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wench-and-jezebel · 2 years ago

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NCIS Reaction: Minimum Security

Wench (@scripted-downfall) reacts. At a later time period, and without having seen Wench’s reaction, Jezebel (@typicalopposite) reacts. Comparisons may be made as a result.

“If my old man finds out I’ve been biking with you, he’ll kill us both” “I’ll get you a ride.” Sounds like they might not just have been biking, if’n ya know what I mean.

[“Don’t get your thong in a twist”]

“What if he doesn’t stop?” “Oh, he’ll stop.” Buddy, I’m not sure I’d be so certain about that

Ohhhhh, the poor bike :((((

I understand him being pissed about the bike, for real.

That doesn’t change the fact that the guy’s already dead, I bet y- [Aghhhhh’ ☠️☠️☠️ Well he ain’t gonna be wishing shit lol] WHAT DID I SAY!!! (Should I start keeping a prediction counter? I think I should. Prediction Success: 1)

[Aight imma say it. Gibbs is handsome. There I said it. Add it to my weird list] I don't get this one, but that's not much of a surprise to me these days alksdjf [Idk it’s his smile. Kinda Tom cruise-y but 🤷🏻‍♀️]

I love the sections of the intro belonging to Tony and Abby. His lil wave? Her lil jump? So cute.

Blegh. BLEGHHHH. “RUN THE GUT FOR ME.” BLEH.

Ducky’s assistant’s name is Gerald, btw.

If not gallbladder stones, then… Diamond smuggler?

“They’re stones, doc.” Diamonds looking possible.

Oh, come on!!! EMERALDS????

[Emeralds. Well shit]

I’m so annoyed now. I think diamonds should count. The point was there; “gemstones” was the correct answer. I just didn’t get the exact gem right. Hmph. Now I’m unhappy. You know what?! I got the gemstone part right, so. (Prediction Success: 1.5)

I also got the smuggling part right, so… (Prediction Success: 2.5)

[God I’m glad Tony brought his hair back forward. The slicked back wasn’t it.] Agree.

Tony being linguistically pedantic makes me happy; I relate

TONY BEING SO HAPPY ABOUT GOING TO CUBA MAKES ME SO HAPPY TOO!!! HIS CACKLE?!!?! MY BELOVED. [Tony is so happy] (Same Brain Cell — SBC — Count: 1)

[Sir how many times you gonna swap which way you’re wrapping that cord]

Oof, NCIS agent is involved.

“The women I date think the smell of sawdust is sexy. That’s probably why I don’t date many women.” Gibbs. Ma’am. Excuse you. Sawdust is amazing. The smell is awesome. I would not date Gibbs, but the sawdust is not the issue.

All of these characters spilling Gibbs’ coffee… damn, what a waste.

“The Navy’s giving us a priority ride today.” TONY FINALLY GETS HIS PRIVATE JET RIDE! He looks so disbelieving; he’s adorable.

Oh. Okay, apparently it’s not a private jet ride, and is very uncomfortable, but still.

OH. Apparently it is a private jet ride. HAH!

Dude, this looks like the Criminal Minds jet. [It looks like the criminal minds plane] (SBC Count: 2)

Gibbs bemoaning the comfortable seating because it’s not uncomfortable; madam, calm yourself. A little comfort will not harm you.

Poor Tony, keeps getting his hopes up about the trip, only to have them dashed. Then again, the last times this happened, things were then better than he expected, so maybe he’ll get his horseback riding et al. after all!

Okay, I suppose I should have said: Oof, NCIS agent might be involved.

NO BUT TONY PULLING UP THE AIRPLANE STATS ON THE TOUCHSCREEN IS SO RELATABLE; I DO THAT ALL THE TIME. Whenever I fly (very rare occurrence), I always stare at the air temperature and watch it change alsdkjf. Gibbs actually looked vaguely annoyed-but-endeared, and I approve.

“Anthony DiNozzo” Whoa, we’re being fancy

[HES CHEESING SO HARD. i can’t even]

[I love her hair cut]

I know she said “there’s a map in it”, but my subtitles got cut off and it reads “there’s a man in it”

Y’all are really not being subtle, ngl.

“So, is there something going down that I should know about?” SEE?!?!?!

Wow, they were even more unsubtle than I thought.

[I half-remember this one]

That scene change was… abrupt.

I like Tony’s shirt.

Are Kate and Tony gonna bicker over room placement

I KNEW IT. (Prediction Success: 3.5)

Kate saying Tony’s sexist in past episodes and also being the character who pulls the “I’m a woman” excuse more often than anyone to get her way

[I love Abby]

Are they still bickering over room placement

Please tell me Gibbs takes the room they were fighting over

WHAT DID I SAY; HE REALLY WENT AND DID THAT! I’M ON A ROLL (Adding two becuase they were still bickering over room placement btw. Prediction Success: 5.5) [He took the bed with the bath I love it] (SBC Count: 3)

[Tony. You child. I love it]

IGUANAAAAAA. [Oh man, iguana] (SBC Count: 4)

Poor Tony aksdjflkasjdf. Pulling his gun on the iguana. [HALT]

To be fair, if I woke up with a strange lizard on my pillow, two inches away from sleep-clogged eyes, I might flip out too. Especially since it was hissing.

[The wink at the fact Tony sleeps in the nude, though. Kate! You dog!]

Kinda poor Benjamin, but also. He seems annoying.

I love Abby’s choker. And her gloves. (My brother bought my sister fingerless gloves and didn’t get me any and now I’m left mourning what could have been.). Abby’s are still cooler than my sister’s though.

I know this dude… OH. HE’S THE MUSEUM CURATOR IN THE MUMMY ISN’T HE

Tony being followed by the iguana saldkfj

[That iguana staring him down. He like what he saw in bed lol]

“Might want to keep that door shut; iguanas’ve been known to wander inside”. Yes. Tony knows.

[Tony’s whole damn looks change with his hairstyles]

I love the word “rapport”

“Did I say both of you?” “Well, you didn’t not say both of us.” “She’s kinda got a point there, boss.” The Kate-and-Tony-versus-Gibbs interaction I always knew we needed.

btw, Tony calling Gibbs “boss” is adorable

Ooh, Gibbs, why you having Kate stay, huh?

Did. Did they just randomly time-skip from him leaving to him coming back? I’m confused. [Did the video time skip… did it go from Tony leaving to Tony being back] (SBC Count: 5)

[Lord Tony’s gonna be out there dancing ☠️]

“Shane.” “Who’s Shane?” “Alan Ladd.” “Who’s Alan Ladd?” BUDDY

“Why aren’t you praying?” Don’t assume, Ka- WHAT DID I SAY. “I’m Presbyterian.”

IS HE ASKING ABOUT SHANE- I LOVE IT

“Oh, you young people don’t know what good movies are.” Speaking as a person on the younger end of the gamut while still having been raised on classics, I can attest that modern audiences have suffered in movie quality. In my opinion, at least.

“‘Splat’ isn’t violent?” Love you, Tony.

“Are you here to check me out?” Flirtatiously: “Define ‘checking out.’” I SEE YOU, TONY

Buddy’s not even subtle rn, is he? That was blatant flirtation.

[Tony. You blew that one]

I feel like pulling out Paula has some serious risks attached. Yeah, she might be dirty, but she might not be, and her rapport is being screwed up as a result.

Tony playing the desperate flirt at the bar over here.

[She came back]

“If you don’t like me, then why do you keep coming over here for refills.” “I like the game.”. “Me too.” ngl, really hoping she’s not corrupt because the banter is decent. And since McGee isn’t in this one, I’ve gotta take the repartee where I can get it.

BUDDY GETS HIS DANCEEEE. Tony, I’m so proud.

OOP- That spin was slick; Tony, I commend you

— — —

Stopping here because we’re at a scene change for the midpoint reaction!

I confess I’ve not much to say… It very much annoys me that this show has been very guilty-until-proven-innocent, without many instances where that changes; I mean, just from what springs to mind, there was the episode where the group was convinced the kid committed suicide; the naval folks were taking drugs; and now this, the ep where they’re all assuming that Cassidy is dirty from the fact that the vic had her (his coworker’s) male in her care. They always assume, even when it’s illogical to do so, that the obvious is factual. And I think that’s part of why I keep making predictions to the contrary, tbh. I want them to be wrong because I want them to face their illogic each time, instead of getting lucky. (But, I recognize, sometimes they’ll be right even if their logic isn’t sound, so I guess that’s fair.). Anyway, I want Cassidy to be innocent because of that, even if it doesn’t make sense given the story, but I’m not making that a prediction.

Mourning McGee’s absence; appreciating Kate and Tony, and Gibbs is not bad. On we go!

— — —

I’m cringing just thinking about swallowing those emeralds; they look sharp.

Okay, I’m sorry, but I’m vaguely suspicious of museum-curator-translater dude. Like, ever since I saw Shutter, where Ben’s lying to Jane about what the photo shaman dude was saying? I never trust that translators are adequately conveying the message. Call me cynical, but ‘tis true.

Tony dancing with Cassidy is so cute, I’m sorry.

Damn, Gibbs, be even more blunt about it why don’t you; that wasn’t harsh enough

Iffy acting, but I can’t tell if it’s actress or character

She really shouldn’t just hand over her apartment keys, I’m reasonably confident.

Tony looks vaguely conflicted about having to search Cassidy’s apartment

IGUANA. [IGUANA] (Damn, that one was blatant; SBC Count: 6)

“You were so excited coming to Cuba and riding on the jet” It’s true, Kate, he was adorably excited.

“You were the first woman I saw on my ‘endorphin high.’” “Yeah, well. We work together, Tony. It’s like a brother-sister thing.” Ma’am clearly has not seen any of the countless films, shows, fics, and irl interactions that feature in-office romances.

WAIT NO I’M AN IDIOT; SHE HAD AN IN-OFFICE ROMANCE?!?!?! IN THE PILOT?!!??! MA’AM, WDYM?!?!

“You might wanna take that chip of your shoulder” Oh, of course, no problem; of course it’s okay that you searched my mail and my apartment and so on. Not a difficulty at all.

“He blew his chance to get laid” Oh, come on, Cassidy, it’s not Tony’s fault. [He blew his chance to get laid. Poor Tony ☠️] (SBC Count: 7)

Oh, are we back to terrorists again? How. Unique. [TERRORISTTTTS] (Okay, that counts. SBC Count: 8)

Gibbs once again being vinegar-not-honey.

DAMN ABBY YOU’RE EXPENSING A LOT I SEE [Abby ☠️☠️ racking up a bill] (SBC Count: 9)

Tony’s hair is floppy.

Did he notice that she had “Escada” perfume?

I KNEW IT. (Prediction Success: 6.5)

“Horizontal salsa” alksdjf ["Horizontal salsa"] (SBC Count: 10)

I reallyyyyy want Cassidy to be good now that they’re giving Tony so much shit for caring about her. [Tony’s done got smitten over one dance. Buddy. 💕 *sigh*]

“Romance between agents, Kate. It never works.” Sir, shush. Even if you’re speaking from experience, that proves nothing. You’re not exactly easy to get along with. [And the romance between agents never working is coming off as an asshole rule/thought. BUT HE ISN'T WRONG AS FAR AS THE SHOW GOES]

I know my comment about the translations was about museum-curator-guy, but I maintain that it counts as half a prediction success since Sa’id was doing exactly that: not translating the whole conversation. (Prediction Success: 7)

Abby and Ducky, again; I love you both.

[Ducky’s mother!]

DUCKYYYYY. OMG, SIR!?!?!? YOU’RE HILARIOUS, YOU SCANDALOUS DOG! [You… dog? 👀] (SBC Count: 11)

[Easter eggs ☠️☠️]

“My cursor has moved across places that would make Tony blush.” Not Tony looking appraising!

IGUANA.

Protective!Tony is adorable.

Jeez, Gibbs, be harsher why don’t you; that wasn’t enough.

Cassidy, I stuck up for you, and now you be mean to Tony? To make yourself look good? Once again, these people need to stop tearing down their fellows as a means of increasing their own status. I’m actually getting annoyed again by this. [Tonyyyyyyy ☹️☹️☹️ “He bought my act.” I hateeee the sad tony eps. There’s a few. Be prepared.] (Does this count as SBC?)

Poor Tony. [Poor Tony. “She’s good.” Tony’s face. Ya I agree 💔💔] (That does. SBC Count: 12)

“Eyes always give you away” Poor Tony :( [Sass tony! Get her GET HER (Eyes always give ya away)] (SBC Count: 13)

[And she has the AUDACITY to look at him like a kicked puppy] Like I said. Don’t be mean to your allies to make yourself look good.

I. Do not trust this. I’m waiting for her to pull an Elizabeth-from-24 and not go along with the plan. Get pissed and try to kill him, or screw up the plan.

Tbh, I’m glad that didn’t happen. I didn’t appreciate it in 24 (only partly because it was Misha who got attacked as a result), and I wouldn’t have appreciated it here.

“There. Right there.” I didn’t realize this was Legally Blonde: the Musical.

I’m impressed he didn’t notice the wire yet.

Did I mention, yet? Poor Tony.

This situation was astoundingly mishandled, ngl. [Damn plan backfired]

[Well the back fire backfired also] Literally lakdsfj

Poor Tony :((( [Tonyyyyy] (I’m counting that one too. SBC Count: 14)

I appreciate Kate trying to help Tony.

Also, just saying, Tony is quite dashing in the suit.

TONY. HE FINALLY GOT TO SHOW OFF THE TECHNOLOGY TO SOMEONE WHO APPRECIATED IT!!! My goodness, he’s so adorable.

[Well his smile’s back at least.]

And that’s a wrap!

– – –

For the endpoint reaction… Be warned that I’m writing this with a killer headache (hah, pun unintended), so I’m not sure it’s 100% coherent, and it might be a bit short.

I’m glad that Cassidy wasn’t involved because, as I’ve said, they’ve got a bad habit of having snap judgements they make at the beginning be right all the way through to the end. Unfortunately, this was about the most logical snap judgement of the series thus far, so I’m also vaguely annoyed it wasn’t right. I’m deciding to wash my hands of it because it’s not like the characters will actually learn, but oh, well.

The writing was decent, I suppose? Highly, highly lost as to how the hell emerald smuggling turned into terrorists again, but… I’ve given up on trying to track it. I will say: there’s a slight possibility that reacting simultaneously to the ep is causing me not to notice stuff? Or to track the plot? But I doubt it. I’m still good with Dark Angel, after all, and following it is easy. But I guess I’ll just wait until we watch something else to decide; I legitimately cannot be sure whether the bad writing would be a little better if I were just watching it straight. (Pretty sure not though.)

Gibbs was an asshole again, but not enough that I’m currently fuming about it, I suppose. Kate was good; I liked her. Abby and Ducky continue to be awesome. McGee was notably missing, which is sad, but oh, well.

Summary of this ep: Tony deserved better.

Final thoughts as I type the end of this reaction: The chances I don't write something about this ep… Low.

#ncis #ncis reactions #reactions #episode reactions #leroy jethro gibbs #kate todd #tony dinozzo #abby scuito #donald mallard #s01e08 #minimum security #wench (pr)

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iviarellereads · 1 year ago

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Nona the Ninth, Day Two, Chapter 7

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For detail on The Locked Tomb coverage and the index, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(Second House icon) In which we learn many things, but few of them useful right now.

MUSH FOR BREAKFAST—HONESTY’S JOB GOES TERRIBLY WRONG(1)—THE CITY HAS A WORSE DAY—CAMILLA-AND-PALAMEDES—“KEEP HER HOME TONIGHT”—FOUR DAYS UNTIL THE TOMB OPENS.

Nona is awakened abruptly(2) and screams when something wet and heavy hits her face and splashes drops around. Cam tells her to start, and Nona resentfully describes her dream.

“It’s the sitting part. My feet are in the nice water, the safe water. The water’s in my boots. My socks are full of it. I’m talking to her but I can’t see her face. I tried to, Cam, but it’s what always happens, I don’t manage to look at it, it just doesn’t work.”

She goes on to describe that they talk, but she can't really understand the words. They touch hands, and it's always her hands, both the ones she's touching and the ones she's using to touch them. There are red eyes in the darkness, and in the dream she's very hungry. And she might have remembered more, but then a wet cloth hit her face.(3)

Nona gets changed, though she doesn't like the t-shirt she laid out, which shows a hamburger with legs.(4) It feels too juvenile now that she's got it on.

Cam apologizes for the sponge, and Nona apologizes for not waking up. Cam still promises not to do the sponge again, as the experiment failed. Strangely, Cam asks about her hands in the dream, though she usually doesn't ask anything after dream talk time is over. She asks if Nona likes the hands, and Nona says no, not at all. The narration tells us Nona hates having hands.(5) Cam squints at her, but doesn't ask for a reason, just thanks Nona for the answer. Nona asks if that was another clue, do they know who she is yet? Cam says simply, "No."

Nona expresses her love for Cam and Pal, brushes her teeth, and goes out to breakfast. Pyrrha made cold mush, with fruit juice and dried sultanas.(6) Pyrrha describes yesterday at work, where two men got into a big fight. Nona says her friends don't want to kill each other, though they say it often. Hot Sauce is good at quieting them when they get too rowdy. Pyrrha says Hot Sauce could have a big future with a different name. Nona says Honesty told her Hot Sauce's name was very special, and she (Nona) should ask her (Hot Sauce) about it some time.

Nona remembers last night's discussion and asks Pyrrha why We Suffer hates her.

“Because I remind her that her God was just a human being who could get tired and fuck up,”(7) said Pyrrha instantly.

She continues that We Suffer probably doesn't hate her so much anymore, after seeing her famous charm. Nona says if Pyrrha's charming, why's she single? Pyrrha affects a dramatic pose and says her heart is broken and she'll never love again. Nona wonders if Pyrrha is being more honest than she'd admit. It would make sense: she lost the Pal to her Cam.

Cam emerges and complains about the baby food for breakfast, which means it's not Cam but Pal. Pyrrha says options were limited. Pal asks what happened to her pay. Pyrrha admits she had to pay a bribe to some Site C guys. Pal offers a swap for Site B, he and Cam have ways- but Pyrrha says she'd rather save them taking such risks.

“I greenlight it every time, I thoroughly scan her for—” “You should be draining and replacing her fucking brain fluid,” said Pyrrha. “When Gideon and I designed that trial, I used to crack his skull and sieve it myself, just as a control variable. It’s aggregative. I doubt you’re testing her white blood cell count either. The only other people I put through that damn trial were Mercy and Cris, because only Cris didn’t mind being trepanned(8) on the regular.(9) Fucking around with souls is the problem, Sextus … you can’t ever get the full data on souls.”

Nona interrupts their argument to ask if they're fighting because everyone else in the city is. They both look guilty, and Pyrrha says they're just under a lot of stress, and Nona should eat her mush, even if it's awful. Nona thinks it's not so bad, really. At least it's easy to eat more of it than she usually does.

The timer goes off for Pal, and Cam comes back, looks at breakfast, and asks what happened to Pyrrha's pay. Pyrrha says she isn't arguing it twice. So, they all get on with their morning stretches, and then head out. Nona gazes longingly at the merchant stalls as they go past, and when Pyrrha asks what she's looking at, Nona says she'd like a gift for her six-month birthday. Cam says she can get one at a year.

Nona was alarmed; if she didn’t get a present now there was a good chance she would not get to have one later.(10) But Pyrrha said, “God, you think she’s ever gotten presents? I visited her hometown back before Anastasia got settled, and it was grim as fuck then. Just spooky caves all the way down…” This interested Nona, except Cam said sharply, “Don’t lead,”(11) and Pyrrha said, “No leading, ma’am, I understand. What do you want for a gift, Nona?”

Nona asks for a pack of coloured rubber bands for her braids, so she can have different colours on them. Pyrrha says she said a present, something that costs money. Nona says she chose it because it's cheap, so Pyrrha can probably afford it even on half pay. Pyrrha calls domestic life depressing, and Cam says, "Sometimes".

They continue walking, until Pyrrha splits off, kisses the top of Nona's head, and says her see-you-laters. Cam escorts Nona to school, just in time, and leaves. Nona is puzzled that Cam didn't come up with her like usual, but her attention is distracted by the voices of her friends.

In the classroom, "the nice lady teacher" is applying a cloth to one side of Honesty's face. Honesty asks that Nona do it, for his dignity. The teacher is relieved to see Nona in the doorway, and hands off the cold cloth duty. Honesty has a nasty black eye, and Nona is flad to cover it back up with the "cold, tingly-smelling cloth". The teacher tells the others to leave Honesty some space and prepare the room for class.

Nona asks Honesty what happened, but he won't answer.

Hot Sauce doesn't show up until the Angel arrives, not late but looking even more tired than the day before. She examines Honesty, to the Teacher's further relief, and pronounces that nothing has ruptured, he'll just be in some pain from it, and asks what hit him. Honesty asks how she knows it wasn't a fist, and the teacher says she (the Angel) is a doctor. The Angel clarifies that she's adjacent to being a doctor and is "getting a good crash course in, er, triage."(12)

Hot Sauce had come in "a suitable and careless distance" behind the Angel, and takes a tiny child's seat next to the window instead of her usual. The teacher asks her to switch back at break, but Nona figures she won't.(13)

At break, Nona gives half her fruit to Honesty, even though it was promised to Born in the Morning, who doesn't argue. Hot Sauce asks Honesty who did it, and Honesty says he can't tell her, and she doesn't need to freak out. Hot Sauce does a funny thing with her face that makes everyone nervous. Honesty tells her to stop, but she persists. Eventually, Honesty admits that he ran into a streetlight, and blacked out.

After eating some of the fruit for comfort, soggy berries you have to suck off the stems,(14) Honesty admits he got scared on the job he got, and he says he won't be working with those guys anymore. He fidgets with the empty spray from the fruit, takes one of Born in the Morning's, who again doesn't complain, and describes the job. It was supposed to be easy, but they talked themselves into a third robbery after two easy ones, and the third went bad.

Nona finds the story mostly incoherent, as I do, but essentially someone on the crew got separated from the rest, but opened the cargo hold on the third trawler anyway. And, instead of valuable cargo, he saw people with whited-out eyes, who all moved in unison to look at him.(14) This scared him so badly, he was freaking out everyone else once they picked him up, then they were being followed by more militia trucks, and Honesty ran off and got his brain damage.

Born in the Morning calls out that Honesty just said so many swears, but Honesty tells him to shut up. Born in the Morning says it's not fair he gets in trouble with Nona for swears but Honesty doesn't, and Kevin tells him to shut up. The shock of that act's rarity does the job, shuts Born up, and breaks some of the tension.

Hot Sauce says she'll take care of Honesty. Then, the teacher suggests they clean up, and Nona should ring the school bell and leash up Noodle. Before she does, Nona says she'll take care of Honesty, too. Honesty asks who wants her taking care of him, dumb as she is.

Hot Sauce asks how many vehicles it was. Honesty says he's sure it was the Convoy his job-crew tried to rob.(15)

=====

(1) Oh no! I like Honesty, he's a cute kid. (2) Hmm… That's funny, Nona waking up abruptly as soon as John gets cut off mid-word talking to the person who may or may not be Harrow. (3) See, it's not even the same dream… but why, then, would those interruptions be back to back? (4) Note Nona's outfit on the cover art. This must be a big day. Or it's just rather a vivid picture to describe. (5) That's an odd detail to be so specific about. (6) Overnight oats! Also, this is such a tiny thing, but… do you remember how excited Nona was at the thought of cold breakfast but not cold eggs? Pyrrha noticed. She's a warrior but she's also such a mom. I love her so. (7) Huh. Why would that upset We Suffer? Is it easier to rally a cause against a truly omnipotent God? I should've thought quite the opposite. (8) Trepanation - the cutting of a hole in the skull. Documented in tens of thousands of years of skulls, many with healed edges proving it was done well before death, and in ages with no modern anesthetic. (9) Side note here… Hm. Pyrrha is the cavalier, and G1deon the necromancer. She says she checked his cerebrospinal fluid regularly, for whatever the marker is of this soul-overlap going wrong. But, Cristabel was Mercy's cavalier. So, which role requires the CSF checking? Or is she just not mentioning having herself and Mercy checked as well? (This is the sort of thing I'm curious about potentially being fixed in the paperback edition, or left in place…) (10) Why wouldn't Nona get a present in six months? (11) Presumably, "don't give hints as to who Nona might be, and lead her to behave like someone she's not just to please them". Ever the scientist, Cam. (12) That sounds way more suspicious than lying about being a doctor. (13) I believe this is done as a power play of some sort, though I'm not entirely sure how or why. It's also possible she's so angry about seeing Honesty hurt that she needs to calm down before she confronts him about it and she knows she won't if she's sitting near him. (14) I'm operating under the assumption these are very sad refugee city grapes. There are plenty of edible green berries out there, but since Pyrrha put sultanas in the mush, it makes sense they have access to grapes at some level to make raisins. (15) But why would the Convoy be driving around with creepy horror-movie human cargo?

#the locked tomb #tlt #nona the ninth #ntn #nona the ninth spoilers #ntn spoilers #nona #camilla hect #pyrrha dve #the angel (ntn)#hot sauce (ntn)#honesty (ntn)

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urists · 1 year ago

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Sure, I can talk about selenoproteins! As always, I'm not your professor, any inaccuracies are my own mistakes, etc.

First off: it's important, I think, to keep in mind that generally, a specific enzyme works because one or more specific atoms with specific electron configurations were in just the right spots in order to lower the energy barrier enough for the reaction to proceed. [1]

Often, the cell manages this by using the various residues of the proteogenic amino acids (the bits sticking off the middle carbon in each amino acid). By arranging those just so, the enzyme can create a little pocket where the substrate molecule can slip in and be exposed to the right combination of acid/base/etc. It's worth noting that this pocket is usually defined by just a few amino acids; the bulk of an enzyme is often the structure AROUND the reaction site, not the actual reaction site itself.

Now, because each reaction has different needs, perhaps the catalytic properties of just amine or alcohol or whatever CHON group isn't enough for somewhat exotic or unusual reactions; perhaps a more complicated electronic environment might be needed. That's where sulfur-containing amino acids comes in. Sulfur atoms have a different distribution of electrons, a different electronegativity, etc. - and therefore they can catalyze different reactions. A classic example of sulfur catalysts are the cysteine proteases, which use the thiol (SH) group of a cysteine to faciliate nucleophilic attack on the carbon of a peptide bond, thereby degrading proteins. [2]

Selenoproteins can be thought of as an additional step down this path; selenocysteine is just cysteine with a selenium in the sulfur spot. This swap changes the reaction conditions to make antioxidant activity more feasible. That's good because random oxidation is generally bad for a cell (it causes cancer and also a whole mess of other things), and so selenocysteine tends to show up in antioxidant proteins a whole lot.

Basically, selenoproteins are - like everything in biology - a cool little adaptation that occurred by mistake and then stuck around because it was actually useful. They're also, it must be said, just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to weird protein shit; cofactors, chaperones, and post-translational modifications are all real, very strange things that occasionally make me scratch my head in bemusement. [3]

[1] This is part of why lead poisoning happens; lead ions are uptaken in place of or along with other cofactors, but the lone pair of the lead ion distorts the electronic configuration enough that ligands don't form in the right spots, and so the enzyme basically becomes inactivated.

[2] These proteins were first found in papaya, and are somewhat common in tropical fruits; they're the main component of bromelain, the part of pineapples that actively tries to digest you back, and they're also used as meat tenderizers. I'm honestly unsure WHY tropical fruits have so much of them; wikipedia says they're used in signalling pathways, but tbh everything is used in signalling pathways, so that's not really that useful. You actually have a bunch of them too - there is a calcium activated one that exists specifically in your eyes and brain, but the function is again as far as I'm aware not well understood.

[3] To be entirely fair, I scratch my head in bemusement at biology a lot; proteins aren't really that special here.

Oh does anyone want to know about sericin

Or like

"What Serine Has To Do With Silk"

#urist yells about science again #look if u want the really weird shit we need to talk about how the ribosome is also kind of a ribozyme

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aphrodite-would-be-proud · 2 years ago

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Enemies to Lover with Erwin maybe? During their cadet days they were always trying to one up eachother.

So imma make this a slow burn mini series with 5 chapters max, I'll also merge it with another request that fits perfectly with the narrative, hope you don't mind anon. There will also be Erwin pinning after Marie at the beginning but it will turn into x reader eventually.

Rivals with Erwin smith pt.1

{pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3 | pt.4 | pt.5}

{ Erwin x Marie, Erwin x Reader (eventually) | tw: Enemies to lovers, tw: cursing, tw: aot spoilers | fluff, teasing | canonverse }

{"Street in Tétouan" by Eduardo Flórez Ibáñez Spanish, active 1871-1889}

You need to hurry.

Repeated the voice inside your head, as you lead the last horse back to the stables to join the other training horses, Its hooves heavy and stomping in protestion, as you attempted to lead it towards the empty hay stall.

"Please just cooperate this once" you argued as you cursed the fact you've been assigned one of the most dramatic animals to grace the inside of the walls.

And just when it seemed like it was going to stop having a tug of war with you, it lunged forward making you fall back against the ground.

With an offended huff, it strotes inside its stall with the grace of a noble inside wall sina, the complete opposite of the wild boar that possessed it a second ago.

Not wasting another second on the petty animal, you get up to dust your white cadet uniform off, picking whatever remains of hay and carrots from your jacket. Locking the stall door, you send a death glare towards the horse that looked like it couldn't care less.

Although while you had enough common sense not to beef with an animal, you did have enough brain cells to figure out who's the one responsible for getting you assigned this dramatic prince of a horse.

The Erwin " i once helped get the stable owner's cat from a tree so now he listens to my suggestions" fucking Smitth.

But oh, you're gonna show that prick today, which reminded you again of the fact it's almost sunset and you have to hurry up.

And so you ran and ran, jumping over any pointless fences that only served to make the routes to the main square of the training corps longer.

More specifically the big board in the middle of the square, the one that all cadets pretend not to see when they walk by it.

You might have also been one of them when you first joined, to be completely transparent with yourself you really didn't think you'd ever look forward to seeing that grim too white to be normal look of the papers stamped on the board.

But things change, priorities too.

And now it just happened that yours is putting arrogant always ready to please people into their place.

Which luckily only happened to fit the description of a single local in your area.

Evading all the cadets that were hurrying to finish their end of the day tasks so they could enjoy their limited free time before it's night call, you expertly move in between each group of people without decency to not block the common walk road.

And then you see it, a noticeable empty space around it where none dares to even get close to the cursed board.

Your steps hitting the gravel become heavier as you slow down, your knees would've protested too weren't it for the early morning hikes you've been doing.

Step by step, your eyes focus as they search the vast board for that small unimportant piece of paper that gets posted here every month.

The end of the month report card, which to reduce production costs only gets a single medium sized paper.

You find the paper by the signature of your instructor, right at the bottom of the page.

A cold breeze makes itself known, swaying the back of your jacket and drying the drops of sweat on your forehead.

Your eyes slowly trail up the paper, reading the names of your classmates, your fingers curl and uncurl themselves.

Reaching the third place, you stare at Nile's name for a bit too long, your eyeballs don't dare move an inch.

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you decide to rip the bandage off and not prolong this anymore.

Second place, in clear yet hurried written letters it reads.

Erwin Smith.

Your eyes shot to first place, landing on your own name.

…

You did it.

You actually did it, all the hard work, all the bruises from facing people twice your size in one on one training and all the late night studies paid off.

Oh thank fuck.

Glancing back to Erwin's name, you think the second place suits him way more than the first.

That's where he belongs, below you.

"A half point higher." The ever so familiar voice comes from behind, barely a whisper.

Masking your urge to jump from that scare, you sharply turn behind to make it clear that his creepy sneaking behind people strategy won't work on you.

Your eyes meet his steel blue ones, you shrug. "Yeah and?"

Let's see which one of you out-creeps the other, because you're not backing off despite being able to smell the still fresh soap scent from him, probably had a shower not long ago.

…Did he run here from the cadet chambers? Man that's pathetic.

Erwin stares back, his natural cold expression slipping between the charming facade for a second before a big fake smile replaces it.

"And it's still progress, considering your past rankings." He says, reminding you of just how punch appealing his face looks. "You must have been working hard, so i thought you'd enjoy the first spot, for this month at least."

Is he trying to imply what you think he's trying to imply?

Oh no. Oh no no no, he doesn't get to fucking imply that he gave you that spot willingly, not when you managed to flip him on his back twice in the last physical training class.

"Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night Smith." Two can play this game, "but remember not to cry publicly next month when it's still my name above yours."

He didn't even try to hide his snort. "You really think so?"

"Oh I really really think so."

"Hmm…well that's the spirit soldier" he adds just when you thought his smile couldn't get any more fake.

In your attempt at one upping each other, both of you failed to notice the approaching footsteps.

"You think the corps square is a hangout spot now do you?" The booming voice of the current survey corps commander, Keith Shadis is loud enough to grab the attention of anyone passing by.

Which just happened to be none, with the sun setting on the horizon and the cold wind beginning to welcome the night, you realised just how empty this place got in comparison to when you arrived.

Both of you and Erwin look at each other, look back at the commander and then nonchalantly step away from each other before doing the salute.

With the rare occurrence when the survey commander happened to be visiting the training corps, you began to understand to never try and test his patience.

Plus He already looks annoyed, better not irritate him further.

"Our sincere apologies sir, it won't happen again" Erwin, suck up to commanders, Smith is the first to speak.

"This isn't the place to have your stupid young dates, god none of you would have hope to survive outside the walls." You listen to him finish his speech before it hits you.

"It's not a date." Both you and Erwin say at the same time with voices laced with disgust.

"Do NOT interrupt me" and you've already broken your own rule to not irritate him further, " both of you out of my face right now before i-"

"Sir yes Sir." Not letting him finish his speech, both of you just bow before hurrying off towards the closest corner turn to avoid getting into more trouble.

You made sure to step on Erwin's foot and play it off as an accident, he winced and gripped your arm tightly in return.

"You're acting like a child, stop it." He tugged you along just to make sure the commander wasn't following behind.

Pulling your arm back, you replied " maybe if you didn't interrupt him back there, he wouldn't have been as quick to yell at us."

Quirking his eyebrow at you and your hypocrisy, he decided to just not indulge this argument anymore.

Coming to think of it, why would the commander assume it's a date? You took a good look at Erwin, which is when you actually realised he was…more neat and groomed than he usually is.

"Huh, you're all dressed up." You eyed his carefully styled hair, his neat trousers and ironed shirt. "Were you…actually going on a date? God so you are the one at fault for him yelling at us back there."

From the way he looked at you for a second before turning his face away without saying anything, you knew you hit the spot.

"So you actually had a date and yet you ran here, god that's actually…" your smug smile and amused eyes finished the sentence before you did.

Pathetic.

At least now you're 100% sure he was just as worried about you outranking him this month and didn't just give it to you like he bluffed.

"Shush it." Was all he said, eyebrows knitted with a glare to his eyes. " I wasted enough time here, I should go"

He looked genuinely surprised at the fact he lost track of time for something so important to him.

"I see," you said with the same smug impression, "Well i don't think Marie would settle for someone who's always late but what do i know."

And that was all it took for his cheeks to flush, he opened his mouth to reply but closed it right after before stomping off.

Getting to see the collected and gentleman Erwin Smith, all frustrated and easy to read like an open book, almost gave you a higher thrill than ranking above him.

Almost, you had a victory to celebrate with your friends.

#Erwin🕯️#aot x reader #aot x y/n #erwin smith x reader #erwin x you #fluff #enemies to lovers #Erwin x Marie mentioned

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makeste · 4 years ago

Text

BnHA Chapter 308: VIBE: CHECKED

Previously on BnHA: Lots and lots of Shindou idk what else to tell you.

Today on BnHA: Tired Nomad Deku rescues Shindou from Muscular, and us from Shindou. Muscular is all “OH BOY I SURE CAN’T WAIT TO FIGHT DEKU AGAIN AFTER HE TOTALLY KICKED MY ASS THE LAST TIME!! I’M SURE THIS TIME WILL GO DIFFERENTLY SEEING AS HE’S HAD ALMOST AN ENTIRE YEAR’S WORTH OF ADDITIONAL TRAINING, AND ALSO HAS SIX FOURQUIRKS NOW, IN ADDITION TO THE CONFIDENCE THAT COMES WITH HAVING EIGHT OTHER PEOPLE’S SOULS CHILLING OUT INSIDE HIM OFFERING MORAL SUPPORT AND ENCOURAGEMENT.” Deku is all, “[kicks Muscular’s ass effortlessly].” Muscular is all, “[gets his ass totally kicked].” I for one am very satisfied with this, and with respect to all, I would like to hereby declare this post a discourse-free zone. I’m just happy to see my son out here making good use of his FOURQUIRKS, and more importantly beating Muscular in less than seventeen pages so we can all go on with our lives lol.

damn Deku since when were you allowed to look this cool

from this perspective and with the smoke, cape, backpack, and mask more or less obscuring his actual profile, he looks less like a sixteen-year-old boy and more like a grownass man

OH SNAP

we got a glimpse of this in the cleaned-up scan of 307, but seeing both of his eyes looking so distinctively All Might-esque here is... whoa. I mean we know that his face still looks pretty normal underneath the mask and he doesn’t actually have the black sclera, but still, this is an awesome look. mini-Might

lol Muscular

you and me both. I mean no offense, but yeah

so Deku is just standing there silently

typical Deku. tight-lipped and expressionless. mum’s the word. quiet as a mouse. silent as a grave

okay no but seriously this is so weird and creepy though you guys. Deku please say something or else I’m just gonna mindlessly say whatever stupid things come into my head in an effort to make things less awkward

so Muscular is all “I should probably make a cool speech about revenge but Horikoshi couldn’t think of anything good so I’m just going to stand here clenching my fist real slowly”

“I’m not here to go on a monologue” he says, as he monologues about not monologuing

okay you guys I confess I have only read through/watched the Deku VS Muscular fight once because the arm-breaking is just way too uncomfortable for me to revisit. and so as a result, I have completely forgotten Whatever The Deal Is with Muscular’s eye lmao so let me go look it up real quick

okay so it’s a prosthetic, obviously, and he changes it out according to his mood. that part does sound familiar. I just can’t remember which eye is supposed to indicate which mood. don’t tell me I actually have to go back and reread this shit

lol I’m skimming through chapter 75 now and remembering/realizing that I hardly paid any attention to this the first time around because as soon as I found out the villains were after Kacchan my brain was like “TIME TO FOCUS ON THIS AND ONLY THIS NOW AND FOREVER” and yeah. ah memories

anyway so he started out with the flower-looking eye, and then later on he was all

which begs the question, how on earth could I have ever forgotten the most ridiculous panel I’ve ever read lmao

anyway, but so after all of that, I'm only just now realizing that this isn't one of his previous eye prosthetics in the current chapter; this is an ACTUAL FUCKING ROCK that he's just randomly shoved into his eye socket fkdsjlk

so basically (1) I did all of that painstaking research for nothing, five whole minutes of my life wasted THANKS A LOT, and (2) what, and I have never meant this more emphatically, THE FUCK

anyway so now he's leaping at the building that Deku is standing on top of. but he’s not aiming anywhere near Deku though, wtf

(ETA: HAHA YOU BROKE ALL YOUR MUSCLES YOU LOSER.)

...huh

lmao okay then. I hope those annoying citizens in the building next door are watching this go down and rethinking their life choices

dlkdkljk

just keep standing there pressed right up against the window, why don’t you. “WHAT’S GOING ON THIS SUPER CLOSE COLLAPSING BUILDING IS BLOCKING OUR VIEW.” well, folks, we’ve long since known there’s a critical shortage of hero and villain brain cells, but what we’re learning now is that civilian brain cells are also in short supply

OH THANK GOD DEKU IS FINALLY TALKING THAT WAS ACTUALLY UNSETTLING AS FUCK

SO HE’S STILL OUR GOOD, POLITE, WORRIED, CONSIDERATE DEKU UNDERNEATH THAT COOL AND MYSTERIOUS VENEER. for real, thank fuck, because I swear to god if he suddenly started acting like the Dekus in all of the vigilante AUs my interest in this series would have dropped something like 50% lol. just because he dropped out of school and ran away from home and is currently dressed like the physical manifestation of a Linkin Park playlist doesn’t mean he’s not still the WORLD’S BIGGEST DORK okay

I MEAN, THIS RIGHT HERE. THIS IS WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT. HE’S APOLOGIZING FOR THE DELAY

PLEASE FIND THE ATTACHED SHINDOU YOU REQUESTED. BEST REGARDS!!!

OH MY GOD WHY IS HE SUCH A BADASS

something about making bold, confident statements while obscured in smoke?? idk but damn it fucking works

ffjkkl

more importantly, should you tell him you actually need your copy of Shindou in excel format and not pdf?? on the one hand you don’t want to sound ungrateful, but on the other hand what are you even supposed to do with this

this chapter so far consists of like 50% smoke, but on the other hand Deku VS Kacchan 2 had a lot of cinematic smoke too so who am I to complain

OMG IS IT HIS ARMS

IDK DID YOU?! TELL ME YOUR SECRETS. PLEASE, AT SOME POINT THIS FIGHT HAS GOT TO ACTUALLY ADVANCE THE PLOT

OHHHHHHH

IT’S EN’S QUIRK!! OH MY GOD OKAY THAT’S ACTUALLY AWESOME

I CAN HEAR THE SOUND OF DISCOURSE RUMBLING IN THE BACKGROUND BUT I DON’T CARE LOL. WON’T CATCH ME EVER SAYING NO TO ANOTHER SIXQUIRK. GO AHEAD, BRING THEM ON, I WANT TO SEE THEM ALL but take it easy though Deku. don’t want to give yourself lung cancer or anything

also it’s good to see that in a very real sense he’s not fighting alone. the Vestiges really did mean it when they said they could appear more easily now. this is on a whole other level

so is this whole next page still En talking, or someone else? because whoever it is sure is chatty

okay, several things

pretty sure it is En, because he keeps saying “I suppose.” for someone who never said two words until one page ago, this guy sure never shuts up. we can’t all follow Muscular’s lead I suppose. oh my god now I’m doing it too

really like the suggestion of Deku using the SIXQUIRKS like tools in an arsenal, because that’s what he’s good at! it’s almost like he’s been training for this his entire life. “you value quirks too much” LOOK HE JUST THINKS THEY’RE COOL OKAY IS THAT A CRIME

where the fuck did all this rope come from

not gonna ask what the fuck that thing is sticking out from the back of his utility belt. Horikoshi will surely explain this

is that a fucking jetpack. I’m sorry Deku were six fucking quirks not enough for you. you can fucking float??? but JUST TO BE SAFE, LET’S STRAP A PAIR OF ROCKETS TO OUR SHOULDERS IDK

-- or wait, is this all supposed to be like a visual representation of En’s metaphor?? OH MY GOD AM I JUST STUPID LOL, DON’T ANSWER THAT. NEVER MIND. NEW LIST!!

rope = blackwhip

jetpack = float

radio = danger sense

and so I’m guessing that this ridiculously phallic thing is supposed to be a flare or something?? and that = the new quirk, smokescreen. well that was a fucking ride lmao we now return you to our regularly scheduled chapter

so now Deku is floating to his heart’s content and thinking that he’ll just sneak up on Muscular and vibe check his ass or whatever

WOOOOOOOO DANGER SENSE YESSSS I LOVE THIS FOR HIM

okay guys, I'm gonna press pause here for a sec to make a serious note, because I am loving the shit out of this, but tbh I'm having trouble enjoying it as much as I want to because I keep getting anxious thinking about the discourse. I know that a lot of the fandom has very strong opinions on Deku's character development one way or the other, and I want to respect that. but I also really have no spoons to debate this topic at all beyond what I’ve already weighed in on. so if it’s all the same to everyone, I plan on staying out of this discussion, at least this week

anyway! that said, YEAH BOI GET HIS ASS

VIBE: CHECKED. CURB: STOMPED. HOTEL: TRIVAGO

-- OF COURSE HE’S STILL FUCKING FINE LOL HE CRASHES INTO BUILDINGS FOR FUN IDK WHAT I WAS EXPECTING

dammit Muscular. how many fucking quirks does it take to beat you?! the annoying thing is that even with all of his cool new powers, Deku is still something of a mismatch against him. anyway r.i.p. to all these poor buildings

OOOOOHHHHH

you guys have no idea how intrigued I am at the prospect of watching Deku try to play both good cop and bad cop here lmao

anyway so Muscular says he doesn’t know, go figure

“I’m not here to make small talk or anything” he says as he small talks about not small talking

OH MY GOD DEKU

are you really gonna talk no jutsu all of these villains from now on?? that last battle really did have a profound impact on you, huh! interesting

you guys he’s really doing it omg

Deku this guy tried to murder a five-year-old literally just for fun. I mean more power to you, but holy shit you’re really gonna try to defeat Muscular with anger management therapy huh

I MEAN

WHO COULD HAVE SEEN THAT RESPONSE COMING dlkjslkjk

FUCK’S SAKE DEKU, I KNOW YOU MEAN WELL BUT THEY CAN’T ALL HAVE TRAGIC PASTS KIDDO

but. I have to admit, I do still like that he tried. probably knew just as well as we did what the end result was going to be, but still. he made the effort in good faith and I respect that

uh oh

why do I get the feeling Muscular just got a whole lot deader

oh my god oh my god he’s doing the “powering up” stance ffff don’t fucking tell me you can still use your fucking arms here, Deku

BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY WHAT’S THIS??

okay so basically he’s saying that whatever it was he sensed in Tomura, he doesn’t sense from Muscular. which, yeah, that sounds exactly right. good judge of character here lol

AHHHHAHAHA YESS

WHOOPS, GET FUCKED I GUESS

WOOOOHOOOOOOOO

lmao so apparently this is the belated result of Shindou’s attack from chapter 307?? I’ll be damned. good for you Shindou!! I always liked you buddy. please just take my word on that and don’t fact check that statement

okay lol the one tiny bit of discourse I will allow is that it’s bullshit that he just did that with his right arm. like, I’ll fully acknowledge that. that makes no fucking sense, and I demand an explanation from the Great Plot Hole Filler himself. he’s never let us down before when it comes to continuity so I’m trusting him not to suddenly start now

that said, we love to see a rematch against a boring guy settled quickly and decisively within the span of a single chapter. THANK YOU

I like that Deku implies that his power is being a smart nerd who battles villains using the power of ANALYTICS. he basically didn’t do anything except restrain Muscular and wait for Shindou’s attack to take effect while halfheartedly checking to see if he regretted any of that murder and stuff

(ETA: and almost forgot to mention, he made excellent use of all four of his active SIXQUIRKS. it’s like the chapter title said; this is basically him fighting all-out, and it’s a sight to see.)

also, as cool as the mask was, this just feels right. like, we had our fun, now let us see his face, yes good

anyway, I think this was a good start towards establishing What’s Up With Deku Right Now! so if it’s all the same to Horikoshi, I would next like to take some time to explore Why’s Up With Deku. that, and What’s Up With Everyone Else, Especially Kacchan. por favor

#bnha 308 #midoriya izuku #muscular (bnha)#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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no-brain-just-akutagawa · 3 years ago

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Incoherent rambling on about Dazai's arm

Listen, I myself didn't expect my ass to end up like this but I'd be lying if I said this whole reveal didn't make me think. I started wondering about how it impacts the different aspects of Dazai's design and fan perception of him so of course I had to write a short analysis of everything that's been surrounding it and drag you into it.

No brain cells were used during the creation of this analysis.

More under the cut:

How does it impact Dazai's enjoyers?

I want to start off by saying that it's funny how people are actually divided on whether Dazai has been secretly exercising OR he has skinny twig arms. Currently, it's pretty much 50/50. Even if for now there hasn't been any consensus on which group is correct, both sides are equally enthusiastic and that's what matters. I'm not gonna use any screen shots as evidence (I'm not gonna snitch on the arm enjoyers, don't worry) so you have to believe me on this one or check it yourselves. I personally have no opinion in this regard because I don't know shit about muscles but it's been on my mind for days now and I did go down the rabbit hole so it speaks for itself.

For me, seeing a part of his arm exposed like that for the first time was actually quite surprising, because until now it has always been covered. Due to that, I interpreted it more as a character design in a similar way unrealistic anime hairstyles aren't supposed to be questioned, just accepted as they are. Not something that has any relevancy. That's why I thought we weren't going to see his skin under the bandages at all and the sight of this small part of his arm shocked me a little bit.

I like how it wasn't a dramatic reveal or anything, just him rolling up his sleeve. After 100 chapters (including the 0.5 ones too), it was so random and yet so realistic. Like irl there are mostly no grand reveals when it comes to things like tattoos or scars. People do stuff and they're visible. That's it. Obviously, it's usually more like your friend who wears contact lenses is wearing their glasses for the first time since you've met them but still, I like how Dazai showing his arm wasn't treated as a big deal by the characters. It makes me wonder how the ADA would react to this reveal.

How does it impact the consistency of Dazai's design?

Dazai usually has anywhere from 3 to 7 "big" bandage wraps throughout the manga (I'm not gonna talk about the anime because the design is slightly different) and this number isn't consistent even within the same chapter and doesn't really change (the number becomes neither bigger nor smaller over time. It's mostly consistently 3–7 wraps, so I think Harukawa pays attention to that so very cool on their part). I think there were 2 instances when there were shown more bandage wraps and they were when he was in the hospital and when he was threatening Kouyou.

Sidenote: in the Kouyou panel, he's rolling up his right sleeve, so it's possible that he wears more bandages on the right arm than on the left. I don't think it was ever explicitly stated that he wears his bandages symmetrically, so even if we collectively agreed on that, it still might be wrong. If he wears them asymmetrically, I'm gonna go feral.

What it means in practice is that we can't really argue about the number of wraps while analysing this panel as the number of wraps shown here is within the usual range, so it's realistic.

What is more, the length of the coat changes too, HOWEVER, it never goes above the elbow (besides that one instance shown below). From my observation, it doesn't even go higher than the exact point of the bandage wrap end in this chapter. If I'm correct, it will mean that there were times in the manga when the sleeve was barely covering the bandage, but usually it was down the middle part of his forearm, so no plot holes here.

I quickly want to say that as a fan of coats I love Dazai's design and the fact that his coat changes length depending on movement like coats do

How does it impact the aesthetic factor?

To begin with, we don't really know if this length is how Dazai always wears his bandages or if he's wearing them like that in the current chapter because he's in prison and they don't allow him to wear more. For the sake of my wondering, I'm gonna go with the former, but the latter is just as possible.

We don't know exactly how much skin Dazai leaves uncovered but we definitely see how much is left covered and that is at least most of his forearms and his neck probably down to his sternum [did you guys know that all vertebrate besides fish have sterna? I keep learning because of bsd] because the most unbuttoned shirt we've seen him wear is in the 4th chapter and he has bandages there.

If Dazai wears bandages for the aesthetic, it makes sense for them to only be present where people can see them.

How does it impact the functional factor?

There's obviously the idea that he wears bandages not to accidentally nullify people around him and in this case, it would make sense for him to only wear bandages where people can directly touch his skin. From what we've seen up until now, this option doesn't seem likely, but it's still my go to theory when someone asks me why Dazai wears bandages. It could be a mixture of this and what I'm about to discuss.

I think this is the part when I have to put a trigger warning because I will discuss stuff surrounding self-harming.

From what Oda said in the light novel, we can figure out that the main reason (or at least a partial reason if he really does do it for The Fashion) why Dazai wears bandages is due to the scars he has. It's important that we're never told what these scars exactly are, where they're located and how Dazai got them. It's implied that a vast majority is due to self-harm and Dazai's "clumsiness" but we've also see him get shot or stabbed multiple times so these things definitely left scars.

When it comes to self-harm, it makes sense that his scars would be located at the lower part of his forearms or somewhere we can't see them. There are some lines visible on his elbow but whether they're scars or just shadows or some other art style thing, it's hard to tell. I also want to say that whether Dazai self-harms or not doesn't change his morality. Having or not having scars doesn't make anyone more or less human. Scarring is something permanent so judging somebody's morality based on scars they can't undo is unfair. I've seen people talking about it, so I wanted to quickly share my 2 cents.

There's also the aspect of his neck and if he's hiding scars there I think it's probably either something to do with being shot/slashed there (like certain characters did in the past, not saying any names but we all know who I'm taking about) or failed hanging attempts. Both seem plausible enough so we will have to wait and see.

In conclusion

Dazai's arm reveal was a very cool event that didn't completely destroy people's vision of Dazai but at the same time raised some new questions. Right now, I'm wondering the most if his bandages are symmetrical because, as I said, I kind of accepted that they are, but this chapter made me think that maybe I shouldn't have. If Dazai wears asymmetrical bandages, I'll like his design even more because I adore this kind of asymmetry in character designs.

We still don't know the exact purpose of these bandages but if Dazai had no problem randomly showing his uncovered skin around the DOA members, it means it doesn't matter to him. Or at least it isn't that much of a big deal as it could've seem from how secretive he was before. Maybe his feelings surrounding bandages changed throught the series?

I wonder if we're going to see more of Dazai's skin in the future or if that was just a one-time thing from Asagiri and Harukawa to send us into a frenzy. If they wanted to turn us into victorian townfolks who go crazy because they've seen an ankle for the first time then they succeeded. Oh, they succeeded.

#if you told me last year I'd be writing a 1k word analysis on fictional man's elbow I'd laugh in your face #but I had so much fun writing this mess and compiling all the research #bsd #bsd spoilers #bsd manga #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs spoilers #bungou stray dogs manga spoilers #bsd dazai #bsd analysis #bsd original #I had a mole removal today (3 moles on my neck)#and when the doctor was putting a gauze on my neck I kept thinking I should act overdramatic bandage myself up and cosplay Dazai #but it's all chill it doesn't even hurt now

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imaginesfubu · 3 years ago

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Happy [late] Valentine's Day everyone! I got inspiration for this post from my own relationship with my boyfriend. We don't have real "pet names," but we do call each other headass/faceass so... ????? I guess this might still count as one? Hope you enjoy!

Obey Me! Boys React to MC Affectionately Calling Them Headass/Faceass

Lucifer

"Hey, don't worry about it. I just came to check in on you, you overworked headass."

...what

What did you just call him?

Last time he checked, calling someone a headass was an insult

This man is so confused, he put his pen down

"...Come again, MC?"

"Huh? I just came in to check on you. But since you're busy and I can tell you're about to give me the whole "'MC I'm fine'" spiel, I'll see myself out. Love you, and get some sleep this time!"

He was so confused he just watched you leave with a smile on your face as if what you said was normal

What did he do wrong? Had he done something that bothered you without him realizing it? Did he say something to you that hurt you? If so, when did these events take place

Only when he finally breaks free from his overthinking, he texts Mammon to get his advise

Lucifer never thought he'd see another day when he would ask Mammon for advise

Once Mammon responded to his text that the term is meant to be an insult, however in some cases it can be used in a teasing manner.

He guessed the MC was "usin' it to be funny or teasin' ya"

Though, not a lot of people use it to be romantic

So, does that mean I'm off the hook and can have Goldie back?

Read, 2:28 a.m.

Oh, you're in for it now, MC

Mammon

You two were hanging out in his room, planning a pyramid scheme

Karasu, Mammon's pet crow, was also there to put his own two cents in

"Instead of paying taxes like good eggs, give your tax money to me," Karasu states

"Excuse you, bird-brain?! What makes you think you'll get even a cent? A Grimm, even?!"

Cue a literal squabble amongst birb bois

You can't help but laugh and say:

"Mammon, you headass! I love you though."

Mammon needs a system reboot

Congrats, Karasu thought his demon master was dead

Mammon just looks at you and blushes redder than Lucifer's eyes, but then quickly retorts:

"Oh yeah? Well you're a faceass, MC! Butistillloveyatoo"

You both just laugh and blush together, Karasu and the pyramid scheme both forgotten

Leviathan

Somehow, someway, you convinced Levi to take you to Scotland after he told you the truth behind the human myth of the Loch Ness Monster

Levi didn't want to go back, he was so embarrassed he was spotted, and even more so when he had to retreat

How can he EVER go back to Scotland after suffering so much humiliation and shame?!

But, Levi loves you enough to travel with you to help him come to terms with his past

"Levi, you mauled people back in the what, 7th Century? 6th, 8th?"

"B-b-but they were taunting me! They actually recognized me as a demon! I couldn't let anyone who saw me live..."

"Jeez, Levi, it's the 21st Century. All three Realms are changing and evolving! You have to let go and let Go- I mean Diavolo. Let go and let Diavolo."

"I'd rather watch Koko's Strage Journey with you and cuddle, but fine."

"We can do that later, headass. Your mental and emotional health is what matters to me most."

He wanted to retort, but he knew you were right.

He doesn't mind the name

Just know that he'll tell you how you reminded him of one of his favorite characters who acts all cool and a bit mean on the outside but actually is really caring on the way back to the Devildom

Satan

Reacts like an old man just like Lucifer

Were you joking with him?

Were you flirting and wanted him to react as such?

What in the 9th Circle of Devildom did you just call him?

Satan's too old to try to keep up with modern day human slang...he feels himself losing brain cells

He's come to the conclusion to study up even more on recent psychology and sociology textbooks from the human realm

He needed to confide in his partner- in-crime, Satan's own Watson to complete his Holmes: Belphie

"Hey Belphie, MC just called me a "headass."

Belphie laughed so hard he went to sleep faster than an old Microsoft Windows XP desktop shutting down

[Insert shut down sound here]

It wasn't until you called him a faceass later that day with a playful smile and a laugh threatening to come out, does he realize what's going on

Satan's gonna get you back 😉

Asmodeus

Ohohoho~

MC's feisty and playful!

You have no idea what you do to this demon

Then again, yes you do... kinda

Asmo doesn't care what you call him, so long as he knows he's loved, appreciated, and respected by you and there's no malice behind the teasing

The more you call him a headass or a faceass with your sweet laugh and the sparkle in your eyes, the more he just wants to push you up against the wall and-

Beelzebub

You, Beel, and Belphie were hanging out in the attic

Beel was pretty tired of watching old Devildom comedy sitcoms, and he wanted to know of any "old but gold" human realm comedy sitcoms

You told Beel (and belphie, after waking him up to hang out with the two of you) about Roseanne, and that your favorite character was Roseanne's daughter, Darlene

Beel loves Dan, and Belphie can't help but like Darlene as well

Before the three of you know it, you take the remote and start up the second episode of season two

You and Beel are sure Belphie's dead asleep

Beel is kind of grateful that his little brother is asleep because he gets to spend more time with you

"Hey MC?"

???

"What if you and I wind up like Roseanne's family?"

"What about it? I'd love to have a family with you, Beel, and live long enough to see you turn into a headass like Dan."

Beel almost stopped mid-chew of an entire bag of jellybeans

All he did was look at you and smile, mouth full of jellybeans

"I wouldn't have it any other way, faceass."

Belphegor

Belphie invited you out stargazing

After a while of talking and joking around, it slipped out your mouth

You meant it in a joking way, but you weren't sure if you took it too far as he wasn't laughing with you anymore

"Oh no, I'm so sorry Belphie! I didn't want to call you something cliché like "babe, hun, bae, love... But i-i-if you don't want me to call you that it's totally fine!"

Belphie just stares at you as you stutter out an apology

Poor cow boy doesn't know what's going on because he actually fell asleep and didn't want to tell the truth to you

He did hear himself being called a faceass

"Hey, MC no it's fine. You don't need to apologize. I'm with you on that cliché bit. Besides, do you know how many people we can confuse and watch them drift into madness?"

You're so happy you just hug him

"You fell asleep on me"

"MC, n-"

"You're such a faceass, but I love you."

#obey me #shall we date: obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me boys #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me levi #obey me lucifer #om leviathan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor

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tojikai · 2 years ago

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Hello again Kai, sorry for popping out of nowhere but I just had to let this all out after thinking about chapter three for the 'nth time now.

Also, warning, a lot of cussing from me :')

Look, Rie, hun, we get that you feel a bit (more like a LOT) threatened and jealous by the fact that Satoru is putting a lot more attention and thought on Y/N instead of you but you do NOT have any fucking reason to just pop up like that after she woke up in a goddamn coma. She's already emotionally unstable (maybe also mentally, poor girl 🥺) and you just had to add more gas into the fire by saying that... All I can say is that you lost your fucking chance to redeem yourself (for me anyway, dunno about the others 👀)

Shoko already put you in your goddamn place and you had the fucking guts to waltz in like that when you know that Y/N is in a bad condition. I really do hope that Satoru drags you to your apartment and start a conversation about it (and maybe start a heated argument) because what you just did is unforgivable.

Bet that if Shoko finds out, she's going to bite your fucking head off while Suguru let's her do it.

Now let's talk about Gojo Fucking Satoru... Little warning, I'm gonna be a bit heartless here, ehe-

Satoru, you dumbass hoe, first of all... This is your fucking fault so don't start getting all emotional about it you piece of trash and shit. Yeah, I get the whole "I've changed" or "I can learn to change" but you just don't throw away a healthy and wonderful relationship for someone that you've been crushing on ever since you were in high school because, sometimes, it's just not fucking worth it no matter how that person fits your... Uh... Categories??? Anyway!

You and your new dumbass girlfriend are fucking stupid! Why would you go to a party and "flaunt" it to everyone, mostly in front of Y/N who is trying her best in recovering and accepting the heartbreak? Bet that you both fucking share dead brain cells, that's why you both got together, huh?

Yeah, fine, you're defending Rie's actions in the party and the other times when Suguru and Shoko were biting your head off but after what she just did/say when she woke up? Nah, you're going to my blacklist if you even TRY to fucking defend her so you better stop with your fucking bias or something because no "sweet and caring" person would ever say that to someone who fucking wokE UP IN A COMA (sorry, got angry there, ehe). And the fact that you were thinking of Y/N during sex means that you, too, are not over her and is still in love with her so cut the shit amd just come out clean, yeah? Cuz that will lighten up everyone's day but I hope that you and Y/N never come back together because you don't deserve anything after what you just did... Reason? You all can already guess why...

I hope that someone-ANYONE could give Y/N some comfort, reassurance, love and a shoulder to cry on because the poor soul is close to breaking and reaching her limit. She deserves a the whole universe after what fucking happened and is still happening, mostly for her to find someome that will really love and care for her.

I can list a few people that can give her comfort but I already have 2 people in mind:

Nanami Kento & Geto Suguru

I know that Nanami isn't present (or is just there but isn't saying anything) in the story but we all know that this man might (or, most likely, will) take a step forward and start biting the living daylights out of Satoru (Rie not so much but she'll also get her own head bitten off) because we already know that Nanami does NOT respect Satoru and now he won't even trust the motherfucker after what he just did to Y/N. I hope that he gets to give Y/N the love, comfort, reassurance and care that she definitely deserves like, for example, holding her to him while cradling her head to the crook of his neck as he let's her cry on him.

Suguru, we all know that this man right here has a soft spot for Y/N (but we need confirmation if he has a tiny crush on her so that we can say it for certain so we're waiting, Kai 👀 but take your time hun) and he has every rights to feel this pained and worried for her because she was his best friend's girlfriend... The fact that he and Shoko knew that she cut herself as they tried their best to help her just makes my heart ache. I think that when he finally loses control over himself, he wouldn't give a shit about hurting his best friend while he glares and seethes at Rie because, let's just admit it, these two are nothing but assholes. I can imagine Suguru talking softly to Y/N while he holds her in his arms with her head buried on his chest, hand rubbing her back and rocking the two of them back and forth.

And I think I'm done with the Ask, I'm so sorry if I'm spamming your Ask though but I just had to let it all out after giving these three chapters some thought 🥲.

Also, thank you again for this lovely chapter and can't wait for the next one but don't forget to take care of yourself first because your well being comes in first place while the other ones take the other place.

With love and care,

RJay

I HAD FUN READING THIS OMG your feelings for satoru and rie are radiating through my screen LMAOOO but i definitely get you !! and you're so right about yn trying so hard to recover and accept everything all on her own 🥺 i feel so sad when i think about it :(( and those scenarios with nanami and suguru got me smiling on my phone!!!!! like that's so cuteeeee😩🥺 anyways thank you so much for that, bb !! <33 i really appreciate that, and please do take care too~ i hope you're doing great !!

#🍭—kaitalks #f: permanent mark

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hrina · 4 years ago

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Something Strange

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: R WORD COUNT: 6.3k+ REQUESTED: no

uhhhh hi. so. this is my (first ever) halloween fic, ft. infuriatingly cocky ghostbuster!harry. i really hope you guys enjoy it, and just like every other writer on this godforsaken site, i’d love to hear any feedback that you might have. ok im done now lol go forth and read :)

warnings: cursing, brief nsfw content, a nasty habit of jumping to conclusions, and harry being an asshole with a secret heart of gold.

~*~

October 2nd, 2021

Your attention is first caught by the massive, obnoxiously-coloured truck parked in Mindy and Gerald’s driveway. The entire vehicle is a shade of navy blue, though its sophistication is ruined by the neon green bubble lettering streaked across its doors.

Spooked? Call Styles’ Scares!

Beneath that, there’s a promise painted in bright pink:

Lasting results or your money back!

“What the hell?” you mutter.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and exit your car, momentarily forgetting about the groceries sitting in the trunk. Mindy and Gerald are standing on their porch, absorbed in a light-hearted conversation. When they catch sight of you trekking across the lawn, they smile brightly and offer up a pair of welcoming waves.

“Hi, there!” you call, shoving your hands into the back pockets of your jeans. “What’s all this?”

“Good afternoon, dear!” Mindy replies. She quickly descends the front steps, meeting you halfway and enveloping you in a tight hug. “How are you? It’s been a while since we last spoke.”

“You can drop in whenever you want,” you say, chuckling. “It’s not like I live very far away.”

“How have you been?” Gerald follows his wife, steadily making his way off the porch. “How’s school?”

“It’s alright.” You shrug. “Things are picking up, now, but I’m trying my best to stay on top of them.”

You toss your thumb over your shoulder, gesturing to the bright pickup truck parked in their driveway. (It really is ugly, you think. Probably one of the ugliest vehicles that you’ve ever had the displeasure of perceiving.)

“What’s going on?”

“Oh!” Mindy lifts her hands to her mouth, gazing at you with wide, serious eyes. “Our house is haunted.”

You balk. “Pardon me?”

“I know, I know,” she sighs, shaking her head. “It sounds silly. I didn’t believe it at first either, but—something keeps knocking our picture frames off the wall. And the lights! They start flickering at random intervals throughout the day.”

“Are you sure it’s not just rats?” you joke.

Gerald, who has now joined you on the lawn, holds up his hand solemnly. “We tried using traps, but they haven’t been touched at all.”

“Exactly.” Mindy nods, turning back to you. “We’re already worried about Joseph’s wedding next week, so one of the ladies at the community centre recommended Harry. That same day, Gerald gave him a call, and that was the end of it.”

“Who’s Harry?” you ask, brows knitting together in confusion.

“Er—” A deep voice sounds from behind you. “I am.”

When you turn around, you come face-to-face with one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen. He’s got mossy green eyes, dark pink lips, and brown hair that curls around his temples and behind his ears. Smooth skin stretches out over high, chiseled cheekbones and a sharp jaw. He’s wearing a pair of light-wash jeans and matching white sneakers. A black hoodie covers his broad chest; upon taking a closer look, you note that the two front strings have been tied into a picturesque little bow.

Mindy wastes no time, introducing the two of you immediately. When Harry holds out his hand for you to shake, you don’t hesitate.

“Did you want my card?” he asks, peering at you curiously.

You study his expression. Beneath his seemingly sincere exterior, arrogance runs wild and unchecked. You know this man. You’ve met him a hundred different times under a hundred different circumstances, and you’ve learned to recognize a lost cause when you’re staring it square in the face.

“Not at all.” You shoot him a fake smile. “I’m just the neighbour.”

“Right.” His lips twitch. He steps back, rolling his shoulders and lifting his chin in the direction of the house. “Well, I should probably get to work. It was nice meeting you, babe.”

Your nose wrinkles as the pet name sinks in.

When you turn back around to resume your conversation with Mindy and Gerald, they’re gone. Your eyes bounce to the right, where you find them guiding Harry up the porch steps. Mindy has one hand on his bicep whilst gesturing animatedly with the other. Gerald opens the front door and holds out his arm, welcoming Harry inside.

You scoff, shaking your head in disdain.

“Ghosts aren’t real,” you mumble as you make your way back across the lawn. The trunk of your car squeaks when you pull it open, and plastic bags rustle as you gather your groceries into your arms.

Ghosts aren’t real. And Harry is obviously a scammer, based on…well, based on everything. The tacky design on his truck. The unprofessional wardrobe. The self-assuredness emanating from every cell in his body. Babe.

But Mindy and Gerald truly believe that their home is haunted. Trying to change their minds without a shred of physical proof is pointless. You blow out a soft sigh, accepting the grim reality of your situation.

Your neighbours are gullible, trusting people. And for the next few days—whether you like it or not—Harry is here to stay.

October 5th, 2021

You’re approximately two seconds away from chucking your textbook against the far wall.

You’ve been trying to finish this chapter for the past hour. And though you pride yourself on being tolerant when it comes to petty annoyances, your patience is wearing thin. A quick glance out of your bedroom window reveals Harry’s hideous pickup truck parked—yet again—in Mindy and Gerald’s driveway.

You roll your eyes. Of course.

The piercing, raucous whirring starts up again; you release a frustrated yell, slamming your book shut and leaping off your bed. You’re muttering obscenities under your breath as you stalk down the hall, stopping briefly to slide on a pair of fuzzy slippers. When you yank your front door open, the chilly autumn air settles into your bones.

The clamour grows louder as you stomp across your shared lawn. When you knock on Mindy and Gerald’s door, the commotion is nearly unbearable. A few seconds go by, during which your presence remains unacknowledged; you rap once again on the wood, hoping that the sound will be conspicuous enough amidst all of the background noise.

Sure enough, everything goes quiet. Your shoulders slump with relief just as the door opens. Mindy greets you with a friendly smile.

“Hi, dear,” she says kindly. “What can I do for you?”

“Hi.” You force yourself to mirror her affable expression, hoping that she can’t see the pained exhaustion brewing in your eyes. “Could I just—could I speak with Harry, please? It won’t take long.”

“Of course.” She nods before peering at you anxiously. “Don’t tell me that you’ve got ghosts, too.”

“No.” You shake your head. Ghosts aren’t real, you want to say, but you hold your tongue. “No, I just—I just need to have a quick word with him, that’s all.”

“Alright. I’ll go fetch him.” She turns around and totters away.

You hear her call his name, followed by the telltale sound of shuffling. After a few long moments, he’s there, leaning against the doorway with a bemused look on his face.

“Evening, babe,” he says coolly. “What’s up?”

“Don’t call me that,” you snap, folding your arms over your chest.

Harry’s eyebrows shoot upward. He hadn’t expected you to greet him with such animosity, you suppose. His outfit is nearly identical to that of the other day, save for the red bandana perched atop his head. He buries his fingers into the pockets of his jeans, shrugging nonchalantly and pinning you with a blasé, unimpressed gaze.

“Noted,” he says. The corners of his lips curl up into a crooked smirk as he repeats, “What’s up?”

“You need to keep it down,” you say flatly. “I don’t know what kind of fake ‘exorcism’ bullshit you’re trying to pull off, but the noise is driving me insane. I need to study.”

“‘Fake’?” Harry parrots. “You don’t believe in spirits?”

“No,” you deadpan. “I don’t.” You narrow your eyes, studying the subtle movements of his face. “And if I had to take a wild guess, neither do you.”

“Really,” he says, chuckling softly. It isn’t a question.

“Really.”

Harry watches you, tickled by your obvious exasperation. “I get the feeling that you don’t like me very much.”

“Look at that,” you say, rolling your eyes. “He does have a brain.”

“You’re so judgmental.” He laughs, shaking his head. “How can you dislike me when you barely even know me?”

“I know enough,” you reply, scowling. “I know that you’re a fraud who takes advantage of people and their fears. And for what? Just so that you can take home a paycheque at the end of the day?”

“Ouch.” Harry feigns injury, placing a large hand over his heart. “That hurts, babe.”

There it is again. Babe.

“You know what?” Your nostrils flare. “Forget this—it’s like trying to explain rocket science to a toddler.”

He grins. “Yeah, I suppose. I’m much cuter, though, don’t you think?”

You scoff, pedalling backward. “In your dreams.”

His delight only seems to grow when your retort sinks in. You whip around, descending the porch steps and storming back toward your house. When you chance a glance over your shoulder, Harry is still standing in the doorway, a shit-eating smile stretched wide across his cheeks.

“Just keep it down, okay?” you call irritably.

He raises two fingers to his temple in a mock-salute, and you march away without another word.

October 8th, 2021

“You’re sure?”

You laugh. “Yes, Mindy, I’m sure. I promise.”

“Alright,” she assents, blowing out a quiet sigh through the phone. “I went grocery shopping today, so our cupboards are fully stocked—help yourself to anything you’d like. Also, when you flush the downstairs toilet, the water may look like it’s rising, but it goes down after a second or two.”

“Noted.” You snicker. “Anything else?”

“That’s it,” she says. “Thank you so much.”

“No problem,” you reply. “Tell Joseph and Amy that I said congratulations, yeah?”

“We will! See you later, dear.”

“See you later.”

October 9th, 2021

When Mindy and Gerald get back tomorrow afternoon, you’re going to wring their necks.

Agreeing to housesit whilst they celebrated their son’s wedding a few cities away? Sure. Fine. You had a long night full of nothing planned—sitting in front of the television, munching on some snacks, relaxing for the evening and trying to forget about all of the schoolwork waiting for you at home. You were in the middle of watching a Golden Girls rerun when, suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

“Coming!” You stood, setting your bowl of popcorn aside. The knocking continued as you made your way to the front entrance, wiping your buttery fingers against the dark leggings covering your thighs.

“I’m coming,” you said exasperatedly. You opened the door, ready to shoo away whoever it was—a salesperson, probably.

Instead, you came face-to-face with Harry.

And now, you’re here—slumped on the couch, angrily shovelling popcorn into your mouth. You keep your gaze trained on the television, trying your hardest to avoid the man who is setting up his “equipment” in the middle of the room.

“Can’t you do this in the kitchen?” you deadpan.

He flicks a switch on his machine—it looks an awful lot like a standard centrifuge. What a fraud.

“Spirit energy’s strongest in here,” he grunts. His knees scuff against the carpeted floor.

A derisive laugh falls from your lips. “Mindy and Gerald aren’t here—you can drop the act.”

Harry glances up at you, his pretty green irises glimmering. “What act?”

You roll your eyes and look away, fixing your attention back on the grainy screen.

Neither of you say anything for the next few minutes; tension builds, saturating the air and making it hard for you to breathe. Eventually, Harry breaks through the awkward silence. You want to scream.

“Er—” he starts, expectant. “Do you mind stepping out for a second? I need the room.”

Your nostrils flare. “Excuse me?”

“I need the—”

“I heard you,” you say, sitting up straight. “You don’t need anything. What the hell are you playing at?”

“I’m not quite sure what you mean, babe.” His tone is genuine, but you can sense the mirth simmering just beneath the surface. His lips twitch, and your frustration boils like water over a stove.

“Stop calling me that,” you snap, folding your arms across your chest. “And stop playing dumb. Other people might put up with your pseudo-spooky bullshit, but I won’t. Ghosts aren’t real!”

The lights go out.

You gasp, straining your eyes in an attempt to regain your bearings. Slowly, blurry shapes and shadows materialise in front of you. You fumble around for your phone, picking it up and tapping the screen. A moment later, the device’s flash lights up the room. You shine it from side to side, eventually settling on Harry, who is looking up at the ceiling in complete and utter bewilderment.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “Now you’ve done it.”

“Done what?” you squawk, glaring at him. “The power went out. Big deal.”

The lights flicker fleetingly, and then the room is dark again. Your eyes drift over to Harry; he’s smirking.

“This isn’t a ghost,” you say stubbornly, waving your phone around. The bright light bounces across the walls before you steady yourself, positioning the beam back on him. He stands, sinking his hands into the deep pockets of his sweatpants.

“And how would you know?” he teases, cocking one eyebrow challengingly.

“Because,” you scoff. “Ghosts aren’t real.”

Something crashes to the floor. You yelp in surprise, your head snapping to the right. When you shine your light in the direction of the noise, you find a shattered picture frame lying on the ground.

“What the fuck?” Harry murmurs, advancing toward the mess.

“Careful!” you say, holding up your hand. He stops in his tracks, peering over at you in confusion. “There’s glass, idiot,” you explain, climbing to your feet. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

He shoots you a crooked smile. “You do care.”

“I don’t.” Your response is curt. “I just don’t feel like driving you to the hospital so that they can remove fragments from your foot.”

Harry chuckles.

You sigh, squinting at the fallen frame. “We can clean it up when the lights come back on,” you say, mostly to yourself. “I don’t want to risk anything.”

He nods and yawns, stretching his arms out above his head. “Suit yourself, babe.”

“The next time you call me that, I’m going to—”

“What?” he asks, padding over to the sofa. You watch him approach with a deep scowl on your face. He collapses onto the couch, slouching and spreading his legs obnoxiously wide. “You gonna beat me up or something?”

You shake your head in disbelief, stepping away from him. “You’re a piece of shit.”

“So you say,” he replies, unbothered.

“You’re so—”

You break off, producing an angry noise in the back of your throat. Harry winks at you; in response, you whip around and storm away, carving out a path from the living room to the kitchen.

You shine the light from your phone across the cupboards, making a beeline for the fridge. When you pull it open, the cold compartment is dark. Squinting, you reach for one of the many water bottles stacked on the top shelf.

Stupid Harry, with his stupid smile and his stupid eyes and his stupid attitude and his stupid bogus business. You can’t believe that Mindy and Gerald were naïve enough to fall for his bullshit. You need to have a long talk with them when they get back, you think—to ensure that they never swallow a pill this big ever again.

“Thirsty?”

You nearly jump out of your skin, pointing your phone toward the kitchen’s exit. Harry is standing there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest. You bring one hand up to your sternum, trying to calm your racing heart.

“Jesus Christ,” you hiss, shaking your head. “You scared the shit out of me!”

He snickers lowly. You turn your attention back to the fridge, grabbing a water bottle and uncapping it quickly. Through the darkness, Harry watches you gulp down the cool liquid; you pretend not to notice.

“Can I help you?” you finally ask, wiping your mouth with the heel of your palm.

“No.” He shrugs. “Just…looking, I guess.”

“That’s creepy,” you reply flatly. He laughs.

“May I steal a bottle?” he says, padding across the tiles. “I’m parched.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek. “I—sure. Whatever.”

And though you try, you can’t seem to tear your gaze away from him. He hums as he opens up the fridge, leaning forward to get a better look inside. You play with the hem of your sweater, standing behind him awkwardly. When he peers over his shoulder, you quickly look away, feigning interest in the marble countertop next to the sink.

“Er—” he starts. He fixes you with an inquisitive look, glancing down at the device in your hand. “Would you mind? I can’t see anything.”

“Don’t you have your own?” you ask.

“Yeah, but you’re already holding yours. Come on.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine.”

You draw nearer, lifting your phone and shining its flash into the fridge. Harry hums, plucking a water bottle off the top shelf with a satisfied smile. When he turns to face you, a puff of air catches in your throat; he’s awfully close, his torso brushing almost imperceptibly against yours.

You stare up at him, stunned. There’s a small mole beneath the left corner of his mouth. Part of you—an insignificant, microscopic part—fights the urge to reach out and run your thumb over the mark.

“I’m sorry for calling you a piece of shit,” you blurt.

He inhales deeply, chest expanding and fitting a bit more firmly against your own.

The contact snaps you out of your trance. You retreat, backing up against the counter to maintain your balance. Harry clears his throat and glances away.

“Thanks,” he says, his voice hoarse.

Unable to find the right words, you simply nod.

The two of you stand there for a long moment, sinking into a pool of uncomfortable silence. Just when you think that you’re going to choke on the invisible tension, a faint buzz resonates through the air. Less than a second later, the power returns, illuminating the kitchen in a wash of warm, brilliant light.

“Thank God,” you mutter. You shut the flash on your phone, sliding the device beneath the waistband of your leggings.

Harry blinks rapidly, disoriented. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” you ask, tilting your head to the side.

He waves your question away. “No, it’s—it’s nothing.”

And you don’t really feel like pressing the subject, so you let it go. A tired sigh falls from your mouth as you scan your surroundings.

“Help me find a broom,” you tell him. “We need to sweep up the glass in the other room.”

His lips twitch. “What’s the magic word?”

There he is. The same insufferable man who has been pushing your buttons all week. You scowl, shooting him a displeased glare.

“Forget it.” You drag your fingers down the left side of your face. “I’ll do it myself.”

~*~

“You sure you don’t want my help?” Harry calls, kicking his feet up onto the sofa.

You grunt, crouching next to the shattered glass on the floor. “Positive.”

The broom and dustpan that you’ve acquired from the laundry room are old and frail, but you suppose that they’ll get the job done. You set the dustpan down on the ground, wrapping your fingers around the broom’s handle and trying to maneuver it in an efficient way. It’s no easy feat, but eventually, you manage to create a small, compact pile of shards. Gingerly, you reach for the picture frame, plucking it up from the ground and setting it off to the side. Next, you take your time sweeping all of the fragments into the dustpan, inspecting the floor for any lingering bits.

“Struggling over there?” Harry asks.

You grit your teeth.

“No,” you counter in a matter-of-fact tone. “I think I got it all, actually. No thanks to you.”

You throw the last part over your shoulder, coupling it with an accusatory frown. Harry holds up his hands in surrender, suppressing his amusement.

“Shouldn’t you be exorcising spirits?” you ask. Sarcasm drips from your words.

He chuckles. The couch squeaks as he shuffles around; a moment later, the sound of approaching footsteps reaches your ears. You stiffen when he stops next to your squatted form.

“To be quite honest,” he begins, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice, “I’m having a much better time watching you.”

“Creepy,” you say. “Again.”

He laughs, lowering himself to his knees. In the periphery of your vision, you watch him pick up the abandoned picture frame, turning it around and studying the photograph inside. His cheeks lift with the slope of a familiar smile, but somehow, this one is different from the others that you’ve witnessed.

It’s real. Sincere.

“Nice, don’t you think?” Harry asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

He extends his arm, revealing the photograph. Mindy and Gerald’s beaming faces stare up at you, a balance of bright grins and crinkled eyes. Subconsciously, your lips curl upward, and you take the frame from Harry’s hands.

“Yeah,” you murmur, running your fingertips over the photo. “They look happy.”

“How long have you known them?” he asks. There’s no malice behind the question.

“Since I moved in,” you say absentmindedly, admiring the ornate frame around the picture. “A few years, now.”

He hums in response. “They talk about you a lot.”

“All good things, I hope.” You cast a wry look in his direction.

He chuckles and nods. “Yeah. They look out for you, it seems.”

“I try to look out for them, too.” You sit back on your haunches, groaning quietly. “Which is why I was surprised that they didn’t come to me when they first thought their house was ‘haunted’.”

Your intonation changes on the last word; you still don’t believe that your neighbours are being plagued by spirits, despite the plethora of peculiarity that you’ve witnessed tonight.

“Maybe they didn’t want to worry you,” Harry suggests.

You roll your eyes. Even now, he refuses to drop the act.

“Sure,” you say. “So, hiring a spirit exterminator—or whatever you pretend to be—was a better move?” You snort softly, climbing to your feet. “How much are they paying you, anyway?”

He purses his lips. “They’re not.”

You freeze.

A beat of silence drags out, during which you swallow your shock. You clear your throat and lift your chin, staring down at Harry banally.

“You’re lying.”

“Nope.”

“You are!” you insist. A short, incredulous laugh tumbles off your tongue. “You are one hundred percent fucking with me.”

“I’m afraid not,” he says.

“Your truck, though...” you say. “‘Lasting results, or your money back’?”

“I’ve got to make it look legitimate, don’t I?” He smirks. “But it’s cute that you remembered.”

Your eyes lock with his, and suddenly, it’s almost impossible to breathe. His gaze is deep, open, and honest. Your lips part, but no sound comes out. Instinctively, your legs carry you a few paces back, veering toward the sofa. You plop down onto the plush cushions, clutching the picture frame tightly between your fingers.

“Then, why��?” you break off, shaking your head. “Why would you—?”

“Peace of mind,” Harry shrugs, still rooted to his spot on the floor. “Ever heard of the placebo effect?”

“You admit it, then,” you say, sitting up straight. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

He nods, blinking languidly. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“So,” you start, trying to make sense of the situation, “you let them believe that you’re actually cleansing the house—for free, too—just to—?” You glance around the room, searching for the right words. “—just to put them at ease?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s…”

Sweet. Thoughtful.

“…ridiculous.”

Harry chuckles. “Thanks.”

“I—” You hesitate, depositing the photograph next to you on the couch. “This whole time, I thought you were just…”

“A con?”

You bring your fingers up to your mouth, nodding silently and studying him with big, rounded eyes.

He shrugs.

“I mean, I never really got the chance to explain myself. You’d already made up your mind about me, hadn’t you? So, I thought I’d just let you stick with your assumptions—it didn’t bother me much.”

“I’m a horrible person,” you say, mostly to yourself.

Harry laughs, shaking his head. “No, you’re not. You’re just a bit judgmental, that’s all.”

“You’re right.” You nod again, bowing your head in shame. “I am. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, babe, really.”

You stand abruptly, abandoning your spot on the sofa.

“I should finish up,” you state, embarrassed beyond belief. Harry watches you closely as you approach. You crouch down next to him, reaching for the dustpan with shaky hands. A few small shards of glass are littered at the brink of the collector; you nudge them away from the edge, trying to be as careful as possible.

“Ow!” you suddenly hiss, retracting your arm quickly. You twist your wrist, fixing your attention on a thin cut engraved into the pad of your index finger.

“What happened?” Harry asks, leaning forward.

You shake your head, waving away his worries. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just got nicked, that’s all.”

“Let me see,” he requests, holding out his own hand.

You pause, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and stealing a quick glance at his face. His expression is concerned, but neutral. Your hesitation is silly, you think—he may be a bit of a jackass, but he’s not going to hurt you. You’ve already condemned him once before, and you were wrong.

You don’t want to make that mistake again.

After a brief moment, you give in, sliding your knuckles into his open palm.

“It’s alright, really,” you say, speaking around the lump in your throat. “The piece was tiny—it hardly broke the surface.”

Harry inspects the laceration closely, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

It’s not that serious, you want to tell him, but you refrain from letting the words escape. Part of you is enjoying the way your hands fit together so perfectly. You don’t want it to end—not yet.

“You’re bleeding a bit, babe,” he announces faintly, brows cinched in concentration.

“I am?” You try to tug your arm back, but he keeps a firm grip on your wrist. A low, confused noise echoes in the back of your throat; Harry peers up at you, his features unreadable.

“It’s just a spot,” he murmurs. “Let me.”

And before you can say or do anything else, he’s taking your finger past his lips and giving an easy, gentle suck.

You squeak.

The sound snaps Harry out of his trance; he releases your hand and recoils hastily. You exhale, driving out the stale air gathered in your lungs. When you peek up at him from beneath your lashes, he’s already watching you, shoulders taut with anxiety.

“Sorry,” he stammers. His nostrils flare. “That was weird—sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say, shaking your head. “Er…thanks.”

“No worries.” He swallows.

“Alright.”

Awkwardly, you wipe your clammy palms against your thighs. Harry seems to be looking at everything except for you; his gaze flits to the ceiling, then to the couch, then to the floor. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek and push yourself up off the ground. The room is painfully quiet as you slowly slink back toward to the sofa.

“I should probably put this somewhere safe,” you mumble, picking up the forgotten picture frame.

Warm air floats over the nape of your neck. You gasp and spin around, nearly toppling over in your haste. Harry’s hands find your shoulders, steadying you and crowding you closer to his chest. You glance up at him; your shallow breaths mingle together in the narrow space, noses only inches apart.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice no higher than a gruff whisper. “Tell me. Please.”

In response, you fumble for one of his hands, grappling at his wrist; he loosens his hold on your arms, confused but willing. He’s motionless as you lift his knuckles up to your mouth. You glance down, tilting your head to the side and studying them carefully. Harry says nothing when you press a soft, feathery kiss to the pad of his index finger.

But then you’re dipping the tip of the digit between your lips, and suddenly, he’s undone.

“Fucking—”

He grabs your face in his palms and seals his mouth to yours.

The two of you stagger backward, tumbling onto the couch. Mindy and Gerald’s picture frame slips from your grasp, landing on a neighbouring cushion with a faint thud. Reflexively, your legs part; Harry takes his rightful place between them, slanting his body accordingly. When he applies the faintest hint of pressure, you moan.

“Fuck.” He draws back, his warm breath wafting over your chin. “Don’t.”

“‘Don’t’ what?” you ask, puzzled.

He shakes his head. “Don’t make those noises. It’s—you’re—I’m—”

He curses quietly and reaches for one of your hands. You allow him to guide your palm lower, inhaling sharply when you feel the slight bulge protruding from his trousers. Instinctively, your fingers close over the subtle ridge of his cock. His shoulders stiffen, and his eyes squeeze shut.

“You’re hard,” you murmur, as though it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Not fully.” He swallows. “But I’m getting there.”

“Because of me?” you ask, peering up at him innocently.

“Yeah.” Harry expels a wobbly, disbelieving laugh. “Yeah, babe—because of you.”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as the familiar moniker falls from his mouth. He notices your unusual reaction, mouth curling into teasing smirk.

“What?” he says, lifting one eyebrow. “No nagging, this time? I thought you hated that nickname.”

You grip the collar of his sweater and give a gentle tug, guiding him down for another kiss. When the two of you finally break apart, you shrug. “It’s growing on me.”

He smiles.

“Do you—?” you pause, pursing your lips. The question sounds silly—presumptuous, even. Rather than finishing your sentence, you lift your chin, gazing up evenly into Harry’s green eyes and declaring, “I think I want to sleep with you.”

His cheeks dimple with a wide grin. “Is that so?”

You nod.

“Right, then.” He kisses your nose and pulls away. “There’s a condom in my wallet, but…I may or may not have left it in my truck.”

You groan, allowing your head to fall back against the sofa with a heavy thump. Harry chuckles at your theatrics. After a brief moment of contemplation, you compose yourself and sit up quickly.

“That works, actually,” you say, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Grab your wallet, and then we can go to my place. I don’t think my neighbours would be very happy if we fucked on their couch.”

He laughs, climbing eagerly to his feet and shooting you a smug wink. “You got it, babe.”

October 10th, 2021

It’s nearly half past noon when you step out onto the porch the next day. You yawn, squinting up at the sun shining brightly in the sky. There are no clouds in sight; the slight chill of the autumn air tickles your exposed arms. You tug on the waistband of your sweatpants, keeping the material seated firmly on your hips.

“Good morning, dear!”

You jump, head snapping in the direction of a familiar voice. Mindy and Gerald are sitting on their veranda, nursing twin cups of coffee and looking awfully cozy. Gerald smiles at you, folding up his newspaper and setting it on his lap.

“Good morning!” You wave before re-evaluating your words. “Well, it’s technically past twelve, so good afternoon.”

Mindy laughs.

“How was the wedding?” you ask, approaching the side of your deck. You lean against the thin metal railing, combing your fingers through your messy hair. “I wasn’t expecting you to be back this soon.”

“We woke up early,” Mindy explains. “And the wedding was fabulous. Amy wore the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen.”

“Really?” You grin. “Do you have any pictures?”

“Of course! Just let me run inside and grab my phone—”

“Mornin’,” a gruff voice says from behind you.

You gasp and spin around, bringing a hand to your chest. The sight laid out before you has your heart speeding up, galloping wildly and battering against the confines of your ribs.

Harry’s wearing that same hoodie from last night. Your gaze trails lower—he’s also sporting a pair of grey boxers and white socks. There’s a mug nestled in each of his large hands, his spindly fingers wrapped around the handles comfortably. Your eyes lock with his sleepy ones, and your breathing hitches in your throat.

“Morning,” you whisper, unable to muster up anything louder.

“I—” Harry clears his throat, stepping closer and extending his left arm. “I, er, took the liberty of making us some tea. Hope you don’t mind.”

“No, it’s—” You swallow as you accept one of the mugs, suppressing a giddy smile. “It’s completely fine. Thank you.”

“Of course.” He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Sleep well?”

“Mhm.” You nod shyly.

He chuckles. “Good.”

His gaze wanders over your shoulder, and it’s then that he notices Mindy and Gerald sat on the neighbouring porch. Without even batting an eye, he lifts his hand in a friendly wave. “Morning, you two. How was the wedding?”

You turn back toward the couple, a sheepish look on your face. Mindy is beaming, and Gerald is trying to hold back a laugh. Heat creeps up your neck; you wish that the ground would just open up and swallow you whole.

“It was wonderful!” Mindy trills. Her enthusiasm has skyrocketed. You pinch the bridge of your nose, utterly mortified.

“Yes.” Gerald finally pipes up, smirking knowingly. “It was great. What about you, though? How was your night?”

“Fine,” you blurt before Harry can respond. “It was fine.”

The duo share a look, and then Mindy giggles girlishly. You bring your mug up to your mouth, taking a long sip and groaning into the cup. Harry’s arm snakes around your waist, making you jump. You steal a glance at him out of the corner of your eye; he’s fighting a smile.

“Well—” Gerald clears his throat, plucking his folded newspaper from his lap and rising to his feet. “I think I’ll be going, now. Need to catch up on those few extra hours of sleep.”

“Me too,” Mindy says, nodding fervently. She directs her next words at you. “If you pop by later, I’ll show you those photos, okay?”

“Okay,” you croak.

She shoots you one last grin before disappearing inside.

“God,” you say immediately, hanging your head. “That was torture.”

Next to you, Harry laughs. You aim a weak swat at his chest. He snickers, catching your palm and ducking down to drop a gentle kiss against your knuckles. You exhale shakily, twisting your body around so that you can face him.

“Your hair’s a mess,” you murmur, running your free hand through his dishevelled curls.

He cocks one eyebrow. “And whose fault is that?”

You scoff. “Shut up.”

He chuckles quietly and steps closer to you, holding out his mug. You smile in assent, mirroring his movements and clinking your cups together.

“So,” Harry starts, sipping his tea casually, “you gonna let me take you out on a proper date, sometime?”

“That depends,” you say, trying to ignore the flurry of butterflies flapping around in your stomach. “I’ll go—but only if we take my car. I refuse to drive around town in your tacky truck.”

“It’s not that bad!” he protests.

“It’s awful,” you tell him, shaking your head. “It looks it was decorated by a preschooler during arts and crafts.”

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes playfully, giving in. “Any other requests?”

You pause, lost in thought.

“One more, actually,” you say, fixing him with a challenging stare. “You need to come clean to Mindy and Gerald.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Alright.”

“Really?” You balk, taken aback by his compliance. “That’s it? But I—I had a whole speech prepared.”

Harry laughs softly, cradling your face with his free hand and kissing you slowly. Your fingers tighten around your mug. When the two of you break apart for air, he shrugs.

“I started considering it after everything that happened last night. Keep your speech, though.” His lips twitch. “You’ll be needing to scold me again in no time, I’m sure.”

Your shoulders shake with a silent giggle. “You’re probably right.”

“Also—” Harry clears his throat, soothing the ache with another sip of tea. “You may want to suggest that they hire an exterminator.”

“An exterminator?” you repeat, blinking in surprise. “But…they don’t have rats. Gerald said that the traps hadn’t been touched.”

“Not rats,” he hums. “Squirrels, I believe. Living in the walls.”

“And how did you reach that conclusion?”

“I’ve been doing this for a while, babe—I’ve seen my fair share of pests. Plus,” he clucks his tongue, “they like to chew on wires.”

“Really?” You sigh distantly, pinching your bottom lip. “God, that sucks.”

“It does.” He nods, wrapping his fingers around your forearm. “But you can tell them later.”

“Later?” you say, brows knitting together. “Why not right now?”

“Because,” Harry grunts. You squeal when he crowds you up against your front door. He cups your jaw and tilts your chin up with his thumb, handsome face splitting into an easy, salacious grin.

“Right now, I’m taking you back to bed.”

~*~

thanks for reading! if you enjoyed this piece, please consider donating to my ko-fi! and as always, don’t forget to share your thoughts. thank you bunches <3

#harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #spookrry #harry writing #ok here it is 🙃 i lowkey feel like its gonna flop but w/e

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onebizarrekai · 3 years ago

Text

random rant about ranmaru under the cut because I spent the entirety of yesterday thinking about him

yttd 3b spoilers

I’m gonna fight. the more I think back on what they did with ranmaru the more it looks like they were trying to dispose of him

like. seriously?? they killed him off during the trial without a second thought and didn’t even make it an option to save him?? I thought he was gonna be the new bastard because sou has the brain cell now

it’s almost like they made him go rogue in order to make the player not like him and not miss him when he dies but it literally had the opposite effect. he’s interesting now and they just weeded him out without a second thought or word, even though he was almost a main character during the whole of chapter 3 since he was hanging out with sara the whole time. he was part of a darker part of sara’s character arc and they just…… threw him out

those two had a really compelling dynamic especially because sara and ranmaru seriously had this brains-in-sync moment that encouraged ranmaru to make bad decisions

they were tied by a string of fate and EVERYTHING and they didn’t even make his death meaningful at all. and it’s not like they killed every single doll either, they decided to give a handful of them the chance to survive and none of them were, y’know, the guy the mc spent the whole chapter with and got attached to

and because they threw him aside like that, some players are calling him a disposable trope aka a yandere, because for some reason, his desire to survive, affection for sara and bad ideas are not worth exploring or taking seriously

in all honesty they barely made ANY of the doll deaths meaningful during the russian roulette game. they just went “all right gotta save gin” (which is understandable but still) and didn’t emote at all besides minor displeasure at killing their new friends that they just spent the WHOLE chapter gaining affection for and learning to team up with

and like yes. it’s true all of the dolls were dead people, but look me straight in the eye and tell me why the doll you’re supposed to care about the most narrative-wise (besides mai) is a locked death that didn’t even get any attention drawn to it

you didn’t even get to see how sara felt about it. she just went “uh oh! ranmaru betrayed us! what a nutcase” and then kinda wiggled away until ranmaru died in the trial EVEN THOUGH ranmaru was literally becoming her friend before he went off the rails.

it’s like nothing in the chapter happened, it’s like none of them went through a rigorous electric shock minigame in order to save his life

I’d almost say that this is a showcase of how apathetic sara can be when she’s been turned against, but she didn’t have anything to say about it

like why does the stupid glasses guy get surviving rights. like for mai and kurumada it KIND OF made sense because mai got character development and kurumada kinda did too and he also almost died and they charged him and all, but glasses guy? and not ranmaru, who also got character development like the other two? there were 3 dolls that got development basically and one of them got offhandedly killed while being replaced by some rando who got zero development that I can’t even remember the name of.

I mean like I guess gin needs someone to look after him since qtaro died but also am I really gonna take a rando over a fave who MIGHT have the capacity to have some sense talked into him? or hell, even an interesting impact on the story.

dude. I want to see sara juggling not one but two bastards. I want to see sou and ranmaru not getting along. I want to see ranmaru being a wannabe problem but because he’s such a twig he just gets suplexed immediately by keiji. sara gin keiji sou and ranmaru really sounds like a terrible dream team to me

unless of course ranmaru gets brought back as a floor master since midori got wasted ahhahahaha that thought just crossed my mind very quickly

but also it’s very unlikely that they would do that. and it would also be stupid because it would require them to rewrite him into being a floor master and change him entirely. not to mention they could bring midori back at any time since he’s a doll (though there’s no saying they will)

anyway long story short ranmaru was a striking opportunity to develop sara some more in terms of her darker parts but if the way that they handled him is encouraging people to throw him under the bus, is everything really fine and dandy

I’m not even saying he should be a locked survivor (considering that he is very dead and his doll body probably isn’t permanent) I’m just saying he should be taken seriously and maybe even have a chance of living after the russian roulette part rather than just being cast aside

this is an unrelated question as well but sou’s 0% survival rate goes unanswered. midori said that everyone was set up to be given an evened out chance of survival but sou still ended up with nothing, somehow. we also don’t really have a team-antagonist either because sou mellowed out so much, despite his burning hatred for sara for making him survive instead of kanna (I guess he met midori again and then backed way down, but that doesn’t change the fact that sou spent the first 2 chapters being an antagonist and even tells the player about majority votes at the very beginning)

I kinda thought that ranmaru was going to replace him just a little even if ranmaru is an impulsive idiot who doesn’t know what he’s doing but that didn’t happen

OH YEAH. speaking of which I know we’re only halfway through chapter 3, which is probably why majority votes haven’t come up again, but doesn’t it seem awfully strange that the deciding factor of who survives in the russian roulette game was rigged, pre-programmed luck?

maybe ranmaru’s desire to win by teaming up with sara and killing everyone was just breaking the system too much

#yttd spoilers #random stuff #ranmaru kageyama #I have feelings about this

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littlemisspascal · 4 years ago

Text

The Last Mandalorian

Chapter One: The Warrior in Carbonite Part 2

Fandom: The Mandalorian / Pedro Pascal

Eventual Pairing: Din x Togruta!Female!Reader

Word Count: 3,400

Rating: G

Summary: A series that is a mixture of Mandalorian, Star Wars, ATLA, and my own imagination. The Imps have seized control of the majority of the galaxy, including your homeworld Shili. You and your sister Ahsoka have developed a daily routine despite the stormtroopers keeping your village imprisoned. One morning you make a startling discovery that will change the course of your lives forever.

Warnings: plot plot plot, mild descriptions of violence, worldbuilding, dialogue heavy, sloooooooooooooow burn – seriously, we’re just getting started so it’s gonna be a bit before feelings are involved, reader is 17 and Din is 19 so I’m going to warn this as underage even though nothing sexual or even vaguely romantic happens in this chapter.

Author Note: The plan right now is for there to be 3 parts of Chapter 1. Tumblr isn’t doing a good job notifying my taglist, so I apologize if I bother anyone reblogging this a few times trying to get it to work. Thank you everyone out there for each like, comment, ask and reblog! The support means the world to me 🥰

Part 1 Part 3

Cross-posted on AO3

The village is a small community with less than a hundred citizens living there total, yet it is visible from miles away due to the bright paints used to decorate the houses. Murals depicting the village’s history and its residents adorn every house with details added by each new generation so that no one is ever forgotten. Back when visitors would pass through, they would always compliment the village’s beauty, but there is nothing beautiful at all about the electric fence the Imps erected shortly after seizing control, emitting shocks harsh enough to kill.

Originally the stormtroopers said it was to protect the village from threats, but nobody believed the lie. The only threat to the community was the Empire. They don’t bother making up excuses anymore, now they like to remind everyone the whole village is their prisoner, usually by a show of violence so unbelievably malicious it stuns everyone into compliance.

There are some horrors time will never erase from your mind.

Juni trees grow beside the fence outside the perimeter, the only species of tree amongst the shrubbery and turu-grass, and they are tall enough for their thick orange branches to extend over the uppermost wire. In the mornings, Ahsoka climbs out your bedroom window, slides down the sloped roof of the house and leaps onto a nearby branch. You follow after her, trusting that she won’t let you fall when you stretch out your hand for her to catch you and lift you up using a bit of Force to give you a boost. The two of you sneak back inside the village using the same tree, only instead of leaping at the house, you drop the short fall onto the ground beneath. Five years and the stormtroopers haven’t caught onto your trick yet.

Except now the tree isn’t an option. Not when you both are half-carrying, half-dragging two-hundred pounds of flesh and metal.

Hiding behind a clump of coyal bushes, you and Ahsoka scout the entrance booth where a pair of stormtroopers dressed in their characteristic white armor stand guard, holding blaster rifles. There are others on patrol, walking along the fence and checking its integrity, gradually stepping further and further out of view, but they will be back eventually. Your window of opportunity is limited.

You adjust the warrior’s arm over your shoulders, quietly groaning when your muscles protest the heaviness. “What are we going to do? Stormies might share one brain cell, but they’re definitely going to notice this heap of metal we’re carrying. And as soon as they find out we don’t have passes, they’re going to start shooting.”

Passes are only given to a handful of the community’s traders each week. It is a three day ride on a repulsorlift speeder to the capital where they have a short span of time to sell their goods and then return home within the week with essential supplies. To ensure no one tries to run away, the Imps set up strict rules. If the traders are late, even if only by a few minutes or due to reasons outside their control, the rest of the villagers pay the price. Usually the punishment is a public beating, but sometimes the stormtroopers get creative and tie their chosen victims to a pole overnight by their head-tails.

Nobody, not even the younglings, sleep those nights.

“We’ll be fine,” Ahsoka answers, firm and confident, gaze fixed upon the gate. “Just follow my lead. I’ve got an idea.”

She doesn’t spare you a second to protest, stepping out into the open and forcing you to follow or else drop the warrior’s body.

The stormtroopers spot the three of you immediately, relaxed postures stiffening with alarm, and you have to remind yourself over and over to breathe, to not let them see any hint of the anxiety buzzing beneath your skin.

“Hold it right there!” One of the stormtroopers orders when the distance between you and them has shortened to a mere three feet. You freeze at once, heart pounding as fast as a thimiar’s seconds away from being eaten. A quick glance at Ahsoka reveals no fear in her expression. She stares at them indifferently, as if she is about to talk about the weather.

“Explain yourselves.” It is not a request.

You squirm, nearly knocking your head against the warrior’s bowed head, on the verge of losing your composure, when you notice Ahsoka lifting her arm.

“You will let us pass,” she says, adopting a suggestive tone while waving her hand in front of their visors.

They respond in unison, seemingly entranced. “We will let you pass.”

You bite your lip as you and Ahsoka pass between the stormtroopers and through the gate, not wanting to break the spell by letting loose the barrage of questions forming on your tongue. What your sister had done was as amazing as it was frightening. She had manipulated them with such confident ease you are certain this isn’t the first time she has performed the trick on someone.

“When did Aunt Shaak teach you that?”

“She didn’t,” Ahsoka replies lowly, casting a quick glance around. “I taught myself.”

Your skin prickles as you also become aware of the increasing number of eyes staring at you. With the sun fully awake and bringing morning light with it, several villagers are carrying on with their daily routines outside of their homes. Most of them seem a mixture of confused and concerned about the stranger, but you spy the Elders looking displeased by the new addition amongst their ranks.

You are not looking forward to being inevitably summoned and interrogated by them.

“How?” you ask, copying her hushed cadence. Then, a pulse of panic blooms in your chest. “Have you ever—?”

“No, I haven’t messed with your mind before. Never even considered it,” Ahsoka interrupts, sensing your worries. “I don’t practice often, but when I do it’s just harmless little suggestions. Like convincing Huno to give the younglings an extra sugar biscuit when he has some to spare or persuading Jaelee to go to bed early when I know she’s been overworking herself. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t really sure the trick would work on those bucket heads since I’ve never tried it on two minds at once before. Lucky us, right?”

You nearly trip over your own feet. “What?”

Is she being serious right now? They would be dead right now if her gamble hadn’t paid off.

Ahsoka pretends not to hear you, nodding her head towards the blue-painted house up ahead. “C’mon, Maar probably already knows we’re coming.”

Maar Vashee has been the village’s healer for a little over fifty years. The purple-skinned Togruta helped deliver you and Ahsoka, and was considered by your mother when she was still living to be a dear friend. Her connection to the Force is especially sensitive due to her intricate relationship with the flora of the planet, using various herbs and plants to create remedies, and as such she developed a type of sixth sense where she instinctively knows when her skills are needed.

Entering her home that doubles as her clinic, you find Maar had indeed anticipated your arrival and set up a cot to place the warrior upon. Once he is laid down, you roll your aching shoulders, biting back a wince as the movement irritates the headache lingering at the back of your head.

The warrior hadn’t made one noise the entirety of the trip bringing him here. Even now as he rests on the cot, his breaths are so quiet you would fear he wasn’t breathing at all if not for his chest moving. You touch his hand impulsively, laying yours over his gloved one. There is no response, not a twitch or spasm.

A sharp gasp of surprise has you whirling around, eyes landing upon Maar standing in the doorway between the clinic and her living quarters. She clutches a glass jar of spotted red herbs labeled nysillin against her chest, staring at the warrior like she is looking at a ghost.

“Maar,” Ahsoka calls out softly, coming to stand by your side. A long moment of silence passes before the older Togruta manages to drag her gaze away to focus on you and Ahsoka, green eyes a bit too wide-eyed and haunted. Your sister’s gentle tone remains when she inquires, “What’s wrong? Do you...do you know him?”

Maar chokes out a brittle noise sounding like a cross between a dry laugh and a derisive scoff. “Personally? No.” She moves closer to the cot, the white circular markings around her eyes softening with what you confusingly identify as sympathy. “I’ve heard stories of his kind though. Years ago, many considered the Mandalorians the only ones capable of defeating the Imperials.”

“Holy frak,” you gasp before you can stop yourself.

As a youngling, your mother used to tell you stories about the fiercest fighters in the galaxy known as Mandalorians. They lived on Mandalore and had a special connection with their weapons, a bond nobody else could understand or mimic, trained to handle guns and knives as soon as they could walk. They defended the galaxy from unlawful rulers and the threat of enslavement, unafraid to spill blood when they knew peace would follow. Your mother told you they never lost a battle. Defeat was a word unknown to them.

At least until—

“Mandalorians were wiped out during the Decimation of Alderaan,” Ahsoka interrupts your thoughts, voice pitched high with disbelief. “And the few who lived were hunted down shortly after. The Imps made sure there weren’t any left to challenge them.”

As if triggered, you recall a detail from your brain glitch, a thought that had crossed your mind when you were flying through the storm. You had been looking for Aldera, the capital of Alderaan.

It’s just a coincidence, you think. But a voice in the back of your head that sounds suspiciously like your Aunt Shaak counters, there are no coincidences.

And as much as you loathe admitting it, that voice is right. Having the image of a mudhorn slip into your brain shortly before you find a warrior—no, a karking Mandalorian of all people—with the same creature on his armor? It is too precise to be a coincidence. Your paths were meant to cross each other.

If only you had the slightest clue as to why.

Maar sets the jar down on a nearby table, then picks up the Mandalorian’s wrist to check his pulse. “That is what we all thought,” she agrees after a minute of counting has passed, dropping his hand. “His armor is characteristic of their kind. Nothing in the galaxy is as strong or valuable as their beskar. Let’s pray to Ai our beliefs about the Mandalorians’ extinction are mistaken,” she nods towards the unconscious warrior, “especially for his sake.”

Realization creates a sickening pit in your stomach.

Regardless of the status of his kind, when he wakes up his whole world is going to be flipped upside down.

Three hours later, not much has changed except the room is brighter, afternoon sunlight pouring in through the window, and smells sweet due to the bowl of herbs Maar left simmering on the table near the Mandalorian’s head, explaining the aroma will cure him of his hibernation sickness as he breathes it in.

“He’ll wake up when the marg sabls open tomorrow,” Maar told you with a gesture towards the potted red-and-pink flowers in the windowsill. They grow all over Shili, popular because they open their petals in a sunburst shape every morning.

Ahsoka comes and goes, blessedly not criticizing your decision to sit at the warrior’s bedside when you have a list of chores to complete—doubled now that you lost your bet with Ahsoka earlier. She intercepts curious younglings hoping to sneak a glimpse of the Mandalorian whose presence has become known throughout the village. Nothing stays a secret long in the community. Gossip spreads as quickly as colds and takes twice as long to get over.

If the stormtroopers catch on, the consequences will be disastrous. For once, Ahsoka shares your fears, admitting she isn’t capable of tricking a whole platoon.

“The Elders aren’t happy,” Ahsoka says in-between sips of bone broth. “They think it’s too dangerous having him here.”

You swallow your mouthful, shaking your head. “I think it’s the opposite.”

“What do you mean?”

Averting your gaze towards your lap, you scratch at an imaginary stain on your leggings. “Just a feeling I have.”

Ahsoka leans forward in her seat, pointing an accusing finger at you, causing your head to jerk back up. “The Force connected with you again, didn’t it? I knew you were acting weird before we found him.” She frowns, hurt flickering in her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I never wanted to be special, Ahsoka,” you reply honestly. “I never wished or prayed to have visions, to have these random details pop into my head, to feel others’ emotions so strongly it’s like I’m trapped inside their bodies. There is nothing cool or entertaining about it. It’s…” Your voice cracks embarrassingly, forcing you to take a pause. You inhale a shaky breath. “It’s terrifying.”

“I had no idea you were struggling so much,” your sister murmurs, voice soft with contrition.

“How could you when I didn’t even want myself to acknowledge that I was?” you counter, feeling as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders as the truth sinks in. “I tried to ignore it all as best as I could. If not for meeting our friend over here,” you tilt your head in the Mandalorian’s direction, “I’d probably still be in denial. But I can’t ignore the Force this time. Not when the message is this important.”

“What is it?”

“We were meant to find him. To bring him back with us. I think—I believe he’s important. Remember what Maar said? About how people used to believe Mandalorians would beat the Empire?”

Ahsoka’s brow furrows incredulously. “You really think one warrior can defeat Emperor Gideon’s army? The rebels have been trying for years and the Emperor is always one step ahead.”

You can’t help deflating a bit, shoulders slumping. “Well when you put it like that…”

“Have you considered an alternative reason why he’s important?” she asks. When you don’t answer right away, she takes it as a cue to continue, “Maybe you’re right and he is going to change the galaxy for the better. But he could also be a warning. The Imps wiped out his kind, what if they plan to do the same to us?”

Your lips part to respond, only to close again wordlessly. You thought by accepting your brain glitches as messages from the Force they would become clearer, easier to understand. A lantern guiding you through this maze of darkness epitomizing your life.

But you have never felt more lost.

Falling asleep is a mistake.

You didn’t know this when you rejected Maar’s suggestion to head home and sleep in your comfortable bed instead of curling up on her spare cot that squeaks whenever you move. The prideful side of you believed it was best if you were the first face the Mandalorian saw when he woke up because he would remember you and the promise you swore. He would trust you to explain everything to him.

Within a second of waking up, you realize how naive you were to think you had even a shred of influence over him.

The sound of something shattering has you nearly tumbling off the side of the cot, jerking awake with a sudden burst of fear. You blink rapidly to clear the haziness of sleep from your vision, struggling to make sense of what you are seeing.

Pieces of Maar’s ceramic bowl litter the floor along with bits of charcoal and ash. Ahsoka and the Mandalorian stand on opposite sides of the room, staring each other down, poised to fight. The Mandalorian has a vibroblade clenched in his hand, while your sister crouches low, fists raised. You know Ahsoka can hold her own in a fight, even without the advantage of a weapon, but fear winds its way down your spine, cold and slimy, when you can’t help but notice how small she looks compared to him. Not only because he is a few inches taller, but because he also exudes an undeniable aura of intimidation: his unwavering silence, the skilled manner he wields his knife, even the sharp gleam of his beskar pieces reflecting the pale morning light has your chest tightening with dread.

The clinic’s lights flick on right as Maar announces her presence by cocking a blaster pistol. It is the Mandalorian’s own weapon, removed from his holster when Maar examined him earlier. “Alright,” she says to the room at large as she fully enters, dressed in her sleeping robe. “Let’s all settle down. Blood isn’t an easy stain to clean and I’d prefer it if none was spilt.”

You see the moment the Mandalorian decides to comply, shoulders loosening beneath the pauldrons and stance shifting from defensive to neutral, as he processes he doesn’t need to fight his way out of here. The vibroblade is sheathed within his right boot in one fluid motion and it is startling, truly, how quick he transforms from a dangerous threat to a potentially dangerous threat.

Ahsoka is reluctant to yield, staring him up and down for a drawn out moment that does little to soothe your frayed nerves. Only when Maar pointedly clears her throat does your sister finally obey, straightening to full height with a hand propped on her hip, the picture perfect image of nonchalance. In another life she would have made a fantastic actress in a holovid drama.

“That’s better.” Maar nods, satisfied. “Now why don’t we—”

The Mandalorian moves so quickly that you jerk in anticipation of attack, eyes widening to the size of moons as you watch the pistol fly out of Maar’s hand and straight into his outstretched one. Your lungs seize up, a single thought flashing through your mind. This is it, the moment we all die.

Except instead of shooting, he re-engages the safety mechanism and promptly holsters the gun at his side where it belonged. Without saying anything.

Ahsoka’s slack-jawed expression would have been comical if it hadn’t matched your own stunned face. Even Maar, who has witnessed over fifty years worth of shocking spectacles, looks awed by the unexpected display.

You recover first, somehow managing to piece together the right words to ask a coherent question. “Are you a Jedi?”

It is only because you are staring directly at him that you notice the virtually imperceptible tilting of his head. “I’m a Mandalorian,” he answers bluntly, oblivious to how your heart skips a beat. “Weapons are part of my religion. It’s important to earn their trust.” He addresses Maar then, adding, “Especially if they’re stolen from us.”

His baritone voice has changed from when he spoke on the ship. Without the exhaustion wrapped around his vocal chords you are able to hear his normal timbre. Due to the modulator in his helmet, it has a husky quality, an intriguing mix of smoke and honey. But that is not what has your montrals prickling and your spine straightening.

“I disarm all my patients,” Maar replies, back to being her cool, calm, and collected self. “I would have given it back—”

“How old are you?”

You don’t realize you have spoken until two pairs of eyes and an expressionless visor look at you.

The Mandalorian’s fingers curl and uncurl at his sides once, twice. “Nineteen,” he answers after a few seconds of lapsing silence.

“Oh Ai,” Maar murmurs, vocalizing your own thoughts.

All this time you have been thinking of the Mandalorian as a man beneath the amor. A hardened and seasoned fighter who has seen a lifetime of bloodshed and violence. But the reality is he is only two years older than you. Standing right on that thin, blurry line between being seen as a teenager and being considered an adult.

“Who are you?” the Mandalorian asks, glancing first at you then your sister and back to Maar. Frustration and wariness blend together, sharpening his voice. “Why am I here? What happened?”

Ahsoka meets your eye with a question in her gaze, one you don’t have the answer for: where do we even begin?

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