#once again i need to emphasize how this could have been catastrophic

[doux-amer]

And look, I know I'm focusing on fun fun fun fun fun, but it helped because uh, the things that have come out about Yoon Suk-yeol's coup attempt are frightening and frankly more insane than you can even imagine.

(Just to keep the record straight, the bit about the DPRK uniforms is complicated because it hasn't been confirmed but hasn't been debunked yet either: x. We'll know for sure once the investigation starts.)

[cdroloisms]

yeah hi me again with another question SO if cpunz knew the contents of the revive book the whole time cdream was in the prison, why was cdream so terrified of being killed while imprisoned? couldnt cpunz just revive him?

good question :D

i mean, dying is still kind of catastrophic, tbh -- being revived makes it really obvious that c!Dream isn't the only one with the book, which could destroy all the effort they put into staged finale (which is exactly what happened in the genuine finale, as the reveal of c!Punz and the book is what jeopardizes both his and c!Dream's lives with the nuke plan), for one. the terror of dying is something that's necessary to emphasize that He Is The Book You Need To Keep Him Alive, which is what's expected from a scenario where he's the only one with the book which is what everyone else thinks is the truth ... so there's no good reason for him not to act terrified, ykwim? Additionally, revivals are obviously causing problems (though it's unclear if he and punz knew about this by the time the prison began -- I'm inclined to say yes, but it's not hard confirmed in canon afaik) and keeping unnecessary ones to a minimum is a good play, regardless. plus, there's a lot of fucked up things you can do to someone when you can kill and revive them, and the necessity of not killing dream was very much what was protecting him in canon from shit like quackity, bc of sam's commitment to keeping him alive, etc. keeping people from ever knowing that that's a possibility protects him from Those Horrors (which have been explored already by quite a few people in quite a few AUs, at this point, LOL) -- not dying is for sure the safest choice for him, and the consequences of being killed range from "pretty bad" to "outright horrific" for c!dream no matter how you cut it -- plenty of reason to be afraid besides just death, imo.

for a much more hypothetical side of this answer, c!dream's dying to tommy and tubbo in the genuine finale really kicks off a lot -- which ends up leading to the Incident, not that it's super clear what specifically happened to trigger it (considering the planned fight against XD, the egg hatching, and the nuke literally all happened at the same time.) it's still unclear what c!Dream's specific connection to the supernatural, especially XD, is in particular, so it's hard to make any definitive judgements -- and it doesn't seem likely for c!Dream's death to be Specifically meaningful considering how many times he possibly died in death/revival experiments with c!Punz (which we. obviously still don't have a specific number, but c!Dream does say that he's been to Limbo more than once very intentionally and c!Schlatt makes a point of saying that he saw c!Dream, not Mexican Dream, in Limbo with his book of moon runes a few times as far back as march 16th) -- but that being said, could c!Dream's death be part of the Event Hullabaloo that might've played some kind of role in the everything that has to do with the server reset? I mean, possibly? He's always been someone related to the supernatural stuff on this server, so it's hard to say for sure. This latter point isn't definitive in the slightest and I think "because being terrified of death still makes sense/was the smart act to play into" is more than enough explanation for why he was acting so terrified, but it's an interesting thought experiment, I guess.

[tritagonist-in-motion]

“What I’m saying is, you should take a break every now and then.” Alice offers, tone filled with a little mirth. 

One of the monitors flickers, signaling to her that the artificial consciousness(Alice has some thoughts on how fitting that description is, but that’s a whole other conversation) has dedicated some non-trivial percent of its processing power to this line of thinking.

“I don’t see why. There isn’t a compelling amount of evidence for how that would help.” The response comes through a synthesized voice, purposefully bitcrushed a tiny amount to avoid falling into the uncanny valley of a near-human voice. It used to give Alice a headache, but she’s since gotten used to it. 

“Well,” she replies, “How much of our facility depends on your coordination?”

It replies immediately, since hard data like this is cached for easy access. “Eighty five point three six percent. The rest is kept analog for redundancy in case of catastrophic failure.” 

She nods. “So, you handle everything important. We need you, and place all kinds of demands on you.” 

Another monitor displays a long, long to-do list, formatted for easy human reading. The list goes away, replaced by diagnostics that Alice has been using to keep an eye on it.

“We both know that. What is your implication with this, though?” It asks. 

“Well, I just think that might be stressing you. We don’t place this much of a load on human administrators, after all.”  

“Good thing I’m not a human.” It injects a little bit of a mocking inflection into its speech, seeming proud of that fact. 

“That’s true. I can’t directly apply how human burnout works to you, and apologies if I gave that impression.” She continues, with a bit of an unrelated question, “But where did you pick up that kind of tone? It’s impressively unsubtle.” 

“Copied it from Wybe. He’s almost always a little bit sarcastic, so it was relatively easy to learn how to modify my speech module to include that as an option.”

“Figures. But anyway, back to our original talk. Thing is, while you aren’t exactly human, you are not the farthest thing away from us, either.” She points at it, or at a random monitor, then at herself, to emphasize the point. 

“You’re referring to my method of creation. Taking a large amount of human actions and engineering a model that would produce them.” 

“I am. Then, it follows naturally, you might fall into the same issues, right?” 

Once again, it dedicates some portion of its processors to running through the implications of this idea, trying to see if it makes sense. After a moment, it replies with some resignation. “It’s possible. Testing would be required with a fork of me, but given how useful that knowledge would be, I will set it up.” 

“Excellent, I’m glad I could bring something like this to your attention.” She smiles brightly, leaning back in her chair. 

“This has been a fruitful session. If you don’t have anything else?” It replies, purposefully returning to a more monotone voice to indicate less attention on Alice. 

“Maintenance is over, yes. See you tomorrow.” 

“Good bye, engineer.” 

[beyondspaceandstars]

While You Sleep

Chapter 15

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: mentions of panic attack, mentions of violence Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“Would you like to explain to me why you’re here?”

“I think you already know why I’m here.”

Your therapist eyed you annoyingly at the bitter response. After your little episode during sex, Bucky had finally put his foot down. He realized you clearly weren’t getting anywhere on your own and he wasn’t the most equipped to give you the care you needed, so he set up a therapy appointment for you. 

The therapist was under the same practice as Bucky’s own but he made it very clear you two couldn’t see the same doctor. You’d never admit it, but you were thankful for that. You couldn’t imagine sitting across from the woman who Bucky also dumped his trauma onto. 

So, that was how, after some intense back and forth with Bucky, you ended up in front of a therapist you couldn’t remember the name of. It was pathetic, really, but in your defiance, you hadn’t learned her name. As if that somehow kept you disconnected from the whole process. At best, you knew her name started with a G and that’s all you were going to go off of.

“Sure,” Dr. G shrugged and glanced at your file. “I know what happened to you but why are you here? What made you want to see someone?”

You sighed. “It was just time.”

“Why?”

You slammed your hand on the side of the couch in frustration. It had been this weird back and forth for the last ten minutes. Honestly, you were hoping you could just drain the time but this doctor wasn’t giving either of you the luxury.

“What would you like me to say, huh?” You spat out, a new kind of anger springing within you. The dam wall had broken. “Do you want to hear about how for almost my entire life I haven’t been able to escape the nightmares of my soulmate? Or about how I get one little moment of peace with him and then it all goes to absolute shit? Because that’s just how the cookie fucking crumbles, isn’t it?” You bit your lip, holding back from the sob rising in your burning throat. But you certainly weren’t done. You forced on, “Maybe you’d like to listen to me ramble on about how my own goddamn apartment feels like a prison. Or how I can’t even have sex with my soulmate because everything, every little fucking thing, reminds me of that night. And it’s not just enough to remember it, I guess. Huge shoutout to whatever kind of soulmate bond this is.” You paused. “I was barely gone for two days and somehow it hurt me, it damaged me. But, really, it shouldn’t have, right? It was nothing compared to-,” Him. His experiences. Your words got stuck as you gasped, letting the sadness roll over you. The tears were flowing freely now. 

You just didn’t understand. You didn’t understand your reaction to any of this. You were barely touched, never even experimented on yet you couldn’t seem to actually escape it. You were flinching at touches. Backing out of sex. Not to mention the images of Bucky. Real images, no longer just dreams, but almost like your memories came into play. You were forced to be stuck in a tragic playback of that time. Over and over, every night, and you were to move on? Yet how does all of this come about from being gone for a few hours? You felt there was maybe more to this all and anxiety gnawed at you about it.

Your therapist sighed and placed your file on her side table. She leaned forward, hands clasped together. “Trauma is trauma, no matter how small or insignificant your brain thinks it is.” She passed you a tissue which you accepted.

You dabbed your eyes. “It’s just not fair,” you mumbled. “I finally found him and now I fear I’m ruining it.”

“You aren’t ruining it,” the therapist insisted. “You went through something catastrophic and your mind is reacting. It’s beyond justified. Don’t you think he, out of everyone else in this world, understands that?”

You gave a pathetic shrug knowing she’s completely correct. But that wasn’t how this was supposed to work. You should’ve been his rock, right? 

“Well,” Dr. G sighed as she leaned back in her seat, “I think he understands and you have no reason to beat yourself up over it. You aren’t responsible for any of it. You’re just responsible for recovering and, sorry to say, that isn’t exactly done overnight.”

You scoffed. “Well, where does it begin?”

“Talking,” she said. “Brainstorming. Shooting the shit. Whatever you want to call it, just find a way to let it out of here.” Dr. G motioned towards her heart. You felt your own pounding.

***

Bucky was right where you had left him sitting in one of the chairs in the corner of the waiting room. He didn’t notice you at first as he was engrossed in some technology magazine. You couldn’t help but notice how interested yet relaxed he was. He really did have a bit of a nerdy side to him. 

“What’s so fascinating?” You asked, taking a seat next to him. He jumped a little at your sudden appearance. You held back a chuckle, finding it quite amusing you could surprise the ex-assassin.

Bucky looked back at the magazine and shrugged. “Some new tiny cameras this company in Europe developed. Smaller than your pinky yet has the quality of a full-fledged camera, or so they claim.”

You smiled at his light skepticism. For a man that was easily wowed by the world he sure was hesitant to indulge in it - hence the flip phone he still kept insisted on. 

With a sigh, Bucky closed the magazine and placed it back on the table. He looked towards you again and asked, “How did it go?”

Truthfully, you didn’t want to talk about it, but that also sort of beat the purpose of getting guidance from a therapist. She emphasized that communication was a major key - for both of you. You didn’t want to dismiss that advice right away but you also didn’t exactly want to make your soulmate more concerned than he already was. He had insisted on coming with you to this appointment despite being confined to the waiting room. Bucky didn’t mind, clearly overshadowed by the worry showcased on his face.

“I have to tell you a few things if you’d like to accompany me back home.”

“Home?” He frowned. “Home as in-,”

You shook your head. “My apartment.”

Wordlessly, Bucky stood and outstretched his hand towards you. You mustered up a smile the best you could, letting him guide you out of the building and onto the city sidewalk. 

For as many concerns as you had running through you, you were finding some new sense of pride walking down the street with Bucky. Your soulmate. You had felt something there beyond it all. 

How many times had you walked these streets simply letting your gaze wander about hoping to just spot him? And then you didn’t even find him in the most conventional way. 

But you had to remind yourself of that hopeful gazing you partook in for many weeks. All you had to go off of was his actions. His violent, albeit unwilling, actions. And yet, in all that, you still wanted to meet him. Wanted to hear his voice and maybe get a peek into what he may be like. You certainly got way more than you had bargained for. And you wanted to keep it. Maybe you had been forgetting that in your worries of ruining it. These worries stemmed from wanting. You just had to remind yourself. 

You two had been lost in your own worlds. You were quite surprised by how quickly you had arrived at your apartment building. Everything outside of it was the same like the world had just stood still. You dropped Bucky’s hand and began fumbling for your keys. He kept a protective arm around your waist, trying to offer some comfort for the daunting task. 

After a shaky moment, you led him inside and up the stairs where your apartment door sat, seemingly untouched. You knew that wasn’t exactly the case. Agents had been in and out of your apartment upon your disappearance, Bucky had explained, but they must’ve been stealthy ones. It looked like every other door. 

And, really, that’s all it was, you told yourself. It’s just a door. It’s a first step, your therapist had claimed, but it was also just a door. You had wrestled with yourself over this concept for a while now and here it was in front of you. 

“You don’t have to do this.” Bucky’s voice broke your concentration. “You’re more than welcome at the compound. No one would blame you if you - you wanted to stay.”

“I know,” you sighed. “Thank you but I don’t want to wallow in it.”

Bucky didn’t say anything more and just nodded his head once in understanding. Taking a deep breath, you unlocked the door and flung it open.

You didn’t know what you were expecting. Part of you was ready to be ambushed by Hydra men. Another part of you thought the place would be a wasteland. But neither of those was the case. It was just...normal. It looked exactly how you remember leaving it in all its worn-down glory. Relief washed over you. 

You walked in as you had a million times before and threw your bag on the couch. You headed straight for the kitchen, pulling a bottle of water out of the fridge. Bucky didn’t comment on anything and just took a seat on your couch, waiting.

Making your back to the couch, you offered Bucky water but he declined. Amazingly, you floated around the apartment with no worries. It felt like you never left while also felt like you were reclaiming. 

You took a seat next to Bucky, keeping some space between your bodies.

“What’s on your mind, doll?” Bucky suddenly asked. You glanced back at him nervously. If he was at all anxious, he sure wasn’t showing it. Damn that assassin mentality.

“That nightmares have come back,” you admitted. The words landed like a million little bombs around the apartment. Bucky leaned back on the couch, his eyes wide with concern. 

“What?” It was all he seemed able to manage to say. 

You shifted on the couch uncomfortably, mentally working up the courage to continue on. “It all started back up after that… that night,” you explained. “I-I was suddenly seeing you fighting those men. I was seeing pretty much into your brain, feeling all that anger and relentless rage.” You paused. “I couldn’t believe it, really. I hadn’t had a single nightmare ever since we got together and now...it’s like a million steps back and I don’t know how to fix it. The doctor suggested talking and that’s what I want, Buck. You can’t turn away. Not right now.”

Bucky wasn’t looking at you anymore, instead taking strong interest in picking at your couch cushion. He seemed quite uncomfortable, which was beyond understandable, but he also had to have heard your pleas. 

“Y-You see all that?” He finally asked, his voice just barely above a whisper. “Just on a playback loop? Despite us being connected, really connected.”

You didn’t know what to do besides nod in confirmation. Bucky let out a deep sigh.

“And this, on top of everything else, hasn’t been helping you to recover, has it?”

You shook your head. Bucky now looked like he wanted to put his fist through your door. Tears welled in his eyes. 

“Of course not,” Bucky mumbled. “I-I thought it was supposed to get better.”

“Me too,” you admitted. “I didn’t tell the therapist this but I… Well, I fear there’s something faulty with this bond.”

The thought had initially popped in your head out of nowhere. One night you were half-awake, already witnessing the shine of Bucky’s arm as his hand contracted around the goon’s throat, when you began trying to think about the good memories. The reader Bucky you got to see. How lovely that was to bring up. How the conversation that followed was refreshing, fun. You wouldn’t be able to bring anything like that up again because you lost them. It took a bit for your theory to prove certain but once it was, you realized, you were stuck. 

But you also hadn’t exactly wanted to act on this theory, figuring this could be handled on your own. Date night proved wrong. 

Bucky eyed you, curiously. “What do you mean?”

“It’s very challenging to recover from something when it’s the only thing you’re reminded of, right? Well, that’s the case, nightly. Despite how serious we are in this relationship, it’s cutting through, even though it seemed like in the beginning…” Your words trailed, a bit unsure. You changed the focus. “The memories and thoughts are still transmitted disturbing reminders. I can talk about it until I’m blue in the face, but I just don’t think that’s all there is to it. The bond isn’t letting me move on regardless of our circumstances. Everything you saw...”

Your soulmate nodded in his attempt to understand where this was going. You even had to admit, it was sounding a bit bizarre. You did think it was just trauma and in many ways, it is. It all comes back to the trauma derived from the situation but to have to relive it through your soulmate’s eyes. To have to see him personally killing someone was just… It was a whole new level of memories. You were personally attached to them. You weren’t just living through it in some fucked up metaphorical way - you actually had lived it. Besides - it shouldn’t be this way.

“You think we need to see someone about it,” Bucky concluded.

Hesitantly, you confirmed his suspicions. “Are there really doctors who study it? I've heard rumors but I’ve never seen someone.” Thinking of it now, you never knew why you didn’t. Probably because those who studied soulmate bonds were truly myths. There wasn’t exactly anything tangible to study. Who was going to waste their time?

Bucky shrugged. “I think I may know someone.”

[pitch-pearl-void]

Fake Date AU

Phantom glanced toward the bedroom door only long enough to assure himself Fenton was the one entering, not Jack or Maddie, and then he refocused on the TV, determined to find a movie on Fenton’s streaming service. Something not involving ghosts or heroes or world-ending catastrophes. Maybe something like a Disney movie…

Fenton groaned and carelessly dropped his backpack on the floor.

“Bad day?” Phantom asked lightly.

“Long day,” Fenton corrected. “It could have been worse. Battling Paulina over you continues to be far more fun than it probably should, all things considered. It made the day interesting.”

Phantom snorted and grinned. “If she ever finds out we are only pretending to date—”

“She would probably be pretty cool with it, honestly. I think she’s having almost as much fun as I am, and plus, you would be available again.” Fenton stretched his arms above his head and arched his back. Phantom glanced at him again, curious. “I mean, we,” Fenton corrected himself, sighing as he lowered his arms again. “We would be available again.”

“Supposing we choose to merge after all this,” Phantom said quietly. It was an idea they had been tossing back and forth lately, but it wasn’t one Fenton had committed to yet.

“Yeah…” Fenton met Phantom’s eyes, his own blue eyes looking tired and wary. “What about you? Mom and Dad give you trouble?”

Phantom shook his head and looked back at the TV. “They are still ignoring me. It’s better than the borderline hostility when we first started this, but…”

“But,” Fenton agreed. He sighed again and started walking toward Phantom. “It’s not over yet, then. How much longer do you think?”

“Until they accept me?” Phantom asked dryly. “At this rate? Two years.”

“Ha! We’ll be married by then!”

Fenton laughed at the very idea and Phantom couldn’t help joining him.  “We’ll be roommates in college,” he snickered.

Fenton dropped to his knees beside the beanbag chair and crawled onto Phantom’s lap. Phantom spread his arms apart and looped them loosely around Fenton’s waist as he settled into place. Fenton laid his back against Phantom’s chest with a sigh, and their shoulders slouched together. Phantom tightened one arm around Fenton’s waist and continued scrolling through the movies with his other hand, idly allowing his head to dip down a little so he could rest his temple on Fenton’s hair.

He was still smiling over their joke when Fenton suddenly tensed in his arms. Phantom tensed in return.

“Sh-shit,” Fenton stuttered, wiggling in Phantom’s lap as he began to push away from him. “Sorry. Shit.”

“What?” Phantom asked, slightly alarmed. “What’s wrong? Did you forget something?”

“It’s—We’re not—we’re alone, so we don’t have to…” Half on Phantom’s lap, half off, Fenton stopped moving and looked over his shoulder at Phantom, his brows wrinkled in confusion. “Uh…”

Phantom stared back at him, the realization dawning slowly.

It had been Fenton’s idea.

Not the fake relationship itself—that had been something Phantom and Fenton had planned out when they were united as one person.

Jack and Maddie’s acceptance speech after whole Danny had come out as gay had met with an immediate challenge when Fenton and Phantom had split apart and proclaimed themselves boyfriends. Jack and Maddie couldn’t object and betray Danny’s trust so soon after telling him they would accept whoever he loved, so Fenton and Phantom had successfully stalemated the two ghost hunters into a ceasefire in the hopes they would come to accept Phantom as a person and not just a ghost.

Unfortunately, intimidation was still at play, and with Phantom spending as much time around the Fenton as possible, Jack and Maddie had countered by working on their inventions in front of him, discussing their latest theories, occasionally asking him personal questions…Phantom had begun feeling…not scared but…

That was where Fenton’s idea had come in.

At one point, Maddie’s and Jack’s little game had been playing out on the couch, Phantom squeezed between the two as he anxiously waited for Fenton to finish his shower. Jack had been reloading his blaster, Maddie had been designing something she said would “make a ghost revisit its grave—permanently” when Fenton had trotted down the steps and, without invitation or explanation, sat on Phantom’s lap. Phantom had, naturally, frozen in place. Jack’s and Maddie’s reactions were…well, they had retreated from the field of battle, to say the least.

The beauty of the idea was that it shielded Phantom from any “misfired” weapons and shamed Jack and Maddie into backing down, all while emphasizing the relationship Fenton and Phantom were pretending to have. Once begun, they couldn’t backdown. It was too effective. It became routine for Fenton to sit on Phantom’s lap whenever they were downstairs, especially when Jack and Maddie were in the same room with Phantom.

Downstairs…

Not when they were alone, not upstairs in Fenton’s room where they were supposed to be able to drop all pretenses.

Phantom swallowed and uttered a weak little, “Oh.”

It had just gotten so comfortable, Fenton sitting on his lap. Being able to hold him, to soak in his warmth, to feel his body relax in Phantom’s arms…it was all just an act. He had to remember that. They were only meant to be putting on a show for Jack and Maddie. It didn’t matter how natural it felt, it was all just an act.

Phantom lifted his arm from around Fenton’s waist, and his other half stood. His absence left Phantom’s lap feeling suddenly cold and empty.

“Sorry,” Fenton repeated, his face flushed a deep red. “I didn’t mean anything—I just—it was habit, you know?”

“Yeah,” Phantom said weakly. “I understand.” He hesitated, then asked in a quiet voice, “Could you hand me a pillow? I think I need to hold something…”

[preemshots]

johnny + the nomads lore

alright, i know this is a screenshots blog but i'm going to go ahead and start dropping some juicy lore tidbits as i dig them up. part of what i'm doing outside of just photo diarying is shard hunting, and BOY is there a lot the game likes to hide in those little shards for idiots like me who like to read so we can write unnecessarily accurate fanfiction! 

full disclosure, i know jack shit about the TTRPG/cyberpunk 2020 rulebook except what i read in the wikis. 

so here’s my lore roundup so far of everything i know about johnny joining the nomads

we know johnny likes to narrate v’s quest objectives. here’s the first mention where he says it himself: 

during the voodoo boys quest "transmission" there's a shard in the maglev tunnels beside the ice bath, presumably from brigitte's research into johnny in the first place:

okay, so the timeline is this: johnny joins the nomads after trying and failing to rescue alt. johnny hides out in the badlands for some years. then he and rogue come back to night city and nuke arasaka tower help alt escape the arasaka subnet by uploading liberator to their network once and for all.

this ultimately makes sense. in alt’s flashback, we meet santiago, who is a nomad/connected to nomads, joins rogue and johnny when they're trying to get alt back, and eventually becomes the leader of the aldecaldos. 

part of santiago’s TTRPG lore is that he, johnny, and rogue have to lay low in the badlands with nomads after they storm arasaka headquarters (i am aware the game takes many liberties with the original lore so who knows the full accuracy of anything from the original rulebooks)

ENDING spoilers: in the rogue+johnny storming AHQ ending, it's revealed that rogue has a son while they're prepping for the job. if you eavesdrop on her calling him while you're at the afterlife, you hear her tell her son to (paraphrasing here) "pull over and look at the stars", which immediately made my brain go to: nomad, badlands, santiago = dad? maybe. (santiago also canonically has a son according to the TTRPG lore)

this immediately reminded me of another interesting shard that i believe you can find in multiple locations around night city: “"what REALLY happened in arasaka tower?“

i love this dang shard. at first i thought it was just a cute conspiracy with some juicy gossip (and i love how 99% of the shards that mention johnny in this game are reminding us that he's not a real rebel, he's a poser) but it brings some interesting shit together

one: it tells us where johnny got his hands on the nukes! he and the nomads jumped a militech convoy and jacked some bombs! 

which is never directly explained, even as saburo arasaka is interrogating him shortly before using soulkiller. very nice of johnny to protect his homies like that. 

...or maybe he didn’t. saburo emphasizes that the dead don’t lie like the living do, and we don’t know what exactly arasaka did to johnny’s construct in mikoshi. 

it also explains why the obvious media narrative is that militech nuked arasaka, a nice neat political bow to the end of the fourth corpo wars, which is an entire section of the TTRPG lore that makes my eyes cross when i read it. 

it also makes the star/nomads ending extremely interesting, because i originally believed it was the ending where V’s journey deviates the most from rewalking johnny’s path... which also has weird implications if the johnny’s nomad era is being kept from v. 

(this also leads into my belief that the star ending/the devil ending are narratively two sides of the same coin, but that’s a WHOLE ANOTHER POST for another day.)

TWO, just straight up the fact that they turned the raid where they actually obtained the nukes into an action flick BD that pretty much ANYONE could watch. who the hell was doing that?? 

well, who else other than the guy who johnny (optionally) punched the shit out of for filming alt's death: thompson, media guy, and according to rogue, “bad luck”. because you know, recording your crimes is straight up evidence that can be used against you.

during the alt flashback we meet thompson, and just after that in cyberspace before meeting alt, johnny tells v that he has no idea what happened to him and that they never worked together again. 

oh, johnny, you lying bastard man

this is blatantly untrue, and if V even had two braincells and better memory than a goldfish they'd know this--in the first flashback sequence where johnny and rogue nuke arasaka tower, thompson is on the comms as they ride the AV towards AHQ, questioning their plans and use of violence. 

which leaves me with some questions, like where the fuck is thompson, why does johnny keep lying about this, why doesn't johnny say almost anything about how you interact with the aldecaldo clan nonstop throughout the game when he himself may have been a member of the family for some time?? is he continuing to protect the nomad clan that saved his ass? we know that a lot of his flashbacks are unreliable at best, that johnny changes shit up as desired when presenting V with his memories.

in 2077, you can also find that there’s a remake of “badlands raid” in the shard “new release braindances” that is pretty much everywhere. that shard doesn’t add much, but does mention something along the lines of “many people don’t know the ending of the original” which probably means johnny punched thompson out for filming again, or something. 

my running theories: rogue ditched santiago and the aldecaldos with johnny and thompson to nuke arasaka tower, and when johnny died she was stuck looking for (heavily implied by johnny here:) corpo sellout ways to survive.

adam smasher obviously has something to do with this since johnny/rogue's vendetta against the guy isn't entirely clear beyond the smokescreen of "he killed johnny and he sucks". i have done 0 research into this though i'm tired of typing okay

i obviously cannot be certain i have found everything related to this in the game as i’m not even done with this playthrough where i’m trying to pay attention, but i hope this is fun for someone else to dig into. 

enjoy, fellow silverhand freaks

EDIT: additional findings

ALRIGHT I HAVE DONE MORE DIGGING AND I AM BACK WITH MORE NOMAD/JOHNNY FINDINGS. these ones are kind of a bummer but VERY interesting.

there’s a shard called “excerpts from a history of the nomads by bb pires” that goes into detail about how nomads came to be

there’s an interesting quote in it: It's hard to imagine a group less inclined to wandering than farmers, but in fact they were the ones who sparked the age of nomads. Natural catastrophes, crops ravaged by bioplagues, armed conflicts and martial law allowing corporations to speculate and privatize land - all this forced them into a life on the road.

when you ask johnny why he wants to take down arasaka, he begins by referencing this himself!!

it’s a little awkward to imagine a nomad V doesn’t also know what he’s referencing, but hey, V is the fool because we are as players and that’s only one life path... so sure.

johnny also has unique dialogue during this scene about a nomad origin V, telling them that he’s been trying to understand how V thinks, and came to the conclusion that “their family was a crutch” and essentially made them stupid because they always had a safety net (lmao johnny calling v privileged basically)

BUT this also may reference why johnny would find it confusing as hell that V doesn’t immediately share the views he does when nomads, in terms of values, seem to be more aligned with johnny than V is. but once again V is the fool for a reason and this is all my own speculation so YOU KNOW.

MORE IMPORTANTLY, at the end of chippin’ in, when you ask johnny what he meant by letting down his friends... santiago is named directly

i thought this was interesting since the only glimpse of their relationship that we get is seeing johnny meeting santiago via the alt flashback for the first time.

so now it’s obvious that while johnny and rogue were with the nomads their friendship developed, and johnny went on to disappoint santiago in some way by being his normal dickhead self

but HOW? how did he disappoint santiago? is santiago even still alive?? did smasher kill santiago and is this why rogue mentions during chippin’ in that she wants smasher to “settle a score” moreso than avenge johnny??

the only additional hints i have are from this shard, which you can find at the aldecaldos camp: “nomads at ground zero”

i’m just gonna transcribe here and bold for emphasis:

It was no secret that Night Corp offered generous pay and, in some cases, free cyberware and biomonitor upgrades to anyone willing to help clean up the crater of radioactive rubble at AHQ ground zero. Some firsthand accounts recall the incessant ticking of Geiger counters, like the loud buzz of cicadas in summer. In retrospect, we can only guess how many "crater cleaners" lost their lives to radiation sickness shortly thereafter. Both the city government and Night Corp have claimed casualties were kept to a minimum, while providing no official statistics to substantiate the claim. That being said, they have never been under pressure to release such figures. After all, most rescue, engineering, and rubble cleanup teams were not local Night Citizens, but nomads. Surprised you didn't know? Don't be. It is a fact many history courses tend to overlook. The city employed hundreds of nomad mercenaries, primarily from clans in Aldecaldo nation. These nomads were hungry for gainful work and the city needed experts who were not only experienced but brave enough to knowingly put their lives on the line - all so Arasaka could one day erect another tower in its place. But history is not without its sense of irony. These nomads, who so deliberately live outside our so-called "system," came to its very rescue. Not for the first time. And not for the last.

a main theme we find in this game is the idea that the system of corps and exploitation cannot be stopped by grandiose rebellious gestures--no amount of samurai songs, assassinating mayors, or even planting nukes in towers will change things. yet johnny, his friends and mercs at atlantis in the 2020s, including rogue, chose to rebel any way they could, thinking it better than not. johnny criticizes her lack of rebellious spirit CONSTANTLY in 2077.

but ultimately, johnny, trapped in mikoshi, didn’t get to see the outcome of what detonating the AHQ nukes did to night city’s fragile ecosystem. rogue, however, did--and likely watched their former allies, the aldecaldos, be forced to take dangerous work at AHQ’s ground zero (from lack of other opportunities as detailed in this shard), then die from radiation sickness throughout the following decades, all as a result of what she and johnny did to try and fight the system. and she also watched all the former mercenaries of atlantis be hunted down by arasaka.

so rogue sees firsthand what the cost of rebellion is and johnny doesn’t. and nomads, considered the most free of any of the factions we encounter in the game, are the cost.

[supernaturalnovelsandmore]

Supernatural Novel: The Unholy Cause

Welcome to my review of the fifth Supernatural novel, The Unholy Cause

Author: Joe Schreiber

Timeline: Set after Episode 5.08 Changing Channels but before Episode 5.16 Dark Side of the Moon

Location: Mission's Ridge, Georgia

Synopsis: As the pressure mounts for the upcoming apocalypse, Sam and Dean head to the historic town of Mission's Ridge, GA, where the Civil War is less about the past and more about the present. With interference from Castiel, demons, and Judas Iscariot himself, how can Sam and Dean prevent a major catastrophe from befalling this small town?

Review: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Warning: Spoilers abound!

After the last book, I was really hoping to see an improvement in this one, and boy did I! I've finally hit the Supernatural tie-in novel I was hoping to read from the beginning! It read like an actual episode, I could hear the actors speaking through the character's words, and I really couldn't find anything that contradicted canon.

In addition, the actual storyline was compelling and the side characters interesting. With the other novels I've reviewed, it's taken me most of the day to read them because I kept getting distracted. This one, I read straight through without stopping. I love reading a book like that!

Side note: This novel does dive in to Christian theology and the story of Judas Iscariot (who betrayed Jesus). If you are uncomfortable delving into that portion of Christianity, you may not want to read the book or this review (though my review notes about that will be minimal).

Now, since I don't have any canon vs. non-canon comparisons to make, today's review is simply going to be a list of my favorite scenes and how certain scenes relate to what's going on during this period in Season 5.

Cameo!

Sam and Dean are informed of the case by one Rufus Turner! He's only in it for a brief bit, but he's still funny as heck asking the police to pay his dry-cleaning bill.

We get a nice character introduction of enigmatic (clueless) Castiel who's trying to heal Civil War reenactors who are understandably frightened of him. He's still searching for God at this point, but we also get this nice character beat for him:

"I walked the battlefields of the South a hundred and sixty years ago," Castiel replied, a faraway look entering his eyes. "I moved among the men and brought their souls to glory. And now..." Something moved over his face for just an instant, so rare and brief that Dean almost didn't catch it; a flicker of hope. "And now," he repeated, "I'm healing again."

Of course, Dean has to explain that none of the reenactors actually need healing and he goes back to being determined to find a 'First-order witness' - someone who broke bread with Jesus Christ.

I found this part surprising within the book, but as I thought about it, it made more sense. The TV series has to tread a very careful line with Christianity so as not to offend a bunch of viewers, but the books have a much smaller audience and can take these liberties. Personally, I was fine with it. They didn't go too deep and stuck with the witness being Judas (who doesn't exactly have a great reputation to begin with).

There's a fantastic brotherly moment where Sam shares the sheriff's name (Jack Daniels) and they then go back and forth trying to guess what this Jack person is like i.e., fat vs. skinny, bald vs. hairy...

Dean: "Nam vet. Buford Pussar type. From Walking Tall." Sam: "Deliverance refugee. Civil citations all over his desk."

One of things I love about this book is the brother's relationship. This banter and other character beats really feel authentic as opposed to the prior novels. (I won't spoil what the sheriff is actually like - needless to say, they play a major role in the book.)

Just a few pages later from this great banter, we're back to the drama as Sam and Dean argue about a nightmare Sam had that he can't remember, but which could be relevant to the case.

"What's this about Dean?" Sam demanded, "Is it about you not trusting me? Because if it is, there's not a whole lot of places we can go from there." "Yeah, you're my brother," Dean said. "But you're also Lucifer's prom dress, and if he's seeding your dreams with hints about the master plan, then maybe it might be a good idea for you to look at 'em as close as possible. That's all I'm saying."

And of course, Dean gets concerned about Sam as they split up to cover more ground. It's music to my ears! There are a number of other conversations like this that really emphasize the strained relationship Sam and Dean display in Season 5.

Another surprising character beat is the influence of Lucifer on Sam because as he's doing research at the local historical society, Sam (and the historian) are surprised to find out he can read Coptic, an ancient Egyptian language. It startles Sam and once again emphasizes how different he is.

At a particularly gruesome crime scene (a mass grave), there's a brief moment with Dean that really shines as he looks down on the skeletons in the mass grave and finds a similarity to what he did in Hell:

Because that was what he did after spending years down there, doing what he'd done... Through sheer force of will, Dean shoved those notions aside...Now more than ever he didn't want that experience contaminating the way he looked at the world... not that he had a choice. Hell had been his Vietnam. It had stamped its mark on him for all eternity, and no amount of denial or self-imposed ignorance was going to change that.

There's an additional moment of traumatized Dean that I wish they could have shown in the tv series:

Sam: "Are those bloodhounds?" Dean didn't answer... When Sam finally caught a look at his brother's face, he saw that Dean's cheeks and forehead had gone absolutely white, as if every drop of blood had been sucked away... "They're not hellhounds, Dean, they're just dogs..." Dean didn't answer. He was still listening to the barking and howling noises coming closer, crashing through the undergrowth. He seemed paralyzed by the sounds.

There are more to these Dean passages, (too much to copy), but I really like that we see actual effects of past experiences.

There's also a nice scene with Sam and a young teenager that really highlights his ability to connect with kids around that age (of which we see later in the TV series):

"My brother and I grew up without a Mom, too," Sam said... "It wasn't always easy... Not everybody gets that." "I still dream about her sometimes, you know? Even though I was young when she... when it happened," Nate blinked at Sam. "Weird, huh?" "Are they good dreams?" "Yeah." "Then it's good. That's your way of remembering her."

The last third of the book is very action-oriented and has multiple instances of hurt Sam and hurt Dean, with the requisite caring from each brother.

Once again, I've gone on too long, but I'll end with a couple of favorites: Humor:

The sheriff glanced out the window, (referring to Baby) "And haul that piece of crap car to the impound lot. I don't want it cluttering up my street." "Woah!" Dean snapped, a sudden rush of anger rising in his face. "Watch your damn mouth. You can't just---"

Drama:

"This is blood money," Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out the Shekel. "Bobby says the only way anybody gets their hand on this..." The rest of the sentence was getting stuck in his chest, and he made himself finish it, "is by betraying someone you love." Dean stared at him. "Dean..." "Look," Dean broke in. "Don't get too hung up on it, okay? It doesn't necessarily mean anything," he stood up and brushed off his jeans. "Whatever happens between us, we'll deal with it then..."

Thanks again for reading! I'll be back again next week with War of the Sons!

[lettheladylead]

Bradheron. Number 17. “I know what I want, when I want it. So get over here.”

[ao3 link] [i regret nothing]

Their meetings were supposed to be infrequent and brief. He didn’t want to arouse suspicion and she was terrible at keeping things quiet.

It only took about three months into the formation of F.O.W.L. for her to loudly announce it to the world during one of her ridiculous schemes. He’d been sweating bullets for the next two weeks as every member of S.H.U.S.H. worked to piece together the bits of information they’d gotten out of Heron’s nonsensical ramblings.

Fortunately, even after six months of partnership - not one of his coworkers seemed suspicious. Even Von Drake, who’d heard his entire plan word-for-word, seemed too uninterested in his accounting department to care. Which worked just fine for Bradford. The more invisible he was, the better.

Heron was another story. She needed to be seen, needed to be heard - it was bothersome at the least and catastrophically disastrous at the worst. They’d started meeting more often just so he could reign in her plans and necessity for drama. Occasionally he’d even help her with some of her schemes, though he’d never admit to helping orchestrate evil. He didn’t do evil. He did order.

And order was exactly what he wanted when he drove to the shady Lark’s Motel on the opposite end of London from S.H.U.S.H. headquarters. They always met in a different place to make sure no one saw them together more than once and Heron had insisted on this particular motel for their bi-monthly check-in. He was happy to accommodate, so long as she kept quiet about it.

He pulled into the parking lot and made his way towards the room number she’d sent him - parking a few spaces away. He took every precaution to make sure no one could connect them.

Bradford took a long, paranoid look around the lot to see if anyone was watching him. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he scurried to the door and raised his fist for two quick knocks, followed by one slow knock, and another quick knock.

A few moments later and the door opened just a crack - he could see her eye peeking through - and then she flung it open the rest of the way.

Which gave Bradford a full view of Heron - who was completely soaking wet and wearing only a towel.

He immediately blushed and closed his eyes, putting one of his hands over his glasses. “What are you... why are you-?!”

Though he wasn’t looking, Heron leaned against the doorframe seductively and played with her hair. “Something wrong?”

After taking another second to compose himself, Bradford moved his hand and opened his eyes again, staring straight into the room and avoiding looking at her as he made his way inside. She liked to do things like this: flirt with him as a joke, pretend to seduce him, be ridiculously immodest when it came to nudity - clearly just to get a rise out of him. He knew going into this partnership that he’d have to deal with certain personalities that he wasn’t used to. Her’s was just...an extreme example.

Heron scoffed and shut the door behind him, running her fingers through her hair and watching carefully as he pulled a notepad out of his pocket. He started writing some things down and Heron, already bored, moved towards the bed and laid down on her side - emphasizing the curve of her hips and just how short the towel really was.

Bradford glanced up to see her staring directly at him with a smirk on her face. He huffed and pointed to her head with his pen. “You’re getting water all over the sheets.”

She let out a loud, clearly exaggerated gasp and sat up straight - tugging at the top of her towel as it started to slip. “Oh, no! How terrible! I guess I’ll have to do something about that, hm?” Heron tugged at the hair tie around her wrist and started to gently shake her head as she lifted her hands to pull her hair back.

As she shook, her towel loosened significantly, and despite himself, Bradford’s gaze followed the fabric as it slipped further down the curve of her breasts. He blushed deeply as soon as she stopped shaking and moved his attention back to his notepad.

“S-so,” he started with an embarrassing quiver. “...we need to go over, um, recruitment strategies for this month. I think we’ve-”

He was cut off by Black Heron standing up and walking closer to him - she still hadn’t adjusted her towel. It was terribly distracting, but not as much as her grabbing the notepad out of his hand and tossing it onto the desk next to him.

“Bradford,” she said as she shoved him down onto the desk chair. “This is boring.”

He blinked repeatedly at her and then put down his pen next to the notes. “This is necessary for F.O.W.L. to be successful. I know you don’t like organizing and efficient planning, but that’s the entire reason I’m risking my reputation to come out here.”

Heron scoffed again and leaned down, tugging his glasses off his face and putting them on her head. “Is it really the only reason?”

He glared at her. “Yes. Now give me those back.”

She smiled and adjusted the glasses so they were sitting more snugly before lifting up her right leg and placing her knee on the chair next to Bradford’s tail. She ignored the confused look on his face and plopped her hands down on his shoulders to match.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” she said with all the confidence of an ex-model. “So let’s stop pretending this is just about F.O.W.L.”

Bradford blushed deeply and turned his head away from her - now that her chest was right in front of his face, it was getting harder to ignore her allure. He wrapped his hands around her wrists and tugged at them hesitantly. “Heron, that’s enough. This is going too far, even for one of your stupid little jokes.”

“Jokes?” she repeated loudly, straightening her back and sticking out her chest. “What’s the joke? Do you want to fuck me or not?”

He froze, taking a few moments before slowly turning his head to look up at her again. Though the view was enjoyable, her expression was an odd combination of confused and disappointed. How did she say that with a straight face? “I...I don’t understand.”

Black Heron sighed and removed her leg from his chair, standing up, turning around, and taking a few small steps away from him. “You’re an adult, Bradford, I’m not sure how much of this I need to explain to you.”

“Not...not that ,” he grumbled. “I’m just...are you...I can never tell if you’re serious or not and I’ve never been less sure than I am now.”

She turned her head to the side and rolled her eyes, jutting out her hip the slightest bit and letting her towel finally loosen to the point where it completely fell to the floor.

Bradford stared directly at her face, not sure what he was or wasn’t supposed to do.

“I know what I want,” Heron began, playing with her hair again and letting it back down. “...and when I want it.”

He gulped.

“So are we doing this or what?” she asked finally, turning around so her nude, feathered body was in full display.

Bradford tugged at his shirt collar and knew he was starting to sweat. They’d reached the point where this joke could no longer just be a joke and he wasn’t sure what to do with that fact. “I, um...what should I…”

She stepped forward and stuck her finger into his shirt, tugging him upright and pulling him closer to her. “Just do as I say.”

[taurus-official]

My partner was drawing fanart for a show they like. I overanalyzed it. They wanted me to share. This post is very long.

The show is called Bolts and Blip. It was made in 2010, and ran just one season into 2011. The initial premise I was told was that robots competed in sports on the moon to solve disputes that happened on earth.

Initially I thought this was an odd way for democracy to operate, but hey, I don’t make decisions for the government, so moon robot sports is how things were. 

This intrigued me for a few reasons, such as 

It takes place in a post-war era of “world peace”, in approximately 2080. Judging how things are going now, I find the concept of 2080 being after a world war very believable. 

There was seemingly one democracy on earth now, and that democracy decided unanimously to settle all further disputes via moon robot sports, as stated.

Humanity was technologically advanced enough at this point to not only create robots that could play sports, but they played these sports in a large city on the moon!

My initial question was this: Do we know who built the robots?

Yes of course, its common knowledge on the moon. Just two scientists are responsible for all the robotic life on the moon, creating a number of robots in the ballpark in the thousands. This is a lot of moon robots. 

There is a need for so much raw material to create even a thousand robots, enough for a civilization, NOT TO MENTION the massive city they all inhabit. Where they probably don’t get new shipments of materials on the reg, this would mean the scientists could continue making more until they ran out of resources.

However, besides these main robots, one of the scientists also created a race of at least 100 robot leprechauns living under the ground. Or, at least... One of the leprechauns. 

Then, allegedly, this one robot created more than a hundred more. I do not know when the first robot leprechaun was created, but I fear for the safety of the human race if there was any interplanetoid travel between the earth and the moon while they existed.

The resources sent to the moon for the purposes of making robots would be very finite. Thus, if these scientists created the robot leprechauns before they had used the resources up, the leprechauns could apparently self replicate using the materials on the moon. This is how there became more than a hundred of them. 

This may not be the case, but if a single one of the sublunarean self replicating leprechaun robots happened to board a spaceship that was heading for Earth... With a near infinite supply of resources, enough to spare on moon robot sports, the number of leprechaun robots would quickly grow. The earths infrastructure could be at risk. I’m talking sinkholes that are miles wide. Why?

Because the leprechauns were programmed and built for the moons gravity. The leprechauns create more of themselves on earth, as many as they are able to, but are still programmed for the moons gravitational density. The Earth is much heavier, and when the build their subterranean halls, they would not know that our planets density is more prone to collapse. Catastrophe.

But even that is purely conjecture, because Earth is never once seen in the show. Let me get back to what we know.

The leprechaun robots, as well as the main race of robots were all created by one man. Dr. Tommy, colloquially known as the ‘good’ scientist. The ‘bad’ scientist is called Dr. Blood, which is a kickass name 7 days a week. I will explain why there are ONLY two humans on the moon shortly.

The primary species of robots that Dr. Tommy makes participate in team based sports, interpersonal relationships, jokes, goofs, and gambits. The concept of Artificial Intelligence making jokes, playing sports, and creating bonds is not unheard of, or at least, it might not be in 2080. However, my next questions make me think these robots were not AI. My questions were:

Do the robots have the concept of death?

Do the robots ever say the word ‘heck’?

To both of these, the answer was a horrifying yes. 

Yes, it is confirmed, that robots on the moon say heck. The implications of this are astronomical. I will spell it out thoroughly because lockdown has given me endless time with which I can do as I please.

Heck is, of course, derived from the word hell. Hell is the counterpart to heaven, both terms used to signify the existence of an afterlife. Where there is the word heck, there are beings that believe in the afterlife. 

These robots have souls.

The circumstances in which these robots die, which they are entirely able to do because of their soul, is such: The Reformatter. To simplify, the Reformatter grinds the entirety of the robots body to scrap, which it then melts together to make household appliances. This is what happens to robots who are not ‘good enough’ in society. 

What the nightmarish fuck.

Not only do the souls of the robots face heaven and hell, they also face being reformatted to become the brave little toaster if they do not serve their society.

Their society which is made by one human

Let me emphasize this; they treat him like he is unto a god. How can they not? He created them, their world. He is their father, their everything. They even built a statue of him, holding an enormous double sided wrench which is clearly symbolic to remind them. 

Dr. Tommy gives life, and it can be taken away.

The method of which he gives life is a puzzlement to me. I am told that our dear Dr. Tommy refers to a robots as having a ‘Heart’. This Heart is described to me as a magical piece of leprechaun gold, so the robots are able to feel. 

The robot Heart is likely a simplification. The show is advertised as a Family show, and must cater to the understanding of all ages, including small children. Breaching the topic of souls, mortality, and the afterlife likely wasn’t something the writers or creator were able to do. My theory is, the Heart is a future technology that can instill a soul into a robotic body, 

Which, wow. Big, if true. At first I was boggling at the concept of manufactured souls being a technology that humanity could see in my lifetime, but then I remembered one of the three key pieces of knowledge I was initially given.

“It takes place in a post-war era of “world peace”"

....Throughout human history, one social class is legally subjected to inhumane treatment; Prisoners. Once you are in jail, internment camps, concentration camps, those that are keeping you there believe you have less rights as a person. Medical experimentation, slavery, abuse, forced sterilization, nothing is illegal. 

And after a war like the doozy Earth must’ve recently went through, there must be a lot of war criminals. Those that were so engulfed in carnage and bloodshed, there was no way for them to reenter society. The newly forming singular government, if they had access to the necessary technology, may have used it on these criminals.

Think about it. The dust settles from an all out world war. There cannot be peace without someone to shoulder the blame of the atrocities. There must be an evil, if there is to be peace. So, the individuals who excelled in war and killing became the reason there was war and killing. These people are now less than human for what they’ve done. They can be treated as such.

I think this is when their souls were taken. As each warrior passed, their spirit was caught and kept. And then, in a classic move from 1788-1868, they transported all the criminals to somewhere they would never harm humanity again. Somewhere out of the way, remote, and it was the moon. You knew where this was going, they sent all the souls to the moon.

Along with a large amount of other people! The two scientists certainly did not build an entire moon colony on their own, and at this point, the robots were not even in production yet. The moon colony was made, and then the scientists began their work.

Starting with the leprechauns, who I believe were not made from the souls of war criminals. The first one may have been another scientist, the one responsible for creating the ‘Hearts’ in the first place. This is why that one knows how to create more of itself. 

Then, the robots were made. There would have been a prototype, but let me focus on what the show covers for a bit.

The sports that these robots engage in is between two existing teams, complete with names, colors, and esprit d’corps. These games vary from episode to episode, some involving hang gliders, some with miniature fighter jets, some involve a battle with guns... that squirt water. The logic there is that if they are hit with the water, they rust and die. Which, okay. Right.

But a lot of the games and sports they play seem to be quite combat based. Furthermore, the robots seem to take to them naturally. 

Not to mention, there are bomb mice and big laser guns as well. These robots are armed. Why the hell are these robots armed? Who thought it was a good idea? After all, these robots are clearly capable of malice still. Why wouldn’t they simply turn violent against the humans?

I think they did. Here’s my theory of how it went down.

Dr. Tommy begins using the souls of war criminals in a prototype of robot

The robots can recall their life on earth as humans, but are now trapped in metal vessels because their bodies have been destroyed

The robots begin reacting to the existential nightmare of being soul trapped

Some despair and destroy themselves

Some are enraged and destroy humans

Most of them, actually

Most of them turn their wrath against humans

The people who inhabited the moon, who created the cities, were suddenly under attack by the most skilled killers around.

This is when Dr. Tommy hits the kill switch for these robots. They are recycled, and maybe he even collected the souls again but maybe Dr. Blood took those ones.

These happenings left only two humans left on the moon. Dr. Tommy began making a new version of robots, who’s souls could not remember their time on Earth. Perhaps, in taking away everything about their humanity, he gave them the most innocence of anyone. 

These robots now know that

Dr. Tommy is good, for he created them

They must contribute to the society Dr. Tommy has made for them

If they fail to do so, they will not only die, but go to hell

Dr. Tommy is the good scientist. He doesn’t want the robots to be used for evil, he doesn’t want them to hate each other. Not like that Dr. Blood, who encourages these robots who have no memory of who they were before and might be able to unlock those memories to become more warlike.

However, look at what Dr. Tommy makes them do. The robots are still using their combat knowledge, independently of their memories of war on Earth. Their knowledge is being honed and enhanced, while the repercussions of their actions are not something they are privvy to. But, Dr. Tommy is the good scientist. The robots know this, because he said so. 

Or because they will be obliterated and condemned if they go against his word.

It is also worth noting that the good doctor also usually lives remote from his creations, in a little space shuttle. 

In conclusion. I believe Dr. Tommy is knowingly creating an army of supercombatant robots, imbued with the souls of the most bloodthirsty war criminals, that will do his every will. He intentionally killed every human on the moon colony that he could. I fear what this will mean for the future Earth of this show. 

Final notes:

These robots, once their souls memory was wiped clean, would have no gender. Gender is a construct originally created to indicate what a persons sex characteristics were. Not only is that a spectrum on humans, but robots would not be given any such characteristics, nor would the concept of gender transfer over. All the characters seem to perscribe gender to themselves though, which was not something they were given at their ‘birth’. This makes none of them are cisgender, so every robot in the show is transgender. 

Further cementing my belief that Dr. Tommy made these robots for combat is that at LEAST the main characters have “super” modes, where they become even more powerful and capable of succeeding in combat. What’s the hyper-killing mode for, Dr. Tommy? What’s it for?

The humans that were killed on the moon are still somewhere, probably frozen? One joke alluded to the characters being able to purchase human body parts (a stomach) in the run of their average day. Its very possible that the human anatomy is being extensively studied by the robots. Whether this is for medical purposes, or to more accurately kill humans, or to satisfy their innate bloodlust, I do not know.

I am also told that at the end of the only season, a space ship that is also a school bus arrives on the moon! It is full of children. Which. Oh god oh no. 

I understand this turned into a grimdark internet theory of a cartoon. I also believe that, without the ability to think critically, we will never be able to come to rue understanding of our own nature. It is still a cartoon. My thoughts and words should be taken with a singular grain of salt, because I am a human who is often wrong. That being said, Andrew Knight, if you ever read this, let me know what you think. 

[myaekingheart]

139. Clumsy

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               When Lady Tsunade asked to see her in the hokage’s office on a Saturday morning, Rei wasn’t quite sure what else she had expected. Word travels fast in Konoha, and even faster among the hospital staff. The hokage was bound to find out eventually. Still, Rei had hoped—naively so—that she would have been granted just a little more time. She wasn’t ready for this. Not yet. She wondered for a moment if she could just feign sickness, a sorry excuse to avoid confrontation. Standing over the sink now, hands shaking and face pale, she knew she wouldn’t have to try very hard to begin with.

               But no. She could not procrastinate any longer. Time refused to stop for her and her indecision. The sooner she got this over with, the better. Gritting her teeth, Rei forced herself to move, to reach for her toothbrush in the cup by the sink. Her trembling hands betrayed her, however, and her faulty grip led to a domino effect of clutter spilling across the counter and onto the floor. Rei cursed under her breath and scrambled awkwardly, clumsily, to grab as much as she could. Bottles of mouthwash and shaving cream, razors and makeup brushes and toothpaste, all tumbled down with a chaotic crash.

               Immediately, Kakashi skidded into the doorway with a frantic look on his face. “Rei, what happened? Are you okay?” he asked. Before she could even answer, he swooped in to help her gather their things. His movements were so quick, so decisive. A stark contrast to the way Rei’s limbs warped and lagged.

               “It’s fine, don’t worry about it” Rei muttered sourly. “Just me fucking shit up again, per usual.”  

               Kakashi frowned. “What did you even do?” he asked, and Rei couldn’t tell whether he was disappointed or concerned. Either way, her blood boiled at the inquiry.

               “All I was trying to do was brush my dumbass teeth, but our bathroom is such a fucking catastrophe, I just—augh!” she groaned, and slammed her forehead against the edge of the counter in defeat.

               “You were…going to brush your teeth before breakfast…?” Kakashi cocked a brow.

               Rei paused, blinked. “I swear to fuck” she muttered under her breath. She clenched her jaw and reached up toward the counter so as to slam the toothbrushes violently back into their cup.

               Kakashi sighed and shook his head. Over the past few days, something had changed within his fiancée. Her mind had grown so cloudy, her acuity blunt and hazy. Even the most basic of tasks required utmost care and concentration and even then, she still faltered. He hated seeing her like this. She was a captain of the ANBU black ops, for heaven’s sake. He knew she was better than this. Helping her back up to her feet, Kakashi frowned and asked, “Rei, what’s gotten into you?”

               The question infuriated her. What had gotten into her? How dare he even ask. Shoving him away, she spat, “Your fucking sperm is what’s gotten into me, Kakashi.” Anger rose up in the back of her throat and her head had started to pound. She could feel her rapid heartbeat in her hot, ringing ears. As she stormed off toward the dresser, the whole world warped technicolor. The floor swayed beneath her and the walls vortexed and she suddenly felt as if her brain had astral projected straight out of her skull. She reached a hazy hand out to the nearest piece of furniture in an attempt to steady herself, her knees buckling beneath her weight, but found herself stumbling into Kakashi’s strong arms instead. He guided her to the bed and sat her down gently on the edge.

               Rei vibrated with urgency, eyes darting around the room in an attempt to discern what needed to be done next. All her thoughts jumbled into radio static. Kakashi took hold of her trembling hands, squeezing them lightly in reassurance. Toshio lumbered nearer to rest his head by her side. A small whimper pushed it’s way through Rei’s nose as her heart picked up the pace, rattling against her ribs. Every nerve in her body tingled and numbed.

               “Rei, just breathe” Kakashi murmured, brushing the bangs back out of her face. He wondered if her anxiety attacks were worse now than ever before, if the pregnancy hormones had only enhanced the inner chaos.

               “Don’t tell me what to do, Kakashi” she spat.

               “I’m only trying to help” Kakashi frowned.

               “I don’t need your help” she replied, even though she knew that was a lie. This loss of independence, this spinning in her head and pounding in her chest, only emphasized the cognitive dissonance screaming in her subconscious. She squeezed Kakashi’s hand, begged her body to move, but she was paralyzed.

               “Rei, just tell me what’s going on” Kakashi said. “What’s gotten you so worked up?” And that was the other point of contention: Rei had not told Kakashi of what was to come that morning. She had received Lady Tsunade’s summon the morning after the doctor’s appointment. Kakashi had been away on a low-rank mission; she had intended to tell him when he got home, but she couldn’t stomach speaking it into existence. She knew deep down that if she tried to verbalize what was being asked of her, the promise of the ultimate confrontation, all she would produce was anxious vomit. Rei had no other choice but to swallow it down, keep it to herself, in hopes that her own avoidance might make it disappear. Realistically, she knew that it would not.

                “K-Kakashi…” Rei finally croaked after a long stretch of silence. Kakashi looked to her expectantly. She swallowed back her fear now, forced herself to power onward. “Lady Tsunade asked me to see her this morning. I know exactly what’s going on. She knows, Kakashi. Sh-she has to know. And…and I don’t think I can handle it. I don’t think I can handle any of this…!”

               “Shh, Rei, it’s okay” Kakashi whispered, cupping her face in his hand. He caressed her cheek softly with his thumb. “You have nothing to worry about, I promise. Everything is going to be fine.”

               “Y-You keep saying that, Kakashi, but how can you know?” Rei exclaimed, borderline hysterical. “Kakashi, I’m barely even functional anymore by myself, let alone dealing with something like this! I don’t know what the fuck is wrong, I don’t know what’s going on, I just—Kakashi, I can’t do this”—here, she pounded her fist against her thigh in frustration. “I can’t do any of this.” Her voice cracked and her eyes glossed over, threatening tears. Her lower lip quivered and she gagged into the palm of her hand, her breathing desperate and unsteady. Kakashi quickly climbed up onto the bed beside her and pulled her into his arms. He could feel the haphazard beat of her heart, the anxious shivers slowly creeping over her body. “I don’t know how I’m going to do this, Kakashi. What if Lady Tsunade is pissed at me? Sh-she’s going to be so pissed at me. I-I made a promise, and now I have to break it. A-and how am I supposed to tell my team?! Oh god, th-they’re never going to forgive me! I said I would guide them, a-and now…now I have to break that promise, too. I just…I feel so fucking out of control, I can’t get a fucking grip on anything. I-I can’t focus. I can’t do anything right, I just—Kakashi, please…”

               Pursing his lips, Kakashi hugged Rei even closer to his chest, raked his fingers through her tangled hair. His lips brushed against her sweaty forehead. “Just take one thing at a time, Rei” he whispered. “You don’t have to do everything all at once.”

               Rei shook her head. “Th-that doesn’t mean anything” she argued, wiggling around uncomfortably in his arms. “I need a plan, Kakashi. I need…I need to fucking focus, but…but I can’t even do that right!” Defeated, she buried her face in his chest, clung to his shirt with a white-knuckle grip. “I just feel so out of control…I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

               “What do you mean?” Kakashi asked. He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.

               Rei pulled back, wiped the tears from her face. “Kakashi, I don’t feel like myself anymore” she admitted. She kept her eyes firmly locked on his sternum, knowing that if she dared to meet his gaze, she would completely lose it. Her hand skated down to her stomach, pressed her palm gently against the waist of her pants. “I just…I feel like my body doesn’t belong to me anymore. I just feel…so fucking weird. I can’t focus, I can’t think. I feel different, a-and I look different…”

               “I don’t think you look any different” Kakashi assured her. And truly, he didn’t. She was still the same bright, beautiful woman he woke up to every morning. If nothing else, the knowledge of her pregnancy somehow made her even more beautiful to him—though even he wasn’t sure how that was possible.

               Rei’s crooked teeth bit down on her chapped lower lip. “N-No, you don’t get it, Kakashi” she shook her head. “I look at myself in the mirror and…and I’m starting to not even recognize myself. I-I feel like I’m in someone else’s body, I-I don’t know…” Her voice quivered with equal parts fear and confusion, as if she was struggling to even put these feelings into words.

               Kakashi furrowed his brows. “Rei, that doesn’t really make any sense” he replied. He hated that he didn’t understand it, but he hated even more seeing her hysterical over something so abstract and overblown. “Rei, you’re just the same as you always were. The only difference is that your body is doing something incredible. But just because things are changing, that doesn’t mean you have to lose yourself in the process. Does that make sense?”  

               That’s easy for you to say, Rei thought to herself. You’re not the one metamorphosizing.

               “Come on” Kakashi then said, rising to his feet. He extended a hand to help Rei up. “Let’s go get something to eat and then I’ll walk you to the hokage office.”

               Rei shook her head. “I’m not hungry” she replied. Not even five seconds later, her stomach retaliated with a monstrous growl. Rei dropped her gaze to the floor, pursed her lips, cursed her body. Kakashi lifted her to her feet and guided her to the kitchen, sitting her down at the table before making her a bowl of tamago kake gohan.

               He watched her poke at the raw egg yolk with her chopsticks, knees drawn up to her chest and a look of defeat on her face. Toshio whimpered at her side, desperate for a taste. “Rei, you need to eat” he told her.

               “How the fuck do you even expect me to eat at a time like this, Kakashi?” Rei asked. “I told you, I’m not hungry. And even if I was, I wouldn’t be able to keep anything down anyway. Do you really want me to puke all over the hokage’s office? Do you really want me to make things ten times worse? Because honestly, just looking at this shit is making me want to puke.” She stabbed the tip of her chopstick into the egg yolk, watched it explode and flow over the rice like a mucusy tsunami. Pressing her hand to her mouth, she shoved the bowl across the table and swallowed back the gag pressing into her throat.

               Sighing, Kakashi rubbed his temples and dropped his shoulders in defeat. He hated that she had a point. He knew her stomach had been finicky lately. He knew she had no control over when and where she felt sick. And at a time like this, she really didn’t need any more stress on her shoulders. And yet he couldn’t stand the thought of letting her go hungry.

               Before he could protest further, Rei leapt to her feet and began tugging on her sandals at the front door. “I have to go, I’m going to be late” she croaked. Toshio followed close behind her, stamping his feet with impatient excitement.

               “Let me go with you” Kakashi said, approaching. Rei simply shook her head and extended a hand out to halt him.

               “No, Kakashi” she insisted. “I-I need to do this on my own.” As much as she appreciated the offer, and deep down truly wanted Kakashi there, she didn’t want to have to depend on him constantly. Kakashi’s face fell. Clearly he was uncomfortable with the thought of her doing this by herself. He promised to be there for her every step of the way, hadn’t he? But how could he be expected to keep his promise if she kept pushing him away? The look of defeat on his face broke Rei’s heart but meant nothing to what she had to do. Her face softened only slightly, a bittersweet smile flickering across her lips, as she assured him, “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine, right? Besides, I’ll have Toshio with me.” She reached down to scratch behind the dog’s ear, and Toshio barked in happy agreement. At least Kakashi could take solace in that.

               With a defeated sigh, he slowly came nearer to tenderly kiss her forehead. “Just promise me one thing” he whispered, fingers tangled in her hair.

               Rei swallowed hard, anxious. “What…?” she croaked. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She didn’t want him to ask anything more of her, to add more weight to her burden.

               Kakashi tilted her head up to face him, whispered, “Promise me that you’ll at least eat something when you get home.”

               Dropping her eyes to the ground, Rei gave a single nod. “I will” she whispered. Then, without another word, she turned to leave.

               The hokage’s office felt all at once vast and suffocating as Rei knocked on the door and slipped inside. Tsunade looked up from her stacks of paperwork and smiled. “Just the person I wanted to see” she said and set the documents aside.  

               Rei gulped back her fear and forced a smile. Toshio nudged her hand, urged her forward. She was grateful to have him by her side at a time like this. “So, what did you need to see me for?” she asked with forced casualness.

               “Rei, I think you know” Tsunade replied, cocking a brow. Her manicured fingers trailed her desk then and held up a lab report from among the pile. “I received word from the hospital a few days ago about your most recent appointment. Congratulations.”

               “Th-thank you” Rei croaked.

               “Now, as I’m sure you’re well aware, you can’t continue your ANBU duties in your current condition” Tsunade continued.

               Rei shook her head in understanding. “I know, which is why I’ve decided—”

               “You’ll just have to go on light duty in the meantime” Tsunade interrupted. Rei froze, shellshocked.

               “L-Light duty…?” she asked slowly, cautiously. A part of her wasn’t even sure if she had heard her correctly.

               Tsunade nodded. “That’s right. We sure as hell can’t have you out in the field while pregnant. You’d endanger both your life and that of the child’s. But I can’t expect you to just give up your entire career. After all, something tells me this wasn’t exactly planned…”

               The insinuation, while correct, sent a shiver down Rei’s spine. “It’s, uh…it’s complicated” she muttered, dropping her gaze. She really didn’t have time to get into the specifics right now, nor did she want to. Lady Tsunade didn’t need to know.

               “I’ve already looked into your options” Tsunade continued, “and I think you’d be a perfect fit for the records department, given your history with filing at the bookshop.”

               Rei found herself nodding on her own accord. Somehow just automatically accepting the offer. It wasn’t even that she was against working in records, either. She knew she had a knack for filing, and she enjoyed being around binders and old books. There was something deeply satisfying about the organizational aspect of it all, of the intricate coding system, the smell of yellowed paper and stale ink. And yet there was still one more point of contention nagging at the back of her mind. “What about my ANBU team?”

               Tsunade heaved a sigh and her once-pleased expression fell. “That’s something I’m going to have to figure out” she replied honestly. “Your pregnancy does create a bit of a rift in the black ops, but that’s not your problem to worry about. You have far more important things at hand. Still, if you can think of anyone to take your place in the meantime, by all means.” Here, she motioned with her hand as if to silently encourage Rei to pose her suggestions.

               “Well…I do have one person in mind” Rei muttered, “but…when you say in the meantime…?”

               Tsunade blinked. “I mean until you’re off maternity leave. You do intend to return to duty once your child is born, don’t you?”

               Rei toed the ground anxiously. “Honestly, I didn’t know I was allowed to.”

               “Of course you’re allowed to!” Tsunade exclaimed. A light laugh bubbled up from her chest. “You act like you’re the first ANBU to ever get pregnant.”

               “Well, I don’t know of anyone else who has” Rei explained. “I didn’t think…I don’t know. I thought my career was over.”

               “Your career is definitely not over. Not unless you want it to be, that is” Tsunade replied. Rei hated to admit that the hokage’s words had alighted something in her. Kakashi’s insistence that she quit her job still hung heavy in the back of her mind, but at least now she knew that that was not the only option. That maybe, just maybe, she could have the best of both worlds after all. Spreading her hands out across her desk then, Tsunade pursed her lips and said, “Now, about your replacement.”

               Rei sucked in a sharp breath as she made her way to the ANBU headquarters. She wasn’t sure if she could do this, any of this. She didn’t think she could walk in there, face her comrades, gather her things from her locker, confront the situation at hand. While she knew now that this did not have to be permanent, that meant nothing for the fact that she would still have to leave anyway. She only hoped her subordinates would be kind. After all, she truly had not planned for this.

               Toshio nudged the door open for her, guided her down the dark and narrow hallways to the locker rooms underground. He helped steady her on the stairs, ensuring that he would catch her should she stumble and fall, and barked a hello at the ninja behind the barred supply counter. The man did not acknowledge them, but Rei wondered if he was smiling beneath his mask. Toshio seemed to have that effect on people. He could crack a smile from even the most stoic.

               The halls were nearly empty save for a few shinobi making their way to the briefing room or the holding cells. Rei wasn’t sure which would have been better: this, where no one could see her deliberate, or a crowded room where she could hide among the many. She shuffled toward the locker room and the whole world began to spin. As her hand hovered over the doorknob, her stomach lurched and she was positive she was about to be sick. Not now, fuck, she thought, leaning forward against the wall and attempting to steady her breath. Every worst-case scenario cycled through her head at warp speed, taunting her. She became grossly aware of the flashing red exit sgins at the end of each hall, feeling their existence boring holes into her back. She couldn’t do this. She needed fresh air, freedom, an escape.

               “Rei?” a voice then called from behind, and Rei’s entire body went icy. She turned slowly, cracking a faint smile at Yugao standing at the mouth of the hall. Before she could even say anything, Yugao surged forward and wrapped Rei in a tight hug. “I’ve been so worried about you! You should’ve kept in touch with me while you were gone.”

               “S-sorry” Rei croaked. “I’ve, uh…I’ve had a lot going on.”

               “Are you okay? Is everything okay?” Yugao asked, leaning back to get a better look at her captain’s face. “You look terrible” she then added, noting the pallor in Rei’s face, the dark circles under her eyes, the tremble of her hands.

               Rei nodded, dropping her gaze and raking her fingers through her bangs. “Yeah, I’m alright. I just…can we talk?”

               “Yeah, of course” Yugao affirmed, and motioned for Rei and Toshio to follow her into the locker room.

               Everything about this place suddenly disgusted Rei. She felt her stomach churn as she slipped inside, assaulted by the strong smell of floral perfumes and the sight so many naked women. Even though she knew, realistically, that they were all preoccupied, Rei couldn’t help but feel like all eyes were on her. She could feel them hone into her presence, ears pricked up like dogs just waiting for the tiniest morsel of juicy gossip. By now, word of Rei’s questionable state had surely circulated through the black ops. She hated to think of what kinds of rumors hung over her head now, a black cloud heavy with purpose, as she waded her way even deeper into the swamp.

               Yugao guided Rei toward her locker, propping it open as she got ready. “So what did you need to talk to me about?” she asked and though her tone was bright and eager, Rei could sense a hint of uncertainty lurking under the surface. As if Yugao somehow knew there was something wrong. Rei wondered if she bought into the rumors herself. She hoped her lieutenant would be a little more discerning but Yugao was only human. Besides, she had already known of Rei and Kakashi’s previous plans.

               Rei tangled her fingers in Toshio’s thick fur as her eyes skimmed the crowd, feeling completely surveilled. She wished there was someplace more private where they could speak, but beggars can’t be choosers. With her back to the rest of the kunoichi, Rei lowered her voice and said, “Yugao, I need to ask a favor of you.”

               Yugao met Rei’s face with wide-eyed anxiety. “O-Of course. Anything.”

               Rei sucked in a deep breath. She couldn’t look at her. Not now. “Some things have come up. Some, uh…unexpected things, and I…I need you to take over my captain’s duties. Temporarily, but…still.”

               The request, as expected, shocked Yugao. “Y-You need me to wh--? Wait, why? Rei, what’s going on? What happened?” An anxious nausea rose into the back of Yugao’s throat. Something was wrong, she could feel it. She rested a hand on Rei’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “Rei, what happened?”

               She didn’t expect to feel so vulnerable, but Rei’s emotions quickly got the better of her. Her throat tightened and tears pricked at the back of her eyes. The weight of the past few days bore down even heavier upon her shoulders. “Yugao, I…” Rei started, voice choked and meek. Yugao tightened her grip, hardened her gaze, desperate. Squeezing her eyes shut tight, Rei forced the words out of her mouth, a confession. “I’m pregnant” she gasped.

               Yugao immediately recoiled, her face falling. “Rei, you’re…” she whispered in disbelief. Rei nodded, wrapping her arms around her waist as if in defense. “A-are you…I mean…was this planned?”

               “N-Not exactly” Rei said sheepishly. “It was an accident, I guess things just got out of hand, I don’t know…”

               “Well, of course you can’t continue working like this” Yugao said. “Are you okay with that?”

               “I’ve made my peace with it” Rei lied. “Lady Tsunade said I could work in records until the baby is born, which should be fine. I just…I don’t want you guys to think I’m abandoning you.”

               “No, no, of course not” Yugao shook her head. “I don’t feel that way. Things happen. I get it. Are you…I mean, are you happy?”

               A small smile touched Rei’s lips, though even she wasn’t sure how genuine it was. “It’s just…it’s a lot all at once” she finally answered. Toshio nuzzled her hand, licked at her fingertips, sensing her silent distress.

               Yugao nodded empathetically. “Of course” she whispered. To say that she was shocked by this new development was an understatement. Certainly Yugao had her assumptions, as did everyone, but now that Rei’s pregnancy was confirmed, she couldn’t help but wonder what this meant moving forward. She watched as Rei ultimately turned toward her own locker a few doors down, swung it open, and began gathering her things. Something wary and desperate began to take root in Yugao’s chest as she watched Rei’s locker gradually empty. “R-Rei…?” she finally asked. Rei paused, turned to look at her. “You are going to come back, right…?”

               “O-Of course…” Rei replied. “Why wouldn’t I?” She refused to revisit Kakashi’s words, to linger on his insistences. Tsunade had given her a choice. The hokage almost even expected Rei to return. She had options. This was not the end.

               Yugao dropped her gaze, shook her head. “I don’t know, I just…want to make sure” she muttered. “Having a baby is a big responsibility. I’m not…well, how can you be sure you would even want to return to work after all of this?”

               Rei hated that she even had to consider Yugao’s point in the first place. Deep down, she didn’t know. Motherhood was a vast expanse of uncertainty and fear. From this point forward, Rei would be responsible for a little human life, fully dependent on her and her alone. She wanted to believe that there was a way to juggle both, to have one foot firmly planted on each road, but was that even realistic? Rei didn’t know. And quite frankly, she couldn’t stomach considering it further. Narrowing her eyes, she definitively replied, “I’m sure.” Even if she wasn’t, she needed Yugao to believe that she was. Rei herself needed to believe that she was.

               Before any more could be said, the bell crackled over the loudspeakers calling everyone in for the morning briefing. Yugao and Rei exchanged panicked looks as the other kunoichi frantically strapped their gauntlets to their arms and fastened their shoes to their feet, stumbling and swarming out into the hallway. Yugao fed Rei a sheepish smile, asked, “So what now?”

               Hugging her belongings to her chest, Rei’s eyes drifted toward the door as she croaked, “Now I just have to tell everyone else.”

               Rei stood at the back of the briefing room, her belongings crumpled at her feet, as Meishu gruffly outlined the night shift’s happenings. She kept a hand firmly on Toshio at all times, scratching the back of his neck and massaging the tip of his velvety ear. In the pit of her chest, she felt the nagging weight of her own disattention but had to remind herself: what was the point? It wasn’t like this was going to have any importance on her day moving forward. She was not on duty.

               Her eyes skated to Team Ku seated a few feet ahead of her and her heart ached. They sat rigid with a unanimous tension, as if they knew something was about to break. An eerie feeling in the pit of their chests, a buzzing in the air. Every so often, Rei swore she caught Arai glance at her over her shoulder. In those deep amethyst eyes, there was nothing but sharp suspicion.

               And then Meishu dismissed everyone for their daily assignments, and Rei had no other choice. She clenched her fists at her sides, swallowed her fear, and strode forward.

               “Where the hell have you been?” Arai smirked, suppressing laughter. “What happened? Did you have to get your stomach pumped or something?”

               “I knew it had to be something serious” Hitsuji shivered. “Are you better now? You’re not contagious anymore, are you?” A small sneeze squeaked out of him, sniffling at Toshio’s allergic presence.

               “You look absolutely awful” Sukui complained. He reached back to pick up a strand of Rei’s limp, red hair off her shoulder, loosened from her ponytail. Frowning, she swatted him away.

               “No, I’m fine” Rei replied curtly. “Everything is fine.”

               “Oh yeah? You don’t sound fine” Kikkake snarked. “What’s with your clothes, anyway?” He motioned to her outfit, to the navy blue tunic with the full, turquoise sleeves and gold trim on the collar, the fabric faded and hem fraying from years of use.

               Sukui made a stink face and shook his head. “Retail therapy would’ve done you well, that’s for sure” he commented.

               “No, it’s not that” Kikkake said, waving dismissively to his comrade. Stalking forward, he stared down at Rei like a predator zeroing in on his prey. Unforgiving. “If everything was fine, you’d be in your uniform like the rest of us. The fact that you’re not means something is wrong. It means that you’re not actually at work today, are you? You’re here for a reason, and it’s not because you’re no longer sick.” Toshio’s upper lip curled into a growl.

               Hitsuji tensed, gripping the edge of the table tightly. “It’s worse than we thought, isn’t it?” he cried. “Is it Cyclospora? Gallstones? Cancer?!”

               Rei sighed and rubbed at her aching forehead. “Guys, please…” she whined. Her stomach churned and her hands felt numb and something within the pit of her chest lurched, anxious. She gripped at the waist of her dress in hopes that it might ground her.

               “Well?” Arai asked, cocking a brow. “Spit it out, boss. What’s the deal?”

               “Yeah, Rei, fess up” Kikkake spat. “What’s the matter with you?”

               Hitsuji covered his nose and mouth with his hand, his heart pounding out of his chest. “P-Please tell me you’re not contagious.”

               “Can you guys calm down?” Yugao asked. Then, meeting Rei’s gaze, she said much softer, “Go ahead, Rei. Tell them what’s going on.”

               The room was suddenly far too loud and far too bright. The air conditioner hummed overhead, the blast of cold air giving Rei goosebumps, and yet sweat beaded at the small of her back and underneath her bangs. Her subordinates faces blurred and melded together, desperate and angsty and scared. Rei’s throat tightened and her nose tingled and a sour taste filled her mouth and oh my god she was going to be sick. Their rapid inquiries pounded in her head—Come on, tell us. What are you waiting for? What’s going on? Rei, what’s wrong? What the fuck are you doing? What’s going on? You’re wasting time! Just spit it out! What have you done? Tell us, tell us, tell us, tell us. Squeezing her eyes shut tight, she clenched her fist tighter around the fabric and shouted, “I’m fucking pregnant, okay?!”

               The whole room fell silent. Even the few shinobi who had hung back, going over battle plans and studying assignments, paused and slowly looked toward Rei. And while the confession had released the weight of anticipation off her shoulders, it was now quickly replaced with something much worse: the fear of their reception.

               Team Ku sat in stunned silence for a long while before finally, Arai burst out in incredulous laughter. “That’s real fucking funny, boss! Now come on, tell us what’s really going on.” Rei pursed her lips and dropped her gaze to the ground. She wasn’t sure what else she could even say. All the potential sentences tangled in her throat, strangling her. Her silence only enhanced the weight of her confession, clarified the reality. “Captain Rei…come on. That can’t really be it, is it?” Arai asked. Her faith was steadily draining. When Rei still said nothing else, Arai recoiled in shock. “No fucking way…” she murmured.

               “A-are you sure?” Hitsuji asked. Rei caught his eyes skate down to her stomach, as if questioning the validity based on the size of her belly. Rei shot him a fierce glare that told him that she was, in fact, sure.

               “Well, this is just fucking stupdendous” Kikkake complained, leaning back against the table in defeat. “And what do you expect to become of us now, huh? You had a responsibility to us, you know. You can’t just get off scot-free because you couldn’t keep your legs shut.”

               “Kikkake!” Yugao shouted, slapping him hard on the arm. “Watch your mouth! This is still your captain you’re speaking to.” Kikkake, however, showed no remorse.

               “Well, as much as I hate to agree with him, he does have a point” Sukui muttered, fingertip tapped to his chin. “What is going to become of us?”

               “W-Well, I spoke with Lady Tsunade this morning and we decided on a temporary replacement” Rei replied cautiously, frantically. She kept her voice low, fearing that any louder might not only anger the beast but attract more unwanted attention.

               Shaking her head, Arai leaned back in her chair and sucked her teeth in distaste. “Oh, great. Awesome. So you’re going to just leave us in the mud and pawn us off to some other tired sucker. Love that. Way to show you really care, Captain Rei.”

               Hitsuji pursed his lips, furrowed his brows. “B-But you said temporary. That means you’ll be back, right?”

               Rei gave a single nod. “That’s the plan” she replied. “I am not abandoning you guys.”

               “Oh really?” Kikkake snapped. “Because that’s sure as hell what it feels like.”

               “And how do you know you’ll actually come back, anyway?” Arai asked. “And even if you do, it’s never gonna be the same. You can’t just walk into battle with a kid sucking on your tit.”

               “That would be pretty badass if she did, though” Sukui commented toward his comrade. Arai rolled her eyes, unimpressed.

               Rei was beginning to lose her nerve now. She could feel her muscles tense and electrify, her heart pounding and a vicious anger rising up into her throat. Gritting her teeth, she pounded her fist against the table and glared at her subordinates. “Hey. I am still your fucking captain and I demand to be treated with respect. Is that understood? Like I said, I am not abandoning you guys. I will do everything in my fucking power to make sure that you are taken care of in my absence, and that I will come back. Have any of you ever thought for one second about how I feel about all of this? Have you ever thought of anyone but yourselves? Because this isn’t ideal for me, either, but this is just the way things are now and I’ll be damned if anyone, and I mean anyone, stands in the way of making this transition as smooth and unproblematic as humanly possible. Do I make myself fucking clear?”

               Team Ku stared back at her with wide, silenced eyes. Hitsuji sat stock still, his grip tightening evermore on the table. Without even breaking eye contact, Sukui slowly leaned over to whisper to Arai, “They weren’t kidding when they said pregnant women were scary.”

               Arai immediately clapped her hand over her comrade’s mouth, growling, “Good god, man, don’t anger it!”

               Kikkake slapped both of them on the back of the head before asking, “So what about this temporary captain, huh? Who’s taking your place?”

               Rei glanced across the room and fed Yugao a silent signal to step forward. With a definitive nod, she obliged. “That would be me” Yugao said with a slight wave.

               “Oh, thank god!” Arai exclaimed, slumping in her chair in relief. As unpleasant an experience as all this was, at least they still had Yugao. Arai trusted her, almost even considered her more of a captain than Rei herself. In Yugao’s hands, Arai—and all the others, even—felt safe and capable. As if maybe this terrible turn of events wasn’t quite so terrible after all.

               “I may not be able to go on missions with you guys anymore” Rei stated, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t be within your reach, either. I’ll, uh…I’ll probably be working in records during my maternity leave, so whenever you need me, I won’t be very far. Alright?”

               The others all nodded halfheartedly, but it was still clear to Rei that they were not pleased. She glanced to Yugao, searching for some form of reassurance, but Yugao’s eyes turned instead to the clock. “Shit, we’re running late” she muttered under her breath. And with that, she whipped out the paperwork for the day’s assignment and began detailing their duties. Rei quickly felt their circle of inclusion close, an unrelenting pressure on her chest phasing her out of view. This was no longer her responsibility. She had no obligation to stick around and listen. Back pressed against the wall, she paused for only a moment to allow the weight of her new normal to crush her completely. Then, without another word, she scooped up her belongings and made her way to the door.

               The hallway expanded and contracted before her as she swayed toward the stairwell, Toshio dutifully by her side. Time seemed to speed past her and she was powerless. Her chest ached with anxiety but her limbs felt heavy and uncooperative. She cursed herself under her breath as she begged herself to just fucking move. And all the while, her throat grew tight and sore with impending tears, swallowing back the monstrous cry threatening to rise up out of her.

               And then, all at once, a weak hand took hold of her wrist and Rei’s body electrified. Toshio whipped around with a growl, immediately prepared to apprehend. For a moment, Rei expected—or perhaps even hoped­­—that it was Yugao but she knew full well that this was not her lieutenant’s grip. Toshio huffed and backed down. When Rei turned around, she was faced with none other than sheepish Hitsuji.

               “C-Captain Rei, before you go, I just wanted to say one thing” he murmured. Rei cocked a brow, urging him to continue. Hitsuji forced himself to look up at her, a small smile touching his lips as he said, “Congratulations.”

               Rei couldn’t help but smile softly, bittersweetly at this sweet, innocent boy. “Thank you” she whispered. “Now go get back inside. The others need you.” She hated to think of all the information he was missing by coming to speak with her. With a single nod, Hitsuji shot her one last reassuring smile before rushing back into the briefing room.

               Rei managed to remain relatively composed until she exited the building. The sun sat hot and heavy in the sky overhead and the smell of summer rain filled the air. Rei pressed a hand to her tight chest, prayed for peace, before turning a dark corner and allowing herself to finally, ultimately break down.

               She felt ridiculous for being so emotional—after all, there was no point in sobbing over something that needed to be done, right? Still, that heavy rock of despair lodged itself firmly in her chest. She swallowed back the rest of her sobs, wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand, straightened her back and stepped out into the sunlight. She struggled to keep her breathing steady as she walked home, one hand hugging her uniforms to her chest as the other clung to the thick fur at Toshio’s neck. She felt like a child, needy and vulnerable. She felt pathetic.

               And all the while, her eyes drifted to scenes of children playing in the street, of mother’s tending to fussy babies in restaurants and through shop windows. She envisioned herself in their roles and something suddenly felt so strange and unnatural about it. She couldn’t get used to it. She wanted to be a mother, of course she did, and yet there was something deep in the pit of her stomach screaming that this was all wrong. Turn back, danger ahead. Rei’s head began to spin. Her hand trembled as she unlocked the front door to an empty apartment and sank down on the couch.

               Toshio lumbered up beside her, resting his heavy head in her lap and whimpering dolefully. As if he could sense her mind in disrepair and wanted to heal it despite not knowing how. She scratched behind his ears and under his chin and the lump in the back of her throat hardened. She pressed a shaky hand to her waist, grazed the imprint of her hipbone through her tunic. She remembered Kakashi’s request from that morning. Really, she knew she should eat something. Patting Toshio on the head, she forced herself up off the couch and trudged into the kitchen. The tile was cold and unforgiving against her bare feet, the fridge foreboding. She creaked the door open slowly and idled in front of the full shelves. A loaf of bread, a jug of milk, last night’s leftovers. She studied them until she could no longer bear it, until the anger growing behind her ribs exploded out of her chest with a frustrated grunt. Gritting her teeth, she slammed the fridge door shut. Instead, she turned to the cabinet, pulling down a glass and holding it unsteadily beneath the faucet. She watched the water fill to the top, then overflow, letting it run over her tight knuckles and pale fingernails. When the hush of the running water began to annoy her, she flicked the tap off, brushed her hair back out of her damp face, and took a long, desperate swig. Her stomach expanded and grew heavier with each monstrous gulp. Deep down, she hoped it would trick her body into thinking she was full. She hoped it would be enough.

               It was never enough.

[devnicolee]

The Chosen Ones (5)

Warnings: Slow burn 

Word Count: 10,079

Pairing: M’Baku x Original Character

M'Baku's hands painfully clutched the sides of the window, half of its shattered glass scattered around his feet. His eyes were transfixed on the path of smoke slowly dissipating into nothing like he was hypnotized, as if his intense stares alone could bring the woman who flew out the window moments prior back to him. Every second that passed and every mile she traveled farther away from home and him, his frustration and rage at the people left behind grew. It only took moments, barely enough time for the group to catch their breath and truly process everything that transpired, for his rage to boil over. 

"I hope all of you are happy," he said slowly, voice quiet and deadly as he turned around to face Asha's family and the remaining council members. Despite being in the presence of the Dora and the Black Panther, most of the group shrank in his shadow. Usually, M’Baku’s bark was bigger than his bite, not nearly as terrifying or intimidating as his appearance would have someone believe. But it seemed his gentle giant personality flew out the window with the love of his life and before them stood, simply, a raging giant. 

"Excuse me?" T'Challa asked as silence fell over the group. "Are you blaming this on us?" T’Challa was frustrated, already internally blaming himself for how utterly spectacularly his plan failed. He genuinely thought he was helping, and perhaps foolishly, did not even once consider this outcome. He expected outrage, anger, of course. No decision he made came without those from someone. But this? This type of catastrophe? He was wholly unprepared. But he did know that hearing someone voice the thoughts already swirling around in his mind caused rage to flare up in him.

"Well, who else is to blame King T'Challa? You are the ones who were forcing her to hide and pretend and lie. You all created t-this system that treats her like a second-class citizen, that allows people like that woman to attack her. What in Hanuman's name did you expect? That she would be able to sit here and take that all her entire life?" M'Baku yelled, his voice booming, vibrating throughout the large throne room. 

"Not that I need to justify the choices of this family to you or anyone, Shuri and I have been trying to help Asha. You wouldn't even know her, wouldn't be able to sit and judge us if I had not forced her to join the tribe and take that job in Jabariland in the first place! She didn't even want it. You have known her for what? A month? We," he emphasized, gesturing toward the sister he had left, "have been here by her side her entire life!" T'Challa voice raised to match M'Baku's as the men traded verbal jabs at the other, neither willing to shoulder the blame the other carelessly tossed at their feet.

"Yes, and some help the two of you have been while she was being emotionally abused and mistreated in her own home. This," he scoffed, "this isn't a life! What you and your parents forced upon her isn't a life. And you didn't fight for her to have the life she deserved. From where I am sitting, you never have. If you had, it wouldn't have taken 25 years. If you had, she would not have felt the need to flee out of your window to Hanuman knows where!"

"And what of you hm? Did you ever stop to think about why Asha didn't flee up to the mountains to be with you the first chance she got? Since you know her so well... since you offered her freedom and a real life that we didn't? Because maybe Asha understood what it could cost all of us, maybe she understood there are larger obligations at play. But you don't care about the cost! To us... or to Asha for that matter. You don't care about what is best for her and her family. You just care about her being who you want her to be. You don't love her for her, you love her for her powers. How is that any different than Hasani? Or my father who demanded she be who they wanted?" He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself before adding, "If you knew my sister as well as you think you do, you would know that she would never choose to sacrifice this family for herself." 

"I knew you didn't deserve to be King, time and time again you prove that you are just a boy. A child who has no concept of leadership," M'Baku spat. "Because if you did, you would have been willing to sacrifice it all for her.  It would never have to be her choice! You all had countless opportunities to do something different, to avoid the consequences of being indifferent to hate. When your parents or the Council plucked at the threads holding your sister together, you did nothing. Because you do not care about her, you only care about your family's grip on power, just like your father."  

T'Challa's eyes flashed red as M'Baku's words sank in. A king no longer stood before him, the Black Panther and a very overprotective brother did. His suit instinctively wrapped its protective fibers around his body, launching him into attack mode. The only sounds in the room were sharp breaths and the collective bang of the Dora banishing their spears, ready to defend their King if needed. There was no room for God, Bast or Hanuman as the safe space separating the two vanished completely. Verbal blows were over, physical ones were zooming toward them with the speed of a panther as T'Challa said in a low voice, "Do. Not. Ever. insinuate that I --"

"Alright, enough boys, enough!" Nakia yelled, cutting off her boyfriend and pushing her way between the two men. Her hands pushed against each of their chests to force them apart. She didn't expect to actually move them, and she didn't, but it gave them both a physical signal to retreat to their figurative corners. They could argue all day if they wanted but Nakia knew it would be a worse end to an already terrible day if T'Challa killed one of his council members.

"You are all dismissed," she called out forcefully to the remaining council members, who no one else seemed to realize were still there. They all seemed to be too invested in the drama, feeling that the council meetings had gotten far more interesting now that T'Challa was king. And though Nakia actually did not have the authority to end any meetings, they all scampered, quickly gathering their things to leave. Once the last soul exited, leaving M'Baku and the Royal Family behind, Nakia added, "We all failed her and so we all shoulder the blame for this. Had we not... she would here and not... not lost. Arguing over who failed her the most and who loves her the most won't help us find her or help us get her back. So, let us focus on that for now and then Asha can tell us all how much we failed her in person. Agreed? Good." She answered herself, not waiting for either man to respond before redirecting her attention to Shuri. "Now, Shuri, can you trace the signal from her beads?"

Shuri had been silent those far, watching the two men argue from the window. She wiped the stray tear or two from her eyes as she walked back to her original seat and picked up her tablet. After a couple of seconds, a large-scale 3-D map of Wakanda was projected at their feet. The group moved out of the way to get a better view, looking down to see a thin red line labeled "Princess Asha Udaka" appear and slowly zigzag its way out of the inner dome around the Capitol. The dot traveled a short distance in the wilderness before stopping abruptly above the Land of the Heart-Shaped Herb.

"Her trail ends here," Shuri stated, pointing at the end of the line. 

"So she is there?" M'Baku stated, half as a matter of fact statement and half as a question. "Let us go and get her." 

"I didn't say she was there. I said her signal ends there," Shuri snapped back, understandably still angered at M'Baku's earlier attack as they were directed at both she and T'Challa.

She continued tapping away as Nakia said, "How is that possible? Override her tracker bead and find her that way."

"I am working on it," Shuri responded immediately, clearly agitated. There was silence as Shuri tapped away on her screen, eyes growing bigger. 

"What is it, Shuri?" T'Challa asked.

"She destroyed her beads, either accidentally or on purpose. We won't be able to find her this way."

"How do you know that?"

"Well, if she manually turned off her tracker, I would be able to override it but I can't. And right before it stopped transmitting a location, her health bead sent out a distress signal, then stopped tracking and recording all health data. That bead never turns off, it can't. It records everything to the minute. So, best guess, and my guesses are usually never wrong, she destroyed them." 

"I thought you couldn't destroy vibranium?" M'Baku asked, not truly understanding how the beads or vibranium worked. 

"You can destroy anything if you have something powerful enough. Asha's powers certainly aren't enough to destroy vibranium, you know - reduce it to atoms. But with enough sustained fire, it can melt. And the beads are made of more than vibranium. Once exposed to an open flame for too long, the tech can be rendered useless. The point is, her beads won't help us. She could be fine and not want to be found. But... she could be hurt and be unable to tell anyone. We just don't know, so we have to find her the old-fashioned way." 

"She didn't leave Wakanda, nothing has crossed the exterior border in the last hour," Okoye offered as she checked a log on her beads. 

"So aside from the border, where could she be headed in that direction? Any place of significance to her?" 

"That path is on the road to everywhere significant. The border, Warrior Falls, Jabariland, the Hall of Kings... It also depends on if she is looking for a place to be alone for a few hours or shelter for days. The mountains could give her shelter but who would she go there for besides you? Warrior Falls is her favorite spot but she won't find shelter there." 

"And I doubt she would choose to go to the Hall of Kings," Shuri added. "It houses the Garden of the Heart-Shaped Herb," she added for M'Baku's benefit. "No one has been there for over a month. After Killmonger destroyed it, the priestesses refused to return, saying Bast cursed the land." 

"My son... perhaps we should just let her be," Ramonda offered, approaching the group from her seat off to the side. Everyone's heads turned, almost as if they forgot she was even in the room. Her words coupled with the almost annoyed look on her face caused a cloud of anger to settle over the group once more. 

"What? How could you suggest such a thing, Mama?" Shuri asked in disbelief.  

"Your sister can only bring this family ruin. Why bring her back here to further destroy everything? Whatever she is searching for outside of this palace may be what is best for her." 

"Asha is our sister. She is a member of this family, a leader in this country. The only people who have destroyed everything are you and Baba for creating this mess. We are finding her and we are bringing her home." 

"I am just sugg-" 

"That is the end of this discussion. And you would do well to never make that suggestion in my presence again." His tone almost as lethal and harsh as the one he banished Elder Shani with earlier. T'Challa turned his back to his mother before continuing, "M'Baku and I will take the Talon and clear every inch of Wakanda like a grid. The body scans will identify her tattoo. You all stay here in case she returns."

He did not wait for confirmation or approval from anyone else for a plan, deciding if someone had a better idea then they would have said it already. He motioned for M’Baku to follow him out of the throne room without another word.  

****

The ride on the Talon was virtually silent as the airplane piloted itself and T'Challa intently examined the sand table in the middle of the ship that reflected the passing landscape beneath them. He transitioned for pacing, throwing aggressive glances at the table, to standing hunched over it, staring at the sand disheartened and frustrated. The sand rapidly transformed into the different trees and rivers they passed over and people they passed over, all the dark gray color of the sand. T'Challa warned M'Baku that they would be waiting for purple sand, that it would be her. M'Baku let T'Challa do that while he just stared out of the window at the sea of black as if he could see Asha's body in the darkness. 

"Why do you love her?" 

M'Baku wondered if T'Challa got pleasure out of asking him deep questions out of the blue. "What's not to love?" M'Baku asked, not looking away from the window. At the returning silence, he grinned slyly and glanced back to see a very unsatisfied look on his face. He understood, understood the question and its purpose. If his thoughts were any indication, perhaps T’Challa worried that he was merely infatuated with his sister, not actually in love with her. He knew he did not need to but he did care about convincing T’Challa that that was not the case here. That his love was real and not some childish fantasy or obsession with magic.

"You know I noticed her at your challenge. There I was, down the mountains for the first time in my life, determined to die for that throne. And when I looked at the crowd, she was the first thing I noticed. My eyes drew to her like a moth to a flame. It was fleeting though, I could only focus on her for a second for there was fighting and honorable dying to get on with. And then the first time I saw her... truly saw her, in Jabariland… I mean, Hanuman. I have been with a great deal of women in my life but I had never seen one like her before. I saw it - that sadness you spoke of. But I also saw fire, passion, fierce determination. What do I love about her? I love the way you can see her heart soar at every compliment or kind word. I love the way her eyes, already filled with fire, light up when she discovers something new about herself. I love how she values family despite hers being so fragmented. I love that she is so dedicated to Wakanda, loves Wakanda so deeply despite not receiving that love in return. I love her quiet strength, her endless compassion."

He paused for a few moments, turning around to lean back against the wall of the ship. A hearty laugh escaped his lips as he stared across the ship at nothing. "You know the first time I realized it?" he asked as he walked up to T'Challa, looking down at the sand table. "We uh... we have this small cliff across from the Lodge. From there, you can see the best view of the sunset in all of Wakanda. To most of the tribe it isn't anything special, truth be told. Myself included, having had access to it my entire life. It became mundane and ordinary. But Asha, she likes sunsets so I took her there while she was in Jabariland. And you could see her whole being fill with joy and excitement, like this ordinary, mundane cliff was the best thing she had seen in her life. I don’t know, up until that point, I had tried to keep my feelings at bay. I didn’t deserve her I told myself. But the idea that she could love something so boring and ordinary made me feel like maybe she could love someone who was boring and ordinary. Who did not possess the power she did.” 

The two men fell silent for a moment, T'Challa not knowing what to say. After a few minutes, M'Baku added, "You were not totally wrong earlier. When I was young, I wanted so desperately to be like her. I would pray on my knees until they ached to be blessed with a gift. I thought I had grown out of that. But your sister... I just wanted her to see what I saw, to accept the freedom I could offer, to choose me. Because if she chose me, if she could love me, then maybe I was not as ordinary and boring as I always felt. But I didn't think about the cost to her or you all, what was the cost to mere mortals in the face of her powers? But that... that selfishness isn't her way. All I saw was two people who were wholly unfulfilled. And I was so desperate for her to be mine so I could fill us both… so she could be free and I could be a part of something that was not ordinary that I never stopped to consider that maybe it is time for her to be hers. Time for others to stop forcing their wants on her  and that includes me."

T'Challa simply stared at him, not expecting even half of an answer as detailed, nuanced and passionate as that. “I-I am sorry. For the throne room,” he started to say but M’Baku stopped him. 

“We both said things, things I know I regret and you did not deserve or earn. Let us leave them in the past, yes?” M’Baku asked, extending an olive branch to his king. T’Challa nodded but before he could say anything else, a flash of purple sand caught his eye. 

"I found her!" he called out. 

M'Baku moved quickly to the sand table where purple sand was interrupting the field of gray while T’Challa directed the Talon to turn around and slowly lower to hover above the trees. "She is in front of the Hall of Kings." 

M'Baku touched the purple sand that represented her horizontal body, expecting it to crumble in his hand like sand usually did to but it remained solid. He held it in his hand, silently pleading with Hanuman that she was alive and well.

"We cannot get any closer?” M’Baku asked as T’Challa activated his suit and motioned for him to follow him down the ramp. 

“Out of respect for Bast’s whole place, we do not fly or hover the Talon directly over the Hall of Kings or its immediate surroundings. 

M’Baku nodded then questioned, “Any idea why Asha would come here?"

"My father used to come here and pray. Only the Panther Tribe and those who tend to the Garden are even allowed here. It is sacred ground. Asha has never even been here." 

"And they believe it is cursed now?" M'Baku asked, an eerily feeling falling over him as they moved through the darkness with little light to guide them. But he could not tell if that was because the land was actually haunted or because he was simply overthinking after what Shuri said. 

"That is what the priestesses have told us... that Bast was enraged at the destruction of the Garden. Everytime they come here, they say they are overcome with dark thoughts, visions of Bast. They hear cries and rustlings in the trees," T'Challa answered.

"And you believe them?" M'Baku pushed a low hanging branch out of their way as they approached the clearing she was supposed to be in. "I do not hear anything."

"The priestesses have tended to this garden for most of their lives with Zhuri. It is their whole world. They have no reason to lie," his voice trailed off as the reason for their journey came into view. "Asha!"

T'Challa and M'Baku raced forward when they saw her body in a heap on the forest floor. As they approached, T'Challa quickly inspected the area and noticed the scorched black Earth branching out from beneath her body, her lack of shoes, and the cuts littering her arms and legs. Her face was hidden from view, covered by all her braids. She was knocked out cold. M'Baku reached her first, recognizing that T'Challa should have due to his enhanced speed, but understanding and appreciating the gesture. 

M'Baku knelt down into the soft earth beside her, gently shifting her head so her face was facing up. He was startled at the lack of warmth in her body. Usually the girl felt like a furnace but now? She was as cold as ice. M'Baku felt her coldness as if someone had replaced his own blood with ice. He was so sure, convinced they would find her alive and well, probably  too convinced. He had not prepared himself for any other possibility, refused to even consider it. Now all the other possibilities were vying for his attention, demanding he reckon with the reality that Asha was no goddess at all... she was human, a mere mortal like the rest of them. 

"Check her pulse," T'Challa said, his voice even and cold. He knew from the way M'Baku held her cheek, the way the man seemed paralyzed that all was not right. He had not allowed himself to consider this either, forced the thought out of his mind every time. But staring at her, wishing for a different scenario would not change the current outcome. They needed to know and prolonging it would not ease their pain.

M'Baku nodded, signaling that he heard the question. He couldn't get his mouth or vocal chords to work enough to verbally respond. He took a deep breath, sent a silent prayer to Hanuman before starting to move his hand down to her neck to find a pulse. For a moment, he thought back to their time in the mountains, that sunset on that cliff. It truly was a perfect moment, a perfect stolen moment that ended too quickly. Asha seemed to believe that was all they were, all they would get: a selfishly seized stolen moment that was not actually in the cards for either of them. But M’Baku refused to believe that as he prayed to Hanuman. He prayed that life, no matter how strong or feeble, would still pump through her veins when his fingers pressed into her neck. Because he knew she deserved more… and he knew that they deserved a lifetime of moments designed especially for them and freely given to them to fulfill. 

****

Asha groaned as she opened her eyes, shifting a bit as she registered the hard forest ground beneath her and the pain radiating through her body. One look at the sky above her caused her to sit up quickly, completely ignoring the immediate frustration and pain born from crashing to the ground. She quickly noticed several things that were not as they should have been. It was pitch black outside when she left the palace but now? The sky was ablaze with deep hues of purple and blue, lights that moved across the sky like a living organism. If she were not so perplexed, she would have been content simply lying there to admire its beauty. 

She didn't even really understand how she got here - she crashed in the forest, that much she remembered. But now? She was surrounded by tall swaying grass like that of the Alkama Fields, not the towering thick trees and greenery that surrounds the Hall of Kings. She stood up quickly, dusting the dirt off her purple dress and turned from side to side, trying to notice any landmarks or buildings that would help her discern where she was now.

She walked a few paces ahead of her before an eerie feeling settled over her causing her to stop in her tracks. There was nothing out of the ordinary ahead of her and yet, the hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. She turned around slowly, the sight behind her rendered her speechless. And thank Bast it did or else she would have let out a blood-curdling scream and she doubted theblack panthers staring at her from this tree would have appreciated that. She counted 10 or so of them as her eyes swept across the tree frantically. Her legs turned into jelly as examining stares passed between her and the majestic but deadly creatures. They seemed to regard her with interest, while Asha was too busy looking from the tree to the very short span of grass that separated them.

That is an easy leap for any one of them.

Asha's mind started racing, trying to access years of knowledge about Panthers and quickly sift through it all for something that could help her. As if her knowledge was a roaring rapid, the facts flew past her at an unnatural speed, uselessly until one old legend jumped out at her. Many believed that the Panther Tribe had a deeper connection with all panthers, those on the island and those in the wild, and so no panther would ever harm them. However, now seemed like a poor time to test that theory in Asha's opinion.

She pushed down with her hands, deciding that flying was far safer than walking and would help her find her way home. However, much to her shock, nothing happened. She tried again, facing scrunching up in intense frustration and concentration as she tried to force fire out of her extremities to gain flight. But she couldn't even get sparks... she was completely and utterly powerless. She groaned softly in frustration, not understanding how she was rendered powerless - something she had hoped and prayed for - the one time she actually needed them.

As she stood there examining her hands, her legs started to feel warm. She ignored it initially, hoping it was her powers finally starting up again. That was until the unmistakable smell of smoke reached her nose. She looked behind her and realized the grass around her was slowly catching on fire.

"Oh no," she said quietly, trying to wave the flames away, using all the tricks she knew to absorb fire but nothing worked. She backed away from it, edging closer to the tree of panthers who seemed completely unperturbed by the fire coming closer to them. Every time she tried to channel her powers and absorb it, it grew larger and spread faster. Soon, she was surrounded. Asha covered her mouth with her arm, trying to avoid breathing in the smoke that was now obstructing her vision. Deja-vu poked through the haze of panic settling over her - she had been here before.

She lifted a hand to the flames, praying that she, at least, still had her ability to touch fire and be unharmed. But that proved to be wishful thinking as well. She cried out in pain as the fire burned her skin and caused the palm of her hand to turn red and immediately blister.

She clutched her burning hand to her chest, tears flowed freely at the throbbing pain radiating from it. She had never known the pain fire caused and now she wished she still didn't. She looked around wildly, trying to find an escape from the blazing inferno that seemed intent on killing her. With no other plan or recourse available to her, Asha simply yelled out "Bast! Help me!" Who else was there to seek help from at this point? There was no living soul anywhere near her, she was sure of that.

She was just about to close her eyes, resigned to dying alone in this inferno far from home, when a glowing light caught her eye. She looked up and the smoke seemed to clear just enough for her to see a panther approaching her through the flames. If Asha hadn't been so awestruck, she would have collapsed with fear. This was no ordinary panther, she realized. Its skin appeared to be made of diamonds, glistening and shining in the light of the flames, and was as tall as Asha herself. It walked through the flames as if they were nothing more than colorful air that had no effect whatsoever. When it was close enough, Asha was able to look in its eyes. They were a rich purple, almost like someone hand-picked the finest jewels and plucked them in its eyes. It reminded her of something, something distinct that she couldn't quite put her finger on with the haze of panic around her. 

Bast. 

She didn't know how she knew but she knew. It couldn't be anyone else. 

She and the panther stared at each other for, what Asha considered to be, an uncomfortable amount of time. Asha realized how often she blinked as she stared into its jeweled eyes, examining the intensity in which this animal tilted its head from side to side to study her. 

"If you are Bast, give me a sign? Or you know... be quick about it if you are going to kill me?" She whispered, laughing uncomfortably to herself. She wondered if she was losing her mind, here in this unknown place trying to escape fire by talking to an animal.

The fire. Asha was so taken by this panther in front of her that she had forgotten about the flames so quickly, flames that she had been terrified of only moments prior. She looked around wildly, realizing that the smoke was no longer affecting her. She could breathe easy again, it felt like nothing different than standing in a field of flowers. And almost as beautiful, she thought to herself as she watched the flames rage around her for a second, relieved now that she knew it couldn’t hurt her. She knelt down and bowed her head, understanding who was causing this, who was in front of her.

"Open your eyes, Asha."

Asha lifted her head at the sound of a voice to find a woman where the panther once stood. Asha looked around and found untouched, seemingly perfect grass, replacing the burning field that was there before. She also realized that her hand was no longer red and pulsing with pain. All the evidence of the last five minutes seemed to vanish, like it never happened. 

"Y-You are Bast?" Asha asked, her voice echoed the disbelief in her head. The answer was obvious, other-worldly radiated off the woman before her. She certainly was not human. Her deep chocolate skin glowed like the sun, adored from head to toe in gold robes. Nestled on top of her long, flowing black locs was a simple golden crown with purple jewels settled around it. The rest of the world fell away as Asha stared at her, captivated and sure that she could look at her for the rest of her days and it would never be enough.

"You called for me, did you not?"

Asha blinked a few times, her desperate calls for Bast almost forgotten. It felt like ages ago now despite only being minutes. But she hadn't actually expected the goddess to show up; after all she called on Bast for decades and she never came to her aid those times. "Y-yes, yes I did. Thank you f-for saving me. I suppose I didn't think you would show up," Asha admitted with an apologetic tone. There was an awkward pause as Bast simply stared at her across the field, clearly waiting for Asha to speak. "I am in the Ancestral Plane, yes? I died after my crash?" Her tone was surprisingly calm and casual, as if she was confirming the weather and not her livelihood. 

She laughed lightly, "Yes and no, you are in the Ancestral plane but no, you are not dead. You came close, that is certain. That flight was a dangerous venture even for experienced flyers. But worry not, you are very much still among the living." 

"Oh." Asha stopped her silent walking just behind Bast, causing the Goddess to instinctively stop as well and turn to her. Asha looked to her left and saw yet another set of panthers leering at her from a tree beside her, each woman standing on either side of its trunk, staring at the other. Asha's eyes flinted from Bast to one panther in particular. Most stared at her with interest for a moment before going back to sleep or turning their attention elsewhere. But not this one, its deep brown eyes bored into Asha's soul so intensely that even when she turned away, it felt like a laser on her profile. 

"You almost sound disappointed by that fact." Bast responded, interrupting her staring match with the panther. Asha turned her attention back to Bast, an amused look on her face. 

"Oh no, I mean I am happy to be alive. I guess I am just confused. Why am I here then?" 

"Well, I wanted to speak with you. I have been watching you... waiting for the opportunity to approach you. The moment finally presented itself. You have visited us before."

"Yes, in my dreams. I did not know what it was though, but I thought it was just some place I made up. And I never make it past the flames. Wait - what do you mean you have been watching me?"

"I have been watching you as I do with all I have deemed worthy of a gift, waiting for them to reach out to me. I meet with all the gifted at some point in their lives. When they have reached a point in their self discovery, I find that most need to be pushed forward, as you do now. Some reach that point earlier than others though. The waiting can be difficult, as it was with you but you finally got there."

The breeze passed by the two women as Asha stared at her. She opened and closed her mouth, 15 years worth of questions, anger, and frustration rising to the surface but Asha wasn't able to put any of it into words. 

She settled on saying, "'The gifted?' That sounds like the Jabari?" It didn't feel sufficient but she was still gathering her thoughts. 

"Yes, on this Hanuman and I agree. He calls them the Chosen, I call them gifts but they are all the same. All chosen... all gifts to Wakanda, especially now since your brother has reunited all the tribes. It just seems, unfortunately, that my people have yet to catch on as the Jabari did. But I am hoping the Jabari can lead them on that path of understanding. Your father was a particularly tough subject, clearly my plan to humble him with a gifted child did little to help him see the light. I am always right, people believe. But even once a century or two, I get it wrong." 

"Doesn't sound like much of a gift," Asha muttered to herself, upon processing the idea that her life was nothing more than a pawn in Bast's master plan. Asha suddenly felt angry, anger that felt like it appeared out of nowhere all of a sudden. But really, it had been building, boiling below the surface for 15 years.

"What was that child?" The tone of Bast's voice signaled that she was not asking because she had not heard. She just wanted Asha to say it out loud. 

Asha drew herself to full height, standing tall before her goddess, anger still steadily rising. "I said it doesn't sound like much of a gift... to have your existence used as a pawn in someone else's life. I endured years of pain and abuse for what? My father left this world hating mutants just as much as he did before he had me. You are Bast… all mighty and all powerful and you couldn't humble him a different way? Dangling my life in the balance was the only way? Is that what you want me to believe?" 

"I leave my people to make their own choices. I give the signs, I give the lessons, sometimes I give explicit instructions... it is your choice to follow them. Your father chose many times not to follow, did not recognize the signs or actively chose to ignore them. I realized quickly that there was little I could do for a man like that." 

That isn't good enough, Asha thought angrily to herself. But she didn't respond, she just turned her head away from Bast, frustration clear and evident. She turned to find that damned panther still staring at her, and somehow it made her even more angry so she looked up at the sky, hoping its beauty would calm her. But it didn't. 

"Your life was never in the balance. You grew up strong and powerful, as I intended," Bast added, breaking the silence between them. "I was always here for you but I thought you had forgotten me... you stopped praying."

And with that simple phrase, Asha snapped. She scoffed loudly as her anger boiled over, "'I stopped praying??' I prayed to you every day for years. I begged and begged, pleaded and cried for you to take this gift back. I begged to be normal. Were those prayers not loud enough? Were the sobs and agony of one of your gifts not loud enough to earn an audience?" 

"And you weren't there! I stopped praying because you weren't answering, or giving any indication that you heard me at all! Is this what you intended? I mean, look at me! Look at my life!" Asha yelled exasperated as she paced by the tree, ranting angrily. "My mother hates me, my father went to his grave hating me, the only real family I have are T'Challa and Shuri, I am not connected to my home or country in any real way, and I have spent my whole life lying and hiding."

Asha roughly wiped the tears before adding, "A-and to top it off, I have a man back there who I am madly in love with that I don't deserve," a small sob escaped her lips. "That I can't be with because of things I didn't ask for. Because of you! Because of this life you forced upon me… This life that you call a gift but has been nothing but a curse for the last 15 years. A-a-and you call me here and what? Expect me to thank you for it? You call me here after 15 years of misery, 15 years of watching my life fall apart and you say it is what you intended?? This is NOT a gift!" She shouted, her voice startling a few panthers in the trees. 

Asha's chest heaved slightly as she tried to calm herself after unloading years of pent-up anger onto Bast. She couldn't help but blame Bast for every bad thing in her life right now, after all she just told her that she orchestrated it all. All that pain, all that tragedy she flew away from, she laid it at Bast's feet. She didn't know why or what she expected in return. 

"I do not expect you to not be angry with me, child. Your anger is fair. But where you see a life of darkness, I see one overflowing with potential.” Bast’s eyes were filled with understanding, despite just being yelled at. “But you are tired. And I understand that too." 

Asha nodded, she was tired. That was how she felt, simply exhausted. Life... her life was too much work right now. She looked around, the soft swaying trees, the serene violet sky, the peace. There was such peace here, there were no powers here. Asha craved for it. 

"You could just... you could just stay here," Asha whispered to herself.

"This place is not for you. You have many years ahead," Bast answered, voice matter-of-fact and clear.  

"Why not?" Asha asked, now considering the notion seriously.  "Y-You get to choose right?? That's what we are taught, what all the stories say? Well, then choose to let me stay!" 

"No." Bast answered again. "You have a job to do. You cannot do it here." 

"Fine, send me back, but take my powers. I do not want them." Asha began to bargain. In her mind, Bast owed her something, owed her what she asked. If she couldn't stay here, she could bring one aspect of this peace back with her. She could finally get Bast to do the one thing she had begged her to do her whole life. She can set her free. 

"No, you were chosen. Wakanda needs you, as you are today." 

"You have my brother! He is the protector of Wakanda. Whatever job you need to do, he can do it!" 

"Your brother is not enough. For centuries, the Black Panther has been enough. But your father made terrible mistakes, mistakes that have altered the future of Wakanda. And your brother, rightfully, has opened Wakanda's borders. With it, new dangers unlike any we have ever seen will come. He needs you. Wakanda needs you." 

"No... no!" Asha cried out in frustration, falling to her knees before her goddess. She hunched forward as her hands grasped the ground in front of her, her nails digging into the soil. She wondered if Bast thought this was amusing, how quickly her anger turned to desperation. "I cannot do this. I asked you for years and you ignored me. Listen to me now, please. I am begging you. I d-don't want this anymore. P-please." Asha's voice broke as she sobbed on the ground before Bast. She imagined she looked as pitiful as she sounded. 

"Stand up, Asha Udaka," Bast commanded from above her. "You are a gift. You were made from me, my children do not kneel or grovel at my feet." 

Asha steadied her breathing, stopped her silent sobbing as best she could, before standing before Bast once more. "Do you know why you have never made it past the flames before? Because you are so terrified of who you are. Instead of accepting them, accepting the fire and all that comes with it as part of you, you shun it, you run from it, you hide from it. And you are right, with a life like that, you will never be happy. You will always be afraid, you will always be running, you will always be living with the constant fear of being burned. You will always be tired."

Bast took a step toward her before continuing, "Or... you could make the choice to do something different. The life your father promised you is not the life you must have. Perhaps the role you believed you were going to have in Wakanda is not the role you are destined for. It will be hard, I will not tell you otherwise. Going back is hard. There are very few on Earth whose lives aren't exhausting, that is the burden... the sacrifice paid for breath pumping through your veins. But it will be worth it, it is always worth it." 

Asha looked around, everywhere but at the woman in front of her, unsure of what to say. Was it that easy? Trusting her, having faith in her after feeling forsaken and forgotten for so long? 

Bast's hand cupped Asha's cheek gently, wiping away the tears that still streamed silently down her face. "You could stay here. Truthfully, it is not my choice, it is yours. I will not stop you... Your brother had to make the same difficult choice not too long ago. He is destined to be the best of them, the man to lead my people to new heights. He returned home because there was work to be done. I believe he is better for it. I believe you will be better for it as well."

"How? What can I offer Wakanda? Or anyone like this?” she gestured to herself, imaging what her emotionally-broken form looked like to Bast. “Half of the country hates me, half of my family hates me. My brother had a role - King. I have nothing but powers that most of the country would rather me not use."

"That is far from true, my child. You have everything, everything you need already. You are rare... destined to be the best of them, I know this. And the path to that power hasn't been easy. You can hate me for it but this was the path you needed, this is what Wakanda needs. You have the power no other gift has had, power to do things the normal hand would not dare dream of - the power to undo atrocities and build lasting bridges all across Wakanda. You are rare... destined to be the best of them. I know this because I willed it. You just have to learn to love it, for all its beauty and terror. And then use it to save my people, save Wakanda's future. And then, you may find that giving and receiving love from others, and knowing you deserve it, is far simpler than before." 

Bast squeezed her hands tightly. Asha didn't know what future she could save, what she could do for Wakanda. But as she stared around at the panthers and the Ancestral Plane, she knew one thing for certain - she couldn't stay here.

A small whimper next to her caught her attention. The black panther in the tree next to them was no longer just staring at Asha, it was sitting up as if it sensed her soul was about to leave. It almost looked like the idea pained it. As Asha stared at it, she realized that something about it seemed oddly familiar. She knew this didn't make sense, she had never seen a real panther in her life to remember one. But she could not help but think this one seemed to know her. She suddenly remembered what her brother told her after his visit here. He was there. 

I wonder... she started to think, taking a step toward the tree, when Bast squeezed her hand again, stopping her movements. "It is time to go now, Asha. I fear we are sending you home with more questions than answers. But you will see me again when you have done what you are destined to do. Then you will get those new answers you seek, understand?" 

Asha gave the panther one last look of longing, knowing whose soul inhabited it, wanting nothing more than the same opportunity to talk to him as she just had with Bast. But she knew this was all in Bast's plan so she answered, "Yes," before turning away from the panther for the last time. 

Bast opened her arms wide and Asha tentatively walked into them, immediately leaning into the hug as she felt warmth and safety she hadn't felt in ages rushing through her. Bast smiled and whispered, "You know... I must hand it to myself. The Golden Trio... you all are the rarest flowers in my garden. Brilliant, capable and meant to help us in such different ways. You are the three pillars on which the progress of Wakanda will stand upon. In the absence of one, she would fall. It is a heavy burden I ask of you and cruel that I should ask it without offering any guidance. But like all my gifts, you must walk it alone. Right the wrongs, protect our future. And then we will speak again. Goodbye until then Princess Asha."

*****

Asha's eyes fluttered open, blinking profusely to adjust to the dim light surrounding her. Her head fell to the side as she laid there, recognizing the space as her bedroom in the palace. . She shifted beneath her deep red duvet cover, an audible groan escaping from the pain radiating through her body. Asha couldn't think of a time her body felt such extreme pain like this, feeling like she was just flung and subsequently trampled by a border tribe rhino. But she knew she had little space to complain. The fact that she was alive was a gift from Bast, that fall should have ended her life. 

Bast... her meeting with the Panther Goddess was fresh in her mind. It felt more like a dream, except she remembered it so clearly, so vividly. Usually dreams disappeared from her memory within seconds of waking up. But this seemed to be burned into her brain, like Bast wouldn't let her forget a second of it.

She started to sit up, deciding to find her family and apologize for her impromptu escape when a soft but firm hand stopped her movements. "Lay back down, Asha. You need to rest." 

Her heart leaped into her throat as she heard his voice. She looked up and saw him sitting on the edge of her bed. She didn't understand how she missed him, he seemed too big for her space. But she supposed she was too preoccupied with her own thoughts. "M'Baku?" 

A small but distinct smile fell on his face as he heard the relief in her voice, there was no hiding it. He squeezed her hand, the pair simply staring at each other as he helped her ease back onto the pillows beneath her back. She stared at him, happy but extremely confused. 

"W-what are you doing here?" 

His hands left her shoulders, rubbing up and down her arms in a comforting fashion. She appreciated the warmth of his hands, helping her realize how cold she was. She felt like her body would never be warm again. 

"I was worried about you. I wanted to make sure you were alright. Um... Let me get you some water yes? Stay here." Asha took in his nervousness, the anxiety in his voice. He was clearly trying to find busy work, something to do that was not simply staring at her or having the difficult conversation looming over him like a dark cloud. She watched him grab the water pitcher in the sitting area of her quarters. She stared around her, the profound desire to get up coursing through her. She just wanted to sit on the couch and talk to him, not lay in her bed like a patient. She swung her legs out of bed, ignoring the exhaustion and pain it caused to do such a little task. However, she would soon learn to regret that decision as she pushed off the bed to stand. The moment her legs took on her full weight, they turned to jelly. She crumbled back to the ground, with a soft thud. 

"Asha!" He ran back over to her, forgetting her water. "What do you need?" 

Asha tried to stabilize her breathing to talk, but nothing would come out. She had been so preoccupied, so trapped in her own thoughts that this was the first moment she actually registered how exhausted she felt. As if she could visualize it in her mind, she could see her internal tank empty, something that had never happened in her life. Panic settled as her eyes moved wildly around her room, trying to understand what she needed in this unforeseeable scenario. Her eyes fell on the raging fire in her sitting area. Was it that easy? she asked herself as she stared at the flames dancing in the fireplace. Her intense staring and look of longing did not go unnoticed by her companion. He picked her up bridal style, the young princess too tired to even be excited by being in his arms, and sat her as close as humanly possible to the fire without sticking her body in it. She hesitated for a moment, knowing it was crazy. But the flames seemed to call out for her, beg for her, growing taller and wilder as she watched them. She reached her hand out into the fire, the warmth immediately washing over her like someone basking in sunlight. She held her hand there, eyes closed, as her body soaked up all the fire in the hearth. Warmth spread through her arm and into every area of her body until she could feel it in every finger and toe, finally feeling full again. The price of her resurgence was the loss of fire in her room but she didn't feel as though she needed it now. She was not at 100%... she knew it would take some time to get back where she was. But this felt good.

"Better?" M'Baku asked softly from behind her, a comforting hand still on her back. He figured it worked, instead of deathly cold, he could feel the warmth circulating beneath her skin now. It wasn't as powerful as once before but it was there. 

"Much. Not 100% but close. T-thank you." 

He picked her back up and carried her back to bed. Once she was settled, he sat down on the side of the bed next to her. 

"You gave us quite a scare. Flying away like that. On your third try? You could have died."

"Flying is the only way to escape a brother with super speed. Before I knew it, I was in the middle of nowhere and couldn't hold myself up any longer. I didn't mean to scare anyone.” 

“You could have died, Asha,” he lectured. His words fell on her ears like a parent scolding a child instead of like a… she still didn’t know what they were. 

“No one would have cared,” she mumbled under her breath. She couldn’t even stop herself from letting it slip but as soon as it did, she wished she had. The hurt on his face was clear. 

"The King, Shuri, Nakia and the Dora care about you deeply Asha."

"Are they the only ones?" She asked softly. 

M'Baku bowed his head, avoiding her expectant stare as he thought of a response. He cared about her, deeply so. But was now the time to have this conversation? After she almost died? He supposed it was foolish to back down now. This was what he wanted this whole time, to express his feelings. But now that it was here? He wished he had a few more days to get his thoughts together. 

"No, not just them. There are some that care about you more than you know, more than you will let them show you." 

It was Asha's turn to avoid his stare, his expectant look. She was in love with him, there was no secret about that. But 12 hours ago, there were so many barriers in their way. Now those barriers turned to wreckage and recycled into new barriers. They were different, but how different if she still felt unable to commit to him and this? 

"The woman you want... she is not who I am always M'Baku. If this day hasn't shown you. You watched her attack me a-a-and I just sat there. I surrendered so easily like a c-coward. I- is that the woman you want? Truly?" 

"Asha, stop. You are that woman, I see her every time I look at you. What other woman could have survived what you survived tonight? You are strong, you are deserving. You just have to believe it."

She nodded softly, looking out the window of her bedroom, confused and struggling. Her mind like she was standing in the Great Mound, watching hundreds of trains whiz by her and she could not grab hold of any of them. So many thoughts, so many tracks moving in different directions. Here she was again, standing at the crossroads of what she wanted to have, what reality dictated she must have, and what the world deemed her worthy of having. There was not a fiber of her being that didn't want M'Baku, but did she truly feel she deserved him? Bast told her she did… everyone told her she did… but did any other opinions matter if she still felt unworthy?

And this being the first moment, she really considered the possibility of being with him and its implications, would the Jabari even accept her? Many of them did not want to rejoin Wakanda in the first place? How would they feel if their chief married a lowlander? How would the Wakandans feel if their princess married a Jabari? That was a bridge the two tribes hadn’t been crossed once in history. 

Beyond that, it was difficult to focus on sorting out her feelings for M'Baku when she knew her tribe was at risk, all because of her. She was surrounded by the very real reality that Elder Shani was trying to tear their house down. Her engagement was off, of that she was sure. Why would she uphold the end of the bargain when Shani figuratively set their deal on fire? But did that mean she was relieved of her obligation? Does that mean after giving her the ammunition to tear their world apart, Asha could just escape to Jabariland and live a different life? She was still the princess, after all. Her obligations to marry were gone but her obligations to her family, to the throne, to her people were very much present. 

And then there was Bast. Apparently, there was work to be done. Could that work be done from Jabariland? Or did she have to stay here? What future did she have to protect? How does one even begin to learn to love themselves or powers they have been conditioned to hate? She wished she had more time to ask Bast questions as a million tumbled through her mind right now. Now, she just felt like she wasted the short audience Bast gave her ranting like a child. The goddess wasn't wrong - it was cruel to ask her to do whatever job she needed doing with no guidance, no direction. She wasn't equipped for this... any of it. 

"Asha." M'Baku saw it clearly in her face, she was drowning, unsure of what to do, her confusion and concern etched into her face. She looked older, more tired and weary than he had ever seen her. Like in one day, she lived a thousand lives. He knew that look, saw it on his own face a million times as chief. He knew what it looked like to carry the weight of the world and he also knew how grateful he was to the people in his life who forced him to lay that weight down, who gave him a break for a moment. He just wanted to help her do the same. "How about we do this? We deal with the big questions tomorrow. And tonight, we just be. No big questions, no overthinking,” he gently tapped her head, causing her face to scrunch up and the first genuine smile he had seen all night grace her face. “No decisions, no complications. We just rest." 

Asha's heart immediately felt lighter with his permission not to think for a moment, his permission to lay her baggage down and rest her arms for a while. It would do her a world of good, she knew that. She nodded, smiling at him. "Let's just be. Sounds like a plan to me." 

M'Baku leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead, Asha's body heating up at his touch. He looked at her for a moment before getting up from the bed, "I will take the couc-"

A small hand grabbed his, tugging him back. Her dark brown eyes looked up with him, unspoken pleads clear and on the tip of her tongue. "Stay. I want you to stay." 

Her meaning was clear, but M'Baku searched her face for confirmation. There were no reservations, no doubts. He rounded to the other side of the bed and slid in. She immediately nestled into his side, attracted to him like a magnet. 

"I would care," he whispered as she laid on his bare chest, her small frame dwarfed by his. He didn't hear a response but soon, he felt the unmistakable wetness of tears and knew she heard him. 

"T-thank you," she whispered back, throat tight as she tried to keep her emotions in. He kissed the top of her head before closing his eyes, another eventful day behind them and the start of something beautiful ahead.

****

Tags:  @destinio1 @muse-of-mbaku @missmohnique @jellybean531 @afrolatinpami @leahnicole1219 @archivistofwakanda

[otterknowbynow]

Have Agency, Will Travel (1/3)

Not much surprises Alexis these days, but Klair coming to town isn't something she ever expected, and neither is the series of events that follows.

Set immediately after 4x10 "Baby Sprinkle"

also on ao3

Walking out of the noise and lights of the bar is a bit disorienting, but Alexis can’t help but smile as she leaves the bright room behind. Her business card is still in her hand inside her purse, and she rubs the surface of it with her thumb, feeling the letters of her name -- she can’t really identify them by feel, but it’s enough to know they’re there. It’s enough to know she’ll still be running her own life tomorrow. 

She moves toward the stairs without really thinking about it, her mind focused on how proud she is of turning Klair down. Shows growth, she thinks, still smiling to herself, before she nearly trips over someone sitting on the edge of the steps. 

“Oh, sorry!” She holds her hands out in front of her, fingers gripped loosely. “I didn’t see you there! Didn’t really, um, expect anyone to be…” The girl looks up at her from under the brim of a gray stetson and Alexis trails off, taking in the teary face and slightly smudged eyeliner. “Oh, babe, you really should’ve invested in a decent waterproof.” 

“You know what’s wild? I did,” says the stranger, her laugh sounding a bit forced. “But Klair -- she said I should use this one, because it looks more birthday-y, or something.” 

“Oh my God, you’re Albany.” She must be, sitting there with her peasant-sleeve floral wrap dress that would’ve been on trend a couple years ago, blond hair spilling out of the stetson and down to her shoulders -- which Alexis has to admit, does give her an arguably adorable off-hours ranch hand look. Albany raises her eyebrows and nods. Alexis can hardly control her hands, trying to make six different apologetic gestures at once. “I’m so sorry, Klair never actually um, clarified. Which one you were.” 

“Yeah, she never really does.” The dress ripples around her shoulders when she shrugs, which only seems to emphasize the absurdity of that statement. It’s a cute dress -- a look that would fit in here, Alexis realizes, and the thought is strangely comforting.

“Why aren’t you in there with them? Isn’t it your birthday?” Alexis reaches around the back of her hair, smoothing out a nonexistent bump. 

“Oh, yeah, but Klair won’t notice for a bit, and I needed a little quiet, you know?” Her voice is entirely matter-of-fact, but Alexis can’t help but register that her nose is red from crying, and can only guess the tears ended moments before. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she says slowly, though the rest comes out in a rush as she sits down on the step next to Albany. “But Klair is a terrible best friend, and you should really consider getting a new one.” She’s not sure why she says it -- why she thinks any friend of Klair’s would trust her, but there’s something about Albany that seems warm, inviting the kind of sincerity Alexis has been getting more used to living here than she ever was pre-financial catastrophe. 

“Weren’t you guys best friends for, like, years?” Albany looks at her sidelong from under the brim of her hat, and Alexis frowns. 

“Mhm,” She nods a couple times, looking over Albany’s shoulder at the treeline. “Yeah, yeah we were, and um, we’re not. Anymore.” She brings her eyes back to Albany’s face, smiles at her, all charm. “That’s the important part.”

“What changed? I mean I can’t -- I can’t really imagine not having her in my life.” Albany’s smiling too now, though there’s a layer of sadness to it that Alexis doesn’t think is matched in her own. 

“Oh, we fell out of touch,” Alexis says breezily. “After my family, well.” She stops and raises her eyebrows.

“I heard,” Albany confirms, nodding. “Klair talks about it, like, all the time.” 

“Does she?” Alexis asks lightly. She reaches into her purse and pulls out an emery board to start filing her nails -- it’s an old trick, makes it easier to avoid having to make eye contact, relaxes people. 

“Yeah, she says you dropped off the face of the planet and ended up living in some shitty little town --” Albany cuts off with a snort. “Oh, no, I didn’t realize it’s, like, literally --” 

“-- mhm, yeah, I know,” says Alexis quickly. “It’s not so bad, though.” 

“Yeah?” Albany sounds skeptical, and when she looks up again Alexis sees her eyebrows are raised. But she can’t see anything in Albany’s face that isn’t sincere curiosity.

“Yeah,” says Alexis decisively, tucking the emery board back into her purse so she can focus on getting this point across as clearly as possible. “It’s actually kind of cool to be somewhere you can, like, try new things, and people are less judgy.” She purses her lips and puts her hands out in front of her to emphasize. “Well, not so much less judgy as differently judgy? Like, they still judge, but it’s in a nice way, like their hearts are in the right place.” Albany laughs at that, and Alexis smiles. It feels nice to make someone laugh like that. 

“I thought you’d be more like her,” says Albany quietly when she stops laughing, and there’s something in her eyes that wasn’t there before, something that makes Alexis suddenly aware of her own heartbeat.

“I was,” she says, looking away. She’s pretty sure she’s blushing based on the heat in her cheeks, embarrassed at remembering just how alike she and Klair used to be. “And, um -- I still am, in some ways.” 

“Oh? Name some,” Albany says, tilting her head, which causes a lock of her hair to fall across her face. She blows it away impatiently, and it’s Alexis’s turn to laugh. 

“Um, that, for one -- laughing at you just now is totally mean.” She can’t help but keep grinning, though, and Albany grins back. 

“That was my own stupidity doing that,” Albany says, still smiling. “You get to laugh at that and not be considered mean.” Her eyes are soft, the smile reaching them easily. They’re a shade of brown Alexis is used to considering boring, but they’re nice when combined with that smile, she thinks. 

“Fair,” Alexis says. “But I’m a little bit like her in the selfishness department, for sure, since I have, like, a lot of work to do since I turned down that job and all, and I’m gonna leave you on these steps and head home without really making your night that much better.” 

“You made it better,” says Albany seriously, and she’s not smiling now. Alexis’s breath catches a bit at the intensity in her eyes, and she lets it out deliberately. 

“Oh,” she says, with a bit of a shaky laugh, hands dancing over her purse again, trying to decide if she needs to take her emery board back out or something. She gathers herself enough to shoot a grin, a bit crooked, at Albany. “Well, I’m glad I could help, then.” 

“Yeah, thanks.” There’s that quiet voice again, and before she knows it Albany is leaning in to brush her lips softly over Alexis’s own. She freezes, even her hands stilling, and she’s pretty sure she stops breathing entirely for a moment as Albany draws back. She has no idea what expression is on her face -- and no idea what’s on Albany’s either, because she can’t bring herself to look. She’s hot all over, her lips tingling where Albany’s aren’t touching them anymore. 

“Um, no problem,” Alexis says quickly, standing up, her heart hammering. “I’ll, um -- I’ll see you.” She tries to sound casual, adjusting her purse strap with both hands to keep from giving away that they seem to be shaking a bit. What was that? What was that? As she starts to walk away, she brings a hand to her mouth, as if she could maybe feel something there that would make this less...something.

“Okay, see you around, Alexis.” If she were capable of more thought, she might have registered the question in Albany’s voice, but she can’t register much of anything right now but her own bewilderment and the need to get back to the motel and lie down, right now, immediately. 

It’s not that she hasn’t kissed girls before -- she has. But maybe she hasn’t, not really -- not if really means actually feeling anything when their lips touch hers, the way Albany’s...God, what is she, twelve? It was barely a peck. It shouldn’t have made her go all weird and flustered. Of course, maybe that didn’t have anything to do with Albany at all. Maybe it was just because she was so tense -- after dealing with Klair, and all the planning for singles week with Twyla -- besides, she’s never fallen for someone that quickly! People fall for her immediately, sure, but that’s different. Besides, she’s only ever been into men, at least before...maybe that’s what it was. Maybe Albany being so sweet just reminded her of someone else -- 

She cuts that thought off as she walks up to the motel door, shoes swinging in one hand. Barefoot is better than heels for most of the road on the way back from the bar, and she’d needed the walk to think -- or rather, to clear her head and try to not think. She takes a deep breath now and steels herself to open the door. David will be able to smell a weird mood a mile away, and she can’t deal with him right now. Alexis reaches out to open the door, talking quickly in what she hopes is a normal tone of voice for her as she does. 

“You would not believe the audacity Klair had, to ask me to --” She cuts off, suddenly realizing she’s speaking to an empty room. Right. Jocelyn’s baby shower -- sprinkle, whatever -- that was tonight. Maybe he’ll even go to Patrick’s afterward and she won’t have to deal with anyone until the morning. Alexis breathes a sigh of relief and sits down heavily on her bed, reaching down to drop her shoes and examine the damage to her feet. Oh, it’s bad. She’s kind of amazed she managed to walk home without noticing -- is that growth also? She’s tougher, now? Rugged, even, she thinks proudly, getting up to walk to the bathroom to wash her feet. They really are terribly ragged. 

David comes in as she’s finishing putting on some foot cream she helped herself to from the store’s inventory last week. He shoves into the room not-very-gracefully, holding a bundle of balloons he probably doesn’t want but was made to take home anyway, and has to try three times before he manages to get them all inside and shut the door. So much for not dealing with anyone until the morning, Alexis thinks, glad for the extra moments to compose herself.

“Having an interesting night, are we?” David asks finally, as he drops the weight the balloons are attached to in the corner of the room nearest the window, slapping them back a bit with his hands when a few float toward him.  

“That’s one way of putting it,” Alexis says primly. She pulls on her thinnest pair of socks and steps over to the bathroom to wash the extra foot cream off her hands. 

“What’s wrong with your feet?” David asks more directly when she comes out of the bathroom again. “Is it something I need to worry about? If you have athlete’s foot and you haven’t told me --”

“Ew, David, no,” she says, grimacing. 

“I am just saying -- we share a shower. You’re legally obligated to tell me if you have something contagious.” Alexis rolls her eyes and groans, picking up the tub of foot cream and holding it up, her eyebrows raised. 

“I hope you paid for that,” David says, and Alexis groans again, putting it down on the nightstand so she can flop onto her bed and throw an arm over her eyes -- which are weirdly tearing up, she notices. Cool. Life is stressful enough without brothers interrogating you about gross foot fungus, without girls randomly kissing you on the steps of bars and making you wonder if you even know yourself. Maybe she’ll just stay like this forever. Let the arm of her dress soak up her tears even if she’s not totally sure why she’s crying. It’s almost a minute later when David speaks again. 

“Hey, are you...okay?” She takes her arm off her face slowly and turns to see he’s standing between their beds, looking down at her, probably taking in that she’s still fully dressed and hasn’t even taken off her makeup, let alone gotten her sleep mask or actually, you know, gotten under the covers of her bed.

“Yep.” Really, what else can she say? ‘A girl kissed me and I reacted like I’d never felt the touch of a human and maybe I’m not as straight as I always thought I was after all’? ‘She’s leaving in the morning and somehow I’m super sad about it even though I just met her an hour ago’? ‘I’m planning a singles week for other people to find love and I’m pretty sure I never will again, given how weird tonight has been’?

“Okay, I doubt that,” David says, gesturing at, well, presumably everything about her right now. “What is this -- is this about Ted?” 

“No.” Maybe by some weird association gymnastics her brain feels like doing. Maybe if she spirals about it too hard. “I’m fine.” He shoots her a look that’s more skeptical than usual, then throws his hands up dramatically. 

“Fine, never mind, I don’t want to know. I am. Exhausted.” He’s still standing, though, and crosses his arms over his chest, looking at her. 

“Are you trying to reverse psychology me?” she asks, propping herself up on her elbows. “Because it’s not going to work. We read about it in the negotiations unit of my sales class.” David shrugs, doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move a muscle. “Ugh, okay,” she says, letting her breath out all at once in a huff. “Klair’s friend Albany...she kissed me, and I kind of freaked out.” David blinks at that and shakes his head slightly, like he has to reshuffle his thoughts or something. 

“Okay, several questions,” he says after a moment. He holds up a finger. “One, Klair as in Klair-with-the-German-au-pair who spent our whole childhood teaching you to be the worst version of yourself?” Alexis rolls her eyes at that description, but it’s not like she can refute it.

“That’s the one.” 

“What is a friend of hers doing here?” 

“They’re on a trip,” she says. “Because they felt like being random.” She forces a laugh -- she’s going for sarcastic, but it comes out sounding more bitter than she means it to. 

“Also, Albany? Really?” 

“David, you once dated a guy named Yorkshire,” she says with a snort. “I don’t see how you’re in a position to talk.” 

“Anyway,” he says, pressing his lips together, which means she won that one, Alexis notes with some small bit of satisfaction. “Why would a girl kissing you freak you out? You did your whole party girl kiss-anybody phase for, like, years.” 

“I mean, you’re not wrong,” says Alexis, sitting up entirely so it’s easier to look at him. “But for some reason this was...different.” She hasn’t figured it out herself yet -- how does he expect her to have a clear explanation for him? Her eyes well up again, and she grabs a tissue from the box on the nightstand irritably, dabbing at them. 

“Different how?” 

“She meant it,” she says, and as the words come out, she realizes they’re true. That is how it’s different. When she’s kissed girls before it’s been a stunt or a game -- or the result of some very not sober situations. It’s never been...genuine. It’s never been nice. 

“Ah,” says David, finally sitting down on his bed. There’s a lot in that ah, and Alexis isn’t sure how much of it she wants to hear right now. 

“Anyway, so, it’s just. It’s a lot to handle, and I’d rather not talk about it, for, you know, for a bit,” she says, looking at him sidelong instead of turning to face him. 

“Really?” 

“Really,” she says, then hesitates. “Maybe. Maybe I should talk about it?” 

“I would hope you could talk about it with me, at least,” David says, standing up from his bed again to pace the carpet at the foot of hers. “Considering I am -- to my knowledge -- the only queer person you interact with on a regular basis. But then, I would also hope I wouldn’t be having to drag it out of you after a very, very long day.” 

“Well, maybe I didn’t really consider that, David.” 

“So you don’t consider me queer or you don’t consider me a person?” 

“You know that’s not what I mean,” she says, reaching for another tissue. “I just mean I hadn’t considered that talking about it would, like, help. Can we focus for a minute on the person actually going through an identity crisis?”

“That’s funny, because when I was going through my identity crisis, I’ll note, you were -- what -- in Bahrain?” He still hasn’t sat back down, and Alexis is getting tired of craning her neck to look at him, especially if all he’s going to be is indignant. 

“No, I was ten, David. Please.” She dabs tears from the corners of her eyes and adds primly: “I was on a girls’ trip to Bali that Annika organized. Anyway, we’re different people now.” She looks down at the tissue twisting in her hands and takes a deep breath before adding quietly. “And I’m not even sure I’m...well, anything.” 

“Oh?” She doesn’t have to look to know he’s got a hand on his hip and is more than likely about to merge his eyebrows into his hairline. “Because in case you haven’t noticed, you’re crying over how much you like a girl.” 

“Yeah, but that’s like...people do that, David,” she says. And now that she thinks about it, she’s done it before -- on that same trip to Bali, actually. 

“Sure they do,” says David pointedly. “Usually when they need to figure out if they’re, y’know, anything.” Alexis considers that for a second, then nods, glad her nose has stopped running, at least. 

“So, what should I do?”

[outroshooky]

Swim In Your Divine

⇢ genre: drabble (hogwarts!au, slytherinjimin!au, gryffindorreader!au) (fluff)

⇢ pairing: park jimin x reader

⇢ word count: 1.7k

⇢ warnings: this is tooth-rottingly fluffy with a touch of angst; there’s brief swearing

⇢  a/n: i’ve wanted to write slytherin jimin for months now, but inspiration is a fickle bitch. i stared at my laptop for maybe an hour tonight, and all of a sudden  words came pouring out. to anyone right now who is on the verge of something unknown, who is doubting themselves and their abilities and feeling as though the world may very well come crashing down at any moment- this is for you. i hope, from my heart to yours, that it brings you comfort, even if only just for a moment.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Breath soft on your temple, steady in its beat, paced.

It’s dark in the round room, a single window allowing a block of moonlight to cut across stone tile, fractured in its age. It’s a cloudless night and the sister planet sings her silvery praises across the mountains that arch over the foundations of the castle, keeping her snug and warm in their embrace. Lately, however, it is as if they do not cradle but cage, for better or worse, from the outside world.

For war, war is coming.

It beats in the very thrum of your blood, in the keenness of your senses.

Something is about to happen.

Something that has the potential to be catastrophic, to tip the hourglass that has so carefully held the sands of destiny, slipping by grain by grain into place, exactly where they’re meant to be. The glass walls were shattered on the night that the wizarding world was changed forever, tilted on its axis by the boy with fate incarnate cut in a bolt scar across the breadth of his forehead. They were put back together with the passage of time, tension draining out of the world’s own shoulders as she too adjusted to change.

Change. A force that, on its own, has the power to shift tides. She waxes and wanes, pushes and pulls with her own mind, and it can feel as though we are completely alone, forced to rock back and forth at the mercy of an unseen higher power. We grab at the walls of our measly little dinghy and we are reminded of our place in the universe. How, in the grand scheme of time and the flow of the cosmos, the predicament that occupies our waking hours and haunts the landscape of our dreams is merely a ripple in the flood. A stone may skip across the water, even fall face-first and sink to the bottom, but with a second or two, the undulations slow, taking pause until the next rock finds itself skimmed along the great river. It is like this that we are borne along the current of life, sometimes in control of the pace, sometimes clutching for the sides of the boat with every ounce of power in us.

Your head rises and falls with the rhythm of his breathing, your ear resting comfortably above the constant, never failing drumbeat that is the pattern of life. One of his hands is loosely interlocked with yours, the other occupied with gentle caresses of your hip, your side- touches he needs not open his eyes for, because he knows your curves and your edges as well as he knows the flecked wood of his own wand.

Sometimes, our boat is spun in circles on the great tides. The water rushes and roars in our ears and below our pathetic little craft, threatening to spit and choke and overwhelm the sides. Like leaves we are caught in the eddies, but like leaves, we slip over the top of one current, spill into another, and then we are borne along our way just as if nothing had ever happened in the first place. It’s okay to go in circles, even if you need to rest for a while. It will not consume you forever.

Your frame is warm against his, the only blanket he needs. He’s in casual wear, the low cut of his shirt exposing honey-gold skin, and it’s here that you bury your face, nose the column of his neck. You could connect constellations with the freckles that dot his chest, run your knuckle along his throat to marvel at the radiance of him in simplistic, unadulterated adoration. He is beautiful, so beautiful that it hurts to think, to move, to breathe, to do anything other than savor this moment with him, the moonlight kissing the toes of your socked feet. You nuzzle into the crook of his shoulder, breathe deep the delicate notes of his body wash, but even with a faintly musky distraction, your mind still wanders. It lingers near the entrance to a shadowed labyrinth, trees of shade spearing a sickening inky-black twilight, and it is as if he can feel your internal trepidation through the way you shift against him. He hums, gritty and thick with sleep. “What time is it?”

“Late,” you murmur, fingers sliding up his wrist to trace his forearm. “If we’re caught up here, Snape will string me up on his dungeon wall, right next to the newts we’re supposed to be skinning on Tuesday.”

Jimin chuckles softly, brushing your forehead with lips as delicate as falling petals. “Well, you’re lucky that you’re up here with me. He likes me too much to actually bother with giving me detention.”

“Speak for yourself, mister Slytherin prefect.” You curl into Jimin, legs slung across his thigh. “He’s just itching to give any other prefect, much less a Gryffindor, an ass-whooping.”

His arms tighten around you. “Ah, but you have McGonagall on your side. I still don’t think she’s forgiven me for failing her final last year.”

“She’s forgiven you, love. I don’t think you’ve forgiven yourself,” you tease, tapping his nose with one digit. 

Jimin whines lowly and buries his face in the top of your head; the butterfly’s wings in your heart unfold to beat with a renewed passion. However, with a glance out the intricately carved windowsill at the hills and valleys, lingering with promises of threats to come, the beautiful creations crumple.

“Jimin…”

The glow of night frames your face, a visage more stunning to him than any charm or hex. His entire life he’s been enchanted by the mystery of magic, the secret beauty it holds in the palm of his hand. Yet, for all of his passion towards the craft he aims to perfect, it pales in comparison to the candle wick that burns bright with his affections towards you. You, a star set so deeply into the wonderful framework of the universe that he fears a world in which he ever has to live without the unfailing steadiness of you. Jimin knows exactly what thoughts coil around themselves in your brain like a pile of seething snakes, his emotional intuition that nearly had him sorted into Hufflepuff reading you like an open book.

He cradles the back of your neck with one hand; the butterfly curls into its protector. “I know.”

“You can feel it too?”

He nods slowly, then all at once. “Something is different with the world out there. The mountains don’t smile like they used to. They hunch, like they’re hunkering down.”

“But for what?” Your question rings into the open air, an owl winging its way into the night-time. “What if we have war again, Jimin?”

“War?” He raises an eyebrow.

“That’s what happened the last time the world shifted like this. I don’t know-” You cradle yourself in his arms, rubbing furiously. “I don’t know, but god, I’m fucking terrified.”

He pauses one beat, two. “It’s okay to be terrified.” His hands rub over yours, doing a better job to warm you up than you ever could. “I’m terrified too.” Jimin’s confession, as quiet as it is in the dead of the Astronomy Tower, rings as loud as the clapper of a tower bell in the small room. “But if it is war again, then we’ll be prepared for it. We have to be, and we will be.”

“But how?” You beg, turning to face him. “How, when nothing is certain and everything is thrumming with this hint of danger and fuck, I just-” You ramble on.

Jimin presses a single finger to your lips, hand sliding to cup your jaw. His eyes meet yours, onyx embers glowing bright with feeling. “You beautiful, silly girl.”

You draw back. “What?”

“My dear, you are the most capable person that I have ever met. You are courageous and determined and god forbid anything stand in your way, because you will crush those who speak out against you to dust. You have a soul that sings a song of fire, but that doesn’t mean you are consumed by it.” His thumb traces the apple of your cheek. “You are wonderful in your own way; you’re so genuinely good and I truly have no idea how I ended up in your boat as first-years on the way to the castle for the first time, but I am so glad that I did. It was the best choice I have ever made.” He emphasizes these things with a tenderness known to you, you alone, and with that the winged thing in your chest breaks free, the shackles on her wings shed in a flurry of movement.

“In a thousand universes, I will find you,” Jimin promises, the rawness of his words building brick after brick of reassurance. “In ten thousand stories, I will trip and fall into your timeline and stay by your side before I’m undoubtedly killed off in some majestic, knightly way. Change, war, whatever you want to call it- it will not tear you apart even if it tears us apart. The world does not deserve a soul like yours, breadcrumb, and she will be reluctant to let you slip the bonds of earth. She knows you’re a fighter; she sees that in you-” he wipes a tear from your cheek, spilling wet and hot. “-and she will not give up on you, even if you give up on yourself.”

“Jimin,” you choke, hands cupping his face. You say his name once, twice, over and over till it fades to a whisper on your lips. He’s crying too, you think, with the sheer honesty of it all; the threads of change are woven indeterminably, unchangingly, and there is nothing you can do to unravel the ethereal blanket. 

Change, war, whatever you want to call it, is coming.

But things will be okay.

You pull him closer, arms linked around the back of his neck, and he pulls you onto his lap, a girl with a soul that sings of fire and a heart that burns with the warmth of coals. 

Inhale.

Exhale.

A barn owl, perched atop the roof of the tower, hoots a low cry, and it echoes through the dark, ringing atop hill and treetop to settle on Hogwarts’ Great Lake, where a single leaf swirls atop a slow-moving current, the stem rippling the surface of the water.

[superpuppies]

Hobbit High

Chapter 2: The Story Lost

Fandom- The Hobbit

Characters- Ori X Dwalin, Bilbo X Thorin, Fili, Kili, Dori, Nori, Gandalf, Thlandral, Legolas

Rating- PG13

Word count- 3093

Archive Link- https://archiveofourown.org/works/10027448/chapters/57582619#workskin

Summary- Bilbo arrives at school in a panic unable to find the seconded story, once Bilbo informs Ori of the situation the two begin a frantic journey around the school in hopes of finding the missing papers. Fili and Kili corner our boys and have a little pounding session. Thorin and Dwalin help the shocked, shaken and bruised boy back to the Ri house for a little rest.

Hey all, here’s the newest from my mind, please keep in mind that I do have dyslexia and I really do try to fix all spelling mistakes but some will always slip through. If you spot some please let me know and I will do my best to correct it. Thank you.

Ori trudged along beside Nori, still trying to wake up, he had stayed up later then he usually would have reading Bilbo’s story after writing a bit himself.

Nori wrapped himself around his brother and sang. “Wakey, wakey.”

“Oh, come on Nori.” Ori halfheartedly pushed at his brother.

“What? You pretty much ran away when Dwalin’s dad showed up last night and you’ve been unusually quiet all morning not even an angry grumble.”

“That has nothing to do with you, dangling off me.” Ori’s eyes narrowed to emphasizes his sarcastic tone.

“I’m just worried about you.” Nori looked at Ori with comically wide, sad puppy dog eyes. After a moment Ori turned his eyes to the ground with a sigh.

“I’m just really tired.”

Bilbo rushed past them and into the school. “Where’s he running off to?” Nori asked raising an eyebrow.

“Must be something good, he completely ignored me when I said ‘good morning’.” Thorin said falling into step beside them.

“That’s just because it’s too early to be looking at your ugly mug.” Dwalin yawned coming up behind them.

“I’m so glad we’re friends.” Thorin smirked rolling his eyes.

“Well someone’s got to tell you how it is.” Dwalin shrugged and turned to Nori. “Why don’t you just climb onto Ori’s back and have him carry you, he practically is already.” Dwalin’s eyes narrowed.  Nori turned to Dwalin in a mock huff.

“Do you need to go back to bed too?” Dwalin just knitted his eye brows together in confusion. Nori stood up from leaning on Ori and pulled him tight to his chest. “What did you do to him? I could have sworn you’d left!”  Ori pulled himself out of Nori’s arms.

“Can you just not do this to me today?” Ori growled storming away.

“Grumpy!” Nori shouted after him.

 Ori found Bilbo digging almost franticly through his locker. “What are you doing?”

Bilbo stopped and looked up at Ori with worried eyes, he licked his lips before starting. “I, ugh, I can’t find it.”

“Find what?”

Bilbo stood. “The story you gave back yesterday.” Ori’s face fell. “I know I put it in my locker yesterday and then I thought I put it in my bag but then when I got home it wasn’t there. And now it’s not in my locker.” The bell rang and the hall burst into a frenzy. Bilbo closed his locker and headed for history a shocked silent Ori beside him and both boys an unnerving shade of pale.

As they sat Ori turned to Bilbo. “Did you check in all your books?” He asked quietly.

“Yes, I don’t know where it is.” Bilbo whined dropping his head onto his desk.

Ori groaned in disbelief as he lay across his own desk feeling crushed by the sudden added weight of this catastrophe.

As the day progressed their panic grew, at each class break they would check another spot that they thought of but still no sign of the story.

 Just before lunch Nori found the two boys snapping at each other in frustration but his head hurt too much to care why at the moment. Getting them to stop snapping at each other long enough to tell Ori that he was heading home because of his migraine was harder than it should have been and did nothing to help with his head. Ori just waved his brother away as he tried to think of another place to look.

 Ori and Bilbo met at Ori’s locker after their last class. “Maybe it fell out of my locker and the janitor threw it out.” Bilbo said hopeful.

Ori eyed his friend with disbelief as he gathered his bag. “Maybe” Ori said dryly. “You had violin lessons yesterday right?” Bilbo nodded not liking where Ori was going with this. “So we’ll swing by Mr. Théoden’s and see if you left anything behind.” Bilbo sighed as they started toward the door. Ori was feeling confident that his plan was a good one while Bilbo was still clinging to his janitor theory.

Kili Appeared around the hall corner behind Bilbo and Ori, an evil smirk on his face that didn’t match his soft tone. “Hey, Bilbo.” Bilbo jumped at the sound of Kili’s voice, then again as Ori let out a startled yelp. Fili reached out the door of empty class room two fourteen and pulled the red head into the room. Fili laughed as Ori tripped and stumbled to catch himself while Kili cornered Bilbo in the doorway and finally pushed the smaller boy into the room.

“Oh, Come on Fili, we just want to go home.” Ori whined straightening to standing.

“This won’t take long, Ori. We’ve been trying to talk to you guys all day but you’ve been avoiding us like we have the plague.” Both Fili and Kili put on false looks of hurt. Ori narrowed his eyes sensing danger as Bilbo tightened his grip on his bag strap.

“Why?” Ori’s suspicion tainted his voice.

“Well,” Fili began as he reached in to his back right pocket and pulled out the lost tale now folded in half. “We found something that belongs to you.” He snapped the papers flat. Ori and Bilbo’s faces fell in horror as their eyes locked on to the papers before them. “And we wanted to return it to you, well that was of course until we read it.” Bilbo let out an involuntary squeak just before he ran for the door, Kili clothes lined him just before he reached the door and he hit the ground hard. “I think, I’ll read you some of Kili’s and mine favorite parts.” Fili continued with a smile.

Ori stepped back from the twins, his eyes closing in horrified acceptance.

“No,” Bilbo begged his voice quieted from pain. “God no”

Kili knelt down and punched Bilbo in the ribs as his brother began to read.

“A shiver ran through Dwalin as he knelt before Ori. The red head simply watched with a small smile playing on his lips. ‘I apologies master’ Dwalin said dropping his eyes.  

‘As you should.’ Ori leaned toward Dwalin somewhat ominously. ‘But if you think a few simple words are going to make up for it, you are greatly mistaken.’

‘What can I do for you sir?’

‘You know full well what you need to do.’ Ori smirked leaning back in his chair. Dwalin nodded but kept his smile to himself, he took a pleasure he knew he wasn’t meant to from his punishments. Moving closer still on his knees he reached up to open Ori’s pants.”

“Stop” Bilbo sobbed hiding his face in his hands as Kili punched him in the chest again.

Ori sank to the floor his eyes shut tight as he tried to block out Fili’s voice, he didn’t like reading it and hearing it was much, much worse. “Oh god, please stop. Please.” Ori opened his eyes and looked up at Fili with pleading eyes. “Please Fili, that’s enough.”

“Enough!” Fili laughed darkly. Kili chuckled as well as he landed another blow onto Bilbo. “This is far from enough, Ori we haven’t even gotten to when Bilbo sticks his dick into Thorin. Or when you have Dwalin writhing beneath you.”

The tears started to roll down Ori’s cheeks despite his best effort to keep them in. “Please Fili, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Fili Jumped down from the desk he was sitting on and squatted down in front of Ori. “For what? Hmm? For being a sick fucking perv or for getting caught fantasizing about being a sick fucking perv with our cousin.”

“I don’t want your cousin. I didn’t” Ori started, Fili slapped him hard across the face.

“No, that’s right you like the strong quiet type. What do you think Dwalin would do if he knew, Ori? Do you think you would survive it? Hu?” Ori grabbed Fili’s shirt, His cheek swollen and pink from the slap shimmered with the still flowing tears.

“Oh God! Fili don’t tell him. Please don’t tell him! Don’t tell Dwalin. I’ll do anything, anything just don’t tell him. We didn’t mean it. We didn’t mean any harm.”

“You didn’t mean any harm?! You ruined both Dwalin and Thorin’s name.”

 Dwalin and Thorin walked down the quiet hall together in silence, it was strange being without Nori’s almost constant noise. Dwalin stopped for a moment and cocked his head to the side; he could have sworn he just heard his name.

“What are you doing?” Thorin asked coming to a stop a step past Dwalin.

“I thought I heard; there it is again.” Dwalin started down the hall once more.

“What?”

“My Name.”

 “Why would you ever think Thorin and Dwalin would waste their time with you!” Fili growled in Ori’s face as he and Kili landed another blow onto Ori and Bilbo respectively.  Fili was being smart about this, he knew better than to bruise up the face it would only attract unwanted attention over the next few days. Whereas body blows hurt more and were easier to hide, he had started latter on hitting Ori partly to punctuate some of what he was saying and partly because there was always the chance Nori would see something at home and get the truth out of Ori, where Bilbo did not present that problem.

Ori choked out a sob into his curled fist, he had his arms pulled tight up in front of his chest. His eyes closed while he tried to convince himself it would be alright. Fili and Kili would beat them up and then leave them alone and they would never have to go through this again, he hoped. Bilbo’s sobs had turned into gasping half spoken; half wrenched from his body pathetic please for the whole day to end causing Kili to laugh as he hit him.

 Dwalin stopped outside class two fourteen very confused, he could hear sobbing and pleading and then once again his name. He reached out and through open the door to find Fili and Kili perched over Ori and Bilbo. Fili and Kili froze, their attention snapping onto Dwalin at the sound of the door slamming into the wall. Dwalin’s mind reeled trying to understand what he was seeing. Bilbo was pinned under Kili sobbing for air while Ori seemed small and defeated in Fili’s grip as tears streamed down his face.  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Dwalin boomed fully entering the room, Thorin turned in behind him and immediately darkened at the sight.

“Fili! Kili! Get away from them, now!”

“But we’re just.” Kili started.

“You don’t know what they-” Fili tried to interject.

“Now!” Thorin growled. “Get the hell away from them and me before I kill you!” Fili and Kili glanced at each other briefly then stood. Fili tried to explain again as they wove their way between the two older boys.

“They-“

“GO!” Thorin barked and the twins disappeared down the hall.

Bilbo shifted into sitting and scooted closer to Ori while still trying to get the sobs under control. He was glad Kili was gone but completely horrified that Thorin was now there.

Ori scrubbed at his eyes trying to see what was going on but the tears just kept flowing, he thought he had heard Dwalin’s voice but that couldn’t be right.

Dwalin moved toward Ori but got distracted when he almost slipped on the story that Fili had dropped; reaching down he picked it up and began to read.

Thorin dropped down in front of Bilbo and reached out to try and assess the damage done. Bilbo flinched and pulled away curling closer to Ori with a whimper, Thorin tried again with slower more deliberate movements. “Bilbo, just let me” He tried to sound as soothing as he could.

“No!”  Bilbo shrieked and pushed Thorin’s hands away scurrying farther behind Ori. “Please, I promise I’ll stop. I’ll destroy them all.”

“Thorin.” Dwalin sounded odd in monotone as he continued to read the papers.

“Bilbo, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  Thorin said moving closer to Bilbo slowly.

“Thorin.” Dwalin said again.

“What, Dwalin. I’m trying to do something here.” Thorin turned to Dwalin sharply. Dwalin waved the story.

“It’s about us, us and them.”

“What? Who cares, they’re a mess can we deal with that first.” Thorin turned back to Bilbo with a huff. Dwalin looked down at Ori who seemed to be coming back to himself.

Ori placed his hands on the floor and pushed himself to standing. Dwalin reached out for Ori, who flinched and took off running. Dwalin took off after Ori stuffing the story into his back pocket.

Bilbo squeaked as he realized he was left alone with Thorin. Bilbo began a rattling constant stream of begging to be left alone and apologies that slowly turned into hyperventilation. Thorin sighed and cupped Bilbo’s face in his hands. “Bilbo, Look at me. I need you to calm down, it’s okay.”  This, of course did nothing to calm Bilbo down.

Thorin stared at the panic-stricken boy with his flushed cheeks and open panting pink lips. He was an entirely different kind of adorable that Thorin had never thought of before. Without meaning to Thorin leaned forward and kissed Bilbo, who after a moment went entirely still. Thorin smiled at the bewildered look on Bilbo’s face as he pulled away. “There that’s better.” He said wiping at the tear streaks on Bilbo’s cheeks.

Bilbo’s mouth moved trying to find his voice but all he could muster was a soft airy whisper. “You, you kissed me.”

“Yep.” Thorin smiled again. “Is that going to be a problem?”   Slowly Bilbo shook his head ‘no’, still disbelieving it had actually happened. “Want me to do it again?”

Bilbo’s cheeks flushed crimson and his chin dropped to his chest sliding his face from Thorin’s fingers. “Yes” he whispered.

“It’s kind of hard when you won’t look at me.” Thorin whispered into Bilbo’s ear.

Bilbo shivered but let Thorin tilt his chin up again. This was crazy, crazy how was this happening? Thorin let a smile play on his face as he leaned in for another kiss. Bilbo’s fingers tightened in his own jacket wanting to reach out for Thorin but frightened it would break whatever spell he was under. Thorin slid in closer and Bilbo breathed out a soft moan.

Thorin smiled and rested his forehead against Bilbo’s, “Better?” Bilbo nodded, eyes drifting across Thorin’s chest. “Good. Now, do you want to tell me what happened?��� Bilbo shook his head tightening his grip on his jacket. Thorin gently rubbed Bilbo’s back. “Okay, maybe later.” He placed a reassuring kiss to Bilbo’s cheek.

 Ori was booking it down the hall; Dwalin was having a bit of a struggle to catch up. He wondered where Ori had been hiding this talent, he never ran this fast during gym, not that Dwalin was creepily watching Ori through his English class window every day or anything. Apparently the nerd could pull this out when he really wanted to. “Ori, Stop!” Dwalin called after him. “Holy shit! Come on, Ori. Stop.”

Ori slowed to take a corner and Dwalin saw his chance, pushing himself to go faster he lunged across the final distance and slammed into Ori’s right side. The two of them fell heavy on Ori’s left side onto the hard linoleum, tangled together in a heap, knocking the wind out of Ori.  It took Dwalin a moment to get himself untangled from Ori and then off of him but Ori paid little mind as he tried to suck as much air back into his lungs as humanly possible. Dwalin lifted Ori into something resembling sitting as best he could once Ori began to flail his arms and beg to be left alone as his breath came back to him. “Calm, Oww!”Ori’s wild flailing caught Dwalin right on the nose. “Calm down.” Dwalin caught Ori’s hands and pinned them to Ori’s chest. Dwalin loomed over the red head trying to get the smaller boy still and then hopefully calm. Ori wiggled attempting to get away from Dwalin’s daunting form.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I’ll get rid of them.”

“Ori, stop” Dwalin let go of one of Ori’s hands and covered his mouth. “and it’s not that important. Okay so just chill out for a second.” Ori finally looked up terrified, at Dwalin’s face and was surprised by the sincerity and concern in it also by the small trail of blood beginning to slide from Dwalin’s nose. “Jesus, Ori you’re a walking bruise.” Dwalin stood and helped Ori to his feet. “Sorry about tackling you. I just really needed you to stop.”

Ori opened his mouth to respond but Thorin cut him off as he and Bilbo approached. “Oh good you caught up to him.” Thorin had his left arm around Bilbo’s shoulders while his right held Bilbo’s, Ori’s and his own school bags. “Damn! Ori you can really move.” He handed Dwalin Ori’s bag. “It’s a good thing Coach Boromir didn’t see you move like that or he’d be hounding you to join the team.” Ori tensed up again at the idea. Dwalin glared at Thorin as he wrapped his arm around Ori’s shoulder and pulled him in close, Thorin just shrugged and mouthed ‘he would’ at him.

“He didn’t, Ori” Dwalin said quietly and felt Ori begin to relax again. “Now can we calmly walk you home? No running off or incoherent apologetic begging.” Ori simply nodded his eyes down cast. “Alright.” Dwalin pulled Ori’s bag strap across his chest as he turned the younger boy toward the door. Dwalin wiped the back of his free hand under his nose and smeared some of the blood on to his cheek as he got the majority of it off his face then wiped his hand on his jeans.

 The walk to the Ri house was extremely quiet, with Bilbo and Ori tucked under their respective ‘hero’s’ arm. The two younger boy’s cheeks blazed red the entire walk. Bilbo limped slightly on his right side as the bruises from Kili’s punches began to take a more defined shape. While Ori tried not to let his body show how much pain he was in, his entire chest was peppered in bruises and his left side stung immensely from Dwalin’s tackle, every breath he took hurt and made it difficult to take the next. Relief flooded Ori as they turned on to Smaug Way.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

TWD 10x05: What It Always Is - First Thoughts

I originally started writing a ginormous post and the realized that I would need to break it into two: first thoughts and details. The bigger one, of course, will be Details, and I’ll post that on Tuesday. Today, I’m just going to give a few thoughts on broader arcs and, of course, the Donnie stuff.

***As always, spoilers abound below for 10x05. Don’t read until you’ve watched!!!***

There were five major sections here: the opening sequence with Kelly, Negan/Brandon, Aaron/Gamma/Alpha, Ezekiel, and Magna/Connie/Daryl.

Kelly/Opening Sequence:

The opening sequence with Kelly definitely has some TD symbolism in it, which I’ll get into more tomorrow. I was right that Kelly didn’t die here, but I do think this foreshadows something bigger down the road.

There’s all the Beth-ish symbolism, which suggests it may foreshadow something to do with Beth, or be a parallel to Beth in some way. But there’s also missing stuff that we didn’t see. I had to watch it more than once to catch this, but in the opening sequence, we see Kelly sit down against a boulder, and a walker reaches out for her.

When Daryl, Magna, and Connie find her, she’s sitting against a tree, and we don’t know what actually happened with that walker. The assumption is that she fought it off and kept running, falling down by the tree a little ways away. But still, there’s stuff there we didn’t actually witness, which I think is significant. I still think the walker reaching for her foreshadows her being taken by the Whisperers in some form.

Negan/Brandon:

So in terms of the arc, this definitely leads to Negan going to the Whisperers camp. That follows the CBs, and we figured this would happen. As I’ve said many times, I’m glad to see this because I think something about Negan’s arc here will lead to Beth.

The first thing we saw was Negan near some water. Brandon obviously idolizes Negan and keeps trying to be the perfect Savior to impress him. I think at least part of this, where Negan is concerned, had to do with him realizing he doesn’t want that way of life anymore. He likes TF’s way of life better. In the CBs, he goes to the Whisperers camp to prove his loyalty to Rick, and it seems to me like they’re doing something similar in the show. After Brandon kills Milo—who I think reminded Negan of Carl—he decides he wants to go back, but knows he won’t be welcome unless he proves his loyalty. So he’s off to the Whisperer camp.

And how about the school bus? It’s mostly GREEN with red and blue stripes on it.

They honestly focused way more on the kid, Milo, than on the Mom, Amelia. I had to sit and think about the bus symbol for a bit, though. I kind of realized that I don’t have a specific meaning for the bus. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve done several theories on school buses (X) and I know it’s related to Beth’s arc, or at least the death fake out arcs. But what does it specifically stand for? I’m not sure. Looking at how it’s functioned, this is what I came up with.

I thought it might stand for something that SHOULD have saved people, but didn’t. In 4a, lots of people left the prison on the bus when it went down. It was their escape plan. But they all died anyway. Similarly, in 5x05, Abraham and co were on the short bus, which should have carried them a ways safely, but it crashed.

You could also argue that someone who was SUPPOSED to die on the bus, didn’t. In S4, that would have been Glenn. Maggie left him on the bus and thought he was on it, but he got off and she didn’t realize. Similarly, as bad as the crash in 5x05 was, it’s kind of amazing no one died or even sustained serious injuries.

So what about this scene with Negan? I’m not sure. He saved Amelia and Milo, which means they should have lived. But Brandon killed them, and they died. So if anything, it’s kind of the opposite of what we’ve seen elsewhere. So I’m not entirely sure what to make of this yet. I know I say this a lot, but it will probably make more sense when we understand more of where Negan’s arc is going.

I’m wondering if he’ll somehow rescue Beth or some other kids from some kind of situation represented by the bus. He also made a big deal about how he would never kill a kid. That was partly to make him a foil to Brandon, who was obviously mildly homicidal. But I also think that’s a foreshadowing that we’ll see him protecting kids at some point in the future. We’ve already seen him save/protect Judith. I’ll we’ll see it again with either her or others So, I’ll keep an eye on this moving forward.

Aaron/Gamma/Alpha:

This actually starts with Aaron. He’s practicing his weaponry on a bridge, which is kind of interesting. He doesn’t fall off of it, so it’s not exactly foreshadowing a death fake out for him. But I think he’ll be taken from the community (represented by the bridge) in some way. At this part, we also saw a spiders web near him. (Yes, I know this pic is super blurry. I couldn’t get a decent shot of the spiders web. It went by too fast. The blur at the top left is the spider.)

I think I mentioned this before, but the spider is symbol for Alpha. Siddiq hallucinated a spider synonymously with reliving the be-headings in 10x01. He saw the spider and then saw Alpha in the barn with the machete. Since then, I’ve noticed spiders or spider’s webs several times just before something happened with the Whisperers.

So here, I would have said that Aaron would end up with the Whisperers at some point. Like, maybe this represented that they’d take him from his community. Well, we got confirmation before the end of the episode that at least Alpha wants to do this. She tells Gamma that Aaron might be useful. So I’ve said that I think some people will be taken captive and/or taken somewhere by Alpha. I’m mostly focused on Connie for that, which I’ll talk more about in a minute, but I’ve toyed with the idea of Aaron being involved. Mostly because Rick gave him Gracie in S8, which I think a foreshadow of something else.

Yeah, I think it’s safe to say he’ll be involved somehow. But I think all the associations are important here. Let’s talk about Gamma poisoning the water.

I said that the satellite falling represented Wormwood, which poisons all the water. So after it fell, the water would start being poisoned. And what do you know? Only a few episodes later, Gamma is trying to poison the water.

I honestly don’t know if this is the endgame for the “bad water” symbolism. Maybe, but it seems like kind of small potatoes, so it may only be one small portion of the symbolism. Or it may foreshadow something much bigger down the road.

But in terms of associations, we had Aaron seeing the poisoning happening, and then approach Gamma when she got hurt. That feels like a foreshadow of a much bigger arc for him that has to do with the poisoned water and the Whisperers.

Also, despite what she says, Gamma seems to be having some trouble processing her sister’s death. She’s having an almost Siddiq-like PTSD reaction to it now, which is how she hurt her hand to begin with.

In the Whisperer camp, we learn that they’re damning up the creek and trying to poison the water in order to crush TF. Again, I’m not convinced this is the endgame of the bad water stuff, but it’s interesting, and will definitely play into it.

Ezekiel:

Yeah, he has thyroid cancer. So all the theories about him being sick were true. But so was what we said: if he has cancer, maybe it can be treated with radiation. Guess what, guys? There’s basically not an easier cancer to treat than thyroid cancer. As they said in the episode, it has a 98% survival rate in our world. And that’s important. If they were just going to do a tragic death for him, because TF no longer has the medical resources in the apocalypse that they would have had in the old world, they wouldn’t be so heavily emphasizing that this type of cancer used to be survivable.

There are two major treatments for this type of cancer. Removal of the lump, and radiation. That’s pretty much it. And I’m sure most of you saw the spoilers this past week that TWD was filming in downtown Atlanta again, including filming people with white lab coats that looked a lot like doctors and even walkers wearing police uniforms. (Grady anyone?) So whether it’s actually Grady or just something very similar to them, I think our theories about Zeke’s cancer being treated with radiation are right on track.

Daryl/Connie/Magna:

Yeah, Magna is definitely spiraling. They had an interesting conversation between her and Yumiko. It sounds like Magna was in prison for killing someone who killed her cousin. Yumiko thought she didn’t actually do it, but Magna admitted that she did. Yeah, that’s kind of a problem. I’m sure the guy who killed her cousin deserved it, but it also shows that she’s willing to go vigilante if she feels she’s being treated unfairly, as also evidenced by her stealing supplies. So it will be interesting to see how this progresses, but I have a feeling we’re headed for catastrophe.

Next, on the Donnie stuff (or lack thereof). I’ve already addressed this somewhat, but I’ll say what I’ve already told my group and my fellow theorists.

I’m usually prepared for what small potatoes the Donnie or Caryl stuff is compared to what a big deal the shippers make about it. But this seemed more ridiculous to me than most other instances. Like, there was really, REALLY nothing there.

The scene everyone freaked out about where he told her the Merle story and clasped her hand? The thing I didn’t connect is that they weren’t even alone at that point. Magna was out with them, which the spoilers mentioned, but I just didn’t internalize it. So while Daryl is telling Connie that story, Magna is standing like ten feet away. She’s just not in the shot. (Okay, probably more than ten feet, but you get my meaning.)

There was definitely some Beth symbolism in there, which I’ll go over tomorrow. But I think something this clip is trying to show is how much more effectively Daryl interacts with people now. I noticed this and started thinking about it last week with Lydia. He’s been more touchy with everyone—Lydia, Michonne, Carol, of course—and obviously he’s not in love with all of them (which shows, by extension, that he’s not in love with any of them). While there’s obviously some huge symbolism and Beth vibes in this scene, I also feel like there are literal/plot take always here. Beth taught Daryl how to interact with people. Not only through touch but through sharing personal stories. There is a moment in this scene where Connie is upset and blaming herself and you see Daryl think about it for a minute before following her and launching into his story. I feel like he might have been thinking about Beth in that moment and how him telling her a story about Merle not only helped them connect but helped her feel better about her situation and stop blaming herself, so he did the same with Connie. And it worked. I also think it hearkens back to what Norman and the writers always say about Daryl’s feelings for Beth: that he didn’t understand them. By extension, he wouldn’t have had the first idea how to express them. I think this is the way they’re showing his emotional growth. So when Beth returns, he WILL recognize his own feelings and WILL be able to express them.

One more thing? Remember that every long term, soul mate couple we’ve seen on the show has done the intertwined fingers. The camera focused on him clasping Connie’s hand and they specifically DIDN’T intertwine their fingers. That’s as big and purposeful a statement as anything. This was their chance to foreshadow romance, and they very purposefully didn’t do it.

This is becoming a very close friendship, and I thought this scene was very sweet. It’s a healthy relationship—much like the one he has with Michonne, and far healthier than the one he has with Carol—but this scene specifically told us that’s it’s not heading in the romance direction. If it were, we would have seen a different kind of hand hold.

Then there’s the end scene. Connie apologizes to Daryl for asking him to lie for Magna (about her stealing the supplies). He shrugs it off and says, “Family, right?” She smiles and then points to him and then herself (You and me) and makes the sign for family as well. Then Daryl smiles. 

So it’s cute and sweet. But I think it’s important because, now that she’s said that, I think we all know Daryl would do anything for her. Just like Carol or Michonne or Aaron or anyone else, if something happens to her, or to anyone she cares about (such as Magna’s group) you know he’ll be right there to help. So they’re setting this up pretty much exactly as I thought they would.

(Notice that she doesn’t say, you and me, lovers! 😆) Also, Daryl leaves at the end. So once again he’ll be at Alexandria and she’ll be at Hilltop. Yeah, that’s what people who are in love and want to spend their lives together act. Okay, I’ll stop with the sarcasm.

My point is that this puts them squarely in the friend zone. This is what I mentioned the other day when I said the writers pretty much confirm this to be a familial, rather than romantic bond. I still think it’s possible that Connie harbors some feelings for Daryl, but this, combined with the lack of entwined fingers, means it will never be more than friendship.

I also want to point out that this entire conversation happened right next to Daryl’s motorcycle, which might be a foreshadow of something.  😉 (My theory about him and Carol leaving together on the motorcycle to find Connie.)

Okay, I’ll stop there for today. Details tomorrow!

[hellyeahomeland]

“Two Minutes” | Directed by Tucker Gates, Cinematography by Giorgio Scali

[This week remained hectic as heck so we are keeping the more casual format. --Sara]

Sara: Opening (or closing) with a Carrie mirror shot is classic Homeland and I love to see it! She looks very tired. I hope when the series is over, Carrie takes a long nap. But not, y’know, the LONG long nap.

Gail: If this shot is a look into her current emotional state, which I think it most definitely is, she looks tired but determined. She hasn’t been out of that rehab center for very long, you have to wonder how her medications are working, because it’s clear she isn’t getting enough sleep. But good God--Claire Danes is gorgeous!

Gail: When I watched this scene I had a few realizations. At first I thought the red thing in front of the water glass was a pill but when I zoomed in it looks like floss. Then it occurred to me that we haven’t seen Carrie taking her meds or listening to jazz this season. This version of Carrie seems very stripped down (no pun intended). No mentions of seeing her family or FaceTiming Franny either. I don’t know what any of this means yet, but pointing it out for future context.

Sara: Floss? Whoulda thunk? I love this very obviously photoshopped (or whatever the video equivalent of that is… CGI?) scene of “mourners” gathering outside the White House.

Gail: I loved this opening shot of Max with his back to us... much like the donkey at the end of the episode, he has the flight recorder strapped to his back via a backpack and he treks uphill. I love the pop of color from the flight recorder and Max’s backpack in this desert-like scene. The importance in this shot is all about knowing where the flight recorder is and less about who is carrying it. Although I’m sure everyone joined us in a sign of relief to see Max still alive!

Sara: Chekhov’s flight recorder! I’m thinking of other significant objects on the show (like Brody’s vest), but none have gotten the attention that this dang flight recorder is getting. Also, Max writing his name in sharpie on his backpack is big younger child energy.

Sara: As someone who wears glasses, I really admire that Max is always, without fail, wearing his. No matter how sweaty he is. I love you, Max! 

Gail: It is very interesting how every time Saul is kidnapped, his glasses are taken from him, but Max gets to keep his (for now at least?). Maybe there is a metaphor there about how Max isn’t losing sight of the bigger picture?

Sara: IJLTP, and it’s the first of a few POV shots this week. Max really is like an audience stand-in and this makes it even more literal.

Gail: IJLTP too! Such a great shot.

Sara: They had a shot very similar to this in Keane’s speech from “Paean to the People.” I really love how you can see how very manufactured this all is. Not that any of us need to be reminded of that…

Gail: The focus of this scene starts with the people behind it. I love that, because while the President is what the people are watching, he’s getting his cues and information from everyone else. In “Chalk One Up” we saw the theater of the peace announcement. Here we see the theater of the new president making his first speech. It’s all just words until the intentions behind them are realized.

Sara: Some of the keywords here: 

Bust

MARTA (the “mass” “transit” “system” in Atlanta… where my Atlanta homies at?)

Body scanner

Narcos

Influenza

Plot

Gail: If these keywords are a part of the search for Max, shouldn’t his name be on it? Or American? No wonder Carrie was pissed! Get with it, Lonnie! 

Sara: I know this is a stunt double, but it’s still meant to be Carrie, and Carrie riding this motorcycle so awesomely is one of the most badass things about her. We have no choice but to stan. 

Gail: What a cool payoff to all of the scenes and allusions of Carrie leaving the station undetected. Girl is resourceful, no doubt.

Sara: Are these wide shots so that Costa Ronin, who is apparently nine feet tall, and Claire Danes would both fit in the frame? Also, “I just like how he leans.” 

Gail: I think the shot might be indicative of their power dynamic. But I agree with you, Yevgeny’s consistent nonchalance is such a great character detail.

Gail: Interesting that by the end of their scene, Yevgeny sits down, making his body language less threatening. He enjoys these games with Carrie a little too much for my liking.

Sara: That smirk…

Sara: The framing here is really interesting. G’ulom sitting casually while Saul and Scott Ryan stand stick straight, almost obediently (ironically), is really striking. G’ulom has these almost angelic white curtains behind him while Saul and Scott are cloaked in shadows.

Gail: This feels different from Yevgeny’s casual nonchalance. I get the sense here that G’ulom is sitting out of lack of respect for the people standing before him. G’ulom turned his back on platitudes the second he turned his back on Ambassador Gaeto in the opening of “Chalk Two Down.” He only stands at the end of the scene to exert his power over Saul and General Ryan.

Sara: And then this shot, which is incredible. Centering G’ulom in the frame really emphasizes his power.

Gail: Such a great POV shot to see Saul and General Ryan’s reactions to G’ulom.

Sara: ...and I love the specific choreography of Saul and Scott both exiting so that their bodies are hidden behind G’ulom. I feel like Homeland doesn’t do shots this stylized that often so when they do it feels all the more impactful. 

Gail: I find it so interesting that G’ulom has turned his back on the audience too. 

Gail: I love the glimpses of the relationship between Mike and Jenna. Is this how Saul and Carrie started out?

Sara: Oof, ya think? I didn’t even think about their relationship in that context (maybe because the age gap is not as great) but now that you say it... I find it a really interesting way to shoot this, almost like we’re eavesdropping on them eavesdropping on Carrie. I love when Homeland returns to themes of surveillance. 

Sara: Why onions? Because we’re peeling the layers of this story. (I’ll see myself out.)

Gail: OMG, Sara! You are right, they are onions! I’m ashamed to say I thought they were beets. (Thanks, Dwight.)

Gail: When Fibrooz, Max’s captor, reaches for Max’s wrist in this scene, I thought he was going to unlock the cuffs. Doesn’t bode well for Max that this guy is all about making a buck.

Sara: Major Carrie in “Why Is This Night Different?” vibes. The framing is almost identical. This continues some of the role reversal of Carrie and Max this year.

Gail: I love the details in this shot and the one of the market shelves. It looks like a random assortment of remotes and calculators and jars on shelves, but it’s actually very organized.

Sara: Are they selling remote controls without the TVs that they control? 

Sara: Chekhov’s flight recorder strikes again! Sorry, I have nothing intelligent to say about the device of this damn flight recorder because I find it so freaking hilarious. 

Gail: I love how we are seeing the journey of this flight recorder and all of the different people who are getting their hands on it.

Sara: This show is really making me feel sympathy for Haqqani, which is completely wild. Look how he’s softly dressed in the light here. Total character rehab happening this season on all fronts. Numan Acar has infused him with a real weariness and softness that’s added so many new layers to what was once just a classic villain. 

Gail: I agree, Numan Acar has done an outstanding job with his portrayal of Haqqani. The writers approach to softening him has paired wonderfully with the direction of the show and has led to great shots like this of Haqqani, the man and father.

Sara: Gail pointed this out on the podcast. As the conversation progresses and Hayes veers off script he literally turns away from Linus. Subtle but effective. The use of body language this season has been pretty great.

Gail: The choreography has been fantastic, I agree. Wellington has ditched his suit and has rolled up his sleeves. His calm demeanor and thoughtful counsel that we’ve come to know about him is clearly about to be tested.

Sara: IJLTP.

Gail: When one door (seemingly) closes, another one opens.

Sara: IJLTP.

Gail: The blue lights behind her are gorgeous.

Sara: “CATASTROPHIC ERROR” 

Gail: The details! And much foreshadowing!

Gail: Things start out friendly and at a distance and then we rapidly move into tighter shots as Mike reveals to Saul just how bad the optics are for Carrie right now.

Sara: This is such a lovely shot and I love all Homeland rooftop scenes. Sometimes Carrie’s smoking, sometimes she’s having a panic attack, sometimes both things are happening at once. See how I turned this into a thing about Carrie? 

Sara: I don’t know if this is a new choice by Claire, but recently I feel like Carrie has a habit of literally turning away from difficult conversations. Anyway, this Carrie/Saul scene was incredible.

Gail: There has been a subtle shift to her personality this season. It must be hard to face her new reality and looking at Saul has to be one of the more daunting reminders of what it used to be.

Sara: It struck my while watching (and rewatching and rewatching) that Saul is literally the only human on the planet who could have this conversation with her. He knows when to push and when to relent, when to raise his voice and when to lower it. He really does manage her. Likewise, she knows when and where to strike. It goes without saying that Claire and Mandy are incredible here. This scene is really a testament to how invaluable the foundation of watching two characters (and actors) develop a relationship, in real time, over ten years, is for the audience. It massively enhances the performances and the dramatic weight of the scene. 

Gail: Sara!! You are buying into my Ivan/Saul convo theory (from “A False Glimmer”)!! I agree with everything you said and would add that with all of that being true, Saul can’t possibly think Carrie is getting on that plane back to rehab willingly.

(Sara: Guess he should have gotten the handcuffs then...)

Gail: What a stunning shot. I gasped when I saw it. Not because Haqqani was turning himself in. That I expected. But how Carrie witnesses it and reacts to it. The last time Carrie was that close to Haqqani she almost shot him. I Khan’t believe how much things have changed.

Sara: Gail, khan you not? Anyway, I agree, it’s a stunning shot. I can’t properly articulate why I love it so much so: IJLTP.

Sara: I know the show did something like when Carrie woke up from being drugged in “Why Is This Night Different?” I won’t check, because I don’t care to revisit that episode ever again. Gail, can you verify? 

Gail: They did and it was eerily similar. Big difference though: Quinn was saving/protecting Carrie and Fibrooz is most definitely not doing the same for Max.

Gail: The bookend to the opening scene with Max. The flight recorder has made its way into another backpack, heading up a mountain. I LOVE the color in this scene and how the flight recorder is on a JOURNEY.

Sara: Quite possibly the funniest scene on this show ever.

Gail: This spy is heading into the cold...

Sara: “Carrie, no!” … “CARRIE YES!”

Gail: Yevgeny’s (partly faux) nonchalance (he sneaks a peek!) and Carrie’s focused stare say so much without saying a word. No looking out the window for Carrie this time, we know where her mind is at.

Sara: Carrie stares straight ahead. Yevgeny can’t help but turn and look at her. Truly iconic. I know I say that about everything, but this really is I-CON-IC!