He knows, he so knows about the match.

You would have preferred complete silence over the elevator music echoing in the air while the both of you were obviously feeling the tension. Was the elevator really this slow?! And when did it get this hot?!

You started fanning yourself when you started to sweat from the awkwardness of it all. Bucky too could obviously feel it, the tension and the elephant in the room waiting to be acknowledged. He loosened his tie all of a sudden, popping the top buttons of his dress shirt which quickly reminded you of the shirtless pic in his profile.

You could feel the heat creep up to your neck and ears. With how bright the lights were in the elevator, it’d be easy for James to notice how red you turned.

“Kinda hot today, don’t you think?” He asked.

You let out a mirthless chuckle, “Yeah, really hot. I think the maintenance should have the air conditioning unit checked.” You breathed out, clearing your throat again as you wiped the sweat forming on your forehead.

For a couple of seconds there was nothing but the collective sounds of you and your boss clearing your throats. The tension was so thick you can literally touch it if you tried. You wanted to address the unspoken issue but how the hell were you going to do that? Jump on his bones? It would seem like a good idea to do so except that he was your boss and that would result to you losing your job.

You wanted to ask James though, whether he was aware that you were his employee when he swiped right. Actually, you just wanted to bring up the topic just to get it over with. Acknowledge the match and then pretend it didn’t happen to save you both from the embarrassment. Yeah, you could do that.

Unable to hold back anymore, you broke the silence to ask James a question.

“Did you swipe right on accident?”

“So are you down to fuck?”

You and James asked at the same time, his straightforward question making you weak in the knees because what the hell...

James bit his lip, shaking his head in response. “I didn’t.”

“Oh.” You blinked, unable to stop yourself from staring at James’ mouth when he ran his tongue over his lower lip before taking it in between his teeth as he looked you over with glazed eyes.

Damn that tongue, though. And damn those blue eyes too.

“Are you...?” He repeated again, reminding you of his question.

Your boss, whom you rarely interacted with in the office, just asked you whether you were down to fuck. Truthfully, you were only on Tinder because of boredom and it wasn’t your goal to actually hook-up with someone. But now that your hot boss swiped right on you and seemed to be really interested in you...

“I...uhh...” you stammered, not really knowing how to tell him that yes, you would very much like to be fucked by him.

The elevator dinged, interrupting the tension between you and James. The doors slid open and James quickly straightened up before walking ahead.

But not without turning around to look at you expectantly, waiting for a response.

Due to the pressure and the elevator doors beginning to close, you blurted out the first thing that you could muster.

“Yes, sir!”

You blushed at your response but it seemed to have stirred something in James because his eyes darkened as he smirked at you.

“Good. Then I’ll see you in my office in fifteen.”

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @i’m-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @tcc-gizmachine @prettyintopeerpressure @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada @lizette50 @thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2 @unmagically @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp @lyoongx @just-deka @nobody-will @jaziona92 @elisebuitron @dpaccione @suvikamahes98blr @buckybarneshairpullingkink @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes @iloveangstposts @weenersoldierr @asemistablehundredyearoldman @reidbuck @lizzarooni @girlfriday007 @5-seconds-of-mendes @whoth3hellisbucky @bonkywobble

#bbbwrites #oneshots: bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #sebastian stan

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bloodfromthethorn · 3 years ago

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Broken Trust

Even now, hours later, he couldn’t shake the memory of Jack’s shoulder driving into his sternum, a too-tight grip on his bicep forcing him sideways as the man he trusted more than anyone else in the world physically moved through him rather than listen to what he had to say.

Tag to 2x02. Mac didn't walk away from his encounter with Jack as unscathed as he might wish to appear.

Also on AO3

Mac knew he was being stupid.

Yes, Jack threatening him with violence was no small matter and he was certainly justified in his surprise and betrayal, but he knew that he shouldn’t read any further into it. Jack had just been worried about Riley and hadn’t been thinking straight and in all likelihood, that was absolutely all it was. There was no deeper meaning, no hidden message. He shouldn’t be dwelling on it. He definitely shouldn’t be sitting on his deck at 3:30 in the morning contemplating all the times Jack had promised to have his back, to keep him safe, only to immediately turn on him when Mac put himself between his Overwatch and someone Jack cared about more.

It wasn’t like he didn’t get it: Jack had technically known Riley for far longer than he’d known Mac and he’d cared for her when she’d been a child – of course he was going to feel paternal. Mac had never been under any illusion that the relationship he had with Jack would outweigh that and he wouldn’t want it to, but he’d kind of thought that he still at least ranked somewhere near the top. Was that being presumptuous? A few days ago he wouldn’t have doubted it for a second, but now he couldn’t help but think maybe he’d been projecting his own feelings onto Jack and the reality of the situation was actually nothing like he’d thought it was.

But, then again, that was just a little overly dramatic, no? Jack had proven willing to go to the mat for Mac time and again, and this was the first time since their ill-fated meeting that the man had ever seemed willing to come to blows with him. They’d rib and tease each other, but he could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times there’d been true animosity between them. Mac’s quiet crisis of faith was surely nothing more than an overactive imagination and a history of being second choice to the people he loved.

And even if he wasn’t imagining anything, Jack had apologised for all of it – or at least he’d tried to. In the end, despite having waited to hear it, Mac had found that he just couldn’t stomach the thought of listening to Jack try to justify himself, to directly tell him that his loyalty to the woman who was basically his daughter was more important to him than his loyalty to Mac. Instead he’d shut down the apology before it could reach the light of day, brushing off Jack’s concern with a shrug and an easy smile. Better to let everyone think that it really was no big deal and was easily put behind them, no matter how far that might be from the truth. If Jack had had any notion of how badly Mac had been flying to pieces inside his own head, he hadn’t shown it.

So far as Mac could tell, everyone had mutually agreed that the whole thing had been a bizarre incident of heightened emotions with no deeper meaning and they could all quite happily sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened. If only things were so simple for him.

It shouldn’t matter, he knew that. Jack had been going out of his mind with worry and Mac knew better than anyone how much he could overreact if someone he cared about was in trouble but at the same time… He’d put Mac in trouble. Mac wasn't in any doubt that if Riley hadn’t chosen that particular moment to convince Bedlam to trust her, he would be nursing a black eye – or worse – by now.

Worse still was that Bozer had also been in the unfortunate position of having to get between Jack and Riley that very same day and he’d managed to walk away entirely clean. Mac was unendingly grateful for that of course and he’d never wish any harm on his friend, but he couldn’t deny that it stung to know Jack wouldn’t raise a hand against Boze when he’d been perfectly happy to against Mac barely an hour earlier.

He ran a shaking hand through his hair for the hundredth time, huffing out a heavy breath as he battled to get his thoughts under control. This was normally what Jack was good at, helping him to get out of his own head and see the truth of things so he could work through the problem, but even if it hadn’t been the early hours, Mac wasn’t about to disturb him with this. Either he was wrong and being paranoid and there really wasn’t anything to worry about, or he was right and asking about it would mean having to hear one of his worst fears realised.

He wasn’t really up to confronting either outcome tonight.

Instead he was stuck out here, unable to sleep but too tied up in knots to try doing anything productive. The best he could manage was sitting beside the unlit firepit with a beer he hadn’t touched once. Letting himself go and getting drunk was distantly tempting, but work tomorrow was going to be tough enough as it was without throwing a hangover into the mix. Besides, if he did that, then people were going to ask questions and there really was no unembarrassing way of saying ‘I’ve been having a bit of a breakdown because a man I considered a brother nearly punched me in the face and I’m having to rethink a decade-long relationship.’

Mac’s usual approach to emotional problems had always been resorting to logic – with mixed results. It was all well and good to explain his childhood dog’s perpetual escape attempts as animal instinct rather than personal dislike, but it became a lot more complicated when he tried to pinpoint the reason a man would abandon his only son and never look back. Unfortunately, this problem looked like it was going to fall into the latter category.

The facts were thus: Jack loved Riley like a daughter; Riley had been in imminent, but not certain, danger; Mac had put himself between the two; Jack had chosen to disregard what Mac was saying in favour of physically moving him aside so he could reach Riley.

There was no logic in the world that could explain that away without demeaning Mac’s relationship with Jack in a way that was deeply hurtful.

It wasn’t a competition and even thinking of it in those terms left Mac swallowing down guilt and disgust at his own neediness. Jack cared loudly and widely; he was in possession of a heart so large, Mac was quite certain he could love a hundred people equally without breaking a sweat. It was no great stretch or challenge to accept that Jack was capable of loving both Riley and Mac, and that those two things had absolutely nothing to do with each other. There was nothing unreasonable about that.

So it wasn’t a competition, but if it had been then Mac had very definitely lost.

God, he needed to get it together. He was self-aware enough to realise that the only real path forward here was to forgive Jack the minor transgression and move on, accepting it for what it had been without trying to place any excess baggage onto it. If he really couldn’t manage that alone, Jack would no doubt be willing to offer the apology he’d tried to give earlier, should Mac reveal his concerns. Nothing anyone said or did would take back what had happened, and wishing otherwise was childish. He just needed to put it behind him.

Then again, that evidently wasn’t going to happen tonight.

He’d ended up out on the deck sometime around midnight, waiting sleeplessly in his bed until Bozer was well and truly unconscious before sneaking out, driven by a vague desire for air and a need to see the stars. He was only one for two on that – a heavy blanket of cloud had managed to erase the few bright night sparks that usually managed to make it past the light pollution – but that wasn’t such a bad score. At the very least, the still quiet made a nice contrasting balm to his inner turmoil.

The quiet didn’t last however – the hour hand on Mac’s watch had just started creeping past 4 when he heard the purr of a familiar engine pulling up outside and he breathed a long sigh. He had no idea what had drawn Jack there – he’d often joked about having a sixth sense when Mac was in trouble, but he couldn’t possibly have known about this – and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to find out. He toyed with the idea of slipping back into his bedroom before Jack had a chance to make it into the house, but he was sufficiently torn that he was still contemplating that course of action when he heard the door unlatch.

There were a few moments of quiet footsteps tracing through the house, first checking on the bedrooms and then, after presumably finding Mac’s empty, more hurried movement until the door to the deck squeaked open and Jack’s boots appeared in the corner of Mac’s vision. Exhausted and frankly too tired to even try to pretend otherwise, Mac didn’t look up.

“What are you doing here?” He asked quietly. His whole evening had felt fragile and a superstitious part of him he’d never been able to ditch warned that it was in danger of shattering if he didn’t speak softly.

“Couldn’t sleep,” was the equally gentle reply. “You?”

“It’s been a long few days.” The words sounded heavy, containing too much meaning. He took an unenthusiastic swig of beer to cover it. “There’s more in the fridge if you want one,” he added, shaking the bottle a little.

“Little early to start drinking, isn't it?”

“To be fair, it was late when I started.”

“…I think that might make it worse hoss.”

He snorted indelicately and took another pull. Now that he’d started drinking it, he found himself vaguely comforted by the familiar flavour. There wasn’t enough alcohol in it to do more than warm him, but the sensation wasn’t unwelcome.

Jack seemed to sigh, then his boots disappeared as he worked his way around behind Mac to sit beside him on the lip of the firepit. Now on the same level, Mac couldn’t avoid meeting his gaze. He looked as tired as Mac felt, so he said as much.

His Overwatch offered an unconvincing smile. “I’ll have you know that I look good no matter what,” he replied, but it was clear his heart wasn’t in it. “Truth be told, I feel like I’ve been kicked by a horse.”

That raised concern. “Are you getting ill? I think I’ve still got some of those antipyretics in the cupboard-”

He made a jerking motion to get to his feet, but Jack waved him back down before he could go anywhere. “Nah, it’s nothing man, don’t worry about it. It’s just like you said – been a long few days. Think I’m still working through it all.”

Mac felt his heart sink in his chest. Of all the conversations he didn’t want to have right that second. “I know how much you didn’t want Riley out there. I can’t imagine how stressful this has all been,” he said, aiming for compassionate and just barely hitting the mark. “I’m just glad it’s over.”

Jack, weirdly, looked sheepish. “You and me both kid, but that’s not exactly what I meant.”

There was a pause as Mac processed that and came up empty. “Oh?”

Despite the fact that whatever was going on in Jack’s head had been fierce enough to drive him all the way to Mac’s house in the middle of the night, he suddenly looked tremendously uncertain. One hand snaked up to rub at the back of his neck, dragging his head down so that he didn’t have to maintain eye contact. Mac half expected him to start shifting in his seat.

“Jack? What’s going on?”

He sighed gustily, apparently rooting around for his courage, and met Mac’s gaze again. “Look, I know you brushed it off before and I appreciate your understanding and all that but-” He hesitated ever so briefly, then the rest came pouring out of him like he couldn’t stop it. “Man, I was way out of line yesterday. Like so far past the line I couldn’t even see it any more. Yeah I was stressed about Riley and I ain’t ever going to be sorry for looking out for her, but that doesn’t change the fact that for a split second I was willing to go through you to do it. There’s nothing that could ever make that right and I need you to know how fucking sorry I am.”

He broke his gaze away again, bringing up his other hand to bury his face in his palms in pained desperation. Mac blinked at him in surprise, utterly stunned.

“And it’s stupid anyway because I know how much you care about Riley and me, and I know that you were trying to stop me to protect us both – I should have just seen-” He bit himself off, grumbled, pressed on more calmly: “I was so focused on my own inability to see what Riley could do that I lost sight of her, the mission, and you. It’s my job to keep you safe – that’s my only job – and I was so far out of my own head that I put you in danger because of my own stupidity. There is nothing about that that’s okay and even if you don’t need me to say it, I had to tell you that I’m sorry. I’m not expecting forgiveness because shit, I really messed it up this time, but for whatever it’s worth, I swear I’ll never do that again.”

Mac forced himself to swallow, desperately willing his exhausted brain to kick itself into gear and process everything Jack had just dumped on him. When he’d considered asking for an apology after all, this hadn’t been quite what he had in mind. In response to it, all he could manage was a sort of stunned silence.

Jack rubbed at his face one last time, then pulled himself upright again and forcefully met Mac’s eyes. He looked as though he was bracing for a hit, but he didn’t flinch. Mac, for his part, had absolutely no idea what he was possibly supposed to say.

A part of him desperately wanted to grasp the lifeline he was being offered, accept the explanation as the reassurance it was evidently meant to be, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. After a lifetime of those he cared about proving that Mac was a very easy person to leave, some self-preservation instinct was finally picking up its head and warning him not to trust so blindly. A few days ago he had been utterly certain that Jack would never willingly hurt him – now, he knew what it was to hear his Overwatch’s voice dip low and threatening, warning him that if he didn’t step aside, he was going to get hurt. He knew what it was to go cold at the humiliation he’d felt when faced with a thoroughly dismissive, ‘Boy, get out of my face.’ He knew what it was to have Jack look at him and see nothing but an obstacle in his way.

Hours too late and in the worst possible moment, Mac suddenly realised that the anger he’d been quietly cultivating wasn’t really anger at all.

As he always seemingly managed to do, Jack chose that same moment to pick up on the fact that something had gone wrong with his partner, because his earnestness immediately dropped away behind guilty concern. He hesitated for several heartbeats, absorbing whatever was going on in Mac’s expression, then tilted his head consideringly. “When you stopped me apologising earlier,” he said very slowly, “You didn’t mean it when you said it was fine, did you?”

Mac forced himself to shrug, trying to shake looseness into limbs that had frozen in place. “Like I said, Riley’s lucky to have you. You were just watching out for her.”

“Yeah, and throwing you under the bus in the process. God, I almost- I could have hurt you Mac.”

Now was probably a very bad time to reveal that he had hurt him. At least the bruises were in places easy to hide.

“You didn’t,” he lied instead, running his eyes over the skyline rather than let Jack see the mistruth in them. “I appreciate the apology, I really do, but I understand. Riley’s family, Jack, of course you’re going to do everything you can to defend her.”

Jack let out a humourless snort. “You say that like you’re not every bit as much my family as she is.”

There was a sudden, telling silence. Jack blinked. Mac’s gaze stayed fixed on the horizon.

“You- You do know that… right?” Jack said haltingly, his voice so quiet as to be almost unheard even in the silence. When there was no immediate response, it turned more forceful. “Mac, tell me you know that.”

He swallowed hard. In the face of such honest concern, Mac couldn’t bring himself to lie or to brush it off, but at the same time he had no idea how to explain the tangle of thorns in his head without sounding as stupid as he was afraid he was being.

“Jack,” he started carefully, weighing up the words as he went, “We’ve been partners for years now. I know how important that is and I’m grateful for it every day, but… But you knew Riley when she was just a kid.” He twitched his hands in a vague attempt at encompassing the sheer scale of their relationship. “I get that things have been kind of weird between the two of you, but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s basically your daughter. I should never have tried to get in the middle of that.”

“If you hadn’t gotten in the middle of it, I would have gotten her killed,” Jack shot back immediately. “You did everything right Mac. I’m the one who fucked up here.”

There wasn’t a lot Mac could really say to that since it was technically accurate, but he was spared the effort by Jack refusing to take the bait of his deflection.

“And besides,” he continued firmly, “That’s not even slightly the point here. You- You really don’t think that I see you as family?”

Goddamn it he sounded hurt and that was so not what Mac had been going for. He sucked in a breath and cursed himself when it shook. “That’s not- That wasn’t what I was trying to say,” he managed lamely, wanting to reassure but deeply unwilling to make any presumptions. That was precisely what had gotten him into this mess.

Jack’s eyes were dark and sad and knowing. Mac could scarcely stand to look at them. “Maybe not, but it’s what you’re thinking, right? You’ve got it in your head that everything that happened was because Riley’s more important to me than you?”

Hearing the words said aloud in such a level, careful tone sent a rush of blazing shame right through him. It sounded so pathetic when put so simply. This time the anger that burned hot on its heels was genuine, though aimed more at himself than anyone else. He shook his head sharply as though to rid himself of the feeling but he still couldn’t quite meet Jack’s eyes when he said, “No. I know it doesn’t work like that. I’m not some kid in need of coddling Jack. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“You’re tired because you’re sitting on your deck at four in the morning instead of sleeping, and I’ve known you long enough to know that happens when you can’t get something out of your head. So, if I’m wrong, what is it? Because it has been a shitty few days but somehow I get the feeling this isn’t about a missing EMP or you having to figure us a way out of a crashing plane with no chutes.” His expression was complicated; some combination of worried and open, like he was pleading with Mac to just speak with him. “C’mon Mac. Talk to me. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Mac shook his head slowly, too many thoughts crowding in at once to make sense of anything. “Jack-”

“Don’t tell me it’s nothing. Mac-” Jack bit off whatever he was about to say in frustration, shaking himself. “God I really fucked up. Should’ve known you’d come to the worst possible conclusion. Never did know your own worth.” He ran a tired hand over his face, then drew himself upright and faced Mac head on, a rare seriousness shining in his eyes. “Okay, this is something I clearly should be saying more often since you still don’t seem to believe it but, you’re my brother Mac. You’re every bit as much my family as Ri is and I know that I made you doubt that, but it never for one second stopped being true. You hear me? I’m so sorry for what I did outside that warehouse – you didn’t deserve it one bit and I should never have done it. But it didn’t mean what you’re thinking it did.”

“I’m not thinking anything Jack,” he said quietly, even while his brain raced away from him. He wanted so, so badly to believe what he was hearing and Jack had sworn long ago to always be honest with him. To Mac’s knowledge he’d never once broken that promise…

But it was also exactly what Mac wanted to hear. Of course he was going to be inclined to believe it.

“That’s never once been true and you know it,” Jack shot back, not losing an ounce of his seriousness.

Mac didn’t rise to the implied joke. A sudden swell of frustration at Jack’s presumption climbed his throat and he was scoffing before he could help himself. “Tell me then,” he said sharply. “What exactly is it I’m thinking?”

Jack flinched lightly at the acid in his tone, but he held Mac’s gaze steadily like he was prepared to take any blow he threw his way. “I’ve never tried to pretend I can follow everything that goes through your head hoss. I don’t have near the IQ for that. But I think even you’d agree that I’ve gotten pretty good at following you.”

Mac’s face tried to twitch into a scowl but he forced it down with a will of iron.

His partner continued without interruption. “Now maybe I’m overstepping here, but I’m gonna bet that right now you’re feeling angry and hurt because you trusted me and I let you down. I let you down real bad.” There, he did hesitate very slightly, before deciding to voice what they both already knew. “I know I’m not the first person to do that, not by a long shot. You’ve had to deal with all kinds of shit you never deserved, but betrayal isn’t something anyone gets used to.”

Burgeoning anger aside, that felt like a step too far. Mac shook his head sharply. “You didn’t betray anyone-”

“Yes, I did,” he cut in firmly. “I betrayed your trust. I promised to protect you, but I got so caught up in my own bullshit hang-ups that I broke that promise. You’ve got every reason to be pissed as all hell about that Mac, don’t let anyone tell you you don’t.”

“You were just trying to help Riley,” Mac said again, sounding weak to his own ears. Everything Jack was saying was everything he’d thought he’d needed to hear, but now that it was all laid out so plainly before him, the only sensation he could summon was bittersweet resignation. Jack wasn’t wrong - he felt betrayed.

“Yeah, maybe. That’s not an excuse.”

There was a long, still pause. “No,” he finally admitted quietly. “It isn’t.”

The corners of Jack’s eyes were damp when he nodded, accepting and agreeing with that in equal measure. He looked crushed. “And you deserve every apology I can give you for that. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if you wanted to take a swing at me.”

Mac shot him a dark look, irritated by the joke, but he found only seriousness in Jack’s face; he’d meant it. “I’m not going to hit you,” he said, offended at the implication.

“I know you won’t,” Jack soothed carefully. “I’m just trying to say - very badly - that I do know how badly I’ve fucked this up. I broke a promise to you that I swore my life on and you know I don’t take that sort of thing lightly. I can’t ever explain how sorry I am for it, but I can spend every moment you let me trying to make up for it.”

They let that sit between them for a long few minutes. Mac felt torn; even with the anger and hurt and fucking devastation rocking around in his chest he could admit that Jack was saying everything right. The real question then was whether or not Mac could trust it when Jack had already blindsided him once.

His Overwatch’s smile was bleak and pained. “I can see that brain of yours whirring away,” he said at length. “Trying to work out if I’m telling the truth, huh?”

As he said it, his façade crumbled ever so slightly and for just a moment, he looked deeply, unbearably sad. Like he knew he’d earned every inch of that mistrust and was regretting it with every fibre of his being. In all their time together, Mac had seen Jack wear that expression exactly once: a thousand years ago in an Italian hospital room as he told a barely conscious Mac that Nikki hadn’t made it. The context might have been different, but those eyes- their grief was the same.

That- that Mac could believe. No one who looked like Jack did in that moment could be insincere. Jack was a hell of a good liar when he needed to be – requirement of the job, really – but the raw, honest heartbreak in that expression was not something even he could fake. For the first time since Jack walked towards him with violence in his eyes, Mac found that he could trust this, if nothing else.

No matter what had happened between them, how readily Jack had been willing to throw away every promise he’d ever made to Mac, he could see the evidence of his regret right in front of him. It didn’t undo what he’d done, not by a long shot, but it was… something.

Something important.

Maybe something so important it was really the only thing that actually mattered.

There was no amount of words that could entirely mend the hurt that Jack had wrought that day, but perhaps they were enough to start the process. Jack was right here, swearing to do better, and despite a lifetime of reasons not to trust an offer like that, Mac couldn’t help but hear the ring of truth. For now, perhaps that had to be enough. Healing always came with time and with Jack willing to make amends, Mac had a feeling that they’d get there together in the end.

He sucked in a hard breath, and finally, finally forced himself to let his anger and hurt go. They would do nothing for him now.

“I believe you,” he said, and meant it. He caught Jack’s eye. “And I accept your apology. My own messed up head aside, I do know that you were only trying to protect Riley.”

“Hey now, your head’s doing just fine. I’m the one tying it up in knots, even when I should know better. You’ve been given plenty of reason to think the worst of people in your life Mac. That it’s not your first response is- well. Incredible, I guess. I don’t blame you a bit for not trusting me after… Everything.”

Mac’s eyes dropped to the floor again, feeling oddly self-conscious about how easily Jack was able to see through him. It was always easy to forget how little time they had really known each other when Jack could look at him and immediately see the heart of whatever was bothering him. Bozer might have known him for longer, but Jack had still been the one who got to see the darker sides of him born in desert heat and sandy plains. That was exactly why this whole mess had hurt as much as it had.

“I always trust you Jack,” he said honestly. “You caught me off guard, but nothing is about to change that.”

Jack blinked hard, swallowing as he processed that. “After everything that happened this week, I know that I don’t deserve that but you don’t know how good that is to hear, man.” He rubbed at his face, pulling his emotions back in line. “And just so you know, while I appreciate you accepting my apology and all, I know I’m nowhere near done earning your forgiveness. What I did was-”

His eyes suddenly turned distant, and whatever strength had bled back into his frame drained in a rush. He looked… fragile.

“Jack, you don’t need to earn anything,” Mac said, suddenly feeling vaguely guilty for taking it all so badly while at the same time desperately trying to throttle that sensation. He wanted to forgive Jack – already had, if he was honest with himself – but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been right to be upset in the first place. “I’m glad you apologised, no matter what I told you before. That’s all I needed.” He shrugged self-deprecatingly. “Well, that and for you to talk some sense into me, maybe.”

“That’s my job, remember?” Jack said with a shrug of his own. “Keeping your head on straight is half the battle.” He winced in the same instant as he said it, apparently realising the irony in him being the one to throw Mac off this time. He visibly forced himself to straighten out, trying to accept the truth of Mac’s forgiveness. “Well, lesson learned, I guess. Just wish I didn’t do it by hurting you.”

Mac snorted softly, even though his heart wasn’t really it in. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“That is one hundred percent true,” Jack agreed without hesitation, “But it doesn’t change the fact that I was a dick and you caught the worst of it. Which would be bad enough at the best of times, but in this case you were only doing what you could to protect me and Riley, which is like, I don’t know, a double dick move on my part?” He broke off momentarily with a frown as if trying to work out the maths of that specific scenario, then shook himself like a dog shaking off water. “Whatever, the point is-” A pause. “What was my point again?”

Despite himself, Mac snickered. “I think it was something along the lines of ‘I’m sorry I was an ass, I won’t do it again’. That about sum it up?”

Jack grinned in that knowing way he did when he’d succeeded in pulling Mac out of his own head without him realising. “Couldn’t have put it better myself.” He sobered, catching Mac’s gaze. “And I mean it. I’m not ever going to take a swing at you man, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you never have to feel like I might again.”

Mac’s first instinct was to brush the reassurance off once more, remind Jack that he already had his trust, but he caught himself before he could. He was determined not to punish himself for reacting badly to something he had every reason to react badly to, and besides, it seemed like Jack needed to say it just as much as Mac needed to hear it. After everything that had happened that day, it felt good to hear that promise put into words. “Thank you,” he said at length, letting truth settle into his tone.

He went to say more, but the words were lost as a jaw-cracking yawn forced its way up his throat. Jack chuckled quietly at him.

“Yeah, I feel that,” he said, dispensing with his heavy tone for something lighter, something healing. “Think it might be past time we got you to bed, man. You look knackered.”

“I am,” he admitted. There was very little point pretending otherwise; he knew what he looked like. “You’ve got to be exhausted too.”

Jack shrugged easily. “Yeah, but I’ll get out of your hair. I knew you weren’t exactly expecting visitors when I decided to turn up unannounced at four in the morning.”

“That’s literally never stopped you,” he said, rolling his eyes. Truthfully, he was glad Jack had shown up when he did - it was only thanks to it that he thought he might actually be able to get some honest to god sleep before he had to show up at work tomorrow- or, well, later today. “You’re not driving home this late. Just sleep here.”

“I didn’t exactly bring a go-bag with me.”

“Unless you’ve changed dramatically in size in the last two months, I’m pretty sure the clothes you left in my dresser are still going to fit you.”

Jack looked like he was bending, wanting to give in to the comfort readily being offered, but something dark and wary in his eyes was holding him back. That line of guilt that ran rigid along the back of his shoulders had eased slightly during the course of their conversation, but it still lingered on even now. Mac had a sneaking suspicion he wasn’t going to lose it for a long time.

“I don’t want to impose,” he said after a strained moment of silence. His gaze dropped to his lap. “I think I’ve disturbed your sleep enough tonight to last a lifetime, bud.”

“In case it wasn’t abundantly obvious, you weren’t disturbing anything.”

“Just ‘cause I wasn’t here, doesn’t mean it wasn’t my fault.”

Mac couldn’t help but roll his eyes again. “C’mon man, it’s done. We’re all good, remember? But if you keep arguing about driving home at four AM when you look like you’re going to fall asleep at the wheel, then you are going to keep me up when I would much rather be sleeping. Matty’s already going to be mad as it is; we don’t need to pile sleep deprivation on top.”

His Overwatched hissed, pulling on a peeved frown. “You’re too sneaky for your own good, you know that?”

Mac released what felt like his first genuine laugh in days and drained the rest of his beer, easing himself carefully to his feet. “Someone might have mentioned it in the past. Come on, big guy. I’m not carrying you inside if you pass out here.”

“You could just wake me up.”

“And give up the opportunity to listen to you griping about that bad back you pretend you don’t have? Ooh, that’s a tough call.”

“You’re an ass.”

Mac’s laugh chased them into the darkened house.

#macgyver #macgyver fanfiction #fanfic #my fanfic #fanfiction #angus macgyver #jack dalton #s02e02 muscle car + paperclip #muscle car + paperclip

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1p2p-heta-imagines · 4 years ago

Note

I don't if you did this before or if you're taking ask but Can I have 2p Allies that are teachers and one day 2 students that are Identical twins ask at the same time(in a slightly creepy tone),"Are you Immortal or a Country"before the 2ps can lie properly one of the twins pull out a big ass world history book,While the other twin is pointing at pictures with them on it.What are the 2p Allies going to do and if it's not too much to ask can you do this same ask but the 1p Allies or 2p Axis later

(I’ll gladly answer the other asks, feel free to just send in an ask whenever you would like me to do either and I’ll get to them when I can!)

2p America:

- Is just looking at a painting of his extremely drunk self in a revolutionary war uniform flipping off Goerge Washington behind their back and he’s just trying his best to ignore the fact that ever happened

- He’s honest, he tells them the truth but says they need to keep it quiet otherwise he’ll probably get in trouble

- Takes the book from them and most likely tries to burn it so no one else can see his stupid antics as a teenager

- Creepy twins are one of his top fears and he always knew something would be off with them, he just really feels like his fears have been justified even more so through them doing this

2p England:

- He’s never really had any photos of himself taken minus when some of the first cameras were ever made so the very few he has are quite shared around and known

- No one ever really questioned him on it before, he tries to assure them it’s just a coincidence that the look the same and immortals and countries can’t possibly exist

- Points out things that are different between them in an attempt to prove it’s not him, like how he had freckles but they most likely point out he’s probably wearing make up nowadays, he just ends up being a stuttering mess

- Eventually just says “Well, must be off now, have important classes to teach” even if it’s at the end of the day and he rushes home and hopes he didn’t seem suspicious. He definitely seemed suspicious.

2p Canada:

- He got mistaken for one of the first forms of modern cryptids since he’s extremely tall and barely ever comes out of his house in the woods and is in a cloak whenever he does and it got put in a history book due to the panic that it caused

- “Both.” No hesitation, that’s all he says before leaving the room to go do something else.

- If they ask him any other questions when they next meet, he’ll answer as bluntly and with as little hesitation as the first because he doesn’t care if people find out as long as he’s left to his own devices

- Really just wants to nap, getting recognized is something that he hates a lot even though it’s the first time it’s happened

2p France:

- They most likely found a painting of him about to get guillotined to which he mostly just shudders at the memory and says it’s just someone who looks like him from the past

- They can question him but raising 2p Canada and sometimes 2p America made him immune to the childish annoyance tactics like repeating the question over and over again they may attempt to pull

- He wouldn’t be concerned if they asked around to anyone else because he knows they would just be told that they have an overactive imagination and someone just so happened to look like him

- If they point out the scar on his neck, he tells them he was once threatened for his money and the attacker got vicious

2p China:

- He’s absolutely everywhere. If someone were to look in most old Chinese photos and even some movies and they’d find him somewhere in it

- “Yep, that right there is me. I’m an almost 4000-year-old personified country that decided to pose in pictures every now and again because why not? The highlight of my LONG long long long long life was being an actor in various movies”

- He knows that no one is going to take them seriously if they decide to tell anyone about it so he’ll be so honest that it sounds like he’s being sarcastic but he isn’t

- He’ll go tell people with them if they threaten to “spill his secret” or however they may phrase is, he does not care in the slightest

2p Russia:

- He’s written quite a few books under a penname with himself as the photo so people knew him but never really connected it with him

- He’ll deny anything that they ask him until they begin to question the books in which he can get kind of defensive and also quite passionate about his working because their meanings are very important to him

- Slips up and says he did write the books in which he akwardly tries to say it was a slip of the tongue and he really regrets saying what he said as soon as he realized this was him admitting it

- Tries to make a deal with them both so they won’t tell anyone, he is willing to do anything to keep it a secret because he knows the amount of trouble he could get in for having people know

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sign-from-god-complex · 6 years ago

Text

Spooked

@partialentirety I can’t believe you made me write this (I’m kidding, but you suggested someone write the Logan Crofter’s thing and I thought about it and just couldn’t help myself). So this is loosely based on this post!

Summary: It's well established that Logan would do almost anything for a jar of Crofter's and Virgil and Roman are not above using that to their advantage.

Pairing: Platonic LAMP, with a focus on (platonic) analogical

Warnings: Food mention? Other than that really nothing!

Tag list: @mutechild @super-magical-wizard

AO3 Link

It had started off subtle. At least, Logan thought it had.

To begin with, it was more of a pavlovian response than anything. First with Patton asking for his assistance with dinner and subsequently making pancakes with Crofter's for breakfast the next morning; next with Roman wanting help with organising his writing and providing Logan with Crofter's on toast afterwards; then Virgil getting him to keep Roman distracted for an hour in return for a Crofter’s and Nutella sandwich, etc. etc.

Logan sort of just... came to expect a Crofter's-type reward for helping out his roommates. And he received one, without fail, every single time.

Most commonly it was toast or sandwiches, sometimes even biscuits, but on rare occasions, Logan would be provided with Patton’s Crofter's cookies—delicious homemade shortbread with Crofter's baked into the middle. And on even rarer occasions Logan would be rewarded with a whole jar. An entire jar of Crofter's jelly for him to do whatever he pleased with (though really, both he and his roommates knew exactly what he was going to do with it—consume the entire jar the second he returned to his room).

And, okay, sure, maybe the lure of that delicious fruit spread had enticed him into doing a few things he may not have done otherwise—take care of Virgil’s pet spider for a week while he was away, agree to read Patton a bedtime story and clean Roman’s entire room, to name a few—but he had it under control! He knew what was happening and it was all under control.

So how, exactly, he'd managed to get to this point, he wasn't entirely sure.

11:37 p.m.

"I'm sorry, what are we doing?"

The living room was covered in empty cardboard boxes, wires and... Logan supposed “equipment” would be the correct term, but he used that word loosely. Virgil was currently preoccupied with laying some cables across the living room rug but at Logan’s question he glanced over and rolled his eyes.

"The apartment is haunted, genius, I told you. Me and Princey here are setting up a trap and you—" he pointed a finger at Logan—"are going to be the bait."

Logan blinked.

"The apartment is not haunted, Virgil."

"Oh yeah?” Virgil sat up, giving him a mostly harmless glare. “Then how do you explain that time when we woke up to find every cabinet in the kitchen open? Huh? And what about the time every single pair of our shoes were thrown out the window overnight?" He adjusted a wire beside him, muttering, “Thank god we only live on the second floor.”

"You know I hate to agree with our resident storm cloud, but he is right,” Roman said, pushing himself up from where he was fiddling with a grey box on the ground, “Weird things keep happening in this apartment and we’re going to find out why.”

Logan sighed. This clearly wasn’t a fight he was going to win today.

“Okay, alright. Regardless of whether or not the apartment is haunted—which, by the way, it isn’t—what makes you think I’m going to agree to be the bait?”

Virgil and Roman exchanged a look which Logan was sure did not spell out good things for him.

The two of them were notorious for mischief, actually. There had been an ongoing pranks war for months during their first year of living together before they’d eventually called a truce, and even now April Fools Day was a day to be feared.

Virgil, of course, had a running list of things it was not okay to mess with during a prank—including obvious things like physical harm and anyone’s mental wellbeing, and not so obvious things like the sugar content of meals or the destruction of any books.c

Logan had managed to avoid being involved in any of Virgil and Roman’s hairbrained schemes thus far mostly by claiming complete disinterest, but he had a feeling he wasn’t going to be able to get away with that this time.

He watched as Roman reached into his bag and drew out a single jar of jelly. Crofter’s. Logan’s Berry.

Goddammit! He had classes in the morning! He could not afford to be playing ghost hunters with his stupid roommates well into the night; he needed optimal sleep and rest.

“No. No! You cannot keep doing this! This is not going to work every ti-” Logan was waving his hands in front of his body in a negating gesture but stopped cold when Roman made direct eye contact, reached into his bag, and drew out another jar of Crofter’s.

Shit.

Logan shut his eyes with a resigned sigh. “Give me the fucking jars.”

There was a cheer from the other two as Roman handed the jelly over—complete with a spoon—and Logan dropped into the armchair, clutching the obtained Crofter’s closely to his chest.

12:05 a.m.

Just as Logan was finishing off his first jar of Crofter’s, Virgil announced that they were “all set up”. He took a seat on the couch next to Roman, pulling his knees up to his chest.

Across the living room rug, Logan could see about 15 different wires in all different colours, set up in a grid pattern. Logan assumed there was some sort of method to the colours, as it certainly wasn’t arranged for aesthetic purposes—plainly put, it looked awful.

“Right.” Logan frowned at the floor. “And what is this, exactly?”

Virgil grinned, balancing on the balls of his feet on the couch cushions and really, couldn’t anyone in this house ever sit like a normal human being?

“It’s an electromagnetic grid,” he explained, “Don’t worry, it’s totally harmless to us, but to ghosts… and, uh, rats, it’s kinda like a super uncomfortable jail.”

Logan inhaled. “I see.”

He didn’t know where Virgil got the information he was standing so firmly behind, and quite honestly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. It was probably best he was left in the dark on this one.

“Okay, Lo,” Virgil instructed, “What we need you to do is, when you see the ghost try and lure it over here so that it’s floating above the grid, and then, when it’s in position, press the big red button on the box by your feet and we should have it trapped. You got that?”

Honestly, he looked entirely too proud of himself for a plan that could have just as easily been concocted by a four-year-old with an overactive imagination (so, Roman), but he kept that to himself. After all, the whole situation was ridiculous so the complexity of the plan wasn’t really something he was all that worried about.

“Okay,” Logan responded, with what he thought was a healthy amount of scepticism, “and what exactly do you plan on doing with this “ghost” once it’s captured?”

Roman gave him a look like he was being an idiot, which Logan thought was ironic given the circumstances. “Why, we ask them to politely leave, of course!”

Right, of course.

“Anyway,” Virgil continued, voice a little sharper, “While you play bait out here, me and Ro will be hiding so the ghost doesn’t see us and get spooked. You ready to go?”

Logan sighed. “As I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

“Great,” Virgil replied and with a grin, dashed to hide in the entrance to the kitchen.

1:22 a.m.

Logan felt as if he’d been waiting in the dark for days now at this point, though likely it had only been an hour or so. As was to be expected, no one had heard a single strange noise or seen a single strange thing in the time they’d been sitting there and Logan truly wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

He had counted and mentally catalogued every item in this room twice already and he was strongly regretting not fetching a book before they’d begun, even if all he would’ve had to read by was the light produced by the box at his feet and Roman’s flashlight resting on the windowsill behind him. His patience was seriously beginning to wear thin.

“And when, exactly, is this so-called-ghost supposed to show up?” Logan whispered in the general direction of the doorway where Virgil was “hiding”. He’d tried speaking a regular volume earlier this evening and, to the backdrop of Roman and Virgil’s insistent shushing, Logan had decided it was best to play along.

There was a slight shuffling noise from the kitchen before Virgil spoke up. “I dunno, it probably should have been here by now, right?”

There was a note of hesitancy in his voice that Logan felt was entirely justified and, in fact, probably should have appeared sooner.

You would think that Virgil would be more nervous about this whole “ghost catching” situation considering his almost crippling anxiety disorder. From many a late night conversation, Logan was aware ghosts were a thing that Virgil was interested in, however, he’d always thought it was more in the abstract—enjoying creepy places and being curious about historically significant “hauntings”—not quite so concrete as believing their actual, real-life apartment was haunted.

It seemed as if his excitement was trumping any fear and Logan was not entirely sure that that was a good thing.

“Well, maybe it doesn’t want to show up, what with specs over here searching the room like he’s looking for his lost contact lens!” Roman hissed from his spot behind the couch—and really, if their problem truly were a ghost, Logan is sure Roman’s hiding spot would not protect him from being seen—“Pretend to be asleep or something!”

Logan sighed, moving around in the chair until his head was settled against the armrest and closing his eyes. “That shouldn’t be hard, considering that is what I should be doing right now.”

And with that, the room fell back into silence, and despite Logan’s best (well, maybe second-best) attempts, he found himself drifting off to sleep.

3:13 a.m.

“Guys. Guys, wake up. I heard something.”

Logan felt a voice pulling him out of sleep and into consciousness. The surface beneath him was moderately uncomfortable—it certainly wasn’t his bed, it seemed more like a chair. In fact, when he opened his eyes he could vaguely make out the shapes of the living room furniture.

Logan blinked a few times. Why was he in the living room? And if this was the living room, then what was that all over the flo-

Oh. Right. This.

“What was that, Virgil?” Logan mumbled, stretching out in the armchair and wiping the sleep out of his eyes.

Virgil's voice was a little harsher this time, slightly more panicked yet still quiet. “I said, I heard something.”

Logan sighed. “Are you sure it isn’t simply a cat on the roof? Possibly the w-”

His rationalising was cut off by the sound of a step creaking.

Oh.

Okay, well, there was no reason to jump to conclusions. Logan was sure it was just the apartment settling, old buildings did that sometimes.

“You heard that too, right?” Virgil sounded panicked and Logan raced to assuage his fears.

“Yes, Virgil,” he whispered, “but I’m sure it’s noth-”

Another creak on the stairs. Closer this time.

Logan took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. What could he possibly have to be worried about? Ghosts weren’t real. He was simply indulging Virgil and Roman (the latter of which, actually, Logan was sure was still asleep) with their nonsensical ghost theory and nothing more.

It was only a moment before the stairs creaked again, closer than before, and Logan distantly realised he had curled up tightly in the chair—his legs pulled in tight to his body and arms wrapped around them. He forced himself to relax. There was nothing to worry about. There was absolutely nothing to worry about.

With a final creak, a figure appeared in the doorway to the living room.

And as that figure stepped out of the doorway and into the light of the flashlight, all the tension Logan held left him in one big exhale.

“Patton?” Virgil said, clearly giving up on the idea of being quiet, and this time it was Logan’s turn to shush him.

“Virgil, he is clearly sleepwalking,” Logan whispered, “Please refrain from startling him; he would likely be very disoriented were he to wake up here.”

Logan watched him curiously, all his previous apprehension far gone. Patton was making his way around the couch, mumbling to himself words that Logan couldn’t quite hear. Once he reached the windows, Patton grabbed the ends of both of the curtains and began tying them together.

Logan could make out, “Gotta make sure you don’ fly away,” in amongst all the gibberish and he chuckled softly to himself. It seems they’d found the culprit after all.

Logan raised an eyebrow at Virgil, who’d stepped out of his hiding place to sulk in the doorway instead. “Would you still like me to “trap” him?”

“Oh, shut up,” Virgil scowled, “I can’t believe I bought all this stupid equipment for nothing.”

He moved over to the middle of the room and began to pack up all the junk laying there, evidently deciding that it wasn’t worth it to wake up Roman.

“Yes, it would appear that is the case, wouldn’t it?” Logan said smugly, acting as if he’d never been worried even in the slightest. He wasn’t sure Virgil bought it. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to put Patton back to bed and maybe finally get some proper sleep myself.”

He placed a hand on Patton’s back and led him gently towards the stairs. Before they actually began to ascend the steps, however, Logan spun around to glare at Virgil.

“Oh, and the next time you two want a guinea pig for your ridiculous antics, call someone else.”

So, of course, two weeks later Roman and Virgil were back, waving two individual jars of Crofter’s in front of Logan to entice him into something ludicrous and time wasting. Logan agreed. After all, they were nothing if not predictable.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #platonic lamp #platonic analogical #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #lo can write #I grew up on scooby doo and I just had to do this #hopefully it's at least a little bit amusing hahah

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partyinthemysterymachine · 5 years ago

Text

Don’t Ask That

Ch. 6/?

The room smelled like dust and decades of abandonment. Harry had smelled the same unmistakable scent in laundromats, government offices, the notary, the living room before they’d moved. Somehow it stuck to spaces that were not in fact forgotten by its last tenants. It was just an odor that was created by the materials that sat for too long in too hot days and stained the entire room. It was old. Hot wood walls and hot musky carpets, even if there were none.

Mixed in with the soggy mold that clung to seemingly every wall in Silent Hill, and Harry had a cocktail that he hated to find vaguely comforting.

His eyes stung. He was so tired that his eyes were begging him to stop the strike against sleep. He couldn’t sleep. Oh, how he wanted to though: the chair was comfortable and cradled his body like it had been crafted for him, stuffed at just the perfect consistency, and it was so much like the chair at home.

God. Heather. Ohh, Heather, his thoughts groaned as he rubbed his eyes. Every time he thought he’d come to terms with being back in Silent Hill, he went right back to square one: he could not fucking believe he was back in Silent Hill. Their life was fine. Heather was graduating high school soon. She was considering college. There was a boy she liked. She was trying to figure out her place in the world. She had been acting a little strange lately; she was being more secretive about her computer, more protective about her closet, giving him that strained, odd look that teenagers gave when they wanted to talk about something and were too scared to know how to approach it.

His poor daughter. He loved her so much. Harry adored being a father - being her father. He was going to find her and bring her home and he felt so guilty about how flat he felt about everything so far. It was like a switch flipped. It was like Harry was doing a duty, and he hated how cold and removed that was. He didn’t mean to feel like that. He knew it. Maybe it was also survival instinct kicking in to prevent him from making too many mistakes.

It was just this town. It was aggressively fucking with him and mocking him with that last little act. He couldn’t do anything. It was a horrible thing for his body and brain to shut right off. But it was that survival instinct, yet again, protecting his sanity for as long as possible.

He had to stop thinking about this. It was draining him faster than it took just being around James. Oh, shit! James!

Getting up, Harry winced as he stretched, and swiveled to look around for the first time. This was a pretty small apartment. One or two people probably lived here; it wasn’t big enough for anyone else. He sighed and put his hands in his pockets, making his short journey to the bedroom.

At the doorway, he leaned his shoulder into the frame and looked down at his unfortunate companion. James was, once again, lost in his own little world. Harry wondered how often James just mentally departed from reality. Sitting there he looked like a man who moonlighted as a professional statue. He was so patient. It was eerie.

Harry cleared his throat. James took his eyes away from the floor and up to him. Harry tried a smile.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” No smile.

No big shock. James apparently wasn’t ready to give back too many of those. “Listen, uh.. I want to apologize for.. everything back there,” Harry offered clumsily. “I just.. it was a lot.”

“It’s fine,” James said. “I’m not upset. That was pretty hectic.”

“Yeah,” Harry sighed. “That really caught me off guard. I didn’t expect the monsters to be like—”

“I, uh— sorry for interrupting, I just want to say that I’m sorry, too.” James’s hands shrugged between his knees. “For losing my temper.”

Harry chuckled softly. “Eeehh, it’s alright. I think you were justified there.”

Harry thought that James had a hint of a smile for him then, but he was willing to pick up the slack. He felt a little better anyway when he smiled at James, that poor soul. “You doing okay?”

James looked at him. No one had asked him that in a very, very long time. Amazingly, it lifted a little off his loneliness. “Yeah. I’m alright. Just tired.”

“God, me too,” Harry grunted. “I feel like I could sleep for two days.”

James gestured behind him at the bed. “You can lie down for a while, if you want.”

Harry shook his head as he pushed off the door frame. He pulled his hands from his pockets as he took a seat beside James, his weight sinking into the springs. “Nah. I shouldn’t. Maybe later.”

He smiled again at the man who was too sad to return it. James clasped his hands uncomfortably and looked down. Interesting, Harry thought, that he had been so aggressive only a short time ago, and now he read as chronically submissive. He was enigmatic.

That didn’t mean it was positive in any way. Harry eyeballed him. “You look so pensive. What’re you thinking about?”

James sniffed and began to absently worry his hands. He must’ve been nervous, Harry noted, since they were covered in a thin sheen that was wiped and renewed when the palm passed over the hand. “How unfair it is for you to be here.” James frowned lightly. “You shouldn’t be back in Silent Hill.”

“I completely agree with that,” Harry nodded. “It wasn’t exactly on my bucket list to return.”

James’s mouth opened and snapped shut. Whatever he was going to say was very quickly filtered. Then he said, “You were lucky to have left in the first place.”

“Yeah. I am.” Harry felt awkward then. James probably meant that as one of his skewed ideas of comfort, but it came across very passive aggressively. He decided to dismiss it. He was prepared to give James the benefit of the doubt for as long as he could, for both their sakes.

“So.. I think we got interrupted last time we were talking,” Harry started with a sprinkle of humor. “What brought you to Silent Hill, anyway?”

James’s hands worked at each other like a squirming knot. Harry felt a chill breeze by his neck and he shot a look over his shoulder, quickly rubbing at the spot. He exhaled dramatically and leaned back to align his jacket zipper. James looked at him in muted curiosity.

“Whew. Got cold all of a sudden,” he explained, overacting his shiver the way that dads often do. “Must be a draft in here.” When James had nothing to contribute, Harry redirected them back to the question. “Sorry. Anyway. What brings you here, James?”

James’s bleak eyes bore into Harry’s. They seemed dark, now; foreboding; a cautious and firm barrier between him and Silent Hill’s unwanted returning tourist. Harry had seen that look before. It was the same thousand-yard stare that the mirror had reflected back at him for years. It was haunted, hunted, and deeply, irreparably hurt.

The answer to his question didn’t come as a surprise.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Harry lowered his gaze to the floor. Now that they approached that particular topic.. neither did he.

They sat in silence.

pt 1//pt 2//pt 3//pt 4//pt 5// series on ao3

#ches writes #ches writes stuff #silent hill #silent hill 2 #james sunderland #harry mason #blows bubbles thru a crazy straw that reads FUCK THIS into my unsweetened vanilla almond milk #writing is very hard and yet this is the bees knees #can't wait for it to get gay!#in twenty years!

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commentaryvorg · 6 years ago

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Danganronpa V3 Commentary: Part 2.3

Be aware that this is not a blind playthrough! This will contain spoilers for the entire game, regardless of the part of the game I’m commenting on. A major focus of this commentary is to talk about all of the hints and foreshadowing of events that are going to happen and facts that are going to be revealed in the future of the story. It is emphatically not intended for someone experiencing the game for their first time.

Last time in chapter 2, it was Kaito time all the time (my favourite kind of time), kicking off Shuichi and Kaito’s soon-to-be-epic friendship by hanging out with him all day and learning about astronaut training, communication, and the overactive imagination he had as a kid and hasn’t really lost. Then, thanks to his motive video showing up, I discussed the merits of the “Kaito’s parents died” train over the alternative, and how simply “living” is only an effective motive for murder in this killing game when you’re dying.

This time, we’ll continue talking about the motive videos but in a less Kaito-centric way, as Shuichi rushes to discuss them with everyone else.

Shuichi: “Ah, I’ll think about that stuff later! I should hurry and tell Kaito!”

It’s pretty adorable how Shuichi just immediately jumps to thinking that Kaito deserves to know this information about his most important people, not even considering that knowing might make Kaito more inclined to murder someone and maybe it’s better not to tell him.

I’m a little surprised Shuichi doesn’t also wonder about his own video, though. On my first time through, I thought this was actually the point of mixing them up – that watching anyone’s video and seeing the format of “here’s the most important people in your life, oh no something bad’s happened to them” would make everyone think “but what about my most important people? Surely they have to be okay, right?” and be desperate and potentially willing to kill simply to see their own video and confirm whether or not their own loved ones are safe.

Bahaha, if you examine any room other than Kaito’s when Shuichi is trying to find him…

Shuichi: (This isn’t Kaito’s room! Come on, calm down, get a hold of yourself…)

I like the game justifying the player goofing off by trying to play it off as part of Shuichi’s frantic mental state.

Shuichi: “Hey, has anyone seen Kaito!?”

Kiyo: “You seem in a panic. Over the Kubs Pad if I’m not mistaken.”

Good job making it obvious to everyone in the dining hall whose video you have, Shuichi.

(Man, I wonder who got Kiyo’s. You’d think that his would have raised some red flags about him. Makes me think that it has to have been Tsumugi, because she’s the only person who wouldn’t have tried to act upon that and warn everyone about the fact that he’s a serial killer. Or he got his own too.)

Important thing to bear in mind from now on: Kirumi has seen her own motive video and is now plotting murder.

Kiyo: “Kaito and Keebo went to gather everyone else so that we may discuss our plans.”

Of course Kaito would have been one of the people who’d volunteer to do that. This is about co-operation, after all!

(I bet Kaito was the one who went to drag Maki here from her lab.)

Maki: “I ignored it because I figured it was something stupid.”

This is so wonderfully Maki. Of course she’d think it’s dumb and not want anything to do with it, especially if it seems related to the Monokubs. It’s actually a somewhat-necessary plot point that she never watches Ryoma’s video, but the writers didn’t even remotely have to force it for her to not do so.

Gonta: “Y-Yeah! Why Gonta get Tsumugi’s video—”

So either the videos’ creators put more effort than was necessary into Tsumugi’s video given that they were supposed to only be seen by their intended recipient anyway, or Tsumugi’s video was kind of suspect but only in a subtle way that went over Gonta’s head. (Then again, Kokichi’s going to see it too eventually, so probably not the latter.)

Ryoma: “Why not? They’re videos of the most important people in our lives.”

Aww, Ryoma. Look at him being desperate to see if he has any people like that.

Keebo is the most adamant out of anyone that exchanging videos would be a bad idea. I wonder if that was his inner voice telling him that, since the people behind that voice obviously have experience with motive videos in other killing games.

Ryoma: “I’m against that.”

Tsumugi: “Huh? Against it? Why? If you see that video, it’ll turn into a motive, right?”

Ryoma: “That’s why I want to see it.”

Ryoma wants a motive to live!

Kaito: “It might not matter to you whether you get killed or not, but… We’re different! We all want to live! Wake up already! You’re like some zombie wandering around with no will to live!”

If this were anyone but Ryoma, Kaito would be trying to figure out why he’s acting this way. But because it’s Ryoma, seeing him like this in the first place makes Kaito angry and he gets stuck on that and can’t see beyond it.

Ryoma: “No will to live, huh? Hmph, if that’s how you see me, then so be it.”

Ryoma’s reaction here rather implies that he thinks Kaito’s judgement of him is wrong – after all, he wants to see the motive videos so that he can find the will to live, which in and of itself is will to live. It’s interesting – but fitting, given how he is – that Ryoma doesn’t really care what Kaito thinks about him and isn’t going to go out of his way to correct him.

Ryoma: “But I’ve got no plans to change my opinion. That’s just not cool.”

So presumably by this, he simply means he’s not going to change his mind about wanting to see his videos, and not about having no reason to live, since he very much is hoping his video will change his opinion about that and give him a reason to live.

Kokichi: “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not saying we shouldn’t care about killing or dying…”

For once, this is a true statement.

Kokichi: “But I think it’d be better if we didn’t cooperate with each other. Actually, we *definitely* shouldn’t cooperate with each other!”

Tenko: “We shouldn’t cooperate? Why not!?”

Kokichi: “Think back to all of Monokuma’s actions so far. Whenever we tried to work together, Monokuma would retaliate with a plan to make us suffer. It happened when Kaede wanted us to cooperate, and again with these motive videos, right? Which means, the more we try to cooperate, the more he’ll try to make us suffer.”

This is true, but Kokichi is completely missing the point. Obviously Monokuma retaliates by inflicting suffering every time people try to co-operate because everyone’s co-operation is really bad for him! If everyone co-operates fully, there’ll be no more killings and they might manage to escape, which is exactly what he doesn’t want! This means everyone should co-operate more, not less! Sure, Monokuma will continue to try to make them suffer, but that suffering will be worth it if they keep co-operating anyway and manage to escape. Kokichi is too caught up on the fact that the initial suffering inflicted by Monokuma is bad and not focusing on the end result they’ll reach if they push through it anyway because he is a gigantic coward. This is one of the most transparently cowardly opinions Kokichi ever expresses. It’s also very similar to his mindset in chapter 1 when he discouraged everyone from continuing to try the escape tunnel (shoutout to the anon who brought this up and made me realise that they’re related) – he got hung up on the initial pain and suffering it caused them to the point of ignoring the fact that it would have been worth it in the end if they managed to get through it anyway.

…And it’s honestly a little frustrating that nobody else actually picks up on this and explains how drastically Kokichi is missing the point here. I’d have expected Kaito to potentially do that, at least.

Also remember how Kokichi hinted at this opinion of his before, after they saw the Flashback Light, and this is him now explicitly spelling it out in order to be, arguably, helpful. But the thing is, Kokichi hints at so many things he’s aware of that would be potentially helpful to everyone if he spelled them out and explained why he thought this way, but this is the only time he ever does so. Which rather makes it seem like the only reason Kokichi is spelling this out is not because he cares about being helpful to everyone else but because he’s trying to protect himself. Because even if Kokichi pointedly doesn’t co-operate, if everyone else works together and Monokuma decides to make them suffer for it then he’ll make everyone suffer, including Kokichi, and Kokichi doesn’t want that.

Kirumi: “You are saying that if we do not rally together, we will not be made to suffer?”

Kirumi, at least, is probably semi-agreeing with him because her priorities now are to make sure her murder plan goes off without a hitch, having seen her own motive video, and the less wrenches Monokuma tries to throw into the mix, the better for her.

Kokichi: “That’s why I had no choice but to screw with you guys.”

Yep, because you’re a huge coward who’s just terrified of what the big, bad Monokuma might do to everyone (especially you) if they actually try and fight back against him.

Shuichi: “And you’re not lying to us right now?”

Kokichi: “…Whether I’m lying or not, what I’m saying is still true.”

Surprisingly enough, Kokichi’s statement does make sense. He’s saying, “whether I really feel this way or not, I’m still making a valid point”. Which is the case about a lot of the things he says, really… at least insofar as his points are ever valid, which is frequently debatable, including right now.

Kokichi: “Anyway, we shouldn’t force ourselves to co-operate. Let’s just all do our own thing.”

Co-operation is not something that people have to force themselves to do, especially not in a dangerous situation like this; it’s just human nature to do so. The fact that Kokichi thinks of it this way is pretty telling about how he really feels about co-operation, in a way that doesn’t have anything to do with how Monokuma may or may not respond to it.

Shuichi: (It’s *because* we’re trying to co-operate that Monokuma is making us suffer…? But what about… everything we went through…? What was the point of Kaede sacrificing herself…?)

I’d ask why Shuichi hasn’t figured out how obviously Kokichi is missing the point either, but his questioning the point of Kaede’s sacrifice indicates he sort of gets it. Monokuma retaliated to Kaede’s co-operation by leading her into a trap that got her killed. But if they just agree with Kokichi here and never co-operate again, then Kaede only ever existed as an example of what not to do rather than as motivation for the rest of them to keep being brave and trying their best to escape. Kaede would have basically died for nothing.

Kokichi: “Let’s just exchange our motive videos instead of cooperating with each other.”

Considering that Kokichi got his own video, he knows that Monokuma was not trying to make it so that nobody sees their own video and that mixing them up was an accident. So given what he also just said about co-operation, most of the reason Kokichi wants everyone to see their own video is probably because he knows that’s what Monokuma intended to happen, and he’s afraid that if everyone keeps preventing each other from seeing their videos then Monokuma will do something even worse to them to force this next murder through. He wants to prevent Monokuma’s wrath by giving Monokuma what he’s after – which is to say, another murder. (So much for him saying just a few minutes ago that it’s not that they shouldn’t care about killing or dying – there was a part of him that meant that, but here he goes, being willing to let another murder happen anyway so long as the victim isn’t him.)

But also, look at how he worded that like everyone agreeing to exchange their motive videos wouldn’t also have been a different kind of “co-operation”. Both everyone sharing and everyone not sharing would count as “co-operation”. The only thing that wouldn’t be co-operation is if only some people secretly share their videos without agreeing it with everyone else. I think that’s also partially what Kokichi’s afraid of and why he wants everyone to exchange the videos even if he’s insisting on not calling that “co-operation” because he’s allergic to the concept. He’s afraid of the idea that everyone has to trust on the surface that nobody will share the videos, when anyone could break that trust at any time and then secretly be out to kill. If everyone shared the videos, there would be no more trust necessary from anyone once it happened, which is probably why Kokichi doesn’t think of that scenario as “co-operation”.

Kokichi feeling that way about people secretly seeing their own videos is also pretty hypocritical of him given that he received his own motive video and hasn’t told anyone, giving him currently the second-most reason to kill someone without anybody else knowing that he has that. Not that he would act on it, because he’s already certain he’ll get caught and executed if he tries that, but.

Kokichi: “C’mon, Gonta, let’s go.”

Gonta: “What? Gonta, too!?”

Kokichi: “We promised to think of a way to get everyone to exchange their motive videos, remember? […]”

Gonta: “W-Wait! Did Gonta make promise!?”

No, you didn’t, Gonta! LEAVE HIM ALONE, KOKICHI.

(This kind of thing is exactly why Gonta needs to be more sure of himself.)

Kaito: “Quit screwing around… ‘Our sake’? Yeah, right. I’ve had it with his lies.”

Kaito knows what’s up. Because you’d think, given Kaito’s extremely keen intuition regarding people, that if Kokichi really did secretly care about doing things for everyone’s sake, Kaito would be able to pick up on that even though all outward signs say otherwise. Just like how he’s going to pick up on the fact that Maki is a good person despite all the evidence to the contrary.

Kaito: “Wait up, Ryoma! Don’t forget. We’re all struggling to get out of here alive. So don’t get in our way…”

Ryoma: “I’ve got no intention of getting in your way. I’d never do something so uncool.”

Kaito is probably saying this because he’s worried Ryoma will also try to get everyone to swap videos and therefore increase the chance of a murder happening. But of course, Ryoma only cares about seeing his own video, and he’s very much not the kind of person who’d deliberately endanger everyone else just to get something he wants (unlike someone else here). Someone with no reason to live, but who still cares about everyone else around him, wouldn’t ever be that selfish.

Kirumi: “My workload has increased significantly… This calls for a more tactical approach.”

Yep, on top of all the requests everyone’s just given Kirumi, she’s also got to come up with a whole murder plot now.

Really, though, let’s respect Kirumi for the fact that she continues to try and fulfil everyone’s wishes right up until she commits murder. She still cares about everyone here and doesn’t want to have to sacrifice them all to escape.

Himiko: “…”

Tenko: “…Wait, what’s wrong, Himiko? Are you hungry?”

Himiko is clearly too depressed to feel hungry, what with the newest motive having made the situation even more awful again. But I can understand why Tenko might assume this, since she’s probably the sort of person who gets in a bad mood when she’s hungry and she’s projecting that onto Himiko.

Shuichi: (I wish I could do something on my own, but that’s impossible… If I screw up, it’ll be just like Kaede all over again—)

Shuichi is still beating himself up and being afraid of making the slightest mistake.

Shuichi: (I can’t stand around doing nothing! I… promised her!)

But since he’s still desperate to try and do something, why don’t we say he’s going to do so by trying to pry Gonta away from whatever nefarious plans Kokichi has with him? By which I mean Gonta is my other free time target in this chapter, because it’s at least vaguely plausible that Shuichi might be worried about him in particular after Kokichi dragged him off like that at breakfast. (And because I really like Gonta, okay, shush.)

Ryoma: “Since the motives were swapped, as long as we don’t sort them out, no murders will happen… Or so Keebo said, but… Somebody might take action because they want to see the motive…”

Hah, Ryoma’s having the same thought that I did first time around. Of course, he’s thinking this because he wants to see his own motive video more than anyone else. (Except… you really don’t, Ryoma. Trust me on this.)

Himiko and Angie are hanging out in the same place. Oh, dear.

Kaito: “How in the world did he end up like that…?”

Kaito is still hung up on Ryoma. At least now it seems he’s progressed to the point of wondering why Ryoma feels this way. I’m… not sure if he knows about the part where Ryoma slaughtered a whole mafia. You’d think he’d have heard that from the news? But even if he did, it’s not like the news would have mentioned why, so.

Sorry, though, Kaito, I’m going to leave you to brood for now. Shuichi has a Gonta to try and pry away from Kokichi. He’s hanging out with Kokichi right now, of course.

Gonta: “Oh! Shuichi! You here to help Gonta think of way to get everyone to trade motives?”

Unfortunately it seems that Kokichi has already convinced Gonta that trading motive videos is the correct course of action.

Gonta: “Huh? You wanna spend time with Gonta? But Kokichi already invite Gonta…”

Kokichi: “Oh, it’s fine. Let’s hang out later.”

Gonta: “O-Okay! Then what should we do, Shuichi?”

There’s an exchange like this whether you hang out with Gonta or with Kokichi for each of the time slots when they’re plotting together. It’s a neat touch.

Gonta: “Gonta very, very happy! This maybe first time Gonta spend free time with anyone!”

…except for Kokichi just now. Let’s assume Gonta doesn’t think that counts in the same way. After all, Kokichi’s spending time with him for a specific purpose and not because he just wants to hang out as friends.

But, aww, poor Gonta not having had anyone want to hang out with him before just because he looks scary.

Gonta: “So Gonta will work hard! Treat Shuichi like true gentleman!”

Shuichi: “Ah, it’s okay, Gonta. You don’t have to be so… intense. Just talking is fine.”

And he’s so desperate to make sure he shows Shuichi a good time so that Shuichi won’t regret hanging out with him. Gontaaaa, just getting to spend time with someone as lovely as you is more than worth it.

Gonta’s idea of a good time is racing.

Shuichi: “Race?”

Gonta: “Gonta good at running! Running full speed through forest so much fun! Plus, feel good to run like wind. Maybe nice change of pace.”

Because it’s the kind of thing he always used to do for fun in the forest and he doesn’t realise a lot of people in human society maybe don’t find it as fun as he does.

Shuichi: (Gonta grabbed my hand and pulled me firmly, and I ran along behind him.) “G-Gonta! You’re running too fast!”

I’m picturing Shuichi being dragged along so fast that his feet are barely touching the ground any more as he flails behind Gonta like a banner. I keep vaguely wanting to draw this.

Shuichi ends up so exhausted that he almost trips and falls down the stairs to the basement, but Gonta catches him.

Gonta: “No thank Gonta… Gonta make Shuichi run… This all Gonta’s fault… Sorry… Gonta not very fun after all…”

Here’s more of Gonta apologising because he’s so unsure of himself – he wasn’t sure what the best thing to do while hanging out with Shuichi was, but he picked the best thing he could think of, and yet now he’s ended up convinced that it was a terrible idea and he should never have done it. Poor Gonta, always desperately trying to do the right thing but never knowing how.

Shuichi: “Why did you invite me? Kaito looks like he’d be better at running…”

Gonta: “Invite Kaito? You sure? Gonta not wanna make trouble…”

This is me picking not-the-nicest dialogue option again just so that I can have a chance to say: oh man wouldn’t it be great if Gonta and Kaito did actually hang out more, though. They’re both adorable and very similar in some ways but very different in others and I’d love to see them become better friends than they do in canon.

Although really the problem here isn’t that Gonta invited Shuichi – since after all it was Shuichi who invited Gonta to hang out in the first place – but just that Gonta suggested an activity that wasn’t the most appropriate for Shuichi, because he wasn’t able to see that not everyone would necessarily enjoy it as much as him.

Shuichi: “Ah, um, Gonta… I had a lot of fun, running with you. I’d like to do this again sometime. The next time you need another change of pace.”

Shuichi still says this, though, regardless of which dialogue option you pick! So yay. Having a change of pace and moving his body instead of using his mind is exactly the kind of thing Shuichi needs right now, even if Gonta doesn’t realise it.

Gonta: “Gonta do anything for Shuichi! Gonta protect you! Like gentleman!”

Shuichi: (Gonta is brimming with positivity. …Gonta really is pure.)

Exactly what I was about to say, Shuichi! He’s such a good.

Tenko: “I can’t stop thinking about it… Who’s in my motive video? N-No, I can’t! I would be falling right into Monokuma’s trap!”

See what I mean about how I thought the real trap was people wondering about who’s in their motive video and be potentially willing to take drastic action just to see it?

Keebo: “I also want to know what is contained in my motive video… But…”

Keebo’s video almost certainly contains his father, the professor who created him. Keebo probably already knows this and is thinking instead about what bad thing may or may not have happened to him according to the video. This is exactly what’s so dangerous about knowing your video exists and roughly what it’ll be like but not its exact contents.

Himiko and Angie are together again, this time in Himiko’s lab. We all know where this is going.

Himiko: “Angie’s been talking to me non-stop…”

Yeah, brainwashing you. It doesn’t look like Himiko had much of her own input in the matter, either.

Gonta and Kokichi are also still together, of course.

Gonta: “Oh, Shuichi… Kokichi say stuff that hard to understand… Make Gonta feel sleepy…”

Poor Gonta. Let’s imagine Shuichi assumes from this that he did enough earlier to prevent Kokichi from manipulating him. Totally not just because I still want to hang out with Kaito once more in this chapter or anything.

Interestingly, Ryoma is hanging out in the corridor not far from where Maki is guarding her lab. He doesn’t know she has his video yet, but he has seen hers, so he’s the only one right now other than Maki herself (and Tsumugi) who knows why she’s guarding that lab.

Meanwhile, Kaito is hanging out inside Ryoma’s lab, which means that he’s apparently still brooding about Ryoma on some level even though this time he manages not to voice it to Shuichi.

Kaito: “Oh, Shuichi. What’s up? You wanna talk about something?”

Shuichi: (Should I hang out with Kaito for a while?) [Yes]

Kaito: “Yeah, that’s fine. I… was just thinking I wanted to talk to you.”

This is a little hint that Kaito is already thinking of starting to train Shuichi! Honestly it wouldn’t be surprising if he just up and started doing it now. Let’s assume he decides to wait until nighttime anyway because he prefers to train outside when the stars are out, since, you know, space. And maybe some other reasons that we’ll get to.

Besides, we still have the rest of his ridiculou – I mean, very exciting and definitely true story to hear, right?

Kaito: “Hey! If you’re back, that means… Haha! You really want to listen to my stories, huh!? Well, if you say so!”

It’s pretty interesting that Kaito’s idea of “how to make friends with someone” appears to equate to “telling them (completely exaggerated and made up) stories about how cool and heroic he totally is”. He does not know how to have normal, down-to-earth interactions with people at all.

Shuichi: (*You* were the one who said you’d finish the story next time…)

Again with Shuichi sounding mildly annoyed, putting this scene probably before the training. That said, Shuichi still came to hear the rest of the story, so he can’t be that annoyed.

Kaito: “Umm, what happened after that…? Oh, I remember! Something amazing happened before I got off my boat!”

Shuichi: (You say it was amazing, but you forgot it? …I’ll keep it to myself.)

Yeah, that wasn’t Kaito almost forgetting his made-up details or anything, because it all definitely happened.

Kaito: “I got caught in a storm. I thought I was done for, but right when I was preparing for the worst… My boat was eaten by a whale!”

Shuichi: “Ah. I see.”

I love how deadpan Shuichi is about this whole thing.

Kaito: “It was a whale, man! The second smartest thing in this world after me! It probably saw my greatness and hid me in its stomach, away from the storm.”

So the whale wasn’t even a greater danger – it was a deus ex machina magically saving him from the danger of the storm without him having to overcome it himself, because he’s just that much of a hero that of course he got out of trouble effortlessly, right?

(Also please take note and appreciate that Kaito is the smartest thing in the world. Clearly.)

Shuichi: (I didn’t expect this kind of tall tale from you, Kaito.)

…I mean, after the first half of it, what else were you expecting, Shuichi. Although I suppose this whale part is the most implausible part yet.

Next, tiny Kaito decided to conquer the land by entering the jungle.

Kaito: “I came across something. A giant anaconda that could swallow a man whole! […] But that was just the beginning… Defeating him opened a gate…”

Aren’t we going to hear about how you defeated the giant anaconda, Kaito? That sounds like a more exciting story to tell than simply the fact that you did defeat it because you’re just that awesome.

Kaito: “There was a whole civilisation in a giant underground cave! I invaded their empire and made the emperor my sidekick, but…”

Apparently Kaito’s tendency to make literally everyone into his sidekick even extended back to his “heroic adventures” when he was younger. Although given that this emperor was almost certainly imaginary, it seems that back then, his definition of “sidekick” was maybe a bit closer to the normal one. This is probably why he started using that word for the actual people he made into his “sidekicks” later.

Kaito: “But the time limit came so fast and I had to go back to my gramps’ house.”

Shuichi: “The time limit?”

Kaito: “Well, yeah. My summer vacation was over, duh.”

…And there we go: the actually true part. Man, tiny Kaito really knew how to entertain himself during a summer vacation, though.

Kaito: “Huh? Why I wanna be an astronaut? Was that what we were talking about?”

Shuichi: “Yes! That’s what we were talking about!”

I love how Kaito got so excited about telling his ridiculous story that he completely forgot the reason he started telling it.

Kaito: “That’s simple! The universe is the final frontier for me to conquer!”

…I mean, really, Shuichi, you should have been able to figure this out yourself from the story. He conquered the sea and the land, so obviously the next step would be space!

Kaito: “And it’s sorta cool, isn’t it!? Aren’t astronauts the best!?”

Shuichi: “…” (So essentially, ‘because it’s cool’ was your reason…)

At first, at least. We’ve heard more from him in other FTEs, including the ones with Kaede, about why he wants to go to space now, which there’s a lot more to than just because space is cool. He probably looked into being an astronaut first because he thought it sounded cool, and then got more serious about it after learning exactly the kinds of things astronauts do that he wanted to be a part of.

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#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #ndrv3 #chapter 2 #daily life #free time events #commentary

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theworldsmosthatedakacr7 · 8 years ago

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A defence of O Capitão

Logical cross-examination of the most recent criticisms of Cristiano Ronaldo

Another year, another prime selection of milestones achieved for Cristiano Ronaldo. Portugal’s most capped player. The only player to ever score in four Euros. Another Champions League title with Real Madrid. Portugal’s first major tournament trophy. Now, his 4th Ballon d’Or.

Certainly not a bad year. But perhaps it wasn't as good as I thought? I was reasonably convinced that Ronaldo's 2016 was his best ever until reading a piece by respected football writer, Graham Hunter. I recommend that the reader pause here to give his article the once-over before proceeding: http://www.dailyrecord.co.uk/sport/football/football-news/cristiano-ronaldo-decline-hes-not-9444338

It’s important from the outset that I emphasize the intent of this piece. It is indeed meant as a riposte against Mr. Hunter’s argument as well as the generally negative reactions to whenever Ronaldo wins an award. However, while pointing out that logically fallacious reasoning is unbecoming, I’d like to make an effort to recognize that Mr. Hunter’s article does have some merit. However, I believe his assertions to be lacking context, thus distorting whatever truth value they might otherwise hold.

The title of Mr. Hunter’s article juxtaposed with the opening paragraphs leaves some doubt regarding the true intent of the piece. The “Ronaldo in decline / he’s not as good as Messi” title quickly becomes a query about whether Ronaldo is in fact worthy of being included in the conversation on great footballers altogether, particularly with respect to the likes of Marco Van Basten, Johan Cruyff, and others.

It would be easy for me to mischaracterize Mr. Hunter’s comments, but whether intentional or unintentional, there is clearly a dismissive tone with regard to the legitimacy of not only Ronaldo’s 4th Ballon d’Or, but the claim that he is a great footballer altogether. That Ronaldo’s status as a football legend is still being challenged, even through masked or camouflaged questioning, is lamentable on a number of levels. How does one substantiate that a player as singularly distinguished as Ronaldo not be included in a discussion about football’s greatest-ever players? Well, I don’t know, so I’m not going to attempt that irrational feat.

What Graham Hunter seems to be insinuating is that it is an affront to those great players of football past, the Van Bastens, the Gerd Müllers, the Zidanes, to include Ronaldo in this discussion. Why? I cannot begin to assume, and I’m not going to linger on it because the more significant fallacy committed here is that this discussion has absolutely nothing to do with whether Ronaldo is in decline or not as good as Messi. Opining about comparisons between Ronaldo and other great footballers is a separate line of reasoning that in no way addresses Ronaldo's skill or how well he equates specifically with Messi. In logic, this is known as a Red Herring fallacy, an irrelevant distraction that subtly diverts the reader’s attention away from the core issue. It is a premise or set of premises (“Ronaldo probably shouldn’t be considered as great as Zidane, Van Basten, etc) that has no genuine relation to the original proposition (that Ronaldo is in decline/not as good as Messi).

The next section of Mr. Hunter’s assessment of Ronaldo’s Ballon d’Or credentials is equal parts offensive and uninformed. First, that “big old lump” as Mr. Hunter so crassly describes him, is not named Éder. It’s simply Eder, no accent. This is significant because it leads me to question how many additional facts in this discussion were investigated with similar negligence to detail. Here’s one other finding just to round out that claim: Mr. Hunter describes Portugal’s Euro 2016 squad as a “team of relatively limited ability.” This is despite Portugal’s Young Player of the Tournament winner (Renato Sanches, although you might argue that Raphael Guerreiro was even more deserving) and several others selected in the Team of the Tournament including Ballon d’Or nominees Pepe and Rui Patrício.

In his article, Mr. Hunter seems to be asserting two mutually exclusive rationales: that Portugal weren’t a very good team that required Ronaldo to push them onward, AND that Portugal as a team (or maybe just Eder) actually won the Euros independent of Ronaldo. Stated in this fashion, only one side of the argument can be true at any given moment. Wouldn’t it be more rational to conclude that Portugal were truly one of the top teams at the Euros AND were buoyed by Ronaldo’s critical contributions? Instead, Mr. Hunter tries to simultaneously deprive both Portugal as a team, and Ronaldo as an individual of any real credit, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot rationally authenticate that particular conclusion.

This paragraph culminates with the proposal that Messi’s plight over the last few years has simply been harder than Ronaldo’s, what with all those Copa America and World Cup finals defeats. 3 finals in a row, and not one victory. Why? According to Graham Hunter only because the likes of Higuain, Kun Agüero, Ángel Di Maria, and others couldn’t do for Messi what that “big lump Éder” did for Ronaldo.

But categorically his assertion is a Begging the Question fallacy in which the argument made – that Messi’s effort to win a major tournament with Argentina has been fraught with greater difficulty over the course of his career – is a foregone conclusion. It is regarded as fact before it has been reasonably proven with logical argument. In an effort to prove his point, Mr. Hunter simply blames Messi’s teammates for falling at the last and crucial hurdle, ultimately depriving him of the Ballon d’Or. Would Messi himself agree with that assessment?

Moreover, Mr. Hunter seems to be ignoring the fact that an overwhelming majority of voters apparently disagree with his stance that Messi had the better year as evidenced by the landslide margin in favor of Ronaldo (745 votes to Messi’s 316). He’s free to disagree with them of course, but within the international football community at large, the case in favor of Messi clearly isn’t as cut and dry as he claims it to be.

This brings me to my final point regarding Mr. Hunter’s article before I speak more generally about Ronaldo’s reputation. Op-eds like this one are meant to provide a stage for a writer to declare their free thoughts and ideas. In that sense there is certainly room for anecdotal observation and even some emotional appeal. Graham Hunter and others are justifiably entitled to declare their opinion that Messi is a better footballer than Ronaldo.

The problem is that argument nearly always hinges on some form of logically erroneous paradigm. As Ronaldo has aged, and as he collects more accolades, there seems to be a similarly growing “emotional need” to try to discredit him. There are many reasons why this is the case. Admittedly, some of it is a reaction to Ronaldo’s overactive ego. Some of it is that Messi is considered to be the more likable person of the two. A portion of it is evidence-based, and Mr. Hunter does include some reference to player metrics (goals/assists) and other means of assessing individual worth. (If he had simply said, "I consider Messi to be superior because he scored more goals and created more assists," I might not agree with that assertion entirely, but at least it'd be rational.)

But a large segment of the effort to discredit Ronaldo entails unmitigated disregard of facts, specifically those facts which are uncomfortable for anti-Ronaldo propagandists to accept. The intent isn’t as much about comparing him to Messi as it is to suggest he’s not deserving, period. Those are two very different assertions. Most people seem to want to find a way (any way will do) to prevent Ronaldo from being labelled as one of the greatest ever footballers. But if you compare his achievements with those of other footballing greats, there is clearly every reason (even outside the 4 Ballon d’Ors) to include Ronaldo alongside them. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't see anyone making similar inquires about Messi, nor should they. His status like Ronaldo's isn't debatable any more. Why then is it acceptable to constantly undermine Ronaldo's claim as a footballing legend? Because people don't like him? Is this really an acceptable standard for rational argument in our day and age? I sincerely hope not, but I fear in this case it is.

To invoke a scientific platitude, Ronaldo’s career status as one of the greatest footballers of all time has been substantiated “beyond a reasonable doubt” by the myriad of individual and team achievements he has collected. The body of evidence is so convincing in fact, that it requires football writers, fanboys, American pundits who know nothing about football, and everyone else to try to fashion an emotionally charged, logically invalid contention that is usually more directed at Ronaldo’s character than anything else. Is Ronaldo in decline? Maybe, but not nearly as much as the potency of those arguments meant to deprive him of the prestige that he has rightfully earned.

I’ll close by pointing out that I have made no personal attacks against Graham Hunter, Messi, or anyone else for that matter. But whether you consider Messi to be superior to Ronaldo or not, shouldn’t we all agree that they are both going to be regarded as two of the greatest of all time? Isn’t it remarkable that Ronaldo has 4 Ballon d’Ors, period?

I’ve always despised the Ronaldo-Messi debate because it provides just the right stage for incoherent and unreasonable babble that is too rooted in prejudice to have any real merit. I hate to see Graham Hunter get caught up in that because I’ve always liked his work. But enough is enough, Ronaldo is one of the greatest ever footballers, full stop. All this talk of him never deserving anything needs to come to an end. There’s so much more I could say, but I don’t have time or space.

I’m appealing to reason. If you don’t think Ronaldo is as good as Messi, ok, but that opinion should never be used to suppress Ronaldo’s worth as a footballer. There’s never been much to separate Ronaldo and Messi, and that was just as true in 2016 as it has been in every year since 2008. But realize it isn’t necessary to disprove everything about Ronaldo’s worth as a player just to esteem Messi. They can both be great. They both are great. This isn’t a zero sum game. Stop feeling and start thinking. Ask harder questions, submit your own arguments to greater scrutiny, and appreciate that you got to see Ronaldo at the top of his game this year.

Nathan Motz

#i love this so much bc it's logic based finally #it's so rare to find a piece like this #cristiano ronaldo #cr7 #portugal nt #real madrid

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