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punchdrunkdoc · 3 years ago

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Just Breathe - Ch.7

Summary: Six months after the events in Gotham Square Garden, Bruce is struggling to find balance between his role as Batman and his responsibilities as Bruce Wayne. His life is made even more complicated when he learns that someone knows his secret identity.

Notes: This is a multi-chapter, slow-burn Battinson/original female character story with romance, angst, and crime solving!

Also available on AO3

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Reference pics and stuff

Bruce stared at the phone in his hand, and wondered if he was making a mistake.

He should just let it go. Ignore the niggling doubts in his head. The questions that were boring holes in his brain…

But he couldn’t.

He needed answers. He needed to know if his insane theory was just that - insane - or if it was somehow the truth.

He dialled the number.

"Hello?" Gordon's voice was strong - a sign that he was on the mend - and Bruce was relieved to hear it.

"It's me," he responded, dropping his voice into his 'Batman' register.

"You have a phone?" Gordon sounded surprised. And a bit annoyed. "All this time we could've just been calling each other, instead of using that signal?"

"This is a one-off. I couldn't get to you any other way."

"Yeah, you're persona non grata at the moment. I'll sort that out when I get discharged - I'll make it clear in my report that you weren't to blame for the botched op. We wouldn't have caught Newsome without you.” He paused. “Is that why you called me?"

"No. Its about Newsome's last victim."

"I heard about that. A mystery 'samaritan' found her and dropped her at the hospital."

Bruce could hear the scepticism in Gordon's voice. "You don't think it was a samaritan," he deduced. “Are you thinking an accomplice instead?"

"The timing is odd, that's all. The night we take Newsome into custody, someone just happens to stumble across his latest victim? Don't tell me you haven’t considered it."

Bruce had. "Apparently the person who dropped her off was a woman. Female accomplices aren't exactly common and there was nothing in Newsome's house to suggest he had a girlfriend.”

“True,” Gordon said. “But I’ve heard stranger things.”

He hadn’t heard Bruce’s theory.

“Do you know anything more about her? The samaritan?” Bruce asked.

Gordon sighed in frustration. “No. The ER staff didn’t get a good look at her and all you can see on the CCTV is someone in a baseball cap. The car wasn’t caught on camera, and the nurses were too busy with the semi-conscious women in the passenger seat to take much notice of the make and model. They just said it was blue and ‘looked fast’.”

Shit.

Bruce scrubbed his face with his free hand. His insane theory had just gotten a lot more plausible. Beth’s car was blue, and fast...

It was also currently covered in mud, with scratches all along the bodywork. As if she’d been driving in the country through narrow lanes.

He’d noticed the damage to her car last night when he’d dropped by her office. He’d wanted to update her on Newsome’s victim. He could have called her…but the desire to see her won out again.

He found her clicking through autopsy photos on her computer. She was examining images of a mutilated, partially-flayed body while eating a yoghurt. He marvelled at her ability to compartmentalise.

“What happened to him?” He asked in greeting.

She jerked her head up and swore. “I’m gonna put a bell on you!”

He said nothing in response, just stepped closer to view the pictures. It looked like the work of a particularly sadistic killer. “Is this something I need to know about?”

She shook her head and closed down the screen. “Man picked a fight with a train. Train won. What’s up?” She seemed to catch herself. “I mean, did you find Newsome’s captive?”

“I didn’t, but someone did.” He studied her closely, remembering the damage he’d seen on her car on the way in.

She smiled. “That’s a relief.”

“I didn’t say they were alive.”

She faltered slightly. “I- I just assumed.”

He took a step closer. “Beth is there something you want to tell me?”

She held his gaze. “No. What do you mean?”

He stared at her. She didn’t sound like she was lying. But how well did he really know her? How good of an actress was she…?

That was the moment his insane, ridiculous theory - that Beth had rescued that girl - took root in his mind.

But if it was her, why didn’t she tell him that night? He could have come with her. Helped her.

And if it was her, why lie about it after the fact? She hadn’t done anything wrong by saving that girl.

If it was her…how did she know where to go?

That was the question he most needed answering.

Gordon was also curious. “If it wasn’t an accomplice, how did they know where to look? The bunker was pretty secluded.”

“Did anyone interrogate Newsome that night?” Bruce asked.

“No, he wasn’t conscious until the morning.”

“Can I speak to the officers guarding his room?”

“Why?”

“Just trying to be thorough.”

“It was Ramirez and Jones. I’ll have them meet you tonight down by the river. Let me know if you find something.”

A few hours later, Bruce listened to the account from the two officers; Jones did most the talking. Ramirez just watched Bruce quietly, her gaze distrusting.

“Only ones who went in or out the whole night were doctors and nurses,” Jones explained. “They all had ID, and I watched them the entire time. No one talked to him or did nothing funny. Well, except that blond doctor. But she just threw up.”

Bruce frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It was kinda weird at first. She went in to check some surgical thing, then took his pulse. She stood there for a while holding his wrist, I thought she’d zoned out or something…then she ran to the bathroom and spewed her guts out. Said it was morning sickness.”

On a hunch, Bruce removed the printed photo of Beth from his belt and showed it to the officer. “This her?”

Jones tilted his head and squinted at the photo. “She was wearing a mask. But I think it could be her. Ramirez?”

The woman stepped closer, and peered at the picture. She nodded. “That’s her.”

“Wait,” Jones said, looking worried. “Is she not a doctor?”

“No, she is,” Bruce said, fudging the truth a bit. “I'm just confirming something.”

The two officers turned to leave, but Bruce stood still, his mind racing to try to fit all the pieces together.

Beth had been in Newsome’s room that night.

Then she’d driven straight to his secret bunker and rescued his captive.

But, how?

How did she get the information out of an unconscious man? When all she did was touch him.

Touch.

He thought back to all the interactions he’d had with Beth…

“Hey,” he shouted to the cops. They stopped and looked back over their shoulders. “Was she wearing gloves? The doctor?”

The two officers glanced at each other in confusion. Jones eventually answered. “No. Just her bare hands.”

Her bare hands.

Bruce nodded and turned to face the water, an even more insane and ridiculous theory forming.

Beth had never touched him with her bare hands. Even when she was fixing his shoulder, she was careful to only touch the bandages that covered his hands. And he remembered how she’d shied away when he’d tried to touch her cheek the other night. It had been a moment of weakness on his part; she’d just been so brave and selfless, standing there offering her help. He felt like he needed to touch her, to make sure she was real.

But she had pulled away. At the time he figured she misinterpreted it as him making a pass, and wasn’t interested. That realisation had hurt…but part of him was glad she was able to create the boundaries he was struggling with.

But what if it was something else?

Bruce swore under his breath, the quiet curse muffled by the water sloshing against the pier. Was he really considering this?

Was he really thinking that she could…what? Touch someone and find out their secrets?

It was the realm of science fiction.

It was crazy.

But it was also the only explanation that fit the facts.

For how a hidden bunker could be found when the only person who knew its location was unconscious. For how someone could know that Detective Harlow had tampered with his wife’s insulin.

And how someone could discover Batman's true identity.

Newsome, Harlow and Wayne.

Three men with secrets…

Three secrets uncovered…

And they all had Beth in common.

Jesus, was it was true?

As ridiculous and insane as it seemed, could it really be true?

———

Bruce sat on the floor of the abandoned train station that formed his base of operations, his back against one of the limestone staircases. His arm rested on his bent knee and he idly cracked his knuckles as he stared at the image on the monitor in front of him.

He’d been staring at it for a while.

The video was frozen on Beth’s eyes, the only part of her face captured by his lenses as he’d lain on the ground of that damned junkyard. She was bent over him, about to whisper the words that had confused and intrigued him months before.

‘I’m sorry’

Those words had first sparked his curiosity about her. They had made him want to learn more about the woman who’d saved him. Had ultimately led him to Beth.

And now he knew what those words meant.

She was sorry… because she knew what was about to happen.

She knew she was about to steal his secrets.

That was the moment it happened. The only time her bare skin had ever touched his. The moment she had pressed her lips to his, she had gained an insight into him that no one else ever had.

She probably knew him better than Alfred.

Better than he knew himself.

So what did she think of him? Did she understand his choices? Or did she see him as a broken man, plagued by a twenty-year old trauma?

The kindness he’d always seen in her eyes, and the closeness they’d started to share…was it all just pity?

Bruce squeezed his eyes shut and thudded his head against the wall, wishing his thoughts would stop spiralling down this path. He should be angry at her - for lying to him, for sending that damned note about Harlow…but instead he was more concerned with how she felt about him. He was questioning the basis of their entire…relationship. A relationship that he now accepted was real, whether he wanted it to be or not.

“Are you ever going to get up off that floor and come upstairs? You need to get ready for that fundraiser tonight.”

Bruce chuckled wryly and opened his eyes. Alfred was halfway down the other staircase, staring at him with concern. “We can put the ‘Bruce Wayne rehabilitation tour’ on hold, Alfred. I know who sent that letter. They won’t be going public.”

That much he was reasonably sure of.

Alfred descended the rest of the way. “Who was it?”

Bruce nodded his head at the screen. “Beth Carraway.”

“The doctor? The one who saved you?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you know?”

“I worked it out.”

“And why are you so sure she won’t go to the cops, or the press?”

Bruce hesitated. This was an aspect of his nightly activities he’d been keeping from the older man. “Because I know her.”

Alfred leaned against the workstation and crossed his arms. “Know her how?”

Bruce recounted meeting Beth at the ME’s office, getting her help on cases…and visiting her at her apartment. He left out the weeks of surveillance, not in the mood for Alfred’s disapproval.

“So you’re…friends with her?” Alfred asked. Bruce didn’t blame him for sounding sceptical. A few months ago, he wouldn’t have believed it himself.

Bruce sighed. “Something like that. Or maybe there was nothing there at all.”

“Because she betrayed your trust?” Alfred guessed.

“She didn’t exactly betray it. Its hard to explain without sounding crazy.”

“Bruce,” Alfred said patiently. “Given that I didn’t send you to the loony bin when you came to me with your plan to fight crime dressed as a giant bat, I think you can trust me.”

Bruce gave Alfred a wry look…then told him everything. About Harlow. About Newsome. And about Beth and her ability. “But it’s impossible, right?” He said when he’d finished. “Things like that just don’t exist in the real world.”

Alfred uncrossed his arms and moved to sit next to Bruce on the cold, concrete floor. He took a deep breath before speaking again. “When I was deployed to Iraq during the first gulf war, there was this guy in my unit, Brenner…” Alfred shook his head and paused, as if lost in a memory. “We were both light role infantry, running ground support for the tanks. He was a quiet guy, pretty unassuming, but seemed like a good soldier to have at your back.”

Bruce listened intently. Alfred never shared much about his time in the Army. As a young boy, Bruce would pester him for stories, desperate to hear about gunfights and tank battles. But now he understood Alfred’s reluctance. War was a trauma, not a source of entertainment.

“One night,” Alfred continued, “we were part of this big operation with the American armoured divisions. We broke through the western flank of the Iraqi infantry, and cleared two lines of enemy positions. It was close combat engagement - brutal stuff. And Brenner…it was if he could sense where the enemy was. Before the rest of us even knew where to aim, he’d already have fired. He kept us - me - alive that night. And I never questioned it at the time - I was too grateful to him. But looking back, it was like he was seeing through walls, or hearing them think, or something. We were all good soldiers - all highly trained - but he was something else entirely.” He turned to face Bruce. “So, no. I don’t think its impossible. I think there are things out in the world that we just don’t understand, and maybe never will.”

Bruce was silent for a few moments, absorbing the possibilities of the impossible. “But what do I do now? Do I tell her I know? Or do I pretend that there isn’t this massive…disparity…between us. Where I barely know her and she knows everything about me. Every thought. Every secret…”

“How do you know she does? You don’t really know what she can do. Until you do, you’ll never know where you stand with her.”

“So you think I should talk to her?”

“I think…that if she’s the reason you’ve been slightly more human these past few months…then you need to do what you can to keep her in your life.”

———

Bruce waited on his bike opposite Beth’s apartment building, his over-sized jacket zipped up to hide his suit and a hood covering his distinctive cowl. Night was descending, but it was still early enough that the streets were busy with people. He wasn’t used to visiting Beth so early, but once he’d made up his mind to speak to her, the hour had seemed immaterial.

If only he could be so decisive in what he was actually going to say when he saw her. Despite spending all of last night and most of his waking hours today debating it in his head…he was still at a loss.

He was going to have wing it.

Just as he was about to dismount and head up to her apartment, Beth’s Camaro grumbled back into view from the underground lot. He’d seen her arrive home from work less than 15 minutes ago…and now she was leaving again.

The break in her usual routine concerned him.

Or maybe he didn’t know her routine as well as he thought.

He kickstarted the engine and pulled into traffic behind her, the electric blue car easy to keep an eye on.

Where was she headed?

And why?

What was she up to now?

He sighed in frustration at the direction of his thoughts. He hated doubting her. Hated thinking the worst of her.

He wanted to go back to the time when she was his touchstone. The spark of light in his darkness.

But that probably wasn’t fair to her. He’d basically put her on a pedestal - moulded her in his mind into some paragon of virtue and kindness. The antithesis to the corruption and bile he dealt with on the streets.

It was a naive, unrealistic portrayal. She was a woman with flaws and secrets like anyone.

And strangely, as much as they frustrated him, those flaws and secrets somehow made her seem more…attainable. More on his level now…

Which really didn’t help with his attempts to maintain distance from her.

He growled under his breath. He needed to talk to her. Tonight. He needed to sort out all these feelings. The mistrust, the confusion. The urge to be near her…and the desire to stay away.

So he followed her, through the rush hour congestion of downtown Gotham, then west, out of the city. He followed her past suburbs and deeper into the country, where civilisation eroded into sparsely populated farmland.

As the traffic dwindled to nothing, it became harder to hide the fact that he was tailing her; she must have seen the solitary light of his bike following for miles. But if she was concerned, it didn’t show. She drove at a steady pace, a constant five miles above the speed limit and made no attempt to lose him.

An hour after leaving her apartment, she pulled off the main road and into a rest stop - if it could be called that; it was little more than a dirt covered break in the fields of corn lining the road. She turned off her engine, and her car went dark. He coasted to a stop behind her and shut off his bike, but kept his headlight on. There wasn’t a streetlamp in sight and the night had darkened to pitch black during their journey.

“Beth?” He called. He didn’t need to shout. The air was silent apart from the gentle rustle of corn husks in the breeze.

She got out of the car to face him, and sighed. “I thought it was you.”

That made him angry. “But you weren’t sure? Then why the hell did you pull over in the middle of fucking nowhere?” Why was she always putting herself in dangerous situations? Did she have no fear? Or just no sense? Beth, of all people, should be aware of how precarious this world was…

“I was, like, 98% sure it was you. Satisfied?” She sounded angry too. “And for your information, we’re not in the ‘middle of fucking nowhere’.” She turned and walked to the front of her car.

He kicked out the stand for his bike and dismounted, following her yet again. “So where are we?”

She clambered on to the hood of her car and stretched out along its length, her head resting on the windshield. “We’re in my ‘spot’.

“Your spot?”

“Yes. The place I come to think. And see the stars.” She pointed to the vast sky above them. “Look up.”

He flipped his hood down and craned his neck back as far as the stiff leather cowl would allow. Millions of pinpricks of light peppered the darkness, and the hazy glowing cloud of the milky way arched across the sky.

It was incredible.

He’d rarely left the light-polluted confines of Gotham, so he’d never seen anything like it. The scope of the cosmos laid out before him was humbling. It made him feel…insignificant. As if all his problems and traumas, all the pain he’d experienced in his life, all the loss he’d ever felt, ultimately meant nothing in the grand scheme of the universe. He was just a speck, briefly inhabiting a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

It was a surprisingly comforting thought.

He wanted to join her on the car. Lie back and bask in the temporary insignificance of his life. To take a break for once and rest a while.

Forget who he was, and ignore the world beyond this moment.

The urge was overwhelming.

And tonight…he was too weak to resist.

But he needed to get something out of the way first.

The drive to this secluded spot had given him plenty of time to come up with a plan - and several back ups - to prise the truth out of Beth. Subtle hints, cajoling, outright questions…it was all on the table. He’d even thought about trying to force the issue by grabbing her bare hand and shouting at her with his mind…

But he was tired, and he was sick of this uncertainty between them. He wanted things to go back to how they were before. So he threw all his plans aside and acted on instinct.

He wrenched the cowl from his head and turned to faced her.

———

Beth gasped. “What the hell are you doing?”

Bruce Wayne stood in front of her.

He wasn’t Batman in this moment - the grey jacket covered his armoured suit; his hands were bare apart from the bandages wrapped around them…and he’d just removed his mask.

All the trappings of the ‘Bat’ were either gone or hidden.

Leaving the man behind.

His dark hair was mussed and damp from sweat, and the greasepaint around his eyes was smeared. He looked younger than the photographs of the suited and styled billionaire…and so much more vulnerable.

But he didn’t look uncertain. He didn’t look fearful of her reaction to his reveal, or worried…

He knew, she realised with a shock.

He knew…that she knew his identity.

“How?” she whispered. “How did you find out?”

He laughed softly. It was the first time she’d heard the sound from him. It was as if removing his mask had unlocked some of his humanity. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

She frowned at him in confusion as he boosted himself onto the car to lie beside her. He tilted his head back - further than he was able to do before - and took in the scene above them.

It was an awesome sight.

The first gift she could ever remember receiving was from her social worker on the day they’d chosen to be her birthday. It was an astronomy book - no more than a child’s introduction to the cosmos - but she read it cover to cover, over and over, and it sparked her fascination with the celestial world.

Gotham was a convenient place to live for someone like her - lots of crime to keep her busy at work, and lots of chilly weather to excuse the gloves and long sleeves she wore to cover her skin - but she couldn’t see the stars in Gotham.

So whenever she needed to think or brood, she would drive out to this deserted spot and find them.

Ironically, the reason for tonight’s trip to the stars…had followed her here.

She hated lying to him. Well, she hated lying in general, but it was a necessary part of living her life. She barely noticed anymore the excuses she gave people at work for not wanting to get drinks, or for why she jumped when they came near her exposed skin.

But lying to him was different.

It didn’t feel right.

And in the last few days, she’d lied a lot. About going to see Newsome. About finding that girl. And beyond the last few days, there were the lies about Harlow, her abilities…and the fact that she knew who he really was.

She wanted to come clean. Tell him everything. Put all her cards on the table and see if he ran screaming.

It was a terrifying proposition.

So she’d come to her spot to contemplate it.

And it turned out he already knew. Or at, least, he already knew one of the secrets she was keeping.

“So?” she prompted him, when it looked like he was just going to spend the night relaxing on her car. “How did you know? And what exactly do you know?”

He faced her. “I know that you already know my real name. And I know its because of this.” He reached for her bare hand with his.

She pulled it away before he could make contact. Then she shook her head. “What do you mean?” She wasn’t denying anything. She just didn’t want any misunderstandings between them. If they were getting the truth out there, it had to be the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

He sighed. “You want me to say the words out loud, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He took a deep breath. “You can discover people’s secrets by touching them.”

She gaped at him. “How…?”

He shrugged. “I figured it out.”

Her gaping continued. “You ‘figured it out’?”

No one had ever figured it out! She’d been working with people for years who had no idea. She’d lived with people in foster homes who’d never caught on. But within months, this man had discovered her deepest secret.

“So how does it work, exactly? What can you see when you touch people? Is it just secrets, or is it thoughts too?” His questions ran together, his voice almost…excited. She wondered whether it was due to the subject matter, or if this was just him without the mask.

She’d once thought Batman was the real version of this man, and Bruce Wayne was an act. But it appeared there was some artifice to the Bat persona as well. This felt like the real Bruce. More serious and haunted than the Billionaire Bruce the public got to see. But not as still and reserved as the Bat.

This was the real man that few people would ever get to meet. And she felt…honoured that she was trusted to be one of them.

It made answering his barrage of questions easier, even though it felt weird discussing her ability. She’d never talked to another living soul about what she could do. “It- it depends,” she started. “If I brush against someone quickly, I usually just pick up the thoughts flowing through their head at that moment. But longer contact reveals memories, buried thoughts. And secrets, like you said.”

“So what did you see when you touched me?” He asked. “Apart from this,” he gestured to his face.

She bit her lip. “Well, you were dying at the time. Your life was flashing before your eyes, so I saw…that.” The last word was whispered, a combination of nerves and guilt making her voice hesitant.

He frowned. “Wait, so you saw everything? My whole life?”

He sounded upset. She tried to reassure him. “I saw a lot, but it won’t have been your whole life. It’s just that-,” she stopped and bit her lip again.

“What? What were you going to say?”

She squirmed, feeling embarrassed. “Lips are…sensitive. To touch in general, but also to my…ability.”

He cleared this throat and looked away. She was glad she wasn’t the only one feeling awkward. Yes, it had been mouth-to-mouth, and yes he was dying at the time…but their lips had touched. Repeatedly. Which was the technical definition of a ‘kiss’…

Luckily, he found a way to change the subject. “And what about Detective Harlow?”

She told him the whole story. About ‘reading’ Harlow, writing the letter, then about Newsome and driving north to rescue his last captive.

But he’d figured all that out too.

He really did know everything.

“That was reckless,” he said, when she mentioned Newsome. “You should have told me what you were planning.”

“There was no danger. He was unconscious.”

“You still should have told me. About all of this.”

That annoyed her. “So I was supposed to just spill all my deepest and darkest secrets to a guy I’d just met? What about you? If I hadn’t found out you were Bruce Wayne, would you ever have told me?”

He pressed his lips into a thin line and looked away. Eventually he shook his head. “No. I don’t think I would have. But…”

“But, what?”

He met her gaze, and held it for a few moments; she felt like he was looking into her soul. “But I’m not sorry that you know.”

She gave him a tentative smile. “I’m sorry about how I found out. I didn’t want to pry into your mind like that…but I’m glad I know too.”

He met her smile with a small one of his own - another first. That small hint of emotion made him seem so…human. Which was ridiculous. Of course, he was human.

But he was also so different from anyone else she’d ever met. She had so many questions she wanted to ask him - now that she could. About why he’d chosen this life. What his plan was for the future. If he was ever lonely…

But they’d taken a big step tonight. They’d bonded over their shared secrets, and she felt like they’d become true friends. It was enough for now - her curiosity could wait.

She relaxed back down against the windshield and faced the sky. She felt him do the same next to her.

A long time passed, as they stared at the stars, the silence comfortable. Her right arm was down by her side, the material of her coat brushing against his jacket…but she didn’t feel the urge to move it away just in case they touched.

He was the only person on earth she felt that safe with.

“Thank you,” he eventually whispered. “For showing me this.”

“Well, technically, you gatecrashed,” she teased. “But you’re welcome. It’s amazing isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

She murmured one of her favourite quotes under her breath - the enormity of the view from this spot always brought it to mind.

“What was that?”

She glanced over to find him looking at her. They were so close, their faces just inches apart. She spoke softly into the intimate space between them. “It's a Carl Sagan quote that always feels appropriate here: ‘For small creatures such as we, the vastness is bearable only through love.’”

“My- my Dad had a print of the ‘pale blue dot’ quote in his office. I always liked that one. ‘Every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there — on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.’”

She got the feeling he didn’t talk about his parents much - but probably thought about their deaths often. She was glad that she could remind him of a happier memory.

He continued, now staring back at the sky. “I was thinking of that earlier. About how we’re all just insignificant specks of dirt in the universe.”

She frowned at him. “That’s a pretty pessimistic way of looking at it.”

“No. Its comforting. Our problems don’t amount to much in the great scheme of things.”

“I always thought it was more awe-inspiring than that,” she argued. “In all the vast, enormous cosmos, we may be the only planet that had the right set of circumstances to foster life. That makes us incredibly lucky, so we shouldn’t waste our time here. We should love our fellow man because we’re all each other has - there’s no one else out there.”

“The vastness is bearable only through love.” He repeated her words back to her.

“Exactly.” She smiled at his profile, but she could see a slight frown on his face, as if the concept of love worried him somehow.

She was struck with the sudden need to smooth that frown away. To sweep back the lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead. To take his hand and squeeze it…

It was an alien desire - she never voluntarily wanted to touch someone.

She settled for resting her hand lightly on his covered wrist where it lay next to hers.

He didn't say anything, or even look at her, but she could see the frown disappear and the corners of his mouth turn up...just a little.

-----

CHAPTER 8

Taglist: @hollandorks @grunge-n-roses5 @xmxrfx @neptunesands @caramelcandescence @blossomedfloweroflove @wanderdreamer @angelsarecallin @stephenismyking @rabbitdictionary @starshipvelociraptor

#Batman #The Batman #The Batman 2022 #Batman 2022 #Batman fic #Batman 2022 fic #Battinson #Battinson fic #bruce wayne/oc #bruce wayne/original character #batman/oc #batman/original character #just breathe

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immasock · 3 years ago

Note

If it's ok if this is not in your prompt list but can I request for hcs of all the bros of an MC who is really OP (I think it's overpowered it means?) Who hides it?

Ooo I’ve never seen this before! I really like that idea! Also I love your profile picture. It’s adorable!

Pronouns: They/Them

⚠️spoilers for lesson 16⚠️

The brothers + an OP MC (who doesn’t want you to know they’re OP)

Okay so we all know that witches and sorcerers are a thing in the Obey me universe. And you, our dear MC, are one of them. In fact, you’re the second most powerful sorcerer. Now for whatever reason you tend to keep that fact to yourself. No one actually knows how powerful you are. Well except for Solomon but he understands the whole keeping to yourself and being kinda mysterious thing. Some people say it’s because you’re just really humble or anti social and others think it’s cause you’re secretly evil and don’t want people finding out this huge plan you’re concocting. Whatever the reason it doesn’t matter

One day, as you’re minding your own business at home, a portal opens beneath your feet. You’ve been through enough portals that you’re able to stick the landing quite well. You are immediately greeted by the prince of devildom and what you figure are some of the demon lords. You are told that the second eldest lord will be on babysitting duty, which neither of you are too fond of, and you go to settle into your new temporary room for the year. It’s quite bland and you don’t have any money that’s valid in the devildom to buy new furniture so you figure it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if you went and got some of your stuff from your home to decorate

Lucifer:

I am going to be completely honest here

He thinks that there’s something going on pretty early on

I mean with the room checks he does every night he very quickly saw decorations that weren’t there before and that he’s fairly certain aren’t sold in the devildom

But he doesn’t actually care all that much so he doesn’t think too much about it

He is very much of the attitude that as long as you survive the year, get good grades in all your classes, and don’t tarnish the reputation of the program or Lord Diavolo, then he doesn’t really care about what you do

Or really about you in general

At the beginning at least

Once you establish some sort of relationship with him, romantic or otherwise, he might start to pick up on some other things you do while you’re trying to hide your magic

He might ask you about why you always get perfect scores in your classes, especially the magic related ones, even though he thought you had never studied said subjects before

Or maybe he finds out you got into a fight and he immediately goes to find you to make sure you’re not bleeding out somewhere but when he finds you, it’s not you who needs the medical attention

Which again, is odd. Especially for a human

He asks you about it and you just tell him that you took self defense classes your entire childhood and that you work out everyday with Beelzebub

He asks Beel if you work out with him and he confirms it

Which means that Lucifer doesn’t actually have any proof that you aren’t just some normal human

So he lets it go

For now at least

Mammon:

Now I love this man dearly

However he is incredibly dense

Which is great for you cause you don’t have to try as hard to hide it from him

Just don’t get caught doing anything and you’re golden

He does realize pretty quickly tho that you’re really smart and super lucky

Which he uses to his advantage

Or tries to at least

He will try to convince you to help him with his homework (read: do his homework for him while he scrolls through his phone)

He will even try to bring you to casinos with him to try and use your luck to make more money

He is actually quite fond of you pretty early on because of this

Once you establish an actual relationship, he does knock it off a bit

But he never actually figures anything out unless you decide to straight up tell him

Though he does end up bringing up the whole furniture thing

Which you quickly brush off, saying that you found some website that sells exclusive stuff

He knows all about those so he doesn’t ask about it again

Leviathan:

Another one that uses you for your natural good luck

Surprisingly he gets really close to figuring it out

And it only takes him like a month of you being down in the Devildom

You’re in his room to watch some anime

The Main Character is extremely overpowered and everything always goes in their favor

They win all the fights

They have the best luck

They are good at everything they do

Everyone likes them

And they are very powerful when it comes to magic

If you look over while you guys are watching you can see the gears in his head turn as he figures out the similarities between you and the main character

“Hey MC! You’re just like the main character! They’re SOOO OP!! ITS SO COOL! Wait.. ARE YOU MAGIC LIKE THEM??”

Well shit

You tell him no of course not. You’re just really friendly and you study hard

Which he believes pretty easily before going back to watching said anime

Satan:

He knows something is up almost immediately

Of course he does

He is incredibly smart and he’s obsessed with those mystery novels

But he can never seem to catch you doing anything

And he doesn’t have any concrete proof

Which pisses him off

He doesn’t like you very much

He hates that you’re hiding something and he can’t figure it out or prove anything

You kind of try your best to avoid him lest he has the break he’s been looking for and he actually finds something

As much as he hates it, he eventually gives up

Kind of

He still keeps an eye out for stuff but he isn’t actively looking for it anymore

Which is when you and him start to get closer and he actually gets to know you a bit better

He chooses not to bring up anything so that you don’t suspect that he’s on to you

Even though you most definitely know already

He really isn’t as slick as he thinks he is

He did catch the aftermath of a fight you got into once however and can appreciate how you didn’t let that stupid demon think that you’re weak just because you’re a human

Asmodeus:

Oh he loves you

Your skin? Flawless

Bad hair day? Never heard of her

You wear makeup? It’s always on point

As soon as you come out through that portal, he’s decided you guys are best friends

I don’t think you understand how many fashion shows in his room and spa days this man is going to drag you to

He’s so distracted by how perfect you are that he doesn’t even notice the decorations in your room aren’t from the Devildom

And if he does? He really doesn’t care

He is lowkey salty that Solomon never introduced you guys once he finds out that you know each other

Even though you and Solomon aren’t really friends

He insists that you’re the one with seduction powers and that you’re using them on him

And it’s working

Even though you aren’t actually using any magic on him

Beelzebub:

Beelzebub is a himbo and I will die on that hill

He is also very dense so he doesn’t realize that anything is weird unless someone points it out

And even then there’s only like a 50% chance that he was listening if he was in the vicinity of food

You like hanging around him a lot as well since you don’t have to try and hide your power as much

There was one time that you were really hungry and you didn’t want anything from the Devildom

You were having a huge craving for that really bad movie theater popcorn

So what did you do?

You poofed some into existence

What else could you have done?

Anyways

Beel was in the kitchen when his nose picked up a new scent

Man’s is like a bloodhound

He followed the scent to your room

You started to internally freak out a bit cause you forgot he was home today and he would definitely notice that you didn’t go out to get the food you were currently snacking on

He was definitely going to figure out that you’re secretly-

Wait

No he’s just staring at you with those damn puppy dog eyes

“……You want some?”

“Yes please!”

Yeah you’re fine

Belphegor:

Okay so Belphie is special

I think that you would be torn when it comes time for lesson 16

On the one hand you could prevent it from happening

Hell you might even not go up to the attic in the first place

But on the other hand

If you do prevent it from happening then he will definitely know that there’s something wrong

You’re kinda stuck between a rock and a hard place here

So you do the first thing that comes to mind

You let him get you just enough to where it looks like you actually had to put up a real fight

And then beat his ass just enough so it looks plausible

Safe to say man’s was not happy

I mean he was kinda impressed but he will get vengeance

Before he figures out who you’re a descendent of that is

After that he really isn’t surprised

His sister was tough after all

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ejzah · 2 years ago

Note

I'd like to ask a favor whenever you have time as I see you as a capable writer and I'm a fan of your writings. Can you PLEASE 🙏 write a story or FIC about Deeks being really sick/or injured and needs some kind of an organ transplant and the only match would be Kensi/ or his Son but he refuses at first because he doesn't want to harm them in any way.

I know it's a little bit dark, but I watched Hawaii 5O and saw McGarrett and Danny, and it was a great ep. Sorry, for any inconvenience, and thank you for all your hard work and writings.

A/N: This one was quite difficult to write for obvious reasons. I wasn’t able to figure out a way to include a bio kid into this, so I hope that’s ok.

***

The Other Shoe

Kensi hurried into the bullpen, tossing her purse on her chair as she rifled through mess on top.

“Kensi, hey. Didn’t know you were coming in today,” Callen said, jogging down from OPS.

“I’m just here to grab a few things and then I have to go to another appointment with Deeks nephrologist and then some more tests,” she replied, focusing on finding the last report she’d worked on before everything imploded. She needed something to keep her mind busy.

“And how’s Deeks doing?”

“Um…” Kensi pressed her lips together, a familiar wave of emotion coming over her. “He’s, uh, he’s hanging in there, but it’s been rough. You know he likes to fix things and unfortunately neither of us can do that. We just have to trust that the doctors know what they’re doing.”

It had all started with a collection of vague symptoms. Easy fatigue, frequent headaches, dizziness. At first, they’d just passed it off as the result of stress and lack of sleep. After months though, when the symptoms didn’t go away with a week off and the nausea kicked, they couldn’t ignore it any longer.

A week, and multiple doctor appointments later, Deeks had a diagnosis: Kidney Failure.

It was shocking and terrifying. Deeks was young and healthy, how could one of his kidneys be diseased? The question played on repeat through Kensi’s mind at every appointment, every consult, the treatments that were now a daily part of life.

“Kensi?” She blinked, zoning back in after an unknown amount of time to see Sam staring at her with concern and sympathy. “You ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired and trying to keep up,” she answered with a smile that she knew didn’t make it to her eyes. “It was good seeing you, but I have to run.” In a hurry to get out before Sam asked any questions, Kensi shoved a bunch of random stuff into her bag. “Let everybody know I said hi.”

***

“Hey, do you want to build a boat?” Deeks asked, nudging Kensi’s shoulder. She frowned and he held up a tattered magazine with a shiny canoe on the front.

“Mm, I’d need something a little roomier,” she replied, like they weren’t waiting to hear his fate, and simply discussing their weekends plans instead.

Deeks preferred it that way. She’d only seen him crack one, when the doctor first delivered the news, actually giving in to tears and weeks of the unknown. Since then, he’d been almost defiantly chipper, determined no matter what.

“Ok, then what about an RV?” He held up a separate magazine now that promised to hold all the secrets to living the “perfect RV life”. “We never did get around to buying that Spinner van.”

He arched an eyebrow at her, somehow managing to make it sound dirty with a single gesture and returned to his reading.

Kensi studied his face from the side. There were deep shadows beneath his eyes that spoke of exhaustion that no amount of sleep could ever cure. God, she loved him. And she was so terrified of losing him.

Silencing that train of thought, Kensi shifted in her chair, the change doing nothing to make it more comfortable. Everything was wrong here. The chairs were too stiff, the music too quiet and falsely calming, the room too sterile. It grated on her already frayed nerves.

“Mr. Deeks?” called out, peering around the room.

Deeks instantly tensed, head snapping up with a sharpness that betrayed his anxiety. He tossed the magazine to the side, and wordlessly reaching for Kensi’s hand as they both stood, and followed the nurse through to a patient room.

The doctor was waiting for them, which made Kensi’s stomach drop.

“Marty, Kensi, come in,” he greeted them, gesturing for Kensi to shut the door.

Deeks had successfully concealed his apprehension and reached to shake the doctor’s hands.

“Dr. Nehme. I’d say it’s good to see you but…” Deeks trailed off with an ironic shrug. “Well, you know.”

“I do,” Dr. Nehme agreed quietly. From the day they met Dr. Omar Nehme, Kensi had liked him. He was caring, yet straightforward, without any of the beating the bush some of the other doctors seemed prone to. “Why don’t you two sit down.”

They did as suggested, gripping each other’s hands as they sat in the hard plastic chairs, praying for good news.

“Gotta admit, you’re not giving me a whole lot of confidence here,” Deeks drawled after a moment. Dr. Nehme folded his hands together, facing them openly.

“Marty, I know you were hoping that the dialysis and other treatments would be enough to see a change in your kidney function.” He paused and Kensi gripped Deeks’ hand even tighter to stop it from trembling. “Unfortunately, your creatinine numbers haven’t improved. They’ve gotten worse.”

Kensi chest tightened and she couldn’t breathe.

“Ok, well, that’s not ideal,” Deeks murmured. “So, what’s the next step?”

“Right now, your best option is a kidney transplant,” Dr. Nehme answered, looking between them.

Kensi distantly heard Deeks say something, she knew she should be listening, but she couldn’t when everything was crashing down around her.

***

A/N: Ok, I’m playing fast and loose with medicine and disease here. Please ignore this. I don’t want to hear how implausible it all is because I already know it.

Part two to follow.

Thanks for the prompt!

#ncis la fanfiction #densi #marty deeks #kensi blye #angst #Deeks whump #poor health #anonymous prompt #ejzah fanfiction

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pyrrhiccomedy · 4 years ago

Text

the People have requested my book report on The Library at Mt. Char so this is now a Mt Char book club.

if you have not read The Library at Mt Char there is no reason to keep reading. I hope you're having a nice day, stay safe and don't do drugs.

So Mt Char has a couple of problems, but in my opinion only one grave problem.

Not a grave problem:

Erwin doesn't need to be in this book. An astonishing amount of ink is spilled on giving us Erwin's POV and I am at a loss in regards to what that's supposed to bring to the story. I mean, it's kind of neat to see Carolyn's "trick shot" from the POV of one of the people being manipulated, but that perspective could have just been provided by Steve. Everything Erwin does of any plot significance could have been done by Steve, a character who actually matters.

Please note that I don't hate Erwin, he's perfectly fine as characters go, he just contributes nothing, and it is baffling that he and Carolyn get the last scene in the book (instead of just ending on her reunion with Michael, a scene that was emotionally affecting and felt like a natural end point to her story). We are taking no questions, Erwin needed to be cut.

Also not a grave problem in my opinion, but I am sure others feel differently and I understand why they would:

Yo, the scope of what the catalogs cover is mad vague. I mean, I get that that's the point: when you have a character whose magic powers are "anything that has to do with death or murder," that's a broad license, and I'm fine with that. These are supposed to be demi-gods. I don't require a rigorously explicated magic system.

But then like...why can't Jennifer, the healer, also heal minds? That seems weird. Or like, it's implied that she kinda can, maybe, but none of the kids talk about their therapy sessions with Jennifer: they explicitly call out that she heals their bodies. But then she talks about how Margaret and David are sick (meaning mentally) in a way she can "no longer help?" Aren't you supposed to be the God Of Healing? Why can't you help anymore? And were you actually trying to help them before - or anyone else? That's never shown. You could have just said you only healed bodies, not minds, but then it's repeatedly implied that she CAN diagnose mental and emotional problems (and therefore should probably be able to do something about them).

So that's weird.

Or like, why is there Alicia, who "sees the future," and Rachel, who "sees possible futures?" That, uh, just sounds like the author was running out of ideas. Also, if Alicia could see the future, she probably shouldn't have been in that house when the SWAT team hit, yeah?

Stuff like that. The magic the kids can do is very "they have the powers the author needs them to have when the author needs them to have them, and they can't do anything the author would find inconvenient for them to do" but that's not a deal breaker for me because overall the vibe being put off by their various magical specialties works for me. Still, there were ways of getting us where we needed to go without begging quite so many questions.

Also not a grave problem, although more of a problem than the other stuff:

You know that anime trope where a super-genius character is having an entire conversation with another super-genius character through a screen, and it's revealed that the whole conversation was a distraction and pre-recorded so that Character 2 could Complete His Scheme against Character 1? And used his super-genius brain to predict every single thing Character 1 would say? And your suspension of disbelief staggers bloodied into the alleyway and collapses because you're really trying to hang in there, Code Geass, but that's fucking stupid, you're asking for me to believe that this character's intelligence is flat-out supernatural now and you've given me no reason why that should be?

That's how I feel about Carolyn, by the time she takes over the Library. Like, okay. The kids canonically have not even been at the Library long enough for any of them to master their catalogues except for Jennifer. None of them but Jennifer are masters of even their own subject.

Carolyn has been studying in secret from multiple catalogues - which is cool! I like how she slowly reveals over the course of the latter half of the book that she has powers from other people's specialties.

...But like...

She seems close to mastering her own catalogue. She is a competent healer and can raise the dead (Jennifer's catalogue). She can block attempts to read her mind, beats David in a fight, and understands how to kill Father (David's catalogue). She speaks lion and controls the dogs that surround the Library (Michael's catalogue). She could make the mathy "Denial That Rends" thing that kicks off the whole plot, and she can make a new sun and correct orbital rotations around it (Peter's catalogue). She can predict the future with such specificity that she knows how to cause Steve to drop a clip of bullets while he's being attacked by dogs exactly where Erwin will need to pick it up later (Rachel's catalogue, also this one is stupid, she could have just given Erwin an extra clip or something, but whatever).

That's half the catalogues. Carolyn doesn't seem prodigiously more intelligent than the other kids. She's smart, sure, but they're all weird demi-gods with a genius for their specialties. The rest of them haven't even mastered their own catalogue, and I'm supposed to swallow that Carolyn has attained 'competent or better' status in six? When she has to research five of them in secret? Without falling behind in her own studies?

It would be fine if they had all been masters of their own catalogues for years and years; that would mean they would begin to stagnate, while Carolyn kept learning. But that's not the case. By the end I wasn't impressed anymore at Carolyn's resourcefulness, it just felt like she could do anything and everything, shh, don't ask questions, she's the Chosen One so she just can.

The reason this isn't a grave problem to me is because Carolyn's journey isn't about becoming more powerful: it's about her emotional journey, which isn't affected by her being stupidly OP for no reason by the end of the book. She still sucked at the things that mattered, like "feelings" and "relationships" and "not being a shitty person." But I do think it hurt the story. I should be cheering on my protagonist when her wild schemes come together, not rolling my eyes.

Anyway. All that was the aperitif. Let's talk about

THE GRAVE AND GLARING PROBLEM AT THE CENTER OF MT CHAR.

So everything that happens in the book stems from Carolyn's thoroughly justified hatred of Father (and David, but David was made that way by Father). Father treated her, and all of the other kids, with extravagant cruelty. If you haven't read the book in a while, here's a sample of the kinds of things Father did to the kids, or, if David did them, that Father did nothing to prevent:

- Cooked David alive over 2 full days in a giant bronze bull (and made the rest of the kids bring the fuel)

- Put Michael's eyes out with a hot poker every night for 2 weeks (and made the rest of the kids watch)

- Murdered Margaret every few days, often in drawn-out and painful ways

- Made Rachel repeatedly give birth, raise the babies to about 9 months, then murder them with her own hands

- Allowed David to rape all 11 of the other kids (except Jennifer, probably because she was the healer and he wanted to stay on her good side)

- Allowed David to crucify, brutalize and rape Carolyn and Peter

- Gave Carolyn a loving new family for a year when she was nine years old (those two deer), then had David murder them in front of her and blame it on her for not remembering her homework well enough, then served the two deer at a feast to 'celebrate' her returning to the family

- Whippings, skinnings, and bone-breakings as standard disciplinary actions

Whoo-ee! Okay! We are talking about mythological cruelty. I am fine with this! The story takes place on a mythological scale. As outlandish as all of that is, the cruelty feels proportionate in a story about killing and replacing god. Father is cruel, indifferent, controlling, and alien. I have no questions, Carolyn please proceed with your revenge. We seemed on track for a tale in which Carolyn defeats Father, but in doing so she runs the risk of becoming him. Will she step back from the brink and retain her humanity after all of the trauma and brutality she's endured? Let's find out!

And then

and then.

Oh boy.

And then.

...It turns out, Father is a good guy after all.

And let me be clear: THIS IS NOT, IN AND OF ITSELF, A PROBLEM.

By the time you learn that Father is actually benevolent, and loved those kids, and cares about being a responsible steward to the world, and tried to leave the universe a better place than he found it, and genuinely regretted the suffering he inflicted on them when they were growing up, it feels kind of...natural? Like, I was surprised, but also not, because there were 90 pages of book left and Carolyn had already become god. This seemed like a thematically meaningful place to take the rest of the story.

It turns out Father was training Carolyn to replace him the entire time. He had to make her hate David because it was important that she "defeat a monster" on her path to becoming god. (It's not explained why she had to defeat a monster, but sure, okay; it's the kind of mythic feat that fits with the story we're in.)

Why did he choose Carolyn to be his successor? Well, originally he chose David, but David wasn't strong enough: every time Carolyn was the monster in David's story, she defeated him, and went on to rule the universe as an unspeakable tyrant. Since Carolyn always won, Father swapped their roles. He knew he had made the right choice when he put David into the bronze bull, and heard David begging for mercy: because when Carolyn had been the fated monster, she had never begged.

...Okay, so...hang on.

Hang on.

The only rule that we've established on "how to become god" is "you have to defeat a monster," right? I'll even grant you for free that it has to be a monster who is personally meaningful to you, although that part is never stated. Overcoming a great evil which has cast you down and abused you many times before, sure, okay.

...Why the FUCK did all that other awful shit have to happen??

I did not have this question when Father was just evil! That was a good enough explanation! But now that he's not evil, you HAVE TO EXPLAIN why he treated all of the kids so brutally!

Like dude you're GOD. If you need a monster for Carolyn, I'm sure you can make that happen without TORTURING CHILDREN FOR DECADES.

There didn't even need to be any other children! You could have two kids: the languages-kid, who is the chosen one (the chosen one has to be the languages-kid so they can read the Onyx Codex or whatever it was called at the end, the one written by Original God), and the war-and-murder kid, who is the monster. They could have just been forbidden to read the other codices, if it's important to you that your chosen one still prove her resourcefulness or whatever.

Why include all of the other kids??? It wasn't to give your chosen one a sense of family: Carolyn didn't feel close to any of them except for Michael (who I liked, but whose contribution to the plot was negligible).

Or keep the kids! But then why make them, and Carolyn, hate you?? You could just say, "Hey Carolyn, I am raising you to be my successor, you have to figure it out yourself because part of proving your worthiness is this kind of abstract, big-picture thinking, but I love you and whatever you end up deciding to do, just believe in yourself." And meanwhile you're off torturing the fated monster in order to get him piping hot and ready to be served.

Was the idea that Carolyn had to endure so much horror in order to prove she was 'tough enough' to be god?? Because that's not how trauma works! Kids who have been brutally traumatized are usually not made tougher by the experience! A fact that even the book understands, because 10 of the 12 kids are completely destroyed by their upbringing (I'm giving marginal exceptions to Michael and Carolyn herself).

And like

if Father doesn't have a good reason for having treated them so badly, the whole book falls apart!

Because getting revenge for that cruelty is Carolyn's whole motivation!

We are clearly supposed to feel okay about Father going to make a new universe at the end of the book: he's going with his cool tiger friend and that little girl with the connection to the elemental plane of joy who used to be the sun, he's happy to see Carolyn embracing compassion and kindness, which means he cares about compassion and kindness. He invented light and pleasure. Carolyn does nothing to try to stop him from going. He seems like a pretty good candidate for god. And I do feel okay with him leaving! I was convinced! Father is not evil after all!

But then you have! to explain! the abuse!!

It can be a throwaway line!! "Carolyn realized that everything she and her siblings went through had to happen the way it did, because [X]," embedded in the middle of a paragraph! That would have been enough! But I need an explanation!

"They were raised the way Father was raised himself" WHY? He was raised by the Emperor, an on-the-record awful fucking dude! Father proceeded to rule the universe in a far more benevolent way than the Emperor did, why would he feel like he had to raise his kids the way the Emperor raised him?

"Carolyn needed to overcome challenges on her path to godhood" how is TRAUMATIZING HER SO BADLY SHE ALMOST BECOMES INHUMAN - SOMETHING YOU WERE OSTENSIBLY TRYING TO PREVENT, see Steve being preserved as something that could give her hope, etc - A "CHALLENGE??"

Again, none of this is a problem if Father is just evil! YOU CHOSE to make him not evil! And that's fine!! I think it's a good choice for the story actually!! But then you have to, you have to, HAVE TO explain why all of that bad shit happened!

Because all of that bad shit is the reason Carolyn made there be a story.

And it turns out it doesn't make sense.

#the library at mount char

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supernaturalfreewill · 4 years ago

Photo

Words: 5,103 Gabriel x Reader Warnings: none! A/N: This is part of a series! Read Part 1 first!

Your name: submit What is this?

The first door standing open down the long hallway was obviously your bedroom, and Gabriel wasn’t shy about stepping inside. At first, he simply stood in the center and glanced around eagerly, bouncing a little on his feet as he surveyed the space.

Cas followed him in much more tentatively, but curious as to what his purpose was.

“This is it, huh?” He strolled over to the small desk in one corner and picked up an open notebook and some loose papers, studying them closely. Apparently, nothing there really held his interest because he abandoned them quickly and started sliding open desk drawers.

“This is—I think this is what humans would call an ‘invasion of privacy,’” Cas said.

“Gabriel, I really don’t think you should—” Cas tried to argue, but the archangel simply shushed him and opened the cover. He ran his fingers over your handwriting—the impressions were deep on the page and he liked the slanting, hurried cursive. “Ghouls in Minnesota, Vampire in New York, Werewolf in Arkansas… This is nothing but hunting notes,” he said with disappointment, flipping through the pages.

“What did you expect?” Cas asked him.

“Something with a little more insight into who Y/N is, perhaps,” Gabriel said, shutting and typing the journal closed again and replacing it in the false bottom of your drawer, kicking it closed with his boot. “Hopes, dreams, roots, deepest secrets… that sort of thing,” he said.

Cas’s brow drew down low over his eyes again. “Knowing Y/N, I seriously doubt you will find any of that in writing in here…”

“Well, that’s just wishful thinking. Best case scenario. I will just have to get creative,” he said. Gabriel spun and looked at the small bedside table. There was a novel sitting on it and he grabbed it, opening it to the bookmark. “Y/N is an avid reader, hmm?” he said, more to himself than to Cas. “This is an ambitious read.” He studied the bookmark which was a folded piece of paper. When he opened it, it was a printed photo of you, Sam and Dean, and Cas. Sam had his arm draped over your shoulders and all of you were smiling for once. Gabriel stared at it for a long moment and Cas watched his expression soften into a thoughtful, faraway look. Finally, he folded it up again gently and replaced it in the novel, leaving it on your side table just the way he had found it.

Next, Gabriel went over to the dresser and glanced at Cas with a smirk on his face. “You know, it’s strange but most humans keep their delicate underthings in the exact same place—top drawer—” he said, grasping the handle.

Cas slammed his hand into the drawer keeping it closed and Gabriel looked at him in surprise. “I really think you’ve done enough spying.” Cas’s voice and expression were stern now, but it only elicited a mischievous glint in Gabriel’s golden eyes.

“Spying? I’m just trying to get to know this Y/N better,” Gabriel argued, doing his best to sound innocent. “I mean, so far all I know is she’s related to the two meatheads and hangs around with you. And, though it may be a surprise to you, that doesn’t actually tell me anything I’d like to know.”

“If you want to get to know her, why don’t you just go visit her now? Or wait and meet her when she’s back.”

Gabriel gave Cas a skeptical look. “Oh, yes. I’m sure Sam and Dean will have no problem with me sniffing around their Baby Sister. They’re not known to be particularly suspicious or protective.” His tone was dripping with sarcasm. “Especially after all those Dead Dean Days…”

Cas grimaced a little at the thought. “Well… you also saved them by facing Lucifer. They will not have forgotten that. You redeemed yourself, at least in part,” Cas said, tilting his head in his familiar habit.

The archangel looked surprisingly uncomfortable with Cas’s sincerity. “Fine. Enough snooping. Come on, brother,” he said, laying a heavy hand on Cas’s shoulder. “Let’s grab a drink and you can tell me all about losing your grace and what mortality feels like.”

Cas frowned, but he didn’t object. He was glad just to get Gabriel out of your room…

_ _ _ _ _ _

Several weeks later

You leaned your head back on the pillows and let out a frustrated groan. “UGH! Where is this doctor?!” you demanded.

Sam gave you a look. “I’m sure he’s on his way,” he said gently, trying to placate you.

You threw off your blankets and climbed out of the hospital bed onto your feet, moving a little hunched over as you rolled your IV stand with you.

“Whoa, whoa! Hey!” Dean jumped up and stopped you. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I can’t stay in that bed another minute or I’m gonna lose it!”

“We’re not even sure if you’re going to get released today, so you might as well get used to the idea that you may have to stay in that bed for a couple more days,” he retorted. “So, get back in bed!”

You vehemently pointed a finger in his face. “HEY. You’re not my doctor! You don’t get to boss me around!”

Dean drew himself up to his full height and gave you a severe look.

You didn’t waver. “I’m not scared of you!”

This drew a laugh from Sam and when you glanced over he was shaking his head. “Y/N, please just at least sit down. I’m sure the doctor—”

“—is in!” As if on cue your doctor strolled through the door, you chart in his hand. He gave you a big smile. “Alright, Y/N. Hop back up on the bed again, would you? Let’s see how you’re doing.”

He hadn’t even examined your incision yet and the words were spilling out of you. “Can I go home today?” you asked urgently.

This elicited a laugh from him and he gave you an appraising look. “As soon as I know, you’ll know,” he said diplomatically.

You tried to be a good patient and sit perfectly still as he checked your incision but you couldn’t help fidgeting and chewing your bottom lip. The doctor straightened back up and crossed his arms. “Well, no sign of infection. Incision seems to be healing nicely, so—” “YES!” you exclaimed.

“SO,” he continued through a smile, “I’m going to release you but with very strict instructions. I need you to really hear me right now, Y/N. Okay?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes. I’m listening.”

“NO lifting anything heavier than a few pounds—you know what, no lifting anything, okay? Absolutes seem safer with you. And you are NOT to be doing anything physical for 3 more weeks, at which time you can start with some easy physical activity. Long walks, some stretching, that kind of stuff. And you will need to get another post-op check-up around then too.”

You nodded. “Okay. I got it.”

“Now, your brothers here ARE now in charge since I can’t be there to keep you in line,” he said, a knowing smile on his face. He must have overheard you and Dean from the hallway.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you argued.

“I’m not kidding. You need to let them take care of you. And you two,” he said, pointing at Sam and Dean in turn, “need to make sure she rests.”

A gruff laugh escaped Dean. “Easier said than done.”

“I know,” the doctor said. “I’ve been dealing with her for only about a month. You two have been dealing with her for a lifetime,” he joked, shooting you a glance.

“I’m right here, you know!” you burst out. “I can hear everything you’re saying!”

The doctor laughed and held out a hand to you. “Y/N, it’s been a pleasure to watch you recover. Now be well, and rest.”

This time you didn’t have anything snarky to say and just grasped his hand in yours and shook it. “Thank you. For… not letting me die and stuff.”

He laughed and shook his head. “You’re welcome. Gentleman,” he turned to Sam and Dean who both shook his hand and thanked him repeatedly. “The nurse will be in shortly to take care of that IV and check you out. Take care.”

You watched him go with a triumphant smile on your face. Sam and Dean both looked a little anxious, however. “Oh, come on, guys! He said I’m fine. We can go home!”

“You heard the doctor though. Seriously, Y/N. You’re on house arrest,” Dean said forcefully.

“Whatever. I don’t even care. Just get me out of here,” you said climbing down to your feet again. Soon a nurse came in and removed your IV. You kicked Sam and Dean out of the room so you could change out of your hospital gown for the first time in what felt like years. Another few minutes and you were stepping into the hallway, a huge grin on your face.

Sam shouldered your bag and gave you an appraising look. “You alright?” You were still a little hunched over. Straightening up completely still made you sore.

“I’m great,” you said. “Look! I’m wearing actual clothes!” You glanced down at the sweatpants and t-shirt you had pulled on. “Sort of.”

Dean couldn’t help smiling at you fondly while shaking his head. “You sure you don’t want me to go grab a wheelchair? It’s a bit of a walk.”

You scowled at him.

“I’m being serious, Y/N,” Dean said, the gravel in his voice deepening. “You’ve only done short walks around the floor.”

“There is no way in hell you’re getting me in a wheelchair.”

You managed to make it out to the Impala, though Dean had insisted on driving right up to the exit to pick you up. You slid into the back seat and sighed. “Oh, I missed you, Baby,” you said out loud, sinking in to the familiar seat and breathing in that particular smell that always made you remember road trips and hunts and late-night cheeseburgers.

Dean smiled at you in the rearview mirror. He lowered his voice and turned to Sam. “You talk to Cas?” he asked in an undertone.

“No. It still just keeps going straight to voicemail,” Sam said. “But he texted me again… to explain the origins of pineapple,” Sam said, a tight smile on his face. “It took like 30 texts.”

“What the hell is going on with him? He’s been weirder than usual.”

“Well, he has been trapped at the bunker alone for kind of a long time…” Sam said.

“He could have talked with us if he would ever answer his goddamn phone,” Dean countered, turning onto the highway. “Maybe he’s finally cracked.”

“Who?” you asked, leaning forward and resting your hands on the back of the front seat.

“Nobody,” Dean said. You scoffed.

“That’s convincing…” you said under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Why don’t you just focus on getting all healed up and let Sammy and me worry about everything else, alright?”

“You know, it’s weird, but my cells do that part pretty much on their own. It doesn’t require much conscious thought on my part. So, if someone has cracked—”

“Nobody’s cracked,” Dean said gruffly, hands steady on the wheel.

“You just said—"

“I just said nothing for you to worry about,” Dean said finally.

You let out a frustrated growl and changed tactics. “Fine. I’ll change the subject,” you said smugly.

“Thank you…”

“Any news on Gabriel?” you asked loudly, sinking back into your seat comfortably.

There was a long, silent pause from the front seat and you could see that Dean’s grip on the steering wheel had tightened.

Sam turned partially around, one arm on the seat back and looked at you. “You know there isn’t.” “No, I don’t know that. You two are obviously keeping something from me, so I think it is fair to assume you’re keeping other stuff from me too.”

“We really don’t know anything about Gabriel,” Sam said, sincerity written all over his face.

You chewed your bottom lip anxiously. Sam took in your expression. “Have you—seen him again?” he asked.

“No. No, nothing like that but since that happened, I just have this feeling—he said we would be seeing each other again and it’s like, in my core, I know that’s true.” You looked up and caught Sam’s eyes, they were steady on your face and narrowed slightly in concern. “I know that doesn’t make any sense and I know you and Dean said he’s gone but it’s such a strong feeling. I don’t really know how to explain it.”

“I believe you,” Sam said. “For now, I guess we just have to wait…”

Many hours later, Dean finally pulled the Impala into the underground garage at the bunker and opened the door for you. Inside, an archangel and a graceless angel perked up as they heard noise in the garage. Cas shot upright and glanced over at Gabriel, who only smiled serenely back at him.

“Showtime!”

Cas gave him an apprehensive look and started off in the direction of the garage immediately. Gabriel followed, but at a leisurely pace, seemingly completely unconcerned.

But Cas didn’t know that this was mostly an act. There was a strange sensation in Gabriel’s chest and it was growing the closer he came to the moment when he would see you—meet you—for real this time, not in some mind dreamscape. He couldn’t even explain to himself why but he felt that this moment was going to change everything for him in some way—he knew no reason why that would be true. He had been fascinated with you since he first became aware again and had been thrust into some role connected with you… but he had this feeling, like a heavy block of cement in the middle of his chest sitting on top of his heart which was maddening in its oddity. It was like expectation and something more had solidified and despite all his trying he couldn’t shift it.

Dean pushed through the door into the bunker trailed closely by you, and then Sam hauling your bag and his own. “Cas?!” Dean roared. “Are you alive in here?”

Cas came hurrying around a corner in the hallway and his expression stopped all of you dead in your tracks. His blue eyes were wide and his face was quite pale, further making the shocking blue stand out.

“…what’s going on?” Dean asked. He was immediately reaching for his pistol.

“Don’t panic, but there’s someone here—”

“How is that supposed to make me not panic?!”

“Cas, do I need to get Y/N out of here?” Sam demanded over your shoulder, already trying to move around you to shield you protectively.

You were surprisingly quiet and Dean looked over his shoulder at you. Your heart was pounding in your chest. “Cas, who is it?” you asked quietly.

He only swallowed at the tightness in his throat and opened his mouth to offer some kind of explanation, but no sound came out. You felt like you didn’t really need him to answer anyway. You already knew.

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

A second figure now came around the corner and Dean dropped his duffel bag where he stood, his fists clenched.

“Welcome home, Winchester Clan!” Gabriel said cheerfully, his arms spread wide.

There was just a stretch of tense silence between all of you which the archangel finally broke again. “Dean, if you wouldn’t mind just stepping a liiiittle bit to your right so I can—”

“What the hell are you doing here? How are you here?!” Dean demanded, his jaw tensing.

“That’s how you want to start this?” Gabriel asked, a grimace on his face. “Come on, Dean. I’m here to help. I’m not here to kill you over and over again. Not this time. I promise. Scout’s honor.” He made a small cross over his heart with one finger. Gabriel tilted his head, trying to look around Dean to get a better view of you, but it wasn’t necessary because the next moment you stepped around him slowly.

He couldn’t help the small smile that grew on his face. You found the golden light in his eyes staggering, just as you remembered it from your vision.

“…you,” was all you could get out. Sam and Dean exchanged a tense glance.

He bounced a little on the balls of his feet and slipped his hands into his pockets, actually the result of nerves, but he was hoping it just made him look nonchalant and nonplussed. “Me.”

“You’re—but you’re… What are you doing here?” you asked quietly.

“I told you we’d be seeing each other again, didn’t I? You didn’t believe me?” he asked, cocking one eyebrow at you. You didn’t answer, just peered at him intensely.

He inclined his chin a little as he studied you. “Here—” he said. He moved around Cas and started toward you but was immediately met with loud yells and threats from the Sam and Dean causing him to stop abruptly and raise his hands, palms out. “Guys, guys, guys! Would you two just chill? Really! After all we’ve been through… I’d like to heal what’s left of that nasty gunshot wound if Y/N will let me. Or are you opposed to that? Because she’s in a lot more pain than she’s letting on. I’m guessing she’s hiding it so you two won’t go all crazy protective over her for the rest of her life.”

“No, I’m not!” you argued. Gabriel gave you a skeptical look.

“I can feel it,” he said. When he spoke those words there was something almost desperate in them. “Let me heal you. Please.”

You swallowed hard at the nervous lump in your throat and stepped around Dean again, giving him a small glance. “It’s okay,” you said.

Gabriel stopped right in front of you and gently touched two fingers to your forehead.

You straightened up immediately and breathed in a deep breath, completely filling your lungs, something you hadn’t been able to do without pangs of pain since you’d been shot. Your shoulders relaxed and you gave him a grateful but perplexed look. “Thanks.”

“Welcome home,” he said again, but this time it was quiet, like it was only for your ears. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the fingertips that had just touched your skin. They felt strange, almost like the sensation when your foot falls asleep.

Dean suddenly interrupted the moment by pushing past Gabriel and heading toward the front of the bunker at high speed. Cas turned and jogged to catch up with him, wilting a little under the scowl Dean sent his way.

“Cas, you couldn’t have given us a heads up?” Dean asked angrily.

“You don’t think I tried? He broke every single phone I had and all the new ones I managed to get a hold of. And it’s not exactly like I could just fly over, is it?” he finished bitterly.

Sam stopped next to the two of them and dropped his duffel bag. “So… all those weird texts weren’t from you,” he said with sudden understanding.

Cas looked confused. “What? Weird texts? No. What weird texts?”

The Winchesters and Cas suddenly heard laughter behind them and turned to see Gabriel standing in the doorway with a satisfied smirk. Their expressions were stern.

“Oh, come on! That series of texts about the fuzzy toilet seat lid covers? The ‘bedtime thoughts’ texts? Pure genius on my part. You have to see the humor in this!” Gabriel simply watched as the muscles in their jaws twitched.

Dean rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. “Goddammit. What the hell is going on?” He turned and looked to Sam who was still just staring in Gabriel’s direction with somewhat wide eyes.

“It’s really not that complicated, Dean. I was sent back to watch out for Y/N. And that’s really all I know.”

This caused deep wrinkles in both Sam and Dean’s foreheads. “Okay, first of all, your definition of ‘not complicated’ could use some adjustment. I would say a DEAD archangel coming back to life is pretty complicated. Second, why does she need anyone more than us watching out for her?” Dean growled.

“Well, seeing as she was just shot and almost died I don’t think I need to really answer that question,” Gabriel snarked back.

Dean’s jaw and fists tensed and Cas stepped forward to put a hand on his shoulder to stop him from attempting to throttle the archangel. Gabriel only smiled serenely.

“That wasn’t their fault,” you argued, having just appeared behind Gabriel in the doorway, feeling sick again because you knew your brothers were already blaming themselves. “It could have been any one of us.”

“But it wasn’t,” Gabriel pointed out.

You looked suddenly weary. “I don’t know why we’re still talking about this at all. I’m completely fine. Better than fine now that I’m magically healed me up. I feel like there are more important things we should be discussing.”

Gabriel raised a finger, like he had a sudden idea. “You’re right. Chiefly, I need to know everything about you. Your likes, your dislikes, formative childhood experiences, deepest darkest secrets—”

You crossed your arms over your chest and were about to snark something back at the archangel but Dean beat you to it. “Alright. That’s enough!” he growled. “You were supposedly sent here to protect her, not be a total creep. You’ve just met her and you’re already trying to invade her privacy,” he said gruffly, his green eyes piercing on the angel’s face.

“Well, technically I think he already—” Cas tried to stop himself but it was too late and your eyes snapped over to Gabriel as he winced and anxiously ran a hand through his hair. Your mouth was hanging partially open and your expression was incredulous.

“What the hell did you do?” you demanded. When he didn’t answer and only shrugged vaguely, the corners of his mouth pulling down in a frown, you turned to Cas again who was doing his best to look anywhere but in your direction. “Cas… Cas! Look at me!”

Gabriel spun and locked his eyes on Cas as well. “Brother, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll be quiet…” he said through his teeth, keeping a forced smile fixed on his face.

“We all know you aren’t good at lying, Cas. Even a lie of omission. Are you really going to lie to me? After everything I’ve just been through?” You purposely tugged on his heartstrings and walked toward him so he had no choice but to glance at you as you moved closer. “Cas, I almost died. And you’re not going to tell me what this archangel who is supposedly here to watch out for me was up to?”

Gabriel shot you a look that was both a little stunned and impressed. “That’s low,” he said. You raised your eyebrows at him and then turned back to Cas again.

You could see the internal turmoil crescendoing until it finally burst out of him. “He went through some of your things in your room. I tried to stop him but—”

“Dude!” Sam exclaimed, his jaw clenching with anger. Dean shut his eyes against the rising tide of rage and his fists tightened. `

Your jaw dropped open again and you turned back to Gabriel and away from a very conflicted-looking Castiel. “What the hell!?” you demanded angrily. “Haven’t you heard of privacy? What exactly gave you the right to go through my room?”

He looked a tinge guilty for a moment before rearranging his features into a questioning expression. “Well, I think I should know a little about my charge—”

You shot a glare at him that was piercing and Gabriel felt his throat tighten. “Your charge? Let’s get one thing straight right now… I’m not your ‘charge’. You do not get to boss me around or make decisions for me.”

Gabriel tilted his head and gave you a peculiar look. “Well… strictly speaking I don’t think that’s true… You see, I’m supposed to protect you which means that I get to decide—”

You interrupted him angrily. “No. No, you don’t get to decide.” You looked at Cas and your brothers who all looked pretty unhappy about what had just played out. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.” As you started down the hall, you heard his footsteps following behind you and as you reached the door to your room you spun to face him. “What do you think you’re doing?” you demanded.

Gabriel looked around as if he was expecting you to be talking to someone other than him, but he saw no one else. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“I’m just doing my job. You said you’re going to bed so I’m going to watch over you and—”

You angrily bit the inside of your cheek. “No. You’re not. You can stay the hell away from me while I sleep. You’re not setting foot in my room again.”

“Oh, come on! Y/N, please. You’re not really mad about—”

You turned abruptly and slammed the door in his face. Okay, so maybe you were really mad… “You know I can just appear in your room! I’m an archangel. An oak door isn’t—” The door whipped open again and you stood there fuming.

“Go away.” Your voice was quiet but Gabriel could easily hear the anger in it and for now he decided just to back off. You slammed the door in his face again and he sighed heavily, running a hand back through his hair.

Sometime later, Cas wandered down the hall and found Gabriel sitting on the floor, his back up against the wall just beside your shut door, his legs stretched out in front of him. Gabriel looked at him as he approached.

Cas didn’t say anything, just took a seat beside the archangel on the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him and staring at his shoes. Gabriel broke the silence first. “Look how far I’ve come,” he said, his tone clearly sarcastic. “I used to lead legions and now I’ve been assigned as some kind of glorified babysitter and here I am, a fallen archangel, sitting on the floor outside her door.”

“You probably wouldn’t be sitting here on the floor if you hadn’t botched that meeting with Y/N so spectacularly,” Cas mused. To his surprise the archangel actually laughed and glanced over at him.

“Yeah, I think you’re right about that, Castiel.” Gabriel sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. “I have a tendency toward self-destructive behavior.”

“When I was an angel, I mean—with my grace, so did I,” Cas said. “Perhaps there is something about being so-called ‘immortal’ that makes us reckless with our own lives.”

Gabriel sighed again heavily. “Perhaps.”

Cas looked over at him and he could see genuine worry on his brother’s face. “Don’t worry. She’ll be fine in the morning. She’s tough. Strong. But kind-hearted. She’ll let you make up for it.” Cas fiddled with the hem of his sleeve. “I see such a mixture of Sam and Dean in her.”

This only drew Gabriel’s brow down more deeply. “That’s what I’m worried about,” he said thoughtfully. “I don’t know why I was sent to protect her, but I do know how reckless the Winchesters are with their lives. And all without a single drop of grace.”

Cas’s lips curved ever so slightly in a thoughtful smile. “Yes. But selfless.”

Gabriel glanced over at his brother and felt a pang in his heart for his graceless friend. “Do you miss your trench coat and suit?” he asked him.

Cas’s eyes lifted in surprise at the question and he glanced down at his sweatshirt, picking a piece of lint off the sleeve. “I do. But… it felt wrong wearing it somehow. Like being in a suit of armor while not on the battlefield.”

Gabriel nodded and leaned his head back against the wall. A few moments of comfortable silence passed before he broke it. “I’m sorry for being such a dick since I arrived. All the phones… all the lying… all the snooping. It’s strange to say but I had a level of-—anxiety,” he tilted his head in a question, not even entirely sure that was the right word for what he had been feeling, “about meeting Y/N. And I still messed it up.”

Cas sighed again and patted a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Tomorrow is a new day.” He climbed to his feet and looked down at the archangel, a strange sight sitting like a child on the floor during time-out. “Tomorrow. Goodnight, brother.”

#gabriel fanfics #gabe x reader #gabriel one shots #archangel #gabriel series #supernatural #spn fics #spn fanfiction

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uzumaki-rebellion · 4 years ago

Text

“Black Boys Bloom Thorns First”: Volume 3, Chapter 1

Summary:

Erik N'Jadaka Stevens. The top student in his graduating class at the Naval Academy. The youngest graduate to do so.

Erik excels at M.I.T. studying bioacoustics and sonic warfare. Hounded by Tony Stark to become his protege in Malibu, Erik sets out to forge a path that will take him into the military and Special Ops to complete his ultimate goal: Revenge for his mother and father and the overthrow of the Wakandan Royal House. With the help of his roommate, Disa, he may have found a way to balance first love and his need for justice.

NSFW. Smut. Mature Audience Only.

youtube

"My nose wide as the Red Sea (Red Sea) Lips full, fillers don't fill me (Fill me) Soon as my cousin killer's on trial (Woah) Family gon' pull 'em sitting courtside Godsend they say, we singing la-la-la Don't want no vultures on our si-i-ide Looking black as the messi-i-iah I got time…

When we die, where do my people go? To the stars where they can't steal your glow When we die, where do my people go? To the stars where they can't steal your glow Superpower"

Kirby—"Superpower"

Chocolate City.

That's what they called this particular section of dorm housing on the fourth floor of the building known as New House that Erik N'Jadaka Stevens found himself standing in at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

M.I.T.

"No man, this dude is different. He's twenty, but he acts way older. Quiet. Not real friendly…I don't mean in a bad way…he's just not gregarious. Grad student, not a freshman… I didn't ask. He applied to be here and Jay said he'd be a good fit. Oakland…I don't know…"

They were feeling him out already.

The lone voice he heard was in another room talking on a phone. The person wasn't even aware that Erik had entered House One that Chocolate City shared with iHouse, another identity-based undergraduate group who used the first two floors while they used the other three top floors.

Erik had money to get his own apartment or his own house if he wanted. Working for Tony Stark as an intern and a Stark Fellow for a year prior to M.I.T earned him money to live like an adult. Hell, he gave up a luxury apartment and tasteful eclectic furniture to move cross country and hunker down among thirty-one young Black men from around the world—correction, thirty young Black men, and one young white Italian man—who came to study a wide range of STEM-related fields.

Erik stared at the Chocolate City Mission Statement on his phone:

"Chocolate City is a brotherhood of MIT students and alumni who identify with urban culture and share common backgrounds, interests, ethnicities, and/or experiences. By cultivating a tradition of social, intellectual, character, and leadership development, the Brothers of Chocolate City exemplify a high standard of excellence which is founded on continual growth. We seek to enrich the MIT and greater global communities by embodying the principles of our brotherhood."

Taking a deep breath, Erik took time to meditate on what his purpose was in being there in that commons room space at that moment. It was a promise to his Uncle Bakari, Aunt Shavonne, and his Grandpop that he would spend at least six months in the dorm to have a proper group living experience that he didn't have at the Naval Academy. One that was less rigid and military guided. And not a juvenile hall. He shook off the memories.

Six months.

He gave his word.

Erik rolled the suitcase he had with him against a wall and the movement alerted the unseen speaker to end their call. A lanky fade-wearing young man with glasses and very light skin walked in from another room.

"Hi, Erik?"

"Yeah."

"Hey, welcome! I'm Rasheed. Junior year. Engineering. One of two Co-Chairs here. You look different from the Zoom chat…hair is longer…"

They shook hands and Erik ran his fingers over the short 'fro he was cultivating. It was one of the perks of being away from The Naval Academy and Stark Industries. He could let his shit grow freely. He could wear regular clothes. He could stand down.

"Growing it out for a minute."

"Are you wearing gold slugs?"

"Yeah," Erik said becoming annoyed with comments about his appearance.

The moment he left Tony Stark's employ he had pure gold panther slugs made for his bottom teeth to match the ones his Baba used to wear.

"Is this all your stuff?"

"Nah, I have some more out in my car."

"What do you drive?"

"1970 Chevrolet Chevelle."

"What? A muscle car. What color?"

"Black."

"I'll go down and help you bring the rest of your stuff up. Everyone is still moving in and finding the campus. We're having a dorm meeting with the Chocolate City crew before the big New House meeting downstairs later tonight."

"Okay. Cool."

Exiting the elevator, they walked down the large hall on the first floor to the exit. Outside the afternoon air was crisp and Erik admired the brick of the building as they walked away from it to where he parked temporarily.

Rasheed whistled when he saw Erik's car.

"You sank some money into this bad boy."

"My grandfather had it for years. Fixed it up and passed it on to me. He still adds stuff to it if I ask him too."

"That's cool, bruh. Real cool."

Erik pulled out two more roller bags and a duffle, along with his computer bag from his trunk.

"That's it?"

"Yep," Erik said.

"You can stay parked here until tomorrow night. That's when you have to use your residency parking passes and move it to your assigned area."

"Bet."

Moving his things back up into his assigned floor, more young men had arrived in their commons and introductions were made. One husky guy with a crimson and white MIT sweatshirt sat on a couch with his laptop playing music. The music switched up and a voice Erik recognized filled the room.

ButtaFly.

A DJ that hosted a popular MIT radio show. A DJ he listened to for months while he worked for Tony Stark.

"You are listening to the Cosmic Café…up next I'm going to have some new music by Kirby, Seinabo Bey, and I'll also throw in some classic Mutabaruka dub poetry. I want to give a big welcome to the new students arriving for the start of a new school year, especially to the young men of Chocolate City. My homegirl Jennifer is the Graduate Resident Tutor there so hey girl…I hear some really brilliant new students are over there, so welcome… welcome to all the folks over at New House…"

Erik stood in front of red and white hoodie.

"Where is the campus radio station at? Do you know?"

"WMBR?" hoodie asked.

"It's in the basement of the Walker Memorial Building," Rasheed said.

"Is that far from here?"

"Not really if you don't mind walking."

Erik pulled up the campus map on his phone.

"What room do I have?" Erik asked.

He followed Rasheed down a hall to the far end. Two twin beds, two desks, a decent window…

No one else had belongings there yet.

Erik picked the side away from the window and dumped his stuff.

"Thanks for helping me," Erik said.

"No problem—"

"What time is the meeting?"

"In two hours—"

Erik left the room with Rasheed at his heels.

"The rest of the guys will be back, and your roommate—"

"Later. I gotta go peep something first. I'll be back on time."

Erik passed by more Black male undergrads entering Chocolate City.

"Hey, Erik!"

Darcy, the other Co-Chair called out to him as Erik headed toward the elevator. A bright white smile on a rich round mahogany face tried to get his attention as Erik swept past.

"I'll be back!" he called out again.

Erik checked his cell phone. ButtaFly's show lasted for another thirty minutes. He stuck in earbuds to listen to her as he walked outside once more. Zipping up the bright orange windbreaker he had on, he used his phone GPS to guide him to his muse. The voice that haunted him for so many months when he worked for Stark. The voice that soothed him when he was in bed alone. The voice that seduced him when he pleasured himself in that big queen-sized bed he used to own.

Things were different now.

He had a twin bed and a male roommate. He had to share cooking duties with young men when he once ate with billionaire playboys and a Black Princess of Monaco. Erik used to fly on a private jet with Tony Stark anywhere in the world and had access to tech that these students were just trying to learn about and would never get to see on a higher level in a lifetime.

So different.

No more smoking weed and jerking off naked to Buttafly's voice in private trying to imagine what she looked like as he came in his hand with deep guttural moans. Very shortly, he would come face to face with the woman of his dreams.

A woman who helped guide him back to his ultimate purpose in life and she didn't even know it.

Chapter 2 HERE.

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@allhailqueennel @bartierbakarimobisson @cpwtwot @shookmcgookqueen @yoyolovesbucky

@raysunshine78 @the-illlestt @terrablaze514 @l-auteuse @amirra88 @jimizwidow @janelledarling

@chaneajoyyy @sweetestdream92 @purple-apricots @blackpinup22 @hennessystevens-udaku

@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @bugngiz @stariamrry @honeytoffee @meilintheempressofdreams

@tyees @eye-raq @writerbee-ffs @chocolatedream30 @childishgambinaa @mygirlrenee @thewaysheis—awkward

@tchallasbabymama

@lahuttor

@goodieyaya

@post-woke

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@yomiloo

@goddessofthundathighs

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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@nizzle-mo

@cecereads209

#Black Boys Bloom Thorns First Volume 3 #Erik Stevens #Killmonger Fanfiction #njadaka #Erik Killmonger #Uzumaki Rebellion #Black Panther Fanfiction #Smut

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tealin · 4 years ago

Text

Cape Crozier: The Outward Journey

As always, please visit the original blog for proper formatting. Sigh, Tumblr.

I am telling this as the last of my field trips, because it was without doubt the climax of my Antarctic adventures. In actual fact, this happened the day after the previous climax, which was when I flew over the Beardmore Glacier. If time was invented so everything didn't happen at once, and space was invented so it didn't happen to you, then Time and Space were apparently out on a girls' weekend in late November 2019.

There was one major journey yet to undertake, in my visits to sites of historical importance. It was the location of a minor side-quest in the story of the Scott Expedition – one could, theoretically, leave it out of a retelling with no narrative consequences – but it's the central episode and emotional fulcrum of The Worst Journey in the World, and gave the book its title. In June and July 1911, the dead of Antarctic winter, three men set off from Cape Evans to reach the Emperor penguin colony at Cape Crozier, on the other side of Ross Island, to fetch some eggs when the embryos were at the right stage of development to yield potential clues to the evolution of birds. The adventure ended up being more of a test of human endurance than avian ancestry, and the results got from the few specimens they did collect did not advance the theory they were hoped to prove (though scientists would remind us that negative results are still results). However, it is an amazing story of what people are willing to undertake for the sake of intellectual progress, and in this instance, of how cast-iron character can make the unimaginably awful endurable, and as such, it very much warrants the retelling.

Unlike Cape Evans, Cape Crozier is hard to get to, hostile, and not very well documented. There was no way I could ever visit it at midwinter, but, having almost no clue what the place was like beyond the written word, it was vitally important to me to stand there myself and get a sense of the geography, so that I could draw figures groping around it in moonlight and blizzard when the time came. Luckily the NSF agreed that it was important I go, because it was the most complex and expensive trip to arrange. It would necessitate a helicopter ride; helicopters cost so much to fly, and are so necessary for shuttling people and stuff around any part of Antarctica that is inaccessible by plane (which is most of Antarctica), that their use is very strictly rationed. I had exactly enough helicopter time allocated to get me to Cape Crozier and back. Therefore, we had to fly on a day when it was absolutely certain we would not have to turn around, because an aborted trip would mean I didn't have enough flight hours left to try again. Antarctic weather is unpredictable and Cape Crozier has a reputation for turning very nasty very fast, so this needed to be a careful judgement call.

The first day it was posited I fly, it didn't happen – I forget why; I think there was a backup in other jobs, and mine, being of low importance, got dropped to make room. The second time, I was slotted for 3:45pm, though with one eye on the weather and the other on resources, the right was reserved to cancel at any time. A little after 2:30 my coordinator called to say we were, as far as anyone could tell, good to go, so to meet at Helo Ops at 3 for the safety briefing and helmet fitting.

Accompanying me to the far reaches of Ross Island would be my coordinator, who had been a few times before; the pilot, who was one of the best in the biz and had flown for pretty much any Antarctic documentary you care to name; and a biologist, who was required to go because Cape Crozier hosted a rare and fragile species of Antarctic lichen, which we must be careful not to step on or disturb in any way. The biologist who usually went on these trips was feeling unwell, so she sent a replacement, who was very happy to have the opportunity as he had never been to Cape Crozier before. Of course, this meant he didn't know what the lichen looked like, but we would doubtless find out when we got there.

Team assembled and briefing done, we had only to wait for the flight to be activated. The last possible moment came and went without cancellation, so we were on.

The latest weather report from the station at Cape Crozier was that it was 30% cloudy with winds at 7 knots. Keeping an eye on the wind was important for obvious safety reasons; the cloud conditions, though, were important for less obvious reasons. The helicopter pilot needs shadows and detail to be able to tell how far away the ground is, either to stay in the air or to make an emergency landing. When clouds diffuse sunlight, a snow-covered surface looks perfectly blank, and no details show up to give a sense of scale or distance, so it's unsafe to fly.

We were supposed to have flown along the south coast of Ross Island, following the route that Wilson, Bowers, and Cherry-Garrard sledged at great cost in 1911. That side of the island was cloudy, however, so we were redirected to fly around the other side. From a historical perspective this was a bit of a disappointment, but from an artistic one, the north side of the island was absolutely stunning, and I very quickly came to see why people with money to burn choose to travel by helicopter.

Plus, it meant we started out journey by flying over Cape Evans.

All of Ross Island is volcanic, and near Cape Royds is a small parasitic cone which was explored by the expedition's geologists, who were also the first to climb Mt. Erebus. I thought it was named Mt. Sis, after someone's sister, but in fact it is Mt. Cis, after one of their dogs. Our pilot had been this way before and had something special to show us:

On top of Mt. Cis is a pickaxe. I don't believe there's any historical record of anyone leaving it there, but the Nimrod Expedition is not my speciality. It has been checked out, and the pickaxe is a model that was in use in the early 20th century, so either an early explorer stuck it there and didn't bother writing it down, or a later explorer found an old pickaxe and stuck it there to give the impression an early explorer had done so. Anyway, it's been there as long as anyone can remember, and doesn't seem to have suffered much, so will probably continue to be there for some time to come.

From there, onwards up the east coast to cross over the shoulder between Mt Erebus and Cape Bird, then over the snowy slopes of Terror, and the dissipating sea ice, to reach our destination.

Our first sight of Cape Crozier was the Adélie penguin rookery. This is one of the largest in the world, where upwards of 250,000 penguins congregate to make the next generation of penguins every year. I had not seen a penguin yet, and though my eyeballs were pointed directly at them, I was too far up to see any now, but their presence is evident in the vast, vast amount of light brown penguin poo.

On this side of Ross Island, the ice shelf is unimpeded by smaller islands or awkward quirks of geology as it is around McMurdo. As it grinds around the corner, here, it crinkles, and then as it straightens out again, the crinkles break, and the ice lets in long fingers of sea, which freezes during the winter. It is on these frozen fingers, sheltered from the worst of the blizzards by the taller segments of Ice Shelf, that the Emperor penguins incubate their eggs through the Antarctic winter.

It was these finger bays that our intrepid explorers were trying to reach, but they needed to establish their base camp somewhere a little more secure, on the solid rock of Cape Crozier. We were on our way to do the same.

The hill coming up was incredibly exciting to see, perhaps even more exciting than Observation Hill. When the Terra Nova first arrived at Ross Island, it was not on the McMurdo side of it, but rather here, because Cape Crozier was posited to be the most sensible site for Expedition headquarters. It had been explored on the Discovery Expedition, so they knew there was permanent access to the ice shelf, and thus the road south, unlike Hut Point or Cape Royds which would be cut off by miles of open sea for half the year. It had reliable fresh water nearby, and the Emperor penguins would be right next door. On the day the Terra Nova arrived, though, the swell on the sea was too high to permit a landing, and when they sent out a scouting party on one of the whaleboats, they discovered no suitable landing place. So they had no choice but to make for the old familiar haunts on the other side of the island.

Now, this is so much historical trivia, except that as part of exploring my desired artistic style and putting together my grant proposal for this trip, I had drawn that scouting journey, and prominent in the scene is this very hill, with its orca eye-spot of snow. The early explorers called it The Knoll.

This was based on a photograph taken on that day, which clearly shows The Knoll, and also that in January 1911 the ice front was a very long way back from where it is now.

As you can see, what is open water in 1911 is thick and pressured ice in my own photo from 2019.

Now, before you jump on this as proof that climate change is a lie, you may like to hear about my conversation with a scientist who has been studying the Cape Crozier Emperors for over forty years. He said that, while usually the leading edge of the ice shelf crumbles into small icebergs, occasionally enormous chunks drift off in one go. When they do, they take a whole generation of Emperor chicks with them, long before they are ready to swim, and that generation is lost. There is another Emperor colony at Beaufort Island, off the north coast of Ross Island, and following a catastrophe at Cape Crozier, a lot of breeding pairs move to Beaufort, and vice versa.

When the Crozier party arrived at the Emperor rookery in July 1911, Wilson was expecting the two thousand birds he'd seen when he visited with the Discovery, but there were only a hundred. Therefore it is plausible that, sometime between 1903 and 1911, a very large chunk of ice had pulled away from Cape Crozier, pushing the shoreline back and scaring off the penguins.

Back to the present, now, or at least last November. We had just passed The Knoll and were on our way to our landing site, a short walk away from the site of our penguin hunters' stone igloo. The place they chose to call home is the thin little ridge sticking out into the mist at the left of this photo:

Here we come …

And there we are.

When the Crozier party set off on their science trip in 1911, the three men hauled two sledges for two and a half weeks, through deep soft snow and temperatures that broke known records – down to -77°F one night, according to the thermometer slung under the sledge. The transcendent misery of marching in frozen clothes, not being able to get proper sleep for the shivering, and burning their precious fuel through the night just to survive, is carved deep in Cherry's writing of the experience. To say it was hellish is no exaggeration: Cherry points out that Dante put the circle of ice below the circles of fire in his Inferno, and thought it was apropos. The greatest challenge of our own journey out was landing the helicopter: given the sensitive environment and the fragile lichens, there was a specific landing site that was supposed to be marked out with stones. Our pilot circled once to find it, and came back around because he couldn't spot it the first time, then finally landed right on the GPS waymark because there was no visible clue where the actual site was supposed to be. As difficulties go, it hardly bears mention. Whether we'd earned it or not, however, we were there.

#antarctica #cape crozier #helicopter #travel #photography #photos #winter journey #the worst journey in the world #apsley cherry-garrard #edward wilson #birdie bowers #henry robertson bowers #edward adrian wilson #bill wilson #emperor penguins #science #adventure

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whump-tr0pes · 4 years ago

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Feel free not to answer this since it’s not writing related but I just thought I would ask. I think at some point you said you are a paramedic. I was just wondering what your favorite part of your job is? And if you had any advice for someone looking at EMS as a career. I hope you are well and I really love your writing!

Hello!

Yup, I’m a paramedic by day. Or at least I play one on TV. Tw for discussion of PTSD, alcoholism, general bad people, death

holy fuck this got long

I’d say my favorite part of the job is when I get to make deep emotional connections with people and make them feel safe during a crisis. Granted, most of my job is not that. Most of my job is the same as any first responder: handling people who cannot handle their own shit. It’s glorified babysitting with needles. It’s exhausting.

One of my favorite memories (that never fails to make me tear up) was maybe a year and a half ago. We got called to an auto parts store for difficulty breathing. When I got there, there was an employee outside having a full-blown panic attack, with all the people already on scene crowding him and making it worse. When I got to him, I tried to figure out what was going on, but at that point he was completely nonverbal. So I leaned in and asked him if he was nonverbal because of a panic attack. He nodded. I said I wanted to give him something to break it. Not to knock him out, just a little bump of ativan to help break the attack. He nodded and I gave him the shot and got him into the ambulance. The ativan took about 5 mins to take effect but once it did, the attack broke, and he was able to talk to me.

He told me he was a firefighter in Albuquerque. (For those who don’t know, Albuquerque is one of the few places in the country where people shoot at the fire trucks, not just the ambulances and police cars. It’s a rough place to be a first responder and honestly you could not pay me enough, and they probably wouldn’t try to pay me enough anyway.) I asked him if he had PTSD, and he did, from, ya know, the being shot at and stuff. And just the usual first responder stuff that I won’t go into here. He said he didn’t know what set him off, but that he was really embarrassed and sorry it happened. I passed him off to the nurse at the hospital and made very fucking sure she understood what he was going through. He shook my hand and told me he thought I was his angel that day, because I made him feel safe and cared for. Then I went to the ambulance and bawled like a kid.

If you’re looking to go into EMS as a career, prepare for it to not fulfill you. I’m serious. Find something else that makes you happy, too. I was depressed for *checks watch* oh, say about four years because my made my life EMS. I worked hospital transfers. I went to school. I volunteered 911 in Commerce City, the glorified slum just north of Denver. I went to medic school. I picked up overtime. I joined their Spec Ops and Rescue Team. The only people I saw were my partner, and my coworkers.

It’s no life. It’s a job. Yes, there are parts of it that are unlike anything else, so much so that I have no idea what I’m going to do when my body gives out and I can’t be on the street anymore. There’s nothing in the world like it. But those moments only happen maybe a few times a month, and I’m in one hell of a dry spell.

In between those moments are the drunk assholes who are out of jail after their fifth assault on a woman, who want a ride to the hospital so they don’t have to wipe their own ass. There are the people who literally just don’t feel like making an appointment with their doctor for the sniffles. There are the old ladies who fell and just need a hand up. There are the parents who call because their kid fell off the couch and landed on their feet, but they just need the kid “checked out” because they’re a first time parent and don’t know any better. There are the accidents where people fake neck pain for an insurance payout. There are the people who are lonely because their spouse of 60 years just died and they’d rather go to the hospital with you than spend one more night in an empty bed. There are dead people who shouldn’t have died, of every age. There are people who call you for help, but try to punch you in the face for not giving them dilaudid. There are months where no matter what you do, your patients just keep dying and you have to wonder if you’ll ever get better at telling people their loved ones are gone. Then there are the people who call right after that to bitch about their sore toe that’s been hurting for a week.

(Yes, I’ve had every single one of these calls. Most of them way more than once.)

Find something else that fuels you. Otherwise you’ll depend on that validation from your job. And when it doesn’t come, you’ll resent it. You’ll burn out.

But in the actual job, learn as much as you can. Be curious. Look up medications. Ask people about their scars. If something doesn’t feel right, investigate, or else you’ll have one pissed-off nurse asking you why the hell you didn’t think to ask why the patient woke up with narcan when you swear they haven’t done drugs. Be humble.

Remember, it’s not your emergency.

Don’t be scared of it. It’s a job. I can tell you with confidence that I was a shit EMT with shit training in a shit system when I first started out. I became a pretty decent medic. Find people who are successful and compassionate, and study them. Take the pearls of wisdom that suit you. Forget the rest. Learn your protocols.

Don’t fucking trust your leadership until you’ve watched them take a risk for you. EMS leadership is notoriously, hilariously ineffective and they will stab you in the back with a smile on their face while you’re getting paid $13/hr.

Thank you so much for asking this. I’m feeling good about my job for the first time in literal years and I’m grateful to have the opportunity to share it. And bless you for not asking me what the worst thing I’ve ever seen is. It makes me want to throttle someone.

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narcissasdaffodil · 4 years ago

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"things you said under the stars and in the grass" for marisol and alecto? 🥺👉🏽👈🏽💙

Thanks so much for the ask! @thoracicorchid requested this one too, I hope both of you enjoy this! I find it difficult to keep Marilecto stuff short, so here’s a 1668 word oneshot. This one is definitely in LCBC verse, enjoy x

“It’s like a million little stars spelling out your name.”

Getting some time to properly relax in the Villa appears to be very difficult, especially in terms of alone time. The evenings were still so warm and she sits fiddling with a daisy and spins it in her fingers. She leans against a sun lounger and props up her back. Choosing to sit on the grass was probably weird, but oh well. You don’t mind being weird.

Everyone else is distracted by the party, so no one spots her sneak away. She slides off her leather jacket and looks up at the sky. She sets it safely on the sun lounger and feels the warm air.

Being able to see the stars was a rare occurrence for her. She lives in a tiny flat in London with her cat Sadie, and her flatmate, who moved recently. She’s been meaning to find someone to take her place, rent in London is pretty ridiculous.

She hums softly and traces Andromeda, Pisces and Pegasus in the air. She has learned the stars and constellations through years of self study, along with her twin sister Quinn having a considerable interest in astronomy and astrophysics, she even decided to choose astrophysics as a degree. She’s absorbed a lot of information since.

The rest of her surroundings falls away, she focuses entirely on the night sky above. Her ears pop, and the hustle and bustle of the party floats away, and leaves her in silence. She taps her leg and fills the silence with the soft sound of her own voice.

“Have a seat upon this branch of mine, it’s been a while honey I think I feel fine,” she relaxes into the song and lets it take her over. For so long she would only sing in private so to do this, to let herself free was bigger than most people could guess.

“Oh my my, oh my stars, everything you see is ours. Or it could be if you would try. I wish you would, I wish you might.”

Marisol sets her empty glass down on the counter and scans the group for Alecto. If she was anywhere, she’d be with Hope or Lucas. Marisol stretches on her tiptoes and moves through the crowd as she notices Lucas’ tall frame towards the outskirts. She ducks under someone’s arm, a finger sets her glasses slightly wonky on her face. She stops and adjusts them and mutters under her breath in the direction of a tipsy Bobby. He seriously can’t dance to save his life. It could be the alcohol and quite easily could have been worse. At least your glasses are still safe and on your face.

She makes her way over to Lucas before she can get sidetracked and before she loses the nerve and forgets her mission. Alecto’s so happy with him, she might eventually forget about you. But you want to maintain her friendship, it’s by far one of the healthiest you have had.

She taps Lucas on the arm, and when he turns towards her, she feels a lump in her throat that she has to try to speak past. An awkward silence lasts between them, nothing like the silences she has with Alecto, and Lucas is the one to break it.

“Marisol?” He looks at her quizzically, a question on his lips. She supposes it was strange, her talking to him of all people, but he was usually attached at the hip to Alecto so her first bet for who could find her.

“What do you need? If this is about whether or not I am interested in you, the answer is still very much no.” He continues.

Her cheeks flush red as she has a painful flashback. Of course trying to go for him before would bite you in the arse. Alecto maybe gave you permission, but you made an absolute fool of yourself.

“Um...no, I wasn’t going to ask that. I know you’re with Alecto, and you two are happy together and that’s fine... Completely fine. I was actually wondering if you’d seen where she went, you two are usually so close to one another, you’re practically attached at the hip.” Marisol winces slightly as she trips over her words, her voice wavers as she speaks. Being a mess around everyone you somewhat like is difficult. Especially when they’ve rejected you, twice now.

“My apologies then. I didn’t intend to assume anything, that was wrong of me,”

he winces slightly at his misstep, and gives her a sincere apology. “She just went for some time to herself, but she did tell me that if you come to find her, to let you know that she was by the loungers. So I’m passing that on.” He pats her shoulder awkwardly and looks at her with sympathy.

“Oh, okay. Thank you.” She makes a hasty exit before she can embarrass herself further and starts to make her way over to the sun loungers. She feels hot tears behind her eyes and blinks them back furiously. You’re not going to cry over this. You’re definitely not, you got upset the first time you got rejected by him. He did let you down gently though. You’re just so used to always being the bridesmaid, never the bride.

She hears Alecto before she sees her, and notices her gentle voice. She halts midstep and listens.

“If everything you’ve said to me has been true, then all my stars are leading me to you.”

She watches the song absorb Alecto, her emotions forgotten for a while. She looks really magical now, there in the starlight. And singing a song about stars of all things.

The silence returns to the area as Alecto finishes and Marisol makes her way over. She notices how Alecto sits on the grass and leans her back against the sun lounger, and finds herself questioning why the grass of all things. She sits down on the sun lounger, next to Alecto’s jacket and accidentally sits on Alecto’s spread out hair as she sits with her head leaned back on the sun lounger.

“Oww! Could you please stand up then move my hair out the way? Thank you.” Alecto sounds grumpy which sparks back Marisol’s tears from earlier. Marisol ducks her head as she stands up and gently moves Alecto’s hair aside before perching on the sun lounger. She curls up her legs and rests her chin on her knees and hides her face behind a curtain of hair.

“Hey. Look. If I was harsh earlier, I’m sorry. It just hurt having you sit on my hair.” Alecto sits up and climbs onto the sun lounger. She rests an arm around Marisol’s shoulders.

Marisol bites her lip, silent tears making their way down her cheeks. “It...it’s not your fault. Lucas got the wrong end of the stick earlier and thought I was flirting with him again. He did apologise for his misstep, but it hurt to...to be reminded of my failure there yet again. And Bobby is yet to apologise for the way he treated me during OP Nope, how he thought I’d instantly...risk my friendship with Hope, and with you to risk being the Villa’s most hated again. It was difficult enough the first time. It sounds so stupid...both things I’m upset about. You can laugh, if you like.”

Alecto moves Marisol’s hair from her face and lightly catches hold of her chin. Marisol finds herself unable to turn her head away from Alecto, her warm brown eyes are strangely magnetic.

“Mari, listen to me. I wouldn’t laugh. I’m serious about that. I mean, I just gave Bobby hell for the way he treated you and Hope, and me, but the way he treated me is less important. I have a stable relationship, something which both you and Hope are struggling with. I know being so alone before hurt you, so of course you wouldn’t risk it again. As for Lucas, he apologised for it, which is something positive there. I know that the first rejection hurt you, but you will eventually find someone just for you. Maybe even me. You just need to keep believing. You’ll be okay, I promise, and I’ll stay by your side too. You deserve the world, and I wish I could magic it up just to see you smile.” Alecto’s voice softens, but it still maintains strength. She reaches over and wipes Marisol’s tears with a finger.

“Thank you. You really don’t have to do this.” Marisol protests slightly, unable to believe she deserves Alecto’s kindness.

“Yes, I don’t have to. But I want to. That’s the difference. I don’t need a reason to want to cheer up my best friend, right?” She squeezes Marisol’s hand, and causes Marisol to look up at her. “Look up at the sky, and tell me what you see.”

Marisol tilts her head skywards, and studies the night sky through teary eyes. The tears blur her vision slightly, and she removes her glasses and wipes them, then returns to the sky.

“Stars and constellations. They’re pretty…” her voice turns wavery in wonder as she studies the sky.

“Your blood contains a lot of iron, specifically in the molecules of haemoglobin. The iron is the product of a massive star that blew up 8 billion years ago, which means you have stardust in your veins due to that star exploding. Everything on the Earth originated from stardust, including us. We have it floating through us today, at this very minute. We are made of stardust. Isn’t that magical?” As she speaks, Alecto becomes very animated, as she gestures with her hands as she speaks. Her eyes brighten, and Marisol can see sparks in them, very like stardust.

Marisol is unable to reply, just finds herself staring at Alecto in wonder.

“Which is why I’m so insistent that you’re magical, and wonderful. You contain stars within you, which are definitely magical and wonderful for sure.”

#litg #love island the game #litg marisol #litgs2 #litg fanfic #marisol x mc #fanfic #love can be chosen

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ace-oreos · 4 years ago

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Hamilton writing prompt #8

Those were for asks, right? I’m gonna feel dumb if they’re not

Haha yes, they were for asks.

In true Dar fashion, I took this in a different direction than it was presented in the show. Sort of. Also, does it still count if I don’t use the exact quote?

Hamilton prompt #8: “How ‘bout when I get back, we all strip down to our socks.”

(tw: mentions of alcohol)

Being coerced into attending another one of these social functions General Kenobi greatly enjoys would be bad enough without the Null ARC.

Alpha isn’t exactly surprised to see Mereel make his way through the crowd, glass in hand, charming anyone who will spare him half a glance. He’s smiling and flirtatious and nothing about him suggests he’s anything more than a harmless civilian enjoying a night on the town.

Which he isn’t.

Which Alpha really couldn’t care less about.

Normally.

Except he’s stuck in a suffocatingly hot room surrounded by several hundred people waltzing around in varying degrees of intoxication until General Kenobi returns from his negotiations with the Mandalorian duchess. A glorified bodyguard at best.

Alpha kind of hates his life.

He also hates Mereel, which is why he sees no reason to acknowledge the other ARC. Mereel, having the mentality of a five year old and also just being Mereel, waves his hand in Alpha’s face until Alpha finally grumbles something that passes as a hello.

“You’re such a killjoy, you know that?” Mereel says brightly, draping an arm over Alpha’s shoulders like they’re old friends.

(They’re not.)

“I’ve been on babysitting duty for three hours,” Alpha informs him. “Excuse me for not prancing around holding hands with everyone and singing some aruetyc osik.”

Mereel rolls his eyes. “You’re so shabla dramatic.”

“That from the king of drama.”

“King is such a limited term, don’t you think? We prefer something a little more neutral.”

“We?”

“Unimportant,” Mereel says airily. “The point is - ”

“Mereel, I don’t give a - ”

“ - you need to expand your horizons,” Mereel finishes, poking Alpha in the chest.

Alpha already knows far more about Mereel’s ideas for expanding his horizons than he ever wanted to. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Still hung up on upholding Fett’s legacy, eh? Can’t let your hair down with the rest of us mortals for once?”

Alpha stiffens. “That’s got nothing to do with it.”

“Look, I’m not asking you to get disgustingly drunk, have an illicit affair with a high-ranking ambassador, and unwittingly destabilize an entire government. It’s not nearly as fun as it sounds, for one thing.”

“Wait, what - ”

“All I’m saying is, let your guard down a bit. Have some fun.” Mereel twirls the ornate glass between his fingers. “No one has to know.”

“Do you ever contribute anything to the war effort?” Alpha demands.

“I’d love to discuss classified information with you, ner vod, but you’re dodging the issue.”

“I’m not dodging anything!”

“Coward,” Mereel mutters. “Wait one.”

Mereel marches away before Alpha can get a word in. He lets out a long sigh, thinking maybe he’s gotten off easy for once. Sadly, Mereel returns not two minutes later, accompanied by a woman who is gazing up at him with a look of complete adoration.

Alpha fixes Mereel with a glare. “You can’t be serious.”

“Hearts and minds, Captain.”

“You are such a - ” Alpha glances at the woman and rapidly changes track. “Um, nice to meet you?”

“Your brother?” the woman asks Mereel like Alpha isn’t standing right there.

“Yes,” the Null answers, reaching out to ruffle Alpha’s hair.

Alpha swats him away. “No.”

“But aren’t you - ”

“Genetically identical?” Alpha interrupts wearily. “Actually, no.”

“I’m a headcase,” Mereel says helpfully.

“That’s true.”

“And I’m older.”

“By a few months. That’s not that big a difference.”

“I see,” the woman says. She manages to look politely interested.

Mereel disentangles himself from her and throws his arm around Alpha’s shoulders again; Alpha promptly grinds his heel into the other ARC’s foot. Mereel winces almost imperceptibly, then tightens his hold until Alpha is crushed against his side.

“With my brother being so young and all, he hasn’t gotten the chance to… experience the social scene to its fullest. I thought you might be able to do something about that.” Mereel grins and adds impishly, “He’s shy.”

The woman, sadly, seems to be interested by this train of thought. Alpha, quite frankly, would rather die.

Mereel frowns like he’s thinking. Then his face splits into a stupid grin once more. “Tell you what, I’ll get us some drinks, we’ll have some fun, maybe go somewhere less crowded, and strip down to our socks.”

Alpha, very aware that his face is bright red, can only manage to stammer out a horrified “Mereel!”

Based on how all twelve years of Alpha’s life have gone thus far, he has very little faith in the will of the Force or anything like that, but when Obi-Wan Kenobi chooses that moment to reappear at the far end of the room - casting rapid glances over his shoulder and looking a little more red-faced than when he left - Alpha is devoutly thankful.

The room erupts in chatter at the sight of the Jedi. Alpha takes advantage of Mereel’s momentary distraction to duck away and leave the crowd far behind.

Mereel still finds him half an hour later. He looks surprisingly steady for someone who’s spent the last several hours sampling the finest wines this side of the Core.

“I wasn’t joking when I said you were shy,” he observes.

“We’ve been over this,” Alpha grumbles. “You know I don’t… I’m not…”

“Well-versed in women? Precisely why I offered to help.”

“It’s not that,” Alpha sighs.

Mereel tilts his head. “Men? I can help with that, too.”

“Neither,” Alpha says firmly. “All that stuff you were talking about - I’m not interested.”

“The drinking part I can understand, you’re underage and I know you’re a stickler for rules - ”

“Not that, di’kut. The other stuff.”

“Oh, the - ah. Right.”

“I’m serious. None of that interests me.” Mereel looks like he might actually be listening, so Alpha takes a chance and continues, “Look, I’m not looking for a relationship, alright? I don’t want one. Ever. I’m okay with that. In fact I’d prefer it that way.”

Mereel studies him. Alpha waits to hear you just haven’t met the right one yet! Or the ever-popular how do you know if you’ve never tried?

“It’s all good, ner vod,” Mereel says at last. “It’s your life.” He reaches up to ruffle Alpha’s hair.

Alpha catches his wrist. “Don’t push your luck.”

Mereel takes the hint but still bumps his shoulder into Alpha’s on his way back inside. “K’oyacyi, vod’ika.”

“Where are you off to?” Alpha asks, letting vod’ika slide for the time being.

The Null smiles crookedly. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll hear about it.”

“Are we talking explosions or something a little more… subtle?”

“Don’t ruin the surprise, vod’ika. It’s my big moment.”

“Next time you get an op like that, we’re trading places.”

“Deal.”

“Keep me updated on the general’s proceedings with the duchess.”

Alpha rolls his eyes. Kenobi and the duchess are another headache he won’t ever be prepared to deal with.

“You might want to keep an eye on that,” Mereel tosses over his shoulder. “I think they’ve wandered off again.”

Yeah, Alpha’s had about as much as he can take of these little social exploits.

#alpha-17 #alpha 17 #obi-wan kenobi #mereel skirata #alpha is aroace #i will die on this hill #star wars #the clone wars #fanfic #answered asks #thanks for the prompt!

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courage-a-word-of-justice · 4 years ago

Text

Moriarty 8 - 11 (FINAL) | HypMic 12 - 13 (FINAL) | Taiso Samurai 7 - 9 | Akudama 9 - 12 (FINAL)

Hopefully I’ll be able to get on to all that backlog soon, because...I don’t want it to keep accumulating and Skate-Leading Stars (first winter 2021 anime) already has an advance 1st ep. up...

Moriarty 8

(Moriarty 8 notes deleted accidentally…)

Moriarty 9

If you want a modern equivalent to the Baker Street Irregulars, then I’d suggest you look this way *jabs finger at Odd Jobs Yamada (from HypMic)*.

These CGI background horse and carriages are…kind of distracting…

I’m guessing back in those days, the Irregulars were better than Google at finding info…because Google didn’t exist until the internet did.

Moriarty 10

Just this ep and one more until the end…at least, until spring 2021.

Wow, the use of colour here is really striking!

White lilies mean…purity/chastity…?

I’ve never heard of “bending someone’s ear” until now. It means to talk to someone, especially to ask a favour or to talk at length.

Probatio diabolica: the devil’s proof. I didn’t even know that was a concept until now…(I never once studied law, as you can tell.)

“William” isn’t normally shortened to “Liam”…It’s normally “Will”…also, notice all the footprints on the floor…

Moriarty 11 (FINAL)

Last ep. before spring 2021.

LOL, kabedon.

The fishy thing about Brits is that they’ve named things across the world names from Britain. I know there’s a Doncaster which isn’t anywhere near Britain, for one thing…

Observe the weird finger-like marking made by one of the bloodstains and the scratches on the suitcase. The latter was probably forced open.

Considering the number of signs the killer left, he was clearly in a hurry…

Well, based on that shoeprint we can find the killer if we can find traces of blood on his shoe.

“Duram” (sic).

Ah! If it was raining in Durham, then there would be traces of mud on the killer’s shoes. I remember early on in Detective Conan Shinichi, then newly shrunk, deduced Agasa was running in the rain based on the mud on his pants…this is similar.

Chloral (hydrate…?).

The “washroom” (apparently a Canadian term, the British term is “water closet”) has privacy and a place to get rid of the evidence, to some extent.

What about the rest of Eddie’s clothes?

Considering there are still 5 minutes of the ep. left…there’s going to be some kind of stinger for the next season. I can feel it.

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaait…Director Holmes??? Y’mean, Mycroft?! That is a good stinger! See you next time.

HypMic 12

“Ever since I was born, there was never a time I’d felt I’d accomplished something.” – Aw, Doppo, sweetpea (<- this blogger calls people “sweetpea” when they’re feeling lots of moe feels for them). Please don’t say that. You’ve accomplished more than enough in your life!

…Oh, almost didn’t notice it until Hifumi hid behind Doppo and the angle changed to confirm the jacket was on the bed, but Hifumi doesn’t have his jacket on.

I think I saw a tweet that said something about a wall being wrecked (specifically “Wall: Ow…”) but I wasn’t sure of the context, so I saved it in my bookmarks…LOL, so that’s what it means?

Samatoki, I know you don’t like Ichiro…but please stop trying to preach what his 2nd character song says in the title…(i.e. Break the Wall, LOL)

Jyuto’s very much a “I’ll leave this problem to the other guy” guy.

When the Funi subs say “dame”, I think Samatoki is just referring to an “onna” (woman). It’s a bit of an odd choice, really…although I can’t go and interrogate whoever was responsible for it. I don’t have the authority or the contacts that will allow me to.

This is not the time for fighting one another!!!

Notably, in the manga, Jakurai was going to chaffeur Hifumi and Doppo to their place, but then he had to go to work and so they rode the train with their prize money. This “run from Special Forces” ending is better, I think, since people got grumpy at Jakurai for having to abandon them with the money.

“…permission to cover a story.” - Permission from…who?

*screams* I was thinking Tom, Rex and Iris worked for a foreign government! They work for Ichijiku – why didn’t I think of that?!

LOL, I couldn’t even tell what Tom was saying until I played it back…it’s English, just…said in a spot where you don’t expect it.

“…that scares me.” – This may be nitpicky of me, but osoreru is actually a derivative of osore (fear), so “it strikes fear in me”…? “It strikes fear in my heart”? What would sound right…?

Go, host mode Hifumi! (...but does that imply host mode Hifumi is the only “version” of Hifumi able to rap? Certainly, he was able to do Wrap and Rap without his jacket, right…?)

You can tell Tom still respects Jakurai after all this time because he (the former) calls him (the latter) “Sensei”. Also, this’ll be interesting, we haven’t seen many mics and speakers beyond the standard bad guy ones (depicted in both the anime and the manga).

My gosh! All I knew of this song was that m-flo, also responsible for Human Lost’s theme song (and notably they’re a hip hop group with techno influences), was responsible for this song. Man, this s*** slaps! It’s great! (Sorry, I’ve just never really had the chance to capitalise on all the info I gathered on EDM DJs when talking in terms of things from Japan…m-flo is basically the only act I know which does that, so I’m really excited…can’t you tell from how verbose I’m getting in this note?)

That’s interesting that Matenrou won and Tom still took the gold chair symbolism to represent him and the Secret Aliens as the victor instead.

Iris’s parts are awesome. M-flo has a female vocalist and so I’d assume Iris takes on Lisa’s (m-flo’s vocalist’s) parts.

…Hmm, Gentaro’s made a reference to the track “Me Against the World”, has he?...Maybe.

I’m not quite sure, but I think Ramuda said “majo” (witch) when he was referring to Beauty and the Beast in the English subs.

…gosh, what is up with that airhorn…? Still, next time is the last time. See you on Christmas…no, Boxing Day.

HypMic 13 (FINAL)

This is the beginning of the end and the end of the beginning…y’know, considering how stuff trended on Twitter, I’d say this anime’s gonna get a 2nd season, but you can’t really say that until it actually happens. I mean, Boueibu is much less popular than HypMic and that got a 2nd season…

This is the 1st episode where I woke up early enough to watch without spoilers and had no obligations to place over it, so…this is exciting, in its own sense, but in a sense, it could also be called “profoundly disappointing” because this experience is only available to me as of the final episode.

One of the tweets I saw a few weeks back came to mind – someone became interested in sakuga houkai (terrible animation, literally “animation collapse”) because of HypMic…I don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing…

…Dude, you probably shouldn’t answer a call from someone who just revealed themselves to be a traitor last episode…*sweatdrops*

(Spoiler for rest of franchise) Hmm…Dice’s face is pretty straight. Assuming at this point we knew Dice was Otome’s son, this is a good poker face from him…!

This thing about gangs was mentioned in their profiles (although the words used implies they “went delinquent”), so it actually doesn’t surprise me.

I wonder if this subway exists in the mainline story…?

According to the next ep. preview I saw on Twitter, TDD will reform to take down the Secret Aliens. I’m not sure if that was a guess or whether that’s true, so I’m waiting for the shoe to drop on it.

Samatoki-san, not -sama. Hmm…

There was definitely the word “team” in Dice’s line, so it’s “what the legendary team was made of”.

…oh gosh…they’re still using that airhorn…?

Again with the play on “lonely thunder”. It’s a really fun pun, but one I’d like to see in the rest of the series more.

Notably, Iris’s rap in English missed the word “charisma” where it could have fit (unless I missed reading it the first time).

Note Samatoki does actually use the word “shinsensa” (freshness), so there’s no lie there.

I still love how much they went in on Rex’s theme, even in his raps.

Huh, that’s new. Never seen a tag team like this before.

It seems Tom’s signature is using a lot of English, which makes it easy for us English/Japanese pair translators.

Saburo didn’t actually say “Ichi-nii”, did he…?

…based on the rock intro, this is Rhyme Anima, the OP, or something that sounds similar. What I’d need to confirm this is the “nautilus” line and the “ends corruption” line, which are the OP’s two biggest tells for AMQ.

“rainmaking” – Hmm, another link from Gentaro to Rei. This might be a different part of Rhyme Anima (OP) that wasn’t used as the OP proper.

“this white light invites and heals” (<- paraphrased) – Sounds like Sensei, alright!

…now that (rainbow bit). That’s sakuga!

*a silhouette appears* - Oh nooooooooooooooo! Now they‘ve done it! They’ve included Rei! That’s more than enough spoilers to last a lifetime for y’all anime-onlys!

I wish someone would work on this collaboration between Saburo and Riou…

Hmm…what is the series endgame? Putting in Dice as the new ruler??? I mean, Dice is the worst possible politician ever. He’s far too lax about things.

*Nemu enters* - No! Nemu!

Not only is Iris a “ramen shop owner”, it’s Tom’s favourite food…No wonder ramen has significance to her.

…ooh! A new song! Update: I don’t know what this song’s name is, although it probably will become clear what its name is on the 13th. I’ll keep my eye on Twitter in case the answer is there.

…I knew it was far too early to say if there was an s2 – the DVD’s live events go until September 5th and the 2nd DRB finishes in March. That almost felt like a stinger right there. Oh well, I’m more than happy to call this anime a success, even if I would call it the worst of the arms of the franchise. All HypMic’s anime had to do was deliver fun, before anything else, and it delivered on that front. See you around!

Taiso Samurai 7

Anime burnout means I’m coming back to the anime after the day it finishes.

This dancing scene is kind of like the one at the start of ep. 2 of IWGP, except it has the owl to represent the setting as well as the dance stage.

Leo doesn’t seem to know kanji or katakana, only hiragana.

Even though this part of the anime is set in London, the characters are still speaking Japanese (lel…?).

LOL, Edward Scissorhands much?

LOL, these background gossips are like the Plastics from Mean Girls…haha.

…LOL, that’s not one of those dismounting moves, is it? It’s just kind of…jumping off the bar.

Lookit how Leo’s sticker is 90 deg. sideways from what it should be, haha.

I don’t think it’s true that Olympic gymnasts have never failed. Like other people at the top of their game, they’re probably failed millions of times, but only outside the view of most of the world. Persistence and passion are what’s key to becoming the best at what you are, no matter what field you’re in.

Now Aragaki’s what I call a “determinator” (see TV Tropes on what that is).

Taiso Samurai 8

Notably, the word used for “clothes” is specifically for Western clothing, like dresses.

Well, now we know why Leo can do those stretches…

They’ve clearly sped up the dance here, but…it’s basically the same sort of movements Yuri on Ice used to suck me in. I’m here for it!

Leo seems to be the type who tries to push away his worries by distracting people (including himself) with other things…I see. I didn’t have much of a grasp of his character beforehand.

Britney! F*** you, Britney!

Ah, that must be the (a?) fabled owl of Ikebukuro. I’ve never actually been to Ikebukuro…the closest I got was Akihabara (to memory) and even then, that was for electronics, not anime…so I’ve never seen the owl statue I’ve been talking about close up.

Rei does kind of look like her mother like this.

Ah! Rei and Kitty have a pair look now! “Twinsies”, they call it.

Amakusa’s head is located right next to Leo’s butt, so I end up staring at it…LOL.

The Hoover mission.

“I <3 Ninja”, LOL.

LOL, “Nyapoo!”

*sighs* The problem with being multi-talented is that you’re going to be told to one day put one passion above the others, even if you don’t want that.

LOL, you can be a ninja with this WikiHow article. (I was looking for Kitty’s quote, but found that instead. It seems to be a quote from one of Tomoyo’s movies.) Update: I was right.

There’s a movie in the back where the title is “Black Rainmaker”. (Tomoyo, I presume) Mifune is the 1st person credited.

Considering this is 2003…you won’t be on Mars in 2013, Kitty.

Wow, a tape! That brings me back to 2003, indeed.

Charlie’s Angels…so that’s what the tape was.

LOL, a shoebill.

“blade in your heart” – That would refer to the character for “ninja”, which has a blade over a heart. Y’know Kiss Shot Acerola Heart-Under-Blade (from Monogatari), yeah? Like that.

…you might think emails were out of place in 2003, but a virus from an email caused me to be an avid reader and that virus was unleashed around the late 90s – early 2000s.

LOL, Kitty’s cat belt buckle.

You said it, Rei. You said it.

Taiso Samurai 9

Lausanne, Switzerland.

I noticed one of the boxes at the start of the OP says “Horizontal Bars”, rather than some random name to make the boxes look like they were discarded.

Someone encoded the video funny…

LOL, BB’s getting possessive of his territory.

Fuku-chan the fukurou (owl) in Ikebukuro…LOL.

LOL, randomly there’s a skeleton with a hat in the background of Britney’s clinic.

Notably, one of the wall hangings says “heart” on it – alternatively, “soul”.

Notably, Atlanta was the 1996 Summer Olympics…there is no 1997 Lausanne Olympics, as far as I know.

Akudama 9

I watched the part where it glitches twice and I can’t quite figure out what that circular symbol is…maybe it’s Hacker’s symbol…?

Ah! Only now they properly confirm Swindler used to work in the Seal centre.

“Life that never dies is defective.” – Doctor

Does that mean Doctor is actually older than she looks, due to plastic surgery…?

Marker? What marker?

Apparently that flower is a cherry blossom…according to Detective Conan.

…I know this anime wasn’t made in America (it wouldn’t be “anime” otherwise), but Anime Feminist is going to have a field day with this one…if they haven’t abandoned it already due to their idea of morals.

…now I can even see parallels between HypMic’s authorities and Akudama’s. Not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

“Why did this have to happen when I’m chief?” – Sounds like…basically every authority during COVID and BLM, to be honest.

See? Akudama likes the S word. I told you.

I haven’t watched The Shining, but reading the synopsis, you can figure out why Cutthroat is the way he is…sort of.

How does the iconic quote go? “Heeeeeeeeeeeere’s Danny!” (or something…?)

They even copied the iconic eye shot! There you go!

Way to take a guy out (with the door, LOL).

…with all this killing, I can see why Akudama Drive was only in one magazine now. (Then again, HypMic was in basically all of them and that also has a tonne of problems…)

Akudama 10

万死 literally means “10000 deaths”.

Babel.

That police chief is such a mood, LOL.

I can see why people didn’t recognise Swindler, but Courier never changes his look, so…uh…

You can’t become a police chief without a sense of justice, no?

“Since when did you know that I’m not-“ - *facepalms*

Is this what they call an “ass-kickin’ Christmas”? (LOL)

Y’know, Sister, you could just do the whole “wherever you are, I’m also seeing the same sky as you” thing some other anime do.

Notably, there are shide (the paper strips) and a rope over the vault…they really do treat the shinkansen and its immortal children as a single god, huh?

Hmm? They don’t care about Sister anymore? Just Brother? (Somewhere along the way, the priorities must have shifted.)

In the end, the best ship is Brawler and Hoodlum (lel).

Akudama 11

One more ep after this. I’m gonna miss this anime, even if it was crazy over-the-top and I didn’t finish it until after the day it ended.

I think the scariest scene in all of Akudama Drive is the one where the “cleaner” tosses the girl aside.

“This nowhere place!” – Around this time, the bunny and shark’s shirts say “morning”/”afternoon” (shark) and “evening” (bunny).

The blue bird of happiness…literally. That character on the birds is the one for “happy”.

…LOL, that one glitched Courier looks more like Cutthroat.

Hacker’s drone matches Courier’s head angles, LOL.

I guess if you think you’re falling in Kanto, you’re falling in Kanto and if you think you’re floating (like Courier did), you float. I always liked that concept.

War Games. Now the title makes sense!

…but they can be together if they stay here in Kanto as vessels for the citizens? (That sounds mighty antagonistic of me, but…that logic does compute.)

Maybe swindlers play games with the truth…? (What an interesting concept.)

“Just fine.” – I think Hacker needs a “This is fine” meme.

“We can hear your heart talking.” – It means something like “We can hear you spouting your true intentions.”

“…worth every last penny…” – That’s a weird thing to say for someone whose life got changed by 500 yen…Just goes to tell you how American the subbers can be sometimes.

Swindler’s smug face is so good, LOL.

Akudama 12 (FINAL)

This episode isn’t named after a movie. It’s named after the anime itself.

The TV says “Please watch away from the TV”, i.e. stand back from the TV while you watch.

“They came and stole the offerings…” – At this point, bunny’s shirt says “freedom” and shark’s says honpou, meaning “wild, uninhibited, rampant, extravagant”.

…where did Shikoku come from? Is that where Swindler and Sister landed after they tried going to the moon?

Ohh! That Christian imagery! That’s scary!

Is Akudama Drive a tragedy? No, I think…on the contrary, it’s a story of hope.

LOL, “s*** guy”.

I thought the girl had a bomb. Turns out she has a gun, which is…far worse, come to think of it.

Instead of red characters which say things about the situation, now Shark and Bunny have Hacker’s symbol on them.

There’s no way anyone who wasn’t immortal would survive the attack Courier took…

…why is it that falling over represents vulnerability in children in all of these stores where a war has happened and/or there’s a chase? Hmm?

Wow, Sister did everything with heels on…?!

Anyways, that was a fun time. See you next time!

#simulcast commentary #akudama drive #Chesarka watches Akudama Drive #taiso samurai #Gymnastics Samurai #HypMic #Hypnosis Mic #Hypnosis Mic: Division Rap Battle - Rhyme Anima #moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #Chesarka watches Yuukoku no Moriarty #Chesarka watches HypMic #Chesarka watches Taiso Samurai

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