#she’s young as hell is my point it’s not typically advisable to have a second kid so fast

[emeraldcreeper]

I wish writing could occur in daylight that’d be stellar

Alas I have to go to a fucking baby shower tomorrow and can’t sleep late

And I can’t even ask the good questions when I go, like hey whys this kid also named after a cartoon demon that comes up when you google his name??? Why is that??? Why’s his middle name from GOT? Why’s his sisters middle name also from GOT??? Are you like positive you’re twenty seven years old and not twelve and with bad taste??? Why can’t we use funner demon name than the one she picked?????

Like are we positive? Like…. Absolutely… sure?

Because it doesn’t seem like you’re thinking about [NAME REDACTED] bee-ron (spelled bron) crossing the graduation stage

Or Winnie [unfortunately also bad last name redacted] applying for jobs or the pooh jokes she’s gonna get in like 6 years

[whoacanada]

Zimmerbro AU

Summary: Andrew Phillip Rowe could skate before he could walk, and it wasn’t until he was almost twenty and well on his way to becoming a Las Vegas Ace before he knew why.

a/n: that’s right we’ve got a secret zimmermann brother au based on the fact that Bob was an active pro athlete for almost 15 years before Jack was born and almost definitely had relationships before Alicia. This particular one resulted in a secret love child.

When the call finally went out that year —  a request for players willing to billet the incoming draftees —  Andrew had been the first in line.

His already sparsely decorated guest room had been primed for a new tenant since he’d learned Las Vegas’ abysmal season had earned them the first pick of the 2009 draft. In his mind, Andrew had envisioned a tearful confession. A family reunion nineteen years in the making where he’d finally get a chance to connect with a half-brother he’d grown up learning about through news articles and stats pages.

He wasn’t ready for Jack to pull out of the draft days before the ceremony; wasn’t ready for the claims of an overdose or speculation about suicide attempts. He certainly wasn’t expecting to have to open his home to a young man with limp blonde hair and deep circles under his eyes with the same enthusiasm he’d promised he’d offer to a son of Bob Zimmermann.

Andrew was hoping for a little brother. 

He got Kent Parson instead.

______

“You remind me of my boyfriend.” Kent slurs one night, completely gone on Johnny Walker Blue borrowed from Andrew’s wet bar. “It’s your . . . face.”

“Shouldn’t talk about things like that,” Andrew cautions gently, covering his own surprise. “Never know who might be listening.”

“Who fucking cares? He won’t talk to me,” Kent continues, ignoring him and sniffing like he’s on the verge of sobbing or puking, both options equally unwanted. “They wouldn’t tell me if he was even alive.”

Another unwanted puzzle piece locks into place.

“Jack?” Andrew suggests softly, and Kent begins to cry.

“You won’t tell right?”

Andrew shakes his head no, long enough for Kent’s bleary eyes to focus on the gesture and take it seriously.

Things are different, after that conversation. Not worse, or better, just different.

________

“He’s my brother.”

Andrew admits this one night, for no reason other than that he can.

Kent is across the room, backlit by lights from the Strip, his legs dangling off the arm of his favorite couch as he scrolls through his phone looking for distractions. Parse hasn’t lived with Andrew for almost two seasons, but he still turns up like a bad penny whenever he needs to commiserate with someone who knows his more lascivious secrets. Truthfully, Andrew’s grateful for the company. He’s a pretty genial guy, but he’s always kept his distance, a personality trait he likes to think he shares with an unassuming sibling, but there’s no way to know for sure. The farther Andrew gets from the 2009 Draft, the less faith he has in a reunion that won’t just bring crippling sorrow to everyone involved.

A secret Zimmermann son who actually made it in the NHL. Who has his name on the Stanley Cup, not once, but twice, largely thanks to the spitfire forward lounging in Andrew’s living room.

“Who’s your brother?” Kent asks, not looking up from his phone.

“Jack Zimmermann.”

Kent barks a laugh and rolls his head lazily to smirk at Andrew.

“That’s funny. I guess you kinda have the same chin. Was Marky digging for chirps?”

Andrew has no idea what that means, but he sets down his tablet and says, “No, he’s actually my half-brother. My mom dated Bad Bob in ’84 and got pregnant.”

The lackadaisical smile on Kent’s face falters as his gaze sharpens, like he’s actually looking at Andrew for the first time. Andrew responds by gesturing at himself lamely.

“That’s not funny.”

“No.” Andrew agrees. “It isn’t.”

Kent swings his feet down off the couch and braces himself against the overstuffed leather. He doesn’t look mad, but there’s something too close to disbelief for Andrew to convince himself everything’s okay. It takes a moment, but Kent must find what he’s looking for on Andrew’s face.

“Does Bob know?” Kent asks with that familiar overfamiliarity, as if they both still have some personal relationship with the living legend.

“Yeah. When Mom got pregnant she told him she didn’t want the attention since it was only a fling — ”

“Who the fuck doesn’t lock down Bob Zimmermann?” Kent breathes. “Also, why the fuck did she tell you that?”

“No shit, right? She got him to sign away parental rights, set up a trust, never spoke to him again as far as I know. I didn’t find out until after I signed with the Aces. She didn’t want me to get blindsided if it all came out, but the story never broke.”

“I mean, does Bob know who you are?” Kent questions. “Does Jack?”

Andrew shakes his head no, because he doesn’t think so, and Kent flops back against the cushions, face slack with disbelief; it doesn’t take long for his features to shift to anger.

“You knew this whole time and you didn’t tell me? Even after I told you —“

“Okay, there’s a whole-ass difference between you fucking dudes and and me being ‘Bad Bob’s bastard’,” Andrew bites, curtailing Kent’s imminent hissy fit. Appropriately, Kent closes his mouth, almost pouting.

“Fine. But that’s fucked.” Kent says after a loaded moment of silence. “I’m sorry you’re . . . you.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry you’re you, too.”

“You know Jack’s signing with the Falconers, right?” Kent offers like the worst kind of olive branch, unintentionally telling Andrew exactly what he was up to during that stretch of time between New England games a few months prior. “It’s not public but it’s happening. Ink’s dry.”

“I know. That’s why I told you. It’s gonna be weird,” Andrew swallows, thinking about playing Providence in the coming months.

“Fucking right it’s weird.”

_________

For the most part, the Las Vegas Aces are decent, stand up guys. Even with the accusations of gambling debts and mob connections with the ownership group, Andrew’s never been asked to hit a certain player a little too hard, or to take a dive so the other team gets a shot at a power play. A lot of talk, a lot of conspiracies, ‘Typical Aces hockey’, but there’s no malice. Not really.

Andrew thinks it’s hilarious he plays the game a lot like his estranged father, but he’s not a legend in the making, hell, at this point he’s barely regarded as more than a mid-level, reliable center that can bring home 40 points a season.

Carly whips behind Zimmermann’s back to clip his skate with a stick, dropping a ill advised chirp that sets every player in earshot on edge. Parse is close enough to catch the quiet slur, stiffening like he’s been hit, and Andrew watches Zimmermann recover quickly, steely and resolute. 

Jack has his mother’s eyes — not the warm brown Andrew catches every time he looks in the mirror.

“He’s a fucking goon,” Andrew breathes, gliding up to Jack’s shoulder in lieu of an apology. Zimmermann doesn’t miss a beat, his gaze flicking to Andrew with the quiet rage of ‘who gives a fuck’. Andrew admires his commitment to the game. Coming back after so much, after so long, to willingly subject himself to the same kind of treatment that Andrew knows likely led to his original fall from grace.

“Hey,” Kent ducks his head as he slides up a little while later, mouthguard clenched between his teeth, and asks, “You see his twink?”

At Andrew’s obvious confusion, Kent jerks his head toward the glass behind the Falconers’ bench, to a raucous group of fans all sporting fresh Zimmermann jerseys. Andrew’s gaze drifts along the row of faces, lingering longer on the familiar, handsome couple beside the blonde young man. He may be imagining things — the stadium lights catching a bad angle —  but for the briefest moment, Andrew holds eye contact with his father.

“He’s cute, right?” Kent says bitterly, like he doesn’t have a partner of his own back home.

“Yeah, he is. You gonna do anything about the slurs, Captain?” Andrew counters, earning a stern look from Parson.

“I’ll deal with Carly.”

“Oh, you will? Because I’ve never seen you shut him down before.”

“I’ll handle it.”

Kent’s expression goes stormy, and he gives Andrew a hard shove before skating off to set up for the next shift. To his credit, he does grab Carly by the arm and tell him something that earns a look of displeasure from the larger man, but Andrew knows a verbal warning won’t curtail someone as dead-set in his conservatism as Carly.

The next play, Carly flashes Andrew a toothy smile over the lineman’s shoulder, as if they’re in on the same joke, and his vision goes red.

__________

__________

“Bad Bob’s outside,” Scraps rasps, like whatever brief interaction he’s just had has physically winded him. “He wants to talk to Flip.”

Andrew blinks up from the water bottle in his hands, previously concerned with the pink-stained gauze wrapped around his knuckles. A few of the guys start chirping, but most of them remain silent, still processing the fact that Andrew assaulted one of their own without clear motivation, in defense of an opponent.

“That’s what this was all about? You gunning for a trade?” Sorenson spits from his stall. “Needed to impress Bad Bob by beating the snot out of Carly?”

“Maybe I am,” Andrew sighs, pushing himself to his feet, wincing at the way his jaw aches from the few good hits Carly had managed to squeeze in before he went down. “What the fuck are you gonna do about it.”

_______

Andrew’s grateful he kept his skates on. He needs the boost of confidence that comes with the added height, especially when he finds Bob Zimmermann waiting patiently in the corridor like he’s just another staff member and not the second most recognizable figure in modern hockey.

“Hey kid,” Bob greets, casting an approving, overly-familiar eye over Andrew’s padded bulk and sweat-slick hair. “You can throw a hell of a punch. Don’t think I’ve ever seen a guy beat the piss out of a teammate before. Off ice, sure, but never during a game.”

His accent is just as thick in private as every interview Andrew’s ever caught live — but his tone is unexpectedly warm, even grateful — when Bob laughs at his own recounting of Andrew’s assault attempt, the sound is light and joyous like nothing in the world comes easier to this titan of a man.

Andrew wonders if Bob can recognize the chin they share beneath a his playoff beard; if there’s any resemblance left in a nose that’s been reset a half-dozen times.

Andrew grew up loved and never wanted for anything. His step-fathers, both of them, had been good men who never left him looking for a father figure. It wasn’t until his twenties that Andrew even realized there was hole where his bio-dad should have been, and not just a regular hole, a yawning sinkhole threatening to devour his entire sense of self, because his biological father turned out to be a man he grew up idolizing as a personal hero.

He’s not mad at his mother, but when Andrew struggles to find his voice — which is bullshit seeing as he’s almost thirty-five and a god-damned professional athlete — he can’t stop himself from feeling like a misplaced child.

“Do you,” Andrew swallows, looking over Bob’s shoulder to see if anyone’s watching them. Finding they’re alone, he rallies quietly, “Do you know who I am?”

Bob’s jovial expression softens into something remorseful, but unfathomably kind. “I do, buddy,” he acknowledges, somehow squeezing three decades of affection into one term of endearment. “I’ve known for some time, now. The whole time, actually.”

That hurts more than expected.

“Does your wife? Does Jack?”

Bob shakes his head, but it isn’t a hard no.

“Alicia knows, and Jack has some idea he’s got a half-brother, but it’s all in the abstract. No specifics. Definitely doesn’t know you play. I wanted to respect your privacy and your mother’s wishes. She let me know she’d told you the truth a few years back and I wanted to give you the space you needed if you decided to reach out. When you didn’t, well, a man makes assumptions.”

Andrew looks down at the concrete beneath his skates and sniffs hard, fighting nasal drip from the smelling salts he’d needed in the third period; or, at least, that’s what he tells himself. “I had a plan, back when — ” he stops himself, looking down at his skates. Bob’s eyebrows lift in curiosity, leaving room for Andrew to gather his thoughts, but he doesn’t take the bait, unable to bring up what could have been just yet. Bob seems to grasp the context after the moment.

“2009,” he acknowledges softly. “Hell of a year.”

“Yeah. It was. Is he okay?”

“What, Jack? He’s leagues ahead of where he was then —”

“No, I mean, tonight. Carly clipped him pretty hard before I got in there.”

“Oh, a little bruised up, but he’ll live. Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Okay.”

Andrew looks down at his bandaged fist and realizes he’s completely forgotten how gnarly his face must look.

“Trainer says I’m alright, but I’m gonna get leveled with a wicked fine, I know it.”

“Was it worth it?” There’s a look of guilty pride on Bob’s face, like the man’s enjoying himself a little too much when he leans in and whispers, “You just did something I’ve wanted to do since Jack was in mites. Fucking lay out one of those fuckers that’s got nothing better to do than bitch because they can’t play,” there’s a moment of hesitation, as if he’s worried about pushing a boundary, before he adds, “How’d it feel to look out for your little brother?”

Pride, it turns out, in contagious, and Andrew feels like he could go back on the ice and do it all over again. “Pretty fucking great,” Andrew can’t help a smile, wincing when the gesture pulls at his split lip.

Bob slaps a hand on Andrew’s shoulder pads, then gets a grip on the back of his head, heedless of his sweaty hair.

“Crisse, you’re a fuckin’ beaut, kid. I’ve wanted to tell you that for years.”

Andrew can’t blame the smelling salts anymore.

__________

Jack clearly doesn’t see his father standing there with red-rimmed eyes, or Andrew in an equally unkempt state, and has no reason to think anything untoward has happened when he offers a handshake and pulls Andrew into a hug, bouncing his free fist off the back of Andrew’s pads. “I owe you a drink,” Jack says decisively when he pulls back, shooting a grin between his father and Andrew. “Can’t believe you did that.”

“More than a drink, I think,” the blonde guy Andrew saw behind the bench pipes up. Jack’s ‘twink’. Boyfriend. Whatever. “Dinner at least.”

“A pie,” Bob suggests tightly, keeping his voice even as he turns to quickly scrub his fist over his eyes. Andrew recognizes the statuesque woman who strides up beside Bob, and one quick look tells him she definitely knows who he is.

“Hello, Andrew,” Alicia greets softly, genuinely. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” he says, the tightness in his throat coming out as gruffness rather than emotion. “This is great, but I should go shower and, uh, it was nice meeting you all.”

Bob’s hand whips out and fists the sleeve of Andrew’s sweater, keeping him in place.

“You have plans tonight?”

Andrew debates lying, because he doesn’t know how to move forward from this point, but they’re all looking at him. Waiting. Expectant. There’s too much at stake, and yet somehow — A sharp whistle drags Andrew’s attention back to the locker room. Kent is peeking his head out, and god knows how long he’s been eavesdropping.

“Yo, Zimmermanns. Bittle.”

“Parson.” The blonde says curtly, earning a wry smirk from Kent.

“Flip, we got a presser if you feel like putting a bow on the evening,” Kent’s gaze drifts to Bob’s flushed face, and he adds, “Or, you can shower and slip out the loading bay while I cover for your aggro ass because this is not going to be fun. Your call.”

Andrew looks at the small family surrounding him, his family, and says, “I don’t want to explain.” Kent shrugs and ducks back inside while Bob’s brow furrows in confusion. “I can do dinner, but I don’t want to,” Andrew holds his hands out in front of him, trying to gesture what he means, and Bob snaps his fingers in understanding.

“Ah, ha, I got you, kid.”

“Neat. I’m gonna go shower.”

“We will be here when you’re ready,” Alicia offers. “Take your time.”

“Oh, I will,” Andrew replies before he can stop himself, cringing the second his back is turned because what the fuck could he be any more awkward?

Time will tell.

_____________

.

[adamarinayu]

Since I can’t draw right now (it’s like 1 AM) I decided I’d just write things down about Domestic DUno AU (I still don’t have a proper name for it!!) so here we go~

Info below the cut to spare the mobile users my ramblings~~

BACKSTORY STUFF 

-Donald first became PK as a teenager (14 or 15), pulling petty pranks and avenging perceived wrongdoings. He ended up accidentally becoming a hero after stopping a thief and unknowingly saving a young girl’s life, and he realized he could direct his temper, anger and frustration not at making other people miserable, but at protecting others. Gyro, who went to school with Donald (Donald and Della attended a private school that would accommodate their adventure schedule; Gyro, being the absolute genius he is, attended on a scholarship) was there and ended up helping, being the one to inadvertently provide PK with the weapon he fended off the criminals with. PK talked to Gyro and the two became partners in crime-fighting that way.

-After deciding to become a hero, it was small-town villains mostly that he dealt with. Thieves, and the like. He didn’t start fighting mutants and those kinds of things until he was 17 or so, and the Evronians didn’t show up until he was 18. This is when Scrooge gave him a summer job at his newly acquired tower, figuring since Donald didn’t want to go with him and Della on a three-month adventure (as Donald was needed in Duckburg, he couldn’t be gone for three months!!) then he may as well work and earn a little money. As Duckworth was still alive, Duckworth was in charge of the manor, so Donald didn’t need to worry about upkeeping the mansion.

-Donald met Uno after a failed attempt to fight the Evronians, and they partnered up, with Uno providing Donald with otherworldly advanced tech that Gyro... would probably understand if given the time and chance (come on, he built a time machine out of a bathtub, he could totally understand future tech). After the first battle with the Evronians that Donald eventually wins, he realized that the game had just just 10x more dangerous. Between working on his doctorate and interning for Scrooge’s science department (something the scientists working for Scrooge were salty about), Gyro didn’t have much time to work on new and improved inventions for PK so when Uno contacted Gyro about him stepping down from helping PK, Gyro agreed, acknowledging that the mysterious Uno Ducklair would probably be a better benefactor for the hero. He didn’t know PK’s identity, though, so he didn’t take the memory erasing candy. Instead he focused on his work.

-Years passed this way, with Donald and Uno working together. Of course Donald had his other adventures, such as with Jose and Panchito and Mickey and all them lovely folks, but Uno was his closest confidante and biggest supporter. He was the one he vented his frustrations with Della and Scrooge to, and the one to give him advice on how to deal with it and talk to them about it all.

-At some point during this time, Gladstone finds out Donald is PK. Of course it happens in the typical Lucky way- him finding out saved Donald’s life. Gladstone is shaken up by the knowledge that his cousin/brother is in danger every day and has almost died multiple times. Gladstone becomes a sort of third member of the whole Crime Fighting thing, yep, you heard it right, Cloverleaf is real here. He figures if he’s out in the field with Donald, then Donald will never die because of Gladstone’s supernaturally good luck. Uno, while frustrated with Gladstone’s unpredictable and illogical luck, accepts this. Donald is less keen because he doesn’t want Gladstone in danger’s path but when the gander makes up his mind it’s made up, yo.

-PK and Cloverleaf (CL from here on out) and Uno work together for 3 years before the Spear of Selene incident, where Donald is suddenly left with three eggs. Donald’s priorities now shifted, he quits being a hero and buys the houseboat so he can raise the triplets without Scrooge’s influence. Gladstone does what he can to help while trying to continue to protect Duckburg, and while watching CL on the news Donald has the sudden realization that Duckburg still needs him- new parent or not. So he (metaphorically!!) throws the eggs into their pram, rushes to Ducklair Tower, begs Lyla to watch the eggs for him and rushes off to CL’s aid. 

-After the danger is over, Donald collects the eggs, thanks Lyla for her help, then meets up with CL and Uno on the 151st floor where they have a serious conversation. Donald acknowledges that Duckburg still needs PK, but Della’s children also need him. The three eventually come to the conclusion that the kids would be raised by PK and Uno there in the Tower, where they would be safe- and they would be trained so they’re ready for anything thrown at them. (Gladstone is actually the one who is like “nah cuz you be their dad I’m not cut out for that, I’ll be the cool uncle, I don’t wanna live in the tower! No offense Uno” so it isn’t like Donald just decided to leave him out of the parenting)

-The eggs hatch and Donald names them sensible (AKA not Della’s list) names (and pronounces Llewellyn correctly dammit) and Donald and Uno have a time learning hands-on how to be parents. (“I’ve read twenty different parenting guides in the last five seconds and they’re all saying different things, Donald, WHAT DO WE DO-”) The whole “raising kids together” thing brings them even closer than before and forces them to have a chat about their feelings, too. 

-When the triplets are small and starting to run around, Uno baby proofs everything. He has a hard time keeping them from escaping their playpen (which is essentially a huge room with an amazing view of the city, he doesn’t know why they’re so intent on escaping). Then eventually the inevitable happens- both Don and Glad end up stuck on the other side of the world for nearly a whole month, and Uno realizes taking care of three toddlers is much easier when you have a body. So while they’re gone, he balances his time between advising them on their mission, taking care of the triplets and building an android body that can handle an AI as advanced as him (throw out that “an AI who is only good could never make a full person” shit cuz Uno can be petty as hell, he’s a whole ass person even without Due yo). By the time Don and Glad get back he’s testing his prototype. Donald is thrilled, of course- his boyfriend has a body now!

-The triplets gain a sister! Everett brings a child to them one day, a little Coronan girl who was for reasons I haven’t decided yet cast out of her family and Everett, with his weird Enlightened Powers shit, went and found her and brought her back to the people he knew would take care of her well (considering his own past failures...). And so the triplets have a little sister who is an alien! Yee! Yes it’s Asveya (Ve). She came to them when she was ~2 and the triplets were 3 or 4, and as she didn’t have a name Donald named her after a friend he met as a child, when he regularly adventured with Scrooge and Della, and whom he ended up meeting again as a young adult.

-Uno perfects the body over time as he learns more things about being a person (he very purposefully leaves out pain receptors, though he includes the best parts of being a physical person ofc- he wants his cake and he wants to eat it too!). Everett decides now that Uno has a body, it was time to introduce him as his son officially and hand the business over to him (stating that it’ll be good for the kids if at least one of their parents had a proper job and income, since savings don’t last forever), and as the kids get older Donald begins training them so they’ll be able to take care of/protect themselves if need be. Uno creates a training field/obstacle course that is fun and age-appropriate, and by the time they’re ten they’re like little superheroes in training. They can give Webby a run for her money. Ve is less interested in being like PK and more interested in being like Uno- AKA the techie behind the gadgets.

-The triplets are already playing with some rudimentary pieces of tech Ve made, playing like they’re superheroes (or villains, gotta have someone to fight!). Uno finds out when he reviews the Tower footage and immediately confiscates anything that can be dangerous, but lets them keep the more innocent stuff.

MODERN DAY STUFF (AKA the time the show takes place)

-As the kids got older Donald and Uno allowed them more freedom, even letting them go out on their own (with the promise of being back before dark, not telling anyone what their parents did for a living, they all stuck together and they didn’t speak to strangers beyond what was necessary). When the triplets were 10 and Ve was 8 or 9, Uno learned that a powerful artifact (not the gem) was in Atlantis and that if a villain got their hands on it, it would be... very bad. So Donald decides it’s time to put on his metaphorical adventure shoes again and go get it. By this time Gladstone got trapped in the casino (Uno has been looking for him, after not hearing from him for over a week) and Uno had a Big Business thing to attend, real important too, so they talk about getting a babysitter for the weekend they’ll be gone. The kids manage to convince them they don’t need one, as they’ll be safe in the 151st floor (“We’ll be safer there than anywhere else, right, Uncle Uno?”). Donald tried to call Lyla but she was unfortunately in the field, so he agreed to let them stay home on their own until Uno got back (Uno did the math and figured he could stay for a few hours to just make a good faith appearance, talk business with some stooges and then come home the same day).

-Of course, the kids get caught. Uno had already left out for his business thing at like 5 AM, and Donald was about to head out to Atlantis in one of the Duckmobiles. He happened to check on a whim the back of the mobile, where he found his surprised ducklings staring wide-eyed up at him. He knew then that he needed to cash in on a favour- he called Beakley and then drove the protesting children to the mansion. (“Come on, Unca’ Donald!” “It’s a mansion! We wanna go to the lost city, too!” “Come on, we’ve been doing real good in training!” “Please, dad? We promise we’ll listen!”) The excitement over meeting THE Scrooge McDuck is overshadowed by the disappointment that they can’t go on this mission.

-Besides, who cares about a mansion and a rich adventuring duck when your parents and uncle are not only rich adventurers, but they’re also superheroes???

-Donald gives them a forehead kiss goodbye and heads off, and Scrooge has Beakley put the kids in that old room. “It’ll only be a few hours” they said. “Until Uno gets back.” Unfortunately, Uno calls Louie and tells the duckling there’s been a problem and he won’t be back until later- Donald already informed him of the changed arrangements and he’s already contacted Beakley.

-The kids decide to escape the old room, putting their hero training into action, but are ultimately swept up into Webby’s trap. Webby is super excited to meet them when she realizes who they are (though she has no idea who Ve is), and she cuts them down from the net without them having to escape themselves. The kids know they’re not supposed to let anyone know about the “hero family” thing so try to act like normal kids, though it becomes apparent Webby doesn’t know how to be a normal kid either.

-Through shenanigans, the children inspire Scrooge to adventure again, and Dewey lets slip about lost cities and Scrooge has a moment of realization. Thus, he drags the kids to Atlantis with him. While there, the kids each get a chance to show off their moves (which they’re SUPPOSED TO HIDE but you know, when arrows are flying at you ain’t got no time to hide). Donald is pissed when he notices them in Atlantis, and Uno is pissed when he calls Donald and learns the kids are in Atlantis, right where they are NOT supposed to be.

-Things pretty much follow the episode, though with the triplets able to hold their own and Donald gunning for a completely different artifact. When they escape and get back to the surface with their respective artifacts, they’re met by a livid android who absolutely chews Scrooge out for dragging four ten year olds and an eight year old to a dangerous place like that.

-Donald decides that it might be okay for the kids to visit with Scrooge sometimes, to get a little real-world experience, and at precisely that moment something crashes into the 151st floor of Ducklair Tower. Uno is absolutely furious (“MY TOWER???”) cuz that’s gonna take a bit to fix- at the very least it’ll appear to take a while- and when the kids question “what now?” Scrooge offers up some rooms in the mansion. The kids are excited cuz they’ll get to live with Webby and explore a new place. Donald and Uno say “just until the tower is fixed” (Gladstone had Donald’s boat at the time he went missing so Donald doesn’t have it) which is good enough for the kids.

-Scrooge being sus of Uno for like a whole arc cuz he’d never heard of Uno Ducklair before recently and also his nephew?? got married??? 

-Gladstone finally gets a message out to Don and Uno for help, and they go immediately- but not before Scrooge makes it a family adventure. Scrooge is disparaging of Gladstone, but Donald is just worried about his cousin. They manage to save Gladstone without pseudo-sacrificing anyone. Scrooge gets a little sus when they get back to Duckburg, and days later the missing Cloverleaf has shown up again. 

-HDLV ended up spilling the truth to Webby as she got closer with them, but they swore her to secrecy. Of course Beakley found out because Webby is a terrible liar.

**So basically Donald + Uno parents, a kid that calls them her dads, good Uncle Gladstone, Brotherly Gladstone + Donald, Competent Cloverleaf, PK + Cloverleaf teamup, little-hero triplets. Gyro will end up teaming up with Gizmoduck when Fenton takes up heroing, too, just like Launchpad teams up with DW (DW’s story for this AU will be different, also, just a heads up) and basically all their combined kids become a badass team of children (Huey, Dewey, Louie, Webby, Ve, Boyd, Gos, and of course Lena and Violet join in later...) Gyro teams up with Gizmoduck because every hero needs a tech guy (even heroes who are also scientists....) and he’s not only very capable, he’s worked with a hero before so he knows the ins and outs :D

However it is now 2 AM and I need to sleep so I’m gonna end my musings here but I am thinking of them so much right now I’m

[whump-town]

Moments Too Late

Part two!

I don’t know it’s fun writing all this college nonsense (while ignoring my own college nonsense) and I think I’ll probably write a chapter three because this is giving me a little kick and it’s fun

Warnings: panic attack, briefly mentions Derek’s childhood, Carl Buford, and the insinuations of what that entails 

Part One is Here

The quad, a great expansion of grass covered in a sea of moving sweaty twenty-year-olds, is nearly unaware of the scene played out before them. A mismatched group of a twelve-year-old, a Chicago born here on a scholarship football player, a brightly adorned orphan, a blonde basket case, an alcoholic, the Italian mobs missing link, and somebodies lanky older brother don’t typically need so much attention. They’re the sort to pass quietly through college. The blonde basket case might make honor roll and the football player might be seen in the back row of some newspaper before an injury takes him out but that’s about it. For them, that’s a point of pride -- not being noticed.

Derek knows from the pull of Aaron’s shoulders to the rattling sound of his breathing as he stumbles away from them that he’s having a panic attack. He watches Emily step to follow, knows she means well but will only make things so much worse. “Stay,” Derek shouts at Emily. Alliances mean everything to them, young and dumb and alone in a world not yet fully accessible to them. They need the little promises -- that Spencer will only eat red skittles out of the bag, that JJ will carry rocks in the pockets of her pristine clothing to give to Penelope, and that Derek sides with Emily.

Out of shock, Emily rocks to a stop. Derek’s never yelled at her.

“I’ll go,” he offers, not waiting for anyone to argue even though it looks like Dave might try. “Don’t follow.”

Aaron’s spider-like legs carry him quickly but he’s got nothing on the suicide’s Derek’s football coach has had him running for the past six months. Derek pulls them hip to hip, glad that the sun and the chatter pull all attention away from them. They look like tipsy girls on their way back from a party, stumbling into one another heads pulled in as if to discuss something of great importance.

Derek’s never been so thankful their dorms are on the main part of campus.

“Hey--” the RA, some poor kid just trying to put himself through college, watches Aaron and Derek come barreling into the building. He’s not on duty but he’d gone to get one of his kids the extra key to their room and been on the ground floor to watch Derek loop his arm around Aaron. Nearly having to pick the older boy up by his hips to plant him back on his feet. He’s got a split second to decide what to do.

To his defense, he knows Aaron and Derek. Aaron is a sophomore and never causes anybody any problems. Hell, he spent spring-break in the dorms and didn’t tell anyone the hot water went out. He just showered with freezing water for a week. Derek is a football player but not the sort that drags in all their muddy crap all over the carpets, when Derek comes in from practice there’s not a trace of his existence. When the two are together, they’re the least rowdy group to deal with (even though one or both has at least three or four more people in their rooms).

So, the RA looks at Aaron, looks at Derek, and decides whatever those two are doing… they can handle on their own. “Don’t fucking run! This isn’t a barn!” Hmm, just another job well done. Nice.

Derek looks over his shoulder, smiling despite how hard his hands shake with his anxiety. “Right!” he offers. “Sorry!” He’s not worried about tearing past everyone they see or that pulling Aaron’s heavy ass behind him is making his biceps burn. He’s worried about the tears Aaron seems to have no control over or how broken, how lost he looks. “Just a second,” Derek promises, throwing his weight into the bathroom door. The communal showers are empty, not many people take showers at two in the afternoon, and that’s what Derek’s banking on.

“I -- I --” Hotch goes where he’s pulled. His face numb and his feet heavy, it takes his brain a moment to really compute where he is. “What are we--” he coughs on a breath that doesn’t come outright. Whimpering and pulling his hands in towards his chest, trying to soothe the feeling of his sternum chipping away to shoot hard bone fragments of pain down his arms and up his throat.

His cry startles Derek enough to spur him to further action. Grabbing Aaron by two fist fulls of his ratty old sweater, a beige monstrosity that Aaron will never admit to having bought at Salvation Army with the last twenty dollars he owned, Derek pushes him into the shower. Holding him against the wall as he sputters against the shock of the freezing water beamed at his chest. Caring about neither of their clothes, he ignores his shirt wetting and sticking to his shoulders and back.

“Derek please--” Aaron cries, weakly pushing at Derek’s arms. He’s too disorganized, too frantic to push the stronger boy off. It’s nothing for Derek to grab Aaron’s thin wrist and pin them to his chest; not an issue of strength but it pains Derek to watch Aaron sob and try and pull himself free. If anyone were to walk in they’d think Derek was hurting him but this is just all Derek knows will help.

Derek feels Aaron’s body start to take to the cold, become too shocked to panic. “Just breathe,” he instructs. “Just calm down.” Carl Buford had been the person to teach Derek about this little trick. Naked and terrified and too trusting in all the wrong men. Buford had lifted him and dunked him in a freezing bath, shushing him when he’d scrambled madly out of the painfully cold water. Buford had held him, pinned Derek’s thin arms down, and held him down in the water. Buford held him close until he calmed down, Derek nearly felt safe once again as if the atrocities done to him never happened. He considered maybe they hadn’t.

“Shit,” Derek scrambles closer, grunting when Aaron’s knees just give out from beneath his body. They both as they hit the floor, a clatter enough to draw attention to them. Derek hits his elbow against the wall, sending sparks of pain through his nerves. “Alright, alright.” Aaron’s teeth are chattering but he’s not fighting, he’s not panicking. “Just --” he didn’t think this far ahead. To the aftermath. He needs a towel and someplace warm but not too warm. “I’ll be right back.”

He leaves Aaron sitting on the floor, curled as far as he can get from the water but just limply leaning into the wall. Temple resting against the wall and arms wrapped around his body and fingers clenching the wet material of his shirt. Staring vacantly at nothing.

He runs to his own room where his towels are sitting in his clean clothes basket from where he cleaned them three days ago but hasn’t needed to put them away just yet. He grabs two because he’s not sure what the damage is and it’s likely they’ll both need one. He’s in such a state he nearly busts his ass. His sneakers slipping in the water dripping off his clothes. He lands with a plop on his hands and knees, brain short-circuiting for a moment as all he takes in is the sting of the skin on his knees and the ache of his wrists.

In the hall, legs of a fawn not yet certain how to move its knees, arms wrapped tightly around each other, and jaw clenched tightly to prevent his teeth from clacking together and sounding out his painful retreat back to his room Aaron shuffles down the hall. Derek catches sight of just his drenched clothes, hanging pitifully off his frame and weighed down by the water, and can’t help but be frustrated but not entirely surprised.

“I told you to stay,” Derek fusses as he jobs up behind Aaron. He wraps a towel around his shoulders, wincing when Aaron looks up at him and Derek gets a good look at his face. Aaron’s always had bags under his eyes and he’s naturally just very pale but the cold has drawn any color out of his face leaving behind only the darkly contrasted proof that though he might tell them he’s sleeping well that he’s lying. That’s where you have to be careful with a man like Aaron -- they have long ago mastered the art of redirection and lies. A skill he learned at his mother’s hip as she dabbed concealer over his eye. Redirect their attention to protect yourself. It hasn’t failed him yet.

Well… except for today and, evidently, every day before that.

Derek allows Aaron to keep shuffling in the direction of his room with the assumption that the room will be a nice warm space to get comfortable. The problem is supposed to be in getting Aaron out of these clothes; Derek knows he won’t strip in front of him. Not that Derek is going to enjoy himself watching Aaron -- mostly because he’s a little afraid of what those oversized sweaters are hiding but also because Derek typically prefers women.

What Derek isn’t taking into consideration is that Aaron is a borderline masochist.

“Why is it so cold in here?” Derek takes a step back when Aaron manages to get the door open. Shivering at the cold air that comes rushing out.

Aaron shrugs, lips blue and jaw starting to betray him. “Can’t sleep under the blankets if it’s too warm,” he offers as if Derek might be the silly one here. But they both are really, standing in the doorway of a dorm shivering in soaking wet clothes. “Whatever you say, boss,” Derek mumbles with an eye-roll, stepping around Aaron. They’ve all grown very familiar with the layout of each other’s rooms. Even when new school years bring new floor layouts, some of them are more reliably the same than others. Emily is a bit of a wild card but people like JJ and Aaron have the same habits. And Derek knows where the changes of clothes he’s looking for are.

He’d borrowed a pair of Aaron’s slacks last semester for an advising meeting with people from his major and they’d been snug. Snug is an understatement -- he thought his ass was going to bust out of them. He’d even had to have Penelope bring them up two inches because, despite being the same height, Aaron has freakishly long legs. Derek would never comment on this, Aaron might come across as your normal brooding angst but he’s kind of sensitive. Though the others might not think so (given Derek’s nature to push and shove at everything Aaron says) Derek values Aaron’s friendship tremendously and Aaron knows that when Derek pushes it’s to understand boundaries and because he trusts Aaron.

“Oh my God,” Penelope exclaims from the doorway. “What did you do to him?”

Aaron jumps, wrapping his arms around his naked chest in a hurry. He shuffles back, trying to put some distance between himself and Penelope standing in the doorway of his room. Glancing at Derek as he does so, pleading with the other boy to do something and get the attention off of him.

Derek tosses a pair of pajama pants on Aaron’s bed, motioning for Aaron to turn and pay them mind. “Get out of those clothes before you get sick.” Turning his own attention to Penelope he averts her, shuffling her back until their both out the doorway. Giving Aaron the privacy he needs and letting her air-out her loudly proclaimed worries as he does so. “Baby girl,” he says over her rapid speech. “Baby girl, hey. Hey, he’s fine. Look at me, he’s fine.”

Penelope stops, mouth open and brows pulled down with great concern, “Derek, he’s soaking wet and pale--” She stops and really gets a good look at him. Standing before her in a shirt clinging to his skin and shivering slightly in the air-conditioned hall. “And-- And you’re soaking wet too. Derek Morgan, what did you do?”

Derek grimaces in preparation for how crazy he knows he’s about to sound. “I--I threw him in the shower.”

Penelope raises an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“He was…” Derek hesitates. He’s not entirely sure how much he should tell her, for the sake of Aaron’s privacy. If it was Spencer, there would be no doubts but Aaron is far more complex than that. “Sometimes cold showers can help nerves and so I directed him to that solution.” Leaving out the bits about Aaron’s panic or maybe anxiety attack, his vulnerability, and the wrestling that took place to get him there Derek feels he’s left Aaron’s virtue intact. A win. “It sounds crazy,” he admits, “but it helps, I swear.”

Penelope considers what she’s just been told and while she would like to implement further comments on the terms and conditions of a shower (even if it’s a cold one) with Derek Morgan, she just narrows her eyes and knows that Derek always seems to know what’s best. She trusts him. “So, he’s better now? Asides from the pale, shivering bit?”

Derek nods, “yeah but in my defense, he’s always pale and shivering.” Which is true, no matter where they go they carry blankets and jackets something to offer Spencer and Aaron when they inevitably get chilled. 

“Okay,” she caves. That seems to settle some of her own anxiety. She looks sadly to the shut door separating her from Aaron. “Okay,” she repeats again, deflating at the thought of her poor Aaron sitting on the other side. Hurt and upset. “Do you think there’s anything we can do?” She looks to Derek, so hopeful that he’s come up with some solution she hadn’t come up with on her own. 

Derek shakes his head, “I don’t think so, Penny. I think we’ve got to let them work it out. It’s not about us.” He sighs and he’s frustrated that it’s true but he can’t amend Emily’s words and he’s not so sure she can either. With a sigh he opens Aaron’s door back up, peaking in to see where the other boy’s gone. 

Aaron’s climbed into his bed, lights off, and back facing them, covered in his mounds of blankets. 

“I hate it when they fight,” Penelope whispers. 

Derek takes one long look at Aaron, watching his back move as he sleeps. Panic attacks are draining, he’s just glad Aaron’s sleeping for once. “Yeah, me too.” 

[sewellsheart]

Merciless Haze - Part 1/3

Summary:  In the back of her mind she thought she heard someone screaming, torturous and raw and distraught.  It sounded animalistic, nothing short of an encapsulation of all of the pain a person could possibly feel, every nerve alive and striving to make its own body suffer.  Sophie just barely registered that it was her own screams.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Warnings:  Mentions of blood, death, wanting to die, detailed pain, vomit, and fatal injury.

Word Count: 1.9k

Pairing: Nate Sewell x f!Detective (Sophie MacNamara)

Note: So... turning, eh?  This is my perception of how I think the process of turning will go and it’s not pleasant.  Each part of this story will explore a stage in the process and the warnings will be adjusted as needed, so consider this Stage 1.  Hope you enjoy :)

    She didn’t know how many times she’d been hit, how many bullets had ripped through her flesh.  The only thing she knew was that she was falling, and it felt like ages before she finally hit the ground.  Her shoulder slammed against the earth with a sickening thud, her heart pounded in her ears, a warm wetness pooled below her, and she was suddenly reminded of how horribly human she was.

    Human.  Sophie had come to hate the word. It had become nothing more than a reminder of how fragile she was.  How disposable she was, in the grand scheme of things.

    “Sophie!”, she heard Farah scream from a distance, followed by a short “Fuck.” from Morgan.

    The mission could not have gone worse, Adam and Nate were on standby at a facility over 30 kilometers away, not impossibly far for them to run in if backup were needed, but would arrive far too late to help Sophie in her current condition.

    Adam had been less than keen to send the three of them alone, and Nate had looked like he was damn near ready to flip the table during the argument with the Combat Director. She had rarely seen him genuinely angry, the heat of the words he could say likely burning the tip of his tongue. He had instead chosen to keep his mouth shut, letting those fiery words sit silently in his eyes. She wished he had spoken.  She wondered if he did too.

    The Agency had insisted that it was only a few trappers that needed to be dealt with, maybe five in total, and they needed Adam and Nate’s advisement on another mission.

    They had been wrong. Upon approaching the base, the trio had realized how terribly outnumbered they were.  Worse yet, their comms had gone out due to an unexpected satellite disconnect, according to the robotic voice in their earpieces, leaving them with no way to call for backup, to call for Adam or Nate.

    Nate.  Sophie felt her stomach sink.  Her fears were being realized, that she may never see him again, that he wasn’t by her side right now.  That she was likely going to die here.

    She felt soft hands hold the back of her head up to place in a lap.  She looked up, army green eyes meeting a panicked amber, Farah.  She tried to ground herself by speaking her name, knowing it came out as more of a hum, as she felt her reality begin to slip.  The young vampire she had grown so close to, someone who had taught Sophie that perhaps being more sociable wasn’t the worst thing to be, and, for whatever reason, thought that she was a fun person to be around.  Her dear friend, who was now on the verge of crying out of fear, wet eyes creating a deep contrast to the bubbly spirit Sophie adored.  

    She felt another pair of hands grab onto the neckline of her t-shirt to rip it open.

    “Holy shit.”  Morgan, again.  Sophie tried to meet her eyes, but her vision was deteriorated, leaving her unable to make out anything more than two identical blurred shapes of the woman at her side.

    “How many?” Farah’s typically cheerful, boisterous voice came out as more of a whimper.

    “At least six.”  From the tone of her voice, Sophie couldn’t tell if Morgan was angry or scared.

    Six.  An entire round, that fucker had hit every single shot.  He had been one of the last too. They could have been walking back to the facility ready to raise hell when they got back.  Ready to cuss out every person who approved this mission plan despite Adam and Nate’s protests, choosing to brush off their expertise.  She could have ripped the Agency’s priorities to shreds, she could have forced them to acknowledge their own stupidity, but she would not be able to.

    Even in her muddled state Sophie knew she was a goner.  She would bleed out before backup arrived, especially if the searing pain in her left thigh was an indication of a possible artery hit.  She had minutes, maybe even seconds.  

    She heard the tearing of fabric once again, in between distant words that she was probably meant to respond to, before feeling a tight pressure wrapped around her stomach and thigh.  They were trying to stop the bleeding.  Sophie knew they would fail, the cloth was probably already soaked through.

    Even in her dying moments, she remained ever the pessimist.

    “What do we do?” Panic had now overtaken Farah’s voice.  There were a few beats of silence, then a breathy “Oh.”, trailed by another pause.  Sophie felt Farah’s hands place themselves softly on her cheeks, and another, third hand firmly grip her arm.  “You’re gonna be okay, yeah?  You know you can trust us?” She almost sounded pleading.  The most Sophie could muster was a single, weak nod.  

    She wasn’t sure what she was trusting them with.

    “Keep your eyes open.”  Morgan’s voice was stern and deadly serious, she was giving her an order.  Sophie wasn’t sure if she would be able to follow through.  She felt like she was being pulled down through an endless blackhole, and that inky darkness was beginning to surround her.  Sophie squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again, willing them to refocus, to ground her in her body again.  Her vision could not stay straight, she felt her eyes wanting to roll into the back of her head, and it took all of her strength just to look at the sky.  The soft blue was beginning to blush orange, indicative of the setting sun, of the purple-tinted dark that would inevitably set in.  

    An autumn breeze brushed through the air, and she was suddenly aware of just how cold she was.

    It was then that she felt four, stinging points enter her body.  Farah’s hands had moved to her shoulders, gripping her tightly and almost apologetically, her coiled hair brushing against Sophie’s paler-growing face, her fangs settled in her left collarbone.

    Morgan was at her thigh, one hand holding down her knee, the other gently grasping her right hand.  Sophie couldn’t think of a time where Morgan had ever been gentle with her, her body always in a stance meant to stir intimidation and her tongue sharply candor. Sophie knew that despite the moody persona she carried, Morgan cared for her, they had an unspoken declaration of friendship and their own ways of showing a genuine concern for one another.  But this was a physical form of comforting her, and Sophie wasn’t sure if there was anything more terrifying than the prospect that she was so deep in the shit that Morgan felt the need to let her know that she was there and she was trying to help.

    Help came in the form of her own two fangs settled in the center of her right thigh.

    It was indescribable, the pain that followed, part of it made her feel like she was on fire, like every inch of her body was being licked by the very flames of hell, trying to pull her even deeper into a void threatening to consume her.  Yet there was another part of it, something far more pleasant and almost ethereal in how light it made her feel, and in the back of her mind Sophie wondered if this was it, if this is what dying felt like, that the flames that were nearly swallowing her whole were keeping her from reaching a final place of comfort where she would not hurt anymore, where there would not be anymore pain.  She longed for that feeling so deeply, but as the fire continued to burn it took all sense of comfort with it, and that heavenly sensation she wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull close to her was burning away with it.

    In the back of her mind she thought she heard someone screaming, torturous and raw and distraught.  It sounded animalistic, nothing short of an encapsulation of all of the pain a person could possibly feel, every nerve alive and striving to make its own body suffer.  Sophie just barely registered that it was her own screams, her own mouth pleading for it to stop, to God, please, make it stop.  She would do anything.

    Just let me die, she wanted to cry out, to grab Morgan by her hair and rip her fangs out of her thigh, to slam her hands against Farah’s head to get her to let go, to make the wildfire release her and let her slip away.  In that moment she wanted nothing more than for death to embrace her, than to let that void cover her.

    Then she thought of those soft deep brown eyes that always pulled her from the brink, even in the worst of situations.

    Nate was a gift she never deserved, a man far more genuine and kind than any person Sophie had ever met before.  Someone who had been through so much pain, perhaps the exact same pain she was experiencing now, and still held his head high and greeted everyone with a smile.

    She couldn’t let go, she didn’t want to go anywhere without him, never again.  She wanted to feel his warm hands on her waist, to feel those same hands run through her long ginger hair while he kissed her softly in his candle lit bedroom.  She craved to hear him whisper sweet nothings in her ear in languages she hardly knew or had never heard at all.

    He had always been so gentle with her, knowing that, despite her naturally intimidating appearance as a 6’1”, muscled Irishwoman, all tattoos and harsh lines, she craved the delicate intimacy he offered.  As selfish as it was, she wanted to feel wanted and Nate never displayed or provided her with anything less.  She had never loved a person so deeply before.  She had never been held like he held her, never had love made to her in the way he did, never felt so desperately loved in return.  There was no one like her Nathaniel.  Her Nathaniel.

    The pain was still racing through her, she couldn’t tell if it had been minutes or hours.  What she could tell was that Morgan was now looking directly at her, hand still gripping hers, and somehow Sophie found herself able to focus through the fire and catch those grey eyes.  She looked terrified and nigh feral, blood dripping from her teeth to her chin and down her neck.  Sophie broke her gaze, looking up to see Farah, who appeared to be in a similar state, a sight that could have shattered her reality had she seen it out of the context of their current circumstance.  She hadn’t felt them let go of her, and she still couldn’t feel anything but that same hellish pain that continued to overtake her as she began to convulse.  

    Somehow it had worsened, she felt like every bone in her body was breaking only to immediately repair itself and break again.  She felt Farah push her onto her side as she began to vomit, the acid stinging her throat and bittering her mouth.  It was too much, everything was too much, every little sound, touch, and taste was overwhelming in its proximity to her.  Her world was spinning, her vision edging black once again, and this time she knew she would not be able to fight it.  

    Despite the pleas of her teammates, distilled to just echoes of voices that sounded distant and foreign as they bounced around her head, she let her eyes roll back, and as the dark brought her into a close embrace, she swore she could hear footsteps thundering through the forest that surrounded them.

    She swore she could hear Nate calling her name.

[writtingsparxx]

Gun in My Hand

Title: Gun in My Hand Pairing: Reader/McCree Rating: Mature, eventually explicit Notes:  Please be aware that this story contains graphic depictions of violence, gun use, blood mention, and PTSD symptoms. Reader discretion is advised Summary:  What happens when a young combat medic who believes above all else to do no harm meets the Blackwatch team, and specifically a young sharp-shooter by the name of Jesse McCree? Also available to read on Ao3

The first time you ever shot a gun was because of Jesse McCree. You had been a combat medic with Overwatch for just over two years when you met the rambunctious young man. He was a member of the elite strike team known as Blackwatch, led by Commander Reyes. You had heard a little bit about the team, but it wasn’t widely spoken of. The only people who knew really anything about the team were a handful of cadets who were borrowed by Commander Reyes from time to time to help to put a mission into action. You weren’t even supposed to meet Jesse or Reyes, but a series of events put you on a path that changed your life. 

A week prior to meeting both the Commander and Jesse you had been approached by one of the fellow doctors in the medical wing. Since you weren’t on any missions for the next couple of weeks they had been wondering if you could take one of their shifts. It was their wife’s birthday and Angela had been so busy with everything else she was in charge of that she had accidentally scheduled the doctor that night. Unfortunately everyone else was either working that night or was coming off a long shift. Never one to pass up an opportunity to put in some hours in the medical wing, you gladly accepted the shift. 

At the same time, Blackwatch’s commander was in a yelling match with Strike Commander Morrison over a medic that had been transferred to the team. The medic in question was still so new that they had no real knowledge on how to do anything. Morrison was stating that they had no other recruits that they could spare while Reyes was arguing that the cadet was going to put his team’s lives in danger. Finally, after an argument that was going in circles, Morrison conceded enough that if Reyes and the rest of the Blackwatch team weren’t comfortable going to their healer they could use Overwatch’s medical team as well. But only in cases of emergency. 

The day of your shift in the medical bay, the Blackwatch team was returning back from a particularly dangerous mission. You had been at the nurse’s station when Genji bust open the door asking for help getting Commander Reyes and Jesse. Angela had rushed to his side, going to get the commander before calling for you to help. You couldn’t help but notice that as she was rushing past, Angela’s hands lingered on Genji’s for just a moment, making you smile. As the two of you ran out followed by a few nurses with a gurney and a crash kit, you noticed that Commander Reyes was trying to fight off Commander Morrison. Reyes had his hand pressed up to the left side of his body, applying pressure to his ribs and yelling that Morrison needed to stop worrying about him and focus on Jesse. 

Jesse McCree looked like he was dead. The team had managed to get him onto a stretcher, but that seemed just about it. There were lacerations and gunshot wounds and blood everywhere. The dressings that had been crudely applied were completely soaked through and no one was applying pressure to the one in his upper chest that was gushing blood. McCree’s normally tan skin was pale, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow. Almost immediately upon seeing him, you threw yourself toward him, putting your hands on the wound.

“I need a new dressing!” you shouted at the nurses who were rushing over to try and help stabilize the gunslinger. You were handed a wad of gauze and quickly pressed it to the wound, putting as much pressure as you could. “Keep them coming. We need to set up a transfusion and a saline drip. Once we get this bleeding under control we can move him to medical,” you ordered the nurses who rushed off. “Why the hell did no one take care of him in the field!? Where’s your medic!?” you barked at Reyes over your shoulder. You were pissed beyond belief. You knew they had to have a medic. It was protocol when sending a team on a mission. It was to avoid situations like this. 

“Why don’t you ask Commander Morrison that?” you heard Reyes growl. Even without looking over your shoulder you knew that Reyes would be glaring at Jack, only inches from his face. You knew that this was a deeper issue that you would have to focus on later. Right now all you could focus on was getting Jesse stable enough to move back to the medical wing. 

It took some time, but once Jesse was stable enough, Angela took over and rushed Jesse to surgery. As you stood, covered in his blood you turned to Reyes and Morrison. “Both of you with me, now,” you demanded, pointing towards the medical bay. Despite both of them being upset with each other, Morrison supported Reyes to a private room where you forced him to sit down on the exam table. “Now, tell my why the fuck one of your teammates is almost dead because of you guys?” you asked through gritted teeth as you placed a few healing bots on Reyes’ wrists. 

“She froze,” Reyes said simply. “We needed a combat medic and she fucking froze seeing Jesse get shot,” Reyes replied. He winced slightly as you started to feel along his side, trying to see if there were any broken bones. When the bots on his wrists were done with the superficial cuts you forced him to lay down, wanting to get an x-ray of his side. 

“Look, I know that you can’t really talk about the mission because I’m not a Blackwatch member, but that combat medic… was her life in danger? Was it someone she knew? There’s absolutely no reason as to why she should have froze. McCree could very much die because of this,” you said simply, turning to look at Morrison while the x-ray ran. 

Morrison sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. “Their medic is too new to be out on the field. Reyes had brought this to my attention, but I didn’t know that it was this bad,” he said softly. 

“Then you better figure it out,” you said simply before turning back to Reyes to finish helping him. 

That night Jesse was in surgery for well over six hours. After you were sure that Reyes was patched up as well as he would let you, you joined Angela in surgery, helping to try and get Jesse as stable as possible. When the two of you were done, she talked about staying the night in the ICU with Jesse in case anything happened. You were about to agree to it when she made a throw-away comment about wondering about how well Genji was doing. You knew that Angela had a soft spot for the man, and you thought it was sweet that she was worried about him, so you offered to stay the night so that Angela could get some sleep. 

“Oh, I couldn’t let you do that. It’s my job as the head of the medical wing!” she insisted. You waved her off and was basically pushing her out the door toward Genji’s room. Finally, as you were about to slam the door on her and lock it to keep her out, Angela turned to look at you and smiled softly. “Thank you, dear. I appreciate you doing this for me.”

“Of course Angela. You enjoy your night,” you said with a smile before pushing her out the door. You wandered back toward the nurse’s station, grabbing the holopad that contained Jesse’s information. With the exception of tonight, he was typically not seen too often in the medical wing. However, when you were in surgery you couldn’t help but notice that he had a lot of scars that were from crude stitches and bad healing, and you couldn’t help but wonder where they came from. Obviously if those scars came from someone in the medical wing it was an issue. After all, if this was a fellow doctor here at Overwatch, you needed to launch an investigation into the situation. 

You took the holopad and made your way to Jesse’s room, going to check on him. You figured he would be waking up from the anesthesia soon and would be confused about what was going on. Sure, you weren’t a familiar face, but at least you would be a face that he saw coming out of the anesthesia. When you entered the room it was quiet, kind of peaceful. You looked at Jesse, your breath catching a little. When he wasn’t covered in blood he looked absolutely stunning. You quickly looked away, looking down at his chart and going to sit in the chair next to his bed. Over the past years there had been several patients to come through the medical wing but you had never found any of them as attractive as McCree.

As you settled into the chair, you pulled your legs up under you, scrolling through the holopad as you tried to finish some paperwork. It wasn’t long before you heard some coughing and movement in the bed. You looked up as McCree started to come to. Quickly you stood up and went over to the edge of his bed. “Hey… Jesse?” you said softly, trying not to scare the man. 

At the sound of his name, Jesse opened his eyes and looked up at you with hazel eyes. He coughed for a second before a lazy smile crossed his lips. “I must’a died. There’s an angel in my room,” he joked, his voice low and gravelly before he coughed and closed his eyes again. You watched him wince in pain for a second before reaching over to adjust one of the machines. 

“Sorry to disappoint, Jesse, but you’re neither dead nor am I an angel,” you said with a smile. 

Jesse’s eyes opened slowly, that same lazy smile coming across his lips as he looked up at you. “Well, you could of fooled me, darlin’,” he said before he closed his eyes again and went back to sleep. 

You smiled and went back to your chair, hoping to catch up on the rest of your paperwork by the time that your shift was over. The night was pretty uneventful. None of the other patients in the wing were as critical as Jesse was, so you got to spend most of the night in his room. There were a few times that he woke up only to ask for water or to make sure that you were still there with him. Other than that, Jesse slept and tried to recover. When the next shift came in that night, they found you still curled up in the chair next to his bed with your holopad clutched to your chest as you slept. 

Jesse was in the medical wing for just under a week. And you kept finding excuses as to why you needed to visit him. You mostly told people it was because you wanted to check on how Jesse was healing. After all, you were the one who did most of the work on him when he was first taken off the drop ship. Truthfully it was because you enjoyed being around Jesse. He was funny and he was always fun to talk to. When he was doing well enough to sit up by himself he even taught you how to play a few card games. You would spend any time that you weren’t working sitting in that chair next to his bed in order to spend time with him. 

“And then when Ashe told me to the left, I ended up ducking to my right and ended up topplin’ over all the boxes of moonshine we had been smugglin’. I never heard the end of it from her,” Jesse said, laughing as he reached over, pressing a hand to where his stitches were. You were so worried that one of these times when he was laughing loudly that he would tear his stitches open, but at least you were there in case. 

“Is that really how you got all these horribly done scars?” you asked, running your fingers along his arm to all the poorly healed stitches that you noticed the first time you saw him. 

“Bein’ in a gang wasn’t easy, darlin’,” he said simply, his stupid lopsided smiled appearing on his face. Every time that he would smile like that you couldn’t help but swoon a little bit. 

“Yeah, well with how I found you the other day, being in Blackwatch isn’t easier either. What the hell happened that you got shot so badly?” you asked, sitting back and watching McCree for a second. 

He shrugged a bit, looking down at the cards in his lap. “Our cover was compromised. There was shooting from all directions. And our medic… She ain’t as good at her job as you, darlin’. When the shoot started, she froze. She didn’t know what to do. And all I saw was an omnic comin’ at the poor girl, and I had to act,” he said simply.

You stared at Jesse for a second, taking in his story. “You jumped in front of an omnic in order to save her?” you asked slowly. Jesse shrugged again and looked away from you, obviously trying not to catch your gaze. “Jesse, have you been sleeping with the combat medic?” you teased, trying to break the tension in the room.

That was obviously not the question that he was expecting because Jesse blushed and turned to look at you, pink across his tan cheeks. “It ain’ nothin’ like that! You learn quickly to keep your people safe in a gang, and she’s my people. I would do the same thing for Genji or Reyes or you darlin’,” he said defensively, laughing a little bit. 

Smiling, you laughed with him. You were trying to hide your own blush at his comment about doing the same thing for you. “Well, you don’t have to worry about taking a bullet for me. I’m strictly Overwatch’s medic right now and you are free to go later this afternoon,” you said happily. You had been sitting on the news all morning, not wanting Jesse to get too excited about going home and have him end up hurting himself by pushing himself past what his body could handle. 

“Well, damn. Does this mean I won’t be seein’ your pretty face any more?” Jesse asked, causing you to blush this time. “Because I really enjoy bein’ around you darlin’.”

You laughed a little, smiling. “You’re not just saying that because I saved your life, right?” you teased. 

“Naw darlin’, that’s just an added bonus,” he said with a wink. 

Three months later, you were sitting on a drop ship with the rest of the Blackwatch crew returning from a mission. The last couple of weeks you had been working with Blackwatch instead of Overwatch solely because Blackwatch didn’t have a capable combat medic. The medic that had been working with the team before wasn’t learning fast enough to keep the guys protected in the field, and more often than not you would have to patch one of them up when they returned to base anyways. So, you decided to put in a transfer request so that the current medic could have a little bit of practice with Angela and the rest of the Overwatch team before trying to get back out into the field. You had gone directly to Commander Morrison with the request and he immediately agreed that it would be in Blackwatch’s best interest to have you on their team. You knew that this was a good decision for both the team and yourself, but you couldn’t help but feel a little selfish at why you wanted to transfer as well. You wanted to spend more time with the Blackwatch team. Over the last couple of months the two of them had become good friends of yours. Even Genji was starting to open up a little more about things with you. It was nice to have good friends who worked with you… and possibly would be down to murder someone if you asked nicely. 

It was probably your third or fourth mission with the group when you had to shoot a gun for the first time. All four members of the team were out on a mission together. It was supposed to be simple: Go to New Mexico, find out who was supplying guns and other weapons to a notorious gang, return to base with the information. However, Jesse, who was taking point on the mission for having some familiarity with the area, made a bad call and it put all four of you in danger. He decided to move the group further into the Deadlock Gang’s base, figuring that they would be able to receive better information. However, you pointed out that you weren’t exactly good at stealth missions. Hearing this Gabriel left the decision on what to do to Jesse. Either they were going to have you stay behind or they were going to take their chances and have you come into the base with them. 

In the end Jesse wanted a compromise between the two options: You were going to follow the rest of the team, further back but still with them. Jesse didn’t feel comfortable leaving you at the drop ship with only the coms just in case something happened, and they didn’t want you with the rest of the team if they were going to stealth ahead. When Jesse made the decision Reyes just huffed and turned away, but didn’t say anything about it. You thought that it wasn’t the smartest decision and was about to offer to stay behind when Jesse told the group to move out. 

Jesse knew the area like it was the back of his hand. You would later find out that it was because the gang that you were spying on was the same gang that Reyes had plucked a younger McCree out of a few years prior. But, as Jesse led you through the canyons and back trails that got you to the hideout, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that followed you. Jesse insisted that there were no security cameras in the area considering that the gang was too poor to afford things like that. But if they couldn’t afford security cameras, how the hell were they getting the supplies?

As the rest of the team went ahead, you waited back at an old bar, perched on top of the roof, ready to head in if you got a call from the team. However, about ten minutes into the mission, and hearing Jesse and Reyes argue over the com, you felt cold metal pressed to the back of your head. 

“Now, we can do this the easy way…” a female voice drawled, pressing the gun harder into your skull. 

It felt like your entire world came to a screeching halt. All you could think of was the gun pressed to the back of your skull. You were urged to get up off the ground, which you happily obliged to. The woman who had the gun to your head was stunning with white hair and an angular face that seemed to be in a permanent scowl. She had two gang members flanking either side of her, both with guns in their hands. Before you knew it, the woman in front of you threw a punch at you, hitting you square in the jaw. You reached up, grabbing where her fist made impact, a sudden wave of anger and panic surging through you. 

You weren’t sure why you did it, but you lunged at one of the smaller men flanking the woman. Looking back at it you guessed it was because the only other option was to stand there and get shot. You were able to knock the small and scrawny guy over, hitting him across the jaw three times. At the same time the girl tried to kick you in the ribs to get you off the guy. You winced at the impact of her boot to your bones, but kept hitting the guy over and over again. The time it took for you to reach up and grab your ribs was enough for the scrawny guy to flip you over and start hitting you wherever he could. 

                 With you on your back, trying to catch your breath from being repeatedly hit you noticed the gun the was thrown to the side, obviously forgotten about in the scuffle between the two of you. You reached out, struggling to try and grab the gun, hopefully to scare the guy off. As soon as your fingers wrapped around the stock of the gun, you raised it up, trying to pistol whip him more than shoot him. Apparently this was enough time for him to punch you again, this time in your throat. You gasped loudly, every inch of your body hurting. All you could focus on was coughing and getting the guy off your chest and throat.

              Without much thought, one hand went to your throat, the other bringing the gun up. There was a shot followed by red everywhere. You were pretty sure that you screamed as you scrambled to your feet to try and get away from the body, the gun falling from your hand. You were getting ready to run when you saw the girl raise her hands above her head, her rifle still in her hand. The other guy dropped his gun, raising his hands as well. 

              "Now Ashe…. You already lost one of your men. I suggest just comin' with us and leaving with your boy and your life,” you heard a familiar drawl from behind you. In your panic you whirled around, your fists up and ready to start swinging. “Now, I suggest you follow your boy’s lead and drop Viper. We’ll get your other boy the help he needs long as you cooperate with us,” Jesse said simply, taking a few steps forward, his Peacekeeper pulled out in front of him. 

Genji and Reyes were both a few steps behind, their weapons drawn. You looked at them for a second, trying to take a few steps forward, but it felt difficult to move. Suddenly both Genji and Reyes were rushing past McCree, going to take both the girl - who you would learn was the Ashe that Jesse had talked about in the hospital months ago - and the guy into custody. By the time you blinked again, McCree was standing in front of you, his hands on your arms. You could see that his mouth was moving and he was talking to you, but the ringing in your ears was too much. You couldn’t make out what he was saying. Almost instinctively you reached out, bracing your hands on McCree’s forearms as your knees gave way from beneath you. “Woah there,” you heard McCree as he helped lower you to the ground. 

McCree let you sit there for a few seconds as Genji and Reyes led the two captives to an undisclosed location. After what felt like hours, you finally looked up at McCree. He was staring at you, still wide-eyed and gripping onto your arms. You looked up at Jesse for a second before looking down at yourself, covered in the blood of someone you had shot before turning to the side and throwing up right there on the roof. “Woah, okay,” McCree said, pulling back and just letting you get it out of your system. Once you had recovered enough to stand, he gently took you by the arm. “Come on darlin’, let’s get you back to the ship,” he said softly, leading you down off the roof and back to the dropship.

Reyes and Genji were nowhere to be found when you got back to the ship. You figured they would be keeping the two prisoners somewhere else for now. The whole time you two were walking back to the ship McCree kept his hand on your arm, helping guide you back. The whole time you were quiet, trying to piece things together. You had never fired a gun before, let alone shot someone like that. Normally when it came to Overwatch missions there were five or six people in the strike team, meaning that you always had someone with you. Even when things became dicey or there was an attack on the team, you were never the sole target of an attack like that. There was always someone there to protect you. Which, in a way Jesse was, just a little later than you would have liked. As soon as you sat down in an actual chair Jesse was about to pull his hands away from you when you reached out and grabbed them. “Thank you,” you said softly before letting go of his hands. 

Jesse smiled softly before nodding slightly. “Of course darlin’. I couldn’t leave you behind,” he said quietly. He stood up, looking you over for a second before turning away. "I'm gonna get you something so you can clean up. You got extra clothes?" he asked, looking away. You figured that this wasn't easy for him either. Not only was it his decision to leave you on the roof by yourself, but those were some of Jesse's men at one point. The gang that you had been hunting down was the gang he used to run with. It must not have been easy to see one of his guys get shot like that. 

              "No," you said in response to his question, shaking your head. You watched as Jesse started to walk off, most likely to try and find a rag or something, but you reached out, grabbing his hand. "Jess… did I kill him?" you asked softly. You needed to know. 

              "Nah darlin' but you fucked up his shoulder somethin' bad," Jesse said, his trademark lopsided grin appearing on his lips. It was such a comfort to see him smiling and cracking jokes after something like that happened. You sat there and watched as he went and found a rag and got a bucket of water, coming to set it down on the table next to you. "Look darlin' I know you're used to being the one to fix people up, but I think this time you should let me take care of you," Jesse said softly, dipping the rag into the water. 

You were still so stunned from the events that just happened that you just sat there, watching him. You knew enough that you knew nothing was broken, but you were definitely still shaken up by the events that had transpired. Your throat hurt from the punches that you had taken, and your ribs were sure to be bruised in the morning, but you were still breathing. And you felt better knowing that the guy you shot wasn’t dead, but just had a bad shoulder from now on. Still, even though you knew you were okay you winced when you felt the rag on your skin, wiping the blood away.

How long it took for Jesse to wipe off your skin, revealing small cuts and bruises, felt like a lifetime. Luckily the two of you were comfortable with the silence that fell over the two of you. Neither one of you had much to say about the situation. You kept replaying it over and over again in your head, trying to figure out if there was something that you could have done differently, or even if there was a warning about the group approaching that you hadn’t paid attention to. The only time you got out of your own head was when Jesse finally pulled away and went to dump the now orange water out. As he got up and started to walk away, Jesse paused and looked at you. "You never shot anyone before have you, darlin'?" he asked, turning to look at you again. You couldn’t tell if the look he was giving you was pride or pity, but either way, the look tugged at your heartstrings. 

“I had never shot a gun before,” you said, chuckling slightly at how absurd this situation was. 

McCree chuckled slightly, that same stupid grin showing up on his face. “Well then darlin’, you’re a lot more dangerous than you look,” he said with a smile. You smiled weakly back at him, enjoying the little moment in all the chaos.

[midnight-lightning]

Piece of gold | Part 1

Loki x reader

Part 1  Part 2     Part 3   Part 4   Part 5    Part 6

Pairing: Loki x reader

Summary: You live your dream as a worker in the royal library of Asgard, everything would still be normal if there wasn't a certain prince between the bookshelves whose passion also included books. Of course destiny has decided it was time to bring you two together...

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Your Mother was that kind of a woman who would give people advises about life's meaning and their place in the world when one simply asks what weather it is. Of course after a certain time you stopped thinking too deep into her words but one thing she had truly taught you. It was to always follow your passions, to do everything that full fills you, give you your own meaning of life. Well, and you did follow your passion but you're pretty sure it was not that kind of thing she would expected from her words, as you simply followed your love and passion for books.

You remembered feeling like you'd die out of nervousness on your first day. Truth to be told, it was literally only a few days ago.

Mealla was the first person to greet you and introduce you to your new job and tasks. She was working at the reception and was also the one you'd now consider as a good friend.

With a big smile you inhaled the smell of wood and old paper as you entered the library on this new morning being greeted by a very busy Mealla who only pointed on a huge stack of books on the table which waited to be sorted into the shelves. You tighten your apron, grab a few of them and walked straight into the maze of bookshelves before you.

Yeah, it'd be pointless to say that the biggest library of Asgard was, in fact, very big and being in addition the royal library it was unbelievably breathtaking. You had to admit that even after all the days you've already worked here and get tours you still haven't seen the whole library and therefore don't always take the right way.

Besides, the beauty of this place never failed to keep you from your work and sometimes you just couldn't resist and hide in some further corner to read by yourself.

As you stroll through the paths of big shelfs, desks and other seating options, sorting the books in their right places you noticed that the library was as always highly visited. Due the fact that this place was this huge you sometimes felt alone nerveless especially in rear sections as this one.

Therefore it was no wonder you nearly had a heart attack by what happened next. Around the corner sat a man on the couch, reading the book in his hand. It was nothing extraordinary so You didn't really pay attention to him. It was only when you noticed his not so ordinary clothes and these typical colours that had you spin around with a horrible thought. With a small squeak you let the last book slip out of your hands and it hit loud on the floor. This suddenly noise caused the man sitting before you to look up. Your eyes met for just the one second you needed to grab the fallen book and rush out of the situation.

Mealla could already see on your pale face that something must have happened when you suddenly appeared next to her.

"What-"

"Why! Why, just why didn't you mind telling me that of all the people living in Asgard the prince himself had to show up here?" You asked with panic in your trembling voice

But Mealles face immediately relaxed. "Oh? You mean prince Loki? He's very often here in the library," she answered nonchalantly.

"Oi, but why didn't you say anything? Now he must think I'm completely mental..." A small laugh escapes you.

He was a PRINCE after all, you work for him and you did neither greeted him properly nor paid any kind of respect to him. Instead you ran away like a wild chicken!

This was so Embarrassing.

"Y/N, I beg you to relax. You're for certain not the first one who has lost control of her fangirling emotions, he's used to things like that. Besides, he won't even remember you the next time you met, what I hope will not happen."

You snorted. "I was not fangirling! It was just the shock as I've never seen any of the royalty that- Wait, why would you hope something like that?"

Mealla suddenly stopped in her work and her expression went to a serious one. "Y/N, I hope I do not need to explain to you who Loki is. Besides his high position he's also capable of powerful arts and also many stories are being told about the prince. If you know what's good for you, you keep enough distance from him. Don't cause trouble."

Yeah, you have heard enough stories, true or false ones. But as your friend suggested you tried your best to avoid every corner in which the young prince could be.

That's also why the next days passed without any further interruptions except that one man, a high soldier, who kept demanding one certain book which was not yet available in the library. But you promised him to take care of this problem. Well, whole Asgard is preparing for the star-celebration, which also included the traditional ball. It was always the greatest event of the year for every asgardian. No wonder that even the soldiers may get a little stressed.

Right after the small incident however, you vanished deep in between the high bookshelves to your usual little corner in which you continued to read your favourite book. You knew that if someone caught you, you'd may get in trouble as it was still work for you to do. But you just couldn't stop thinking about this story, besides you still had a lot of time for your duties afterwards.

You were lost in this other world with your thoughts and heart, therefore you partly ignored partly didn't notice the person turning around the corner.

With a little confused and annoyed expression he seemed to search in the book shelves for something, when his gaze landed upon you. Usually he wouldn't give you much attention but then he noticed the book in your hands, causing him to roll his eyes in annoyance.

He coughed slightly but loud enough for you to hear.

Startled you jumped up from your seat, catching the book which was already falling and started to panic. "I'm working, I swear, there was just dirt on the book I had to-" When you looked up you clasped your hand over your mouth in shock as you realised to whom you was speaking.

"Yes, I see that," said prince freaking Loki in front of you with huge sarcasm in his voice.

Please, please ground, please open and let me vanish, you thought in great shame.

In the next second you took a bow, while rattling endless kinds of apologies. "Please, forgive me, I didn't realise-"

Loki lifted his hand with a bored expression and you closed your mouth. For a second.

"Stop with your apologises."

"I'm sor-. I mean, it would be better if I continue with my work," you mumbled and wanted to pass by him as fast as you could when he stopped you again.

"I didn't waste my time by addressing myself to you. I had indeed a cause for that."

You turned around, your face burning. "Yes, of course, I beg yo-er how can I help you, my prince?"

"I was wondering if you'd know where a certain book of mine is as you're obviously working here. It's name is "piece of gold"."

Immediately you turned to the bookshelves and started searching for it, as it should be somewhere in this area. Again an annoyed cough got your attention and you noticed the prince staring at your hands, frowning.

"May it be that one?" he asked. You looked down at the book that you were reading just a few minutes ago and blushed in embarrassment.

"Oh, yes, it is indeed that one. Here."

Loki took it, but raised his brown.

"It's quite rare that I met someone who is interested in these kind of books as well," he looked nearly suprised.

You laughted quietly. "Well, if you only read books that everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking. Besides I just fell in love with all the characters and the story line."

Your face brightening by these thoughts, until you realised you had lost control about your emotions and now a startled expression showed up.

"I-I beg your Pardon, your highness, I shouldn't...I-I think I should go now, if you excuse me."

Only a quick bow and you were already gone, leaving Loki with an almost amused expression.

What a strange girl...

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

You didn't know what kind of a curse had fallen upon you that you've gotten in this awkward and embarrassing situations with the prince, let alone the fact that you had to come across him.

Twice.

It was later that evening, you were already back in the apartments you shared with other workers in the palace, but you still scolded yourself every time you thought about the things that had happened. It was just your first weeks of work in the library, what is the rest of your time going to be like with Loki most of the time around your beloved place, hiding in the corners.

Alright, stop it now, Y/N, no one not even the prince is going to stop your passion in any kind, besides it wasn't even that bad, you just can't look him into his eyes, like forever, but next time you just try over. If there's going to be a next time at all. You hoped not.

A knock on the door ripped you out of your thoughts. When you opened it you saw Anoria, one of your roommates.

"This had been delivered for you, or at least if this is your name...Y/N?" She gave you the small package she was holding in her hands. You thanked her, she smiled and she was gone again.

Walking to your desk, you opened the package, quite curious, and smiled as you saw a book in it.

But it was not just a book, you realised just a second later, it was the book.

As you flipped through the pages, a note slipped out.

Oh no, oh no no no no!

"It'd be a crime to rip a passioned reader out of the midst of a story, as long as still not all people are thinking alike.

Return it afterwards.

L."

Oh.

Hell.

No.

By Odin it wasn't something you'd expected from a prince, let alone from the pretty isolated Loki Odinson.

You had spent nearly the whole night afterwards finishing this book in order to give it back as soon as possible. Sadly, it was the last volume of the series and the end was pretty gloomy. You wondered what Loki thought about this Story, especially the ending, because you have yourself never met anyone who had read this book. Therefore, no matter what people say about the mysterious prince, he had a good taste with books. Well, you couldn't imagine his brother Thor sitting in peace and doing nothing but get lost in fictional stories, as he was very obviously a proud warrior, thoroughly.

Because of your lack of sleep you were naturally very tired the next day you went to work. And it wasn't even worth it, as Loki didn't show up, so you couldn't give him the book back as he had demanded. And neither did he on at the following time.

The thought that you brought him out of the library by your annoying behavior has already crossed your mind and you had promised yourself not to get in any further inappropriate situations with the prince.

It was one of the days on which you've gotten the night shift and were nearly alone in the dimmed library as you finally met him again. Well, the word "met" didn't quite fit, "bumped into" was it to be exactly, of course you had to bump into him? The universe despised you with the whole heart.

"Oh my god, I'm so SORRY."

It was the third time you've met him in a very awkward way and slowly you have gotten enough.

Fortunately it seems that no one else was in this section to be part of this dilemma.

Loki didn't even responded, instead a painfully silence arrived by his silenced staring. You bite your lips out of nervousness, before you remembered the book you was carrying in the bag all these days.

"I uh...I brought you the book." You stretched your arms with the book forward and grinned bashfully. He took it without a word but you were just too nervous to keep being quite.

"I liked it, by the way. Except for the ending. I thought he would get his happy end, he deserved it after all."

Loki browsed through the pages and said with a monotone voice: "As a library worker you should know that there can't always be a happy ending, besides he did too many mistakes in his life to be forgiven in the end. He was a horrible person and deserved everything what happened to him."

You blinked surprised. You hadn't thought he would react to your little outburst and also because you couldn't understand his statement.

"Please, forgive me, but I think everyone deserves love in his life and the woman he was in love with did actually forgive him. Besides there isn't just the romance, Altocc's life is a big content out of social pressure, he hadn't really got a choice in the end."

Loki looked at you with a very thoughtful expression. "I'm sure he didn't have to sacrifice himself, I could come up with many other ways to turn things around if I'd really wanted."

You couldn't believe what was happening right in this moment. You, a simply worker of a library, conduced a conversation with prince Loki about a book you both read and loved and now you argued about who was actually right. Normally you'd kill yourself for speaking in such ways with the royalty, but on the one hand he didn't seem to mind and on other hand you just had to defend your beloved figures of your beloved book. It was your passion after all.

That's why the nervousness seemed to fade away the more you keep talking with him.

A challenging smirk appeared on your face. "Oh, yes? Which ones?"

The next thing you knew Loki let out an actual small laugh and as it'd be arranged both of you sat down at the table across each other.

And well, the next time both of you fell in a deep and passioned discussion about the books plot, the characters, morals without really realising. The library worker and the prince, have forgotten who they are in this time, their positions and that this situation was utterly inappropriate.

You just talked about your passions, deep into the night.

It was a few hours later, that you two had slowly stopped speaking and a comfortable silenced rose up.

Then, a confused thought passed by and you didn't know why you hadn't noticed this early.

"Prince Loki, can I ask you a question?"

Loki looked up. And as your eyes met you noticed the intensive green in his one, that seemed to look right into your soul.

You cought slightly.

"How could it be that you knew to whom you should deliver the book? You wasn't aware of my name that time."

You got a pretty vain gaze back.

"Lady Y/N, be aware that I'm a prince. If I want something I get it, sooner or later."

You nodded slowly.

"Besides, your name is written on the sign of your uniform," he said and grinned a little.

An amused laugh escaped you. "Well, yes, that should do it."

Silence again.

A moment and a small smile later Loki stand up from his seat. You did also, at least something should appropriate the manners

"It was a pleasure to have these kind of conversation with someone who truly understands the book, or books in general, even though we have obviously different opinions on it." By this he winked, surprising you.

"But even a prince had to come back home to a certain time."

With this you were catapulted back to the real life, in which you were you, a simply girl, talking to a real prince to a really late time in a really lonely section.

Your good mood was vanished, before you bowed to Loki. "I wish you a good night, my prince."

"This I'm wishing you as well, Lady Y/N."

All in one it was a nightshift you'd neither had ever expected nor would ever forget.

[msjr0119]

Cordonian Wags

Part 12- Crazy Kids

In a world full of Professional footballers and their demanding wives- can their football team nicknamed the ‘Cordonian Apples’ succeed? An American female physiotherapist joins the club. Will this cause issues with the footballers wives?

*This series is based on The Royal Romance characters who belong to Pixelberry - AU Plot switch*

Tags: @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @whenyourheartskipsabeat @jovialyouthmusic @nz1091 @yukinagato2012 @indiacater @seriouslybadchoices @rainbowsinthestorm

******

Bastien dragged Riley and Lindsey to Constantine, furious with the chairman for this inconsiderate decision.

“Constantine- What the fuck? You knew about Riley’s marriage and then you bring him here!”

“Bastien, please don’t swear at me. This is good. Riley and Xavier can work together not only professionally, but they can save their marriage. Excuse me, myself and Regina have to mingle.” Regina looked at the three people stood in front of her with sorrow in her eyes. Bastien thought back to the time that he convinced Constantine to employ Riley.

Constantine was in his study, a scotch in his hand. There was hardly any interest in the new physio position. Bastien entered the room, feeling guilty that he left the club in the shit.

“Sir, have you found someone to replace me yet?”

“Not as yet. The few applicants haven’t got the experience required for this role.”

“I may have someone suitable for the role. She’s my goddaughter. She is the physio for a premier league team in the UK. She’s erm. She’s looking for a change.”

“Why would she want to leave such a good job?”

“Well. She’s married to the clubs striker- but they are calling time on their marriage.”

“Oh. Why is that?”

“The press perceive him differently to what he actually is. He has been unfaithful, hurt her in many ways. But she’s a good physio, she’s determined. I can stay and support her until she gets used to the role, if you’ll give her a chance.”

“Isn’t that the typical stereotype of a footballer though Bastien- being unfaithful? I don’t condone it, but they all do it. Tell her to send me a covering letter and CV.”

“I will do. You won’t regret it. She just needs a new start and a chance.”

“If I give her this chance, we will look after her, make her feel welcome. Support her. You have my word Bastien. You don’t know anyone looking for a managers job by any chance do you?”

“No Sir. But I think Bertrand will be a successful permanent manager.”

“Yes, I do believe that myself.”

******

“Uncle Bastien, just leave it. It’ll be fine. I’m not saving my marriage. I’m going to get my divorce one way or another. And if that means work with him for the rest of the season, I’ll have to do it. You know what he’s like- he will probably be in the press sooner or later for something negative.”

“How can you be so calm about this? I’m due to be going back home in a few days. You’ve been well and truly stitched up, Ri. I don’t know what his intentions are with him bringing him here. But you’re putting yourself in danger!”

“Linz. It’ll be fine. Just trust me. Bast I might need your help at some point though.”

Bastien and Lindsey looked at each other concerned, but Riley’s smirk had them questioning what she was planning. Returning to their table, everyone remained silent- not knowing what to say.

Riley sat next to Drake, attempting to hold his hand - brushing her hand away he held his head in his hands.

“What’s up Drake?”

“Oh I don’t know Riley. Maybe the fact that your husband is here.”

“No shit Sherlock! Why won’t you hold my hand?”

“Because he’s here.”

“Oh but you can kiss me and fuck me when your girlfriend was here!”

“Riley I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m going home.”

Riley stood up, concealing the tears that were forming in her eyes. Bastien and Lindsey followed- Lindsey apologising to Leo, suggesting that he stayed at home or with Liam. Her sister needed her. Drake stood up abruptly to follow them before Leo advised him to stay put.

****

Finding Riley outside smoking, Bastien knew she wasn’t calm or strong as she made herself out to be. Pulling her in for a hug, he couldn’t breathe with the smoke surrounding them.

“Both of you are coming home with me tonight. I’m not taking any risks.”

Riley wasn’t sure. Since she had been in Cordonia she seemed to have ‘sofa surfed’ rather than stay at her own apartment. Arriving at Bastien’s house, the girls wondered why a single man would need such a big house.

“You girls came here when you were both younger- you probably won’t remember. You’ve both got a room each.”

Walking into the kitchen, they smelt coffee and an aroma consisting of food from New York.

“Hi girls, Bastien informed me of what had happened. Are you okay Riley? I hope you don’t mind- I thought you’d appreciate it.”

Riley and Lindsey tucked in to the food that Bianca had provided them all. Both smiling having the reminder of home, they both forgot about that drama for a bit.

“Thank you Mrs Walker, I’m fine. Arsehole men for you.”

“Not all men are arseholes Riley.” Lindsey stated, she was missing Leo already. She knew he was married but she couldn’t help fall for him even with her sister warning her not to fall for a footballer.

“The ones I seem to choose are. Excuse me. I’m going to go to sleep. Night everyone.”

Bastien explained how Drake was cold towards Riley, he believed that was bothering her more than the fact that her estranged husband had unexpectedly turned up. The three of them agreed to contact Drake to come over.

*****

Drake arrived shortly after, receiving a stern expression from his Mom and Bastien. Lindsey poured him a whiskey knowing that his Mom was going to berate him after Bastien explained the events that had occurred.

Bianca berated him explaining to not mess with Riley’s feelings and that she would need him more now than ever.

“Mom, I’m not messing her about. I just thought she might want to give her marriage another shot now he was here in person.” Lindsey spat the drink out, laughing uncontrollably, Bastien shook his head in disbelief that Drake would even think that.

“I know we’ve only just met, but the first night I kissed her- she made me weak at my knees. I’ve never felt like that before. It made me realise that Kiara wasn’t the one.”

“Damn right she wasn’t the one. She hurt you Drake! Every type of abuse. You don’t deserve that. You deserve to be happy, so does Riley.”

“What do you mean ‘every type of abuse’?” Lindsey’s eyes widened, wondering how much alcohol she had consumed - assuming she misunderstood Bianca.

“Kiara, she Erm. She was unfaithful... she did things to me that I don’t really want to talk about it, Lindsey.”

“You two are like peas in a pod. Xavier made my sisters life hell. He was unfaithful, he abused her, he made her miscarry my nephew. You both need each other.” Lindsey slurred, regretting what she said the moment it slipped out of her mouth.

“He did what?” Bianca said in astonishment.

“Too far Lindsey! She doesn’t want people knowing that!” Drake thought about his words from his sister a few days ago, and linked them to what Lindsey had just said. His heart sunk at the thought of Riley confiding in Savannah.

“Savannah... she... when me and Riley slept together, Sav had spoken to Riley and later told me that she knew more about Riley’s past and to not hurt her. Why would she confide in Savannah? I need to see her, which room is she in Bast?”

*****

Knocking on the door quietly, he wasn’t sure what to expect- would she still be angry? Would she have finally calmed down? Drake knew he was in the wrong.

“Bast, I’m fine. Please just leave me alone.”

Opening the door, Drake saw that she had been crying. She looked so defeated which broke his heart, especially after finding out about her past due to Lindsey’s slip of the tongue.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure. I thought you was Bastien.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he wanted to keep a distance in case she decided to throttle him.

“Ri. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“When I realised that it was him. My brain froze. I just thought because he was here in person, you may want to save your marriage.”

“Drake- trust me. I’d rather be dead than save that marriage. I was young and naive when I met him. Biggest mistake of my life. At times I just wished I had stayed in the states. He was a different man when I first met him. A charmer. I felt safe. I thought somebody actually liked and loved me....”

*****

Riley was studying Sports Rehabilitation degree at the University of Salford. She had moved to the UK from New York after her parents tragically died- needing a fresh start.

One Friday night, her room mates arranged to go out to celebrate finishing their second year. Riley was intending on returning to New York to spend time with her older sister- so intended to make this a night to remember.

Entering the club, it was full of students. Walking near the VIP area, there was a crowd of screaming women. Riley and her friends rolled her eyes back, their mouths were dry and needed to get to the bar. Eventually pushing their way through the crowd- they ordered champagne. Go big or go home. Standing up to go to the toilet Riley accidentally elbowed a man in a suit.

“I’m so sorry!” Riley stood frozen. She knew who he was but needed to not act starstruck.

“Don’t worry Miss.” Riley softly smiled at him, trying to avoid the man everyone had a crush on.

“Enjoy your night.”

“Wait! Do you want a drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“Please. I’d be honoured if you joined me for a drink.”

“I’ll join you for a drink if it’ll make you happy after I’ve been to the toilet.”

“Fabulous. Come to the VIP area afterwards.”

It’s just a drink. He just wants a drink. Accept the gesture, then leave. He’s the captain of Manchester City- what would he see in a poor student?

Checking her hair and topping up her lipstick, she decided to make her way to her friends- hoping to try and avoid the VIP area.

“What took you so long?”

“Oh... there... there was a queue. You know what women are like. I was honestly tempted to just go in the men’s toilets.”

Xavier gestured her into the VIP area, all the men smiled at her. But none was admiring her like he was.

“What’s your name? I assume you’re not from around here.” Winking at her, she laughed at his poor flirting skills.

“My names Riley. You assume correct. I’m from New York. I’m actually here studying Sports rehabilitation. Ive just finished my second year. We’re all celebrating.”

“Nice to meet you Riley. I’m Xavier. Oh you are? You could work with us when you qualify.”

“I’m actually going back to the States when i qualify.”

“That’s a shame. You’re beautiful you know that?”

Riley and Xavier spoke for the remainder of the night. Both getting to know each other. He was charming towards her, her heart fluttered everytime he spoke or held her hand.

“Thank you for the drinks. I should really get going.”

“Thank you for the company. You’ve really made my night.”

Riley felt herself blushing- hoping he wouldn’t see due to the dark lighting. As she was about to leave he pulled her into his embrace before cupping her cheeks. Fixating his eyes on her baby blues- he lent forward. As his lips touched hers, she closed her eyes- wondering if she was dreaming. Breaking the kiss, his eyes contained need and desire.

“Do you need an escort home? I don’t want this night to end. I want to get to know you. Do you believe in love at first sight?”

*****

Riley finished explaining how she met Xavier- she didn’t want to talk about her love life in front of Drake. It just slipped out.

“If he stayed like that. The man I fell in love with. We would probably still be happily married. Funny how life chances isn’t it.”

Drake fully understood how she felt, Kiara wasn’t the women he had once fallen in love with. He wanted to inform her what Lindsey had said downstairs- but didn’t want her to think they were all gossiping.

“Not all marriages last until you are 80 odd Ri. I mean look at Leo. Finally he’s divorcing Maddy- and that’s because Lindsey came into his life. He’s known her all of a few days and she’s changed his life.”

“He does know that Linz is going back to New York in a few days right? And I’ll probably be joining her.” Drakes felt as if he had been stabbed through the heart. She was giving up.

“You can’t leave. Neither of you.”

“Lindsey has a job. She has a house there- our parents house. I’m sure Uncle Bastien could cover me for a few matches. Nine months, I will have to work with him. Nine fucking months Drake. That’s nearly a year. I can’t even move on with my life because he’s not signed the papers yet. I can’t be free from him. I don’t give a shit about money or whatever I’m entitled to. I can’t even get married ever again if I wanted to. I can’t start a family, without him being a burden. I’m 24 on Saturday- what 24 year old gets married and potentially divorced at that age? I’m really living the life of Riley.”

She laughed sarcastically before pulling her knees up to her chest, she couldn’t conceal her true feelings and strong attitude anymore. Drake reached out for her hand, slowly rubbing his thumb over her knuckles- she fixated her gaze on him, smiling for the first time since he arrived.

“We all make mistakes, it doesn’t mean that you have to stop living. You’re young Ri, you have a fantastic future ahead of you wherever that will be. And it’s your birthday?”

“So do you, you’re amazing. Have you rest your ankle by the way?”

“Sort of- don’t worry I’ve been following your advise ma’am. The pain from my ankle is nothing compared to the pain you’re going through. If I could take it away I would. Don’t avoid the question about your birthday.”

“I’ll be checking your ankle, Walker. We need you back on the pitch as soon as possible. I’m not avoiding it, when you get past 21 a birthday is just another day reminding you that you’re a year older.”

Drake stood up, and slid into bed next to Riley- putting his arm around her. Turning her head towards him she smiled, before nestling her head onto him.

“Riley... Lindsey said some things downstairs before I came up to see you.”

“What?”

“She explained how he hurt you. If you ever want to talk about it- I’m here for you. Always. I lo-like you a lot. You’re the first thing on my mind when I wake up and the last thing I think about when I fall asleep. I will protect you.”

Riley shot out of bed, furious - wondering how much Lindsey had told him. Running downstairs, she hoped her sister was there. Drake followed her downstairs regretting what he had said.

“Linz! How could you!”

“What? This thing between you isn’t some fling. I’ve seen how you both look at other. It’s adorable. If you are both going to move on from your fucked up relationships you both need to talk about it - open up to each other. The only difference between the two of you was that you was pregnant. Everything else was the same.”

“Hardly the same! Kiara only cheated on him.”

The room went silent, Lindsey realised that Riley didn’t know the full truth about Kiara. Realisation hit Riley like a ton of bricks after witnessing everyone’s expressions fade. Turning to Drake, she had sorrow in her eyes.

“That night you split up with her... that wasn’t the first time she’s hurt you was it?”

“No.” Drake bit his lip- feeling embarrassed, with a lack of masculinity. Riley hugged him tightly, his arms went around her tiny frame. Staying in that position, they both held other lovingly. Bastien, Lindsey and Bianca gave each other a knowing look- the look suggested to leave the two alone to talk.

“Oh is it that time already? It’s a bit late. I think it’s time we all went to sleep.” Bianca suggested.

Continue here

[concussed-to-pieces]

More! Part One

Fandom: My Hero Academia/Boku No Hero Academia

Pairing: Eventual Tenya Iida/OFC

Rating: Holy shit M

AN: Hello all, it's time for the first chapter of my prime indulgence! To any of my anime-inclined broskis out there, welcome aboard!

In The Shadow

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: For gratuitous,canon-typical violence and facial trauma. Stay safe!]

Tenya had been informed time and again that college was slightly different from high school. He endured a few weeks of mental gymnastics when he realized that he wouldn’t have a uniform. College was different and yet...not. Certainly, no uniform to iron the night before and the ability to make your own schedule were boons. Nearly all of his ‘new’ classmates were old friends from high school which meant that he wasn't lacking in company, but many people didn’t seem to share Iida’s enthusiasm for continuing to better oneself even after the preliminary quirk training of high school! He wanted to be the best hero he could be, he wanted to make his family proud!

That was why he made the choice to attend college in the first place, with Tensei's wholehearted support behind him. He knew that any time he wanted it, he could have a job at his family’s hero agency. So why not be the best possible fit for his future job? Tenya was incredibly fortunate to have a secure career, and he took his studies very seriously.

Leona Moore wasn’t a troublemaker, though the way that she dressed had set off warning bells in Tenya’s brain. It was the pants, he decided, the overlarge cargo pants that had too many pockets. She was notoriously early for her classes, sometimes by an hour or so. Tenya admired her dedication, consistently fifteen minutes ahead of schedule himself. She always had a lollipop stick protruding from her mouth, her shoulders hunched slightly underneath the leather jacket she usually wore. She couldn’t seem to decide on whether she wanted to make herself seem larger or smaller, her clothes all slightly too big for her frame and her jokes never failing to make Kirishima snort with laughter at the worst possible times.

Her quirk made her a little touch-shy, Izuku had kindly pointed out to Tenya when Iida was confused over her standoffish behavior during their warm up period before general training. “She’s had to be pretty careful, Iida. She didn’t learn how to use her quirk until halfway through high school. Before that, she didn’t even know she had one!” Iida could only imagine how volatile the situation for that revelation must have been, seeing as she had a quirk that doubled the power of any kinetic force she withstood.

She also had control, seeming to have mastered the ability to turn it off and on at will. Tenya's misguided pity had turned into genuine admiration after watching her perform in their college sports festival. Granted, next to the explosive display of Bakugou versus Ururaka or the emotional minefield of Todoroki and Deku's battle, Leona's bout wouldn't stand out overmuch to the average viewer.

Leona had been paired up against Mineta, who made the fatal mistake of immediately pelting her with his ammunition in an attempt to incapacitate her. The kinetic energy from his rapid-fire slinging seemed to send her into overdrive, the young woman slamming an uppercut to his jaw that landed him in the lower stands. One punch, and the round was over. Iida silently approved of the way she had turned and bowed to the crowd before leaving the field. As a hero, one of many priorities would be to end fights quickly and decisively. Another one was courtesy to bystanders and officials-

...

How strange, he mused, thinking about her at a time like this. His rage continued to boil and yet…

He closed his eyes. Just for a minute. God, it was strange. Would she be proud of him? Proud of his rabid behavior? What about his family? Fear lanced through Tenya's heart, the first he had felt in ages. What if his parents lost him to this ill-advised fight? What if...what if this was the end?

The blade in his shoulder twisted sharply and Tenya bit back a sound of pain. He refused to show any more weakness to this monster, regardless of what he might endure.

“Hey, what the hell are you doin' to my class rep?!”

Tenya's eyes shot open. No. That's-

“You've got the nerve of a bull elephant if you're takin’ on ‘Genium. Who do you think you are?!”

“Run More! Get away from here!” Tenya yelled. “He’s got some kind of paralysis quirk, don't let him get close to you!”

Stain grunted, obviously a little startled by the young woman's abrupt presence. From what Tenya could see out of the corner of his eye, his classmate Leona (hero name More for reasons he had yet to discern) looked red in the face like she’d been running for a while. Her shoulders were still heaving up and down even while she raised her fists.

“You're another trainee. Interesting.” Stain remarked, almost as if he was talking to himself. “So you're also from the college. And you called him the class rep, which means he and you are in the same classes.”

“Mind like a steel trap on ya’.” Leona replied dryly. “Any other obvious insight you want to share, or can I beat the shit out of you now?”

Tenya bit back the reflexive shout of language!, shocked out of his impotent bloodlust by how brazen his classmate was being. It was an admirable strategy. Or at least, it would have been if she actually had backup.

“Another fake hero who needs to be cleansed from the planet.” Stain eased his blade out of Tenya's arm agonizingly slow.

“Thanks, but I'm plenty clean. Took a shower this mornin’ and everything. The name's More, and I'm no fake!” Leona called to Tenya then, her voice sharp with poorly-concealed worry. “How you holdin’ up, Calf Crusher?”

Tenya groaned. Her nicknames never ceased to send the class into fits. “I can't move. I'll be no help at all. He's just going to kill you. Why did you interfere?”

“You've gotta' be shittin’ me right now, Rep. Like I would just stand by and watch you get fucked? What kind of friend would that make me?” She sounded incredulous. If Tenya didn't know any better, she actually sounded a little irritated.

“One that keeps living, that's what kind!” Tenya snapped. We're barely friends! his mind added traitorously.

Leona pounded her fist into her palm and then jerked her hands up in a way oddly reminiscent of how Iida would move when he was excited. “I know who this guy is. More importantly, I know who you are and I figured out what you were up to when you picked Hosu for your internship. It's okay.” She reassured him.

You're going to die. “I'm begging you. Please leave.”

“I'm not gonna’ let you degrade yourself by beggin’ me, bud.” Leona retorted. “Second oldest son, heir to the Ingenium name, badass extraordinaire and all around decent dude, shut the fuck up and let me do what I can to make sure you can keep doing the best that you can!” She all but shouted, leaving Tenya speechless as Stain stepped over his body.

“‘More’, huh? Why, because you're always trying to be the best? Maybe because you want to protect more people. At least, that's what you would say, right?” Stain sneered, brandishing his sword.

“No way man! ‘More’ because the more the merrier when it comes to me!” She shot right back, that teasing grin firmly fixed on her face. “I may not be fast or smart like ‘Genium...hell, I'm not even all that special compared to the other people in my class, but I'm still here!” Tenya's eyes widened as she advanced on Stain, extending a hand. “I look forward to apprehending you, sir!”

“You'll be fun to kill.” Stain lashed out a second too late, Leona barely ducking his blade in time. “Another false hero, proud to wear the title and unwilling to do the damn dirty work that comes with it!”

“I feel like this is pretty dirty work right now.” She pointed out, catching his next strike with her gloved hand and grunting at the impact against the padding of her gloves. “Whew, a little harder next time and you'll take me down for sure!” She encouraged sarcastically, twisting the blade and coming close to ripping it clean out of the villain's grasp. She was so focused on his sword that the knife thrown at her arm caught her by surprise.

Stain’s speed and raw power were devastating. The blade sank deep, so deep, too deep. Tenya's brother in that hospital bed was burned into his mind, I can't feel my legs I can't feel my legs. “More!” Tenya had thought he felt helpless before, but it was now multiplied tenfold. “Damn it, I told you to run!”

“It shouldn't be too tough to keep him here until the pros arrive. I'm in for the long haul, Calf Crusher. Don't worry.” Leona said calmly, her rational words only serving to confuse the engine hero. She was built to take hits and he had never witnessed any particularly mindblowing strategies from her. Maybe he had written her off too soon. Maybe-

Stain rushed her, that deadly sword smeared red with Iida's blood. Moore jerked the knife out of her arm and used it to hastily deflect the worst of the cut from the sword away from her torso, snagging the blade under her arm instead. Stain drew another knife, this one serrated, and slashed at her face with it. One of the teeth on the knife caught the edge of her mouth and split it open nearly to her cheekbone. Leona staggered back, holding her cheek.

Stain turned up the pressure, releasing his sword momentarily in favor of cracking a fierce punch into her wounded face. Blood spattered from the impact, Stain's knuckles that sick red. “That all you got? Gimme’ more!” Moore slurred through her broken mouth, that infuriating grin still-

Oh. Tenya felt like an idiot. She was the endurance hero. She absorbed punishment like it was oxygen, a kinetic battery that could only be charged by violent outbursts. And when she decided to strike back, she doubled the output...but her body had limits, he had seen them in action during training. Midoriya had given her a kick at her request and instead of explosively discharging the extra power, she just passed out.

His heart slammed in his throat. If she pushed herself too hard, Stain wouldn't even have to do anything.

She swung at the hero killer and the doubled power of her blow threw him to slam his back into the alley wall. Stain wheezed for breath, clearly confused by the force behind her hit. “Just who the hell are you?” He panted.

“Beat me an’ maybe you'll learn.” Blood was spilling between her gritted teeth, running in a brilliant trail down her chin to drip off the bottom of her jaw. She was smiling like a fiend.

“I've never met anyone so eager to die.” Stain grimaced, rotating his shoulder and then shaking it out.

Tenya heard a strange crackling noise, almost like electricity. Midoriya rocketed over his head and bounded off the walls of the alleyway, a green missile with fist extended to crash into Stain. “Smash!” He yelled. Green energy, lightning, whatever it was it was blanketing his body. The Hero Killer was flung further back in the alley from the impact. Izuku skidded to a halt beside Moore, shaking his hand and hissing in pain. “Sorry I took so long!” He said brightly, like he hadn't just given the man responsible for killing a multitude of heroes the most thunderous of haymakers. “How you doing?”

“Take care of ‘Genium. He can't move, help him get out of here!” Leona said urgently.

Tenya refused to meet Midoriya's eyes, ashamed at how his own filled with frustrated tears. Midoriya reached for him and then went stiff. Tenya's heart fell into his stomach when he noticed the small tear in Midoriya’s glove and the blood blotting the fabric. Just enough. “Uh...I can't...move either?” Midoriya muttered slowly.

Tenya watched Leona freeze as well, her arms grinding to a halt. “Stain, your fight is with me! Leave them alone!” Tenya yelled, his voice cracking.

Further down the alleyway Stain grinned, giving his knife another lick. “I think I'd rather play with your friends. At least they landed hits on me. Unlike you. How does it feel to know that this is entirely your fault, fake hero?”

An ugly noise of agony fought free of Iida, rasping in his throat like sandpaper. It was true, wasn't it? Tensei worked so hard because Tenya believed in him, looked up to him, and the eldest Iida wanted to make his little brother proud. If Tenya hadn't been such a child, maybe…maybe his big brother wouldn't have tried so hard to rid the world of injustice. Maybe his big brother would still be able to walk. Fake hero.

And his classmates, friends, tangled up in this mess because of him! Midoriya crouched so close and yet so far away, his eyes darting around as he tried to figure out where Stain would come from. Moore, frozen in place with her back to the two of them while she was forced to face down the Hero Killer. “I'm so sorry.” Tenya breathed finally.

“Don't apologize! I should be apologizing. I should have gotten you to talk to me after what happened to your brother.” Midoriya looked tearful. “I should have said something. I just didn't want to pressure you. I'm sorry I'm a bad friend.”

Tenya was at a loss for words, losing his ability to stave off the tears streaming down his face.

Flames suddenly illuminated the whole alley, the gout of fire threatening to cook Tenya in his armor. “Next time you send your location, give a little more info.” It was Todoroki! And he was using his left side! Tenya was aghast. How many acquaintances had his blind rage dragged to this slaughter?

“Easy! I think you singed my hair!” Midoriya fussed at the icy hot hero. “That was all I had time to send!”

Stain hammered a fist into Moore's side, making the endurance hero spit out a mouthful of blood. Her arm wound up for a swing of her own, body sluggishly chugging forward like she was moving through molasses. The fact that she could move at all, though-! Was it because she absorbed the momentum from his hits? Or was Stain’s control weaker the more people it was spread across? Tenya found himself pondering the ins and outs of the man's quirk even as Stain pummeled Moore. She was defenseless, where was the honor in this?! Tenya's fingers twitched, uselessly tapping the cracked blacktop.

Todoroki drove Stain away from Moore with a combination attack, fire and ice arcing through the air as he switched rapidly. Leona slid one foot back, then the other, spitting more blood off to the side and slowly raising her arms in a defensive move. “Icy Hot, you-”

“I know. Keep my distance. Shouldn't be too difficult.” The flames on Todoroki's left side burned even brighter. “I'm not one hundred percent comfortable with my fire yet, but I can't deny its applications here.”

“How many children will throw themselves upon my blade tonight?” Stain cackled incredulously. “Bad enough that your friend in the armor didn't have the brains to run and get help just like his stupid brother, but now the rest of you feed yourselves to me!” He shook his head. “This next generation of heroes gets weaker and weaker. At least I'm lessening the workload on your professors.”

“You be quiet!” Iida shouted, fingers digging into the asphalt. “Ingenium was the model hero, the perfect example of selflessness and respect for others that a villain like you couldn’t possibly understand! I'll never forgive you for hurting my brother!” He screamed, able to move his neck now so he could look up at Stain while he issued his ultimatum. He didn't care how idiotic he must look, barely managing to wiggle his fingers while he yelled his fury at this man, this villain, this monster who had fractured his family.

“You're selfish. Dragging your friends into this fight because of your petty need for revenge. You're the furthest thing from a hero. You're a weakling.” Stain sheathed his sword, drawing two smaller knives instead and lunging at Todoroki and Moore.

“Don’t listen to him!” Midoriya said fiercely, somehow already able to move again! Was Tenya really that weak? Or was Stain’s quirk overpowering him because he had been the first one hit? “He’s just-”

“No. He's completely correct.” Tenya cut him off dully, clenching his hand into a fist. “If I hadn't been so consumed with this...if I had just been stronger, maybe…” Emotion closed his throat.

“Knock it off!” Leona yelled, startling him with the fury in her tone. “You don't need to be a fuckin’ martyr, Iida! What good does it do your brother if you get your ass killed?” Her voice was rough, words hard to understand through the injury she had sustained. “Think about how your parents will feel, and especially think about how your brother will feel! We're here to help, Rep, but you gotta’ take our hand!”

“Ingenium wouldn't give up!” Todoroki continued where she left off. “Be Ingenium! Get up and fight!”

As though a switch had been flipped, feeling surged through Tenya's arms and legs. Pins and needles so harsh it made him wince, and it was nothing compared to the pain in his limp arm, but he was up, he was up-

He staggered to his feet, splaying his stance just to stay vertical.

Stain hacked Midoriya’s leg out from beneath him after barely avoiding another Smash and then rushed Todoroki, nimbly dodging the fire and ice attacks in an attempt to bring that sword down on Todoroki's left arm, he would sever it clean at his shoulder-

Tenya felt like everything shifted to quarter-speed. Leona's fingers grasped desperately at Todoroki's shirt to try and pull him out of the way in time. She was still too slow, still sapped by the hero killer's quirk. Shoto's eyes went wide in realization, the young man attempting to recoil backwards away from the blade. Midoriya was yelling something, Todoroki's name no doubt, tears shining in his eyes.

Tenya's breathing echoed in his ears. In, out, in--

The engines in his calves came roaring to life in a glorious rush of Reciproburst! and without a thought for his own safety, Tenya was there between Todoroki and that sword. His armored knee shattered the blade before he whipped his whole body around via bicycle kick and re-aimed his leg at Stain's side. The hit made landfall accompanied by a shower of blue sparks from the heat of his engines, essentially drop-kicking the villain out of midair.

Stain was flung head over heels. Iida stumbled as his right leg gave out, clumsily dropping to one knee. His engines sputtered to a halt, shudders of pain from his calves flickering over the all-encompassing agony in his wounded arm. Fleetingly he wondered if he had ruptured something in his frenzy.

“Iid-Ingenium!” Todoroki shoved the larger man behind him and issued another burst of flame, barely warding off the rallying villain in time. “He’s fighting like a rabid animal. Be careful!”

“Give me a good kick, ‘Genium!” Leona suggested eagerly. “I'll get his ass back down to ground level so you and the others can wreck him!”

“My Reciproburst shot my engines and I don’t think a regular punch would offer you sufficient damage, I've overheated and I need more…time...” Iida paused, his eyes narrowing as a thought occurred to him. “Todoroki! Can you freeze my legs without plugging my exhausts?”

Todoroki opened his mouth to reply and Stain roared in outrage, bolting through Todoroki's flames in the distraction for another attack on the icy hot hero. Tenya and Moore moved at the same time, Tenya extending his good arm in front of Todoroki’s chest to offer him the protection of his armor while Leona rushed forward to fight Stain one on one. “You're in the way!” Stain snarled at them, leaping backwards up the icy pillars Todoroki had created.

A folding knife found its mark in Tenya's upper arm after penetrating his armor and he gritted his teeth in pain, doing his best to hold fast. “Todoroki please-!” A larger serrated knife followed the first, slamming into Tenya's forearm so hard he was forced prone. The wind was knocked out of him by his abrupt change in posture and Tenya choked for breath, still bewildered by the Hero Killer's power and tenacity.

“Iida!” Todoroki actually stopped his elemental attacks on Stain in favor of reeling back his fire-wreathed fist and whacking a heated punch into Moore's shoulder (to Tenya's dismay). Leona laughed (also to Tenya's dismay), easily accepting the blow while the air began to reek of smoldering cloth and lycra. Todoroki quickly slapped his other hand down on the burning area of her vest, extinguishing the heat before it could get out of hand.

“Just freeze my legs!” Iida yelled, startled by the fierce cry Moore let out before she lunged upwards at the retreating Stain.

A distraction, a distraction, he realized suddenly, take the punishment and double it to give us time. Please Leona!

Midoriya was back up again, limping badly. Cold ripped at the armor covering Tenya's calves, the frigid temperature almost too much to bear. This was an incredible risk he was taking, pushing on past the natural boundaries that his quirk and familial training had instilled. He hadn’t had enough time to recover naturally from his last Reciproburst. If something gave out under the strain, he would be incapable of defending himself.

It didn't matter. Tenya felt his engines choke, sputter, and then rev wildly. His left arm was useless at this point. He used his teeth to pull out the knife in his right, retching at the sour taste of old blood on the handle. Both arms were effectively unusable.

It didn't matter. He would use his legs. As long as Leona could land a hit that would get Stain off-balance enough for himself (and possibly Midoriya, but it might be presumptuous to rely on him) to capitalize on, that was all that he could ask for.

Iida stood, bending his legs at the knees as he prepared to leave the ground. Leona wisely aimed at the building directly beneath where Stain had jabbed the remaining stub of his sword in to perch, the doubled power from Todoroki's hit easily crushing the cement to instability. Thank God the buildings were long abandoned. Stain at least picked fights far away from where people would frequent, isolating his victims. A solitary, fiendish predator.

Iida crouched as low as he could, his exhausts glowing bright blue with the horsepower he was putting out. A new word came to mind.

“Recipro-” The engines in his calves stalled and keened, out of sync with one another as the ice dissolved into rivulets of moisture on the heated surface of his armor. “-extend!” He left the ground behind, a cloud of dust billowing in his wake.

If I just…

Tenya rocketed towards Stain, his eyes locked on the villain.

...use my leg…

He was vaguely aware of Midoriya out of the corner of his blurred vision, a brilliant streak of verdant green that seemed to hang in midair perpendicular to his path of upward motion.

...that's all I need…

His knee threatened to hyperextend even with his armor to brace him. Iida squinted fiercely and gritted his teeth.

...to beat this guy!

Midoriya’s fist planted in Stain's jaw the same time Iida's foot crashed into the villain's unprotected side. The impact rang in Tenya's ears, metal on cloth on skin on metal, high reverberations that sent shivers down his back.

Even after that tandem strike, the conniving villain still managed to swipe wildly at Tenya with one of his many knives. Tenya barely moved his head in time, feeling the blade just catch on the top of his dark locks. He narrowed his eyes, ignoring the fact that the three of them were now rapidly returning to the ground. Izuku started scrabbling at the wall, trying to grab a handhold.

“I will defeat you Stain!” Iida shouted passionately. “Because you are a criminal, and I am a hero!” His second kick didn't miss the free-falling villain either, cracking into Stain’s side so hard Tenya could feel the older man’s ribs collapse as they plummeted towards Todoroki and Leona in the alley far, far below.

Arms locked around Tenya's hips and Leona pushed off the wall in an abrupt redirection, moving Tenya so Todoroki could have a clear shot at the villain. How had she jumped so high, so fast?! She skidded to a stop on a pillar of ice that Shoto had made, still holding tight to Tenya’s waist. Iida shifted his weight as low as he could, trying to help so they wouldn’t go over the edge. His legs felt like gelatin, like they would fold underneath him, and he was immensely grateful for her strong hold on his armor.

Shoto's mastery of ice was intimidating enough up close and personal, but his barely-controlled flames were a sight to see. Tenya supposed it probably had to do with man's deep-seated primal terror involving fire, if he had to chalk it up to something. A massive fireball engulfed Stain, missing Midoriya by the barest of inches.

“Deku!” Leona yelled, sighing in relief when the young hero gave her a thumbs up and a wavering smile from his own slippery perch.

“Get up and keep fighting, you three! I doubt that was enough to…” Todoroki trailed off, his eyes widening in confusion. Stain had crash landed on yet another of his icy plateaus, the villain’s eyes rolled back in his skull. He looked like he had been knocked unconscious.

Is he dead?

Tenya hated the sick, joyous thrill that sang up his spine at the thought. He had been so selfish, so blinded in his fury that he believed his actions righteous. It was terrifying that he could so coldly rationalize the taking of another human being’s life, even one so horrible as the Hero Killer! He would never forgive himself if his own mistakes had urged Todoroki forward into doing the unthinkable.

Moore went limp against Tenya’s back, her relief palpable. “Icy Hot, I think we’re all going to need an assist at this point.” She slurred. “I’ve lost...a lot of blood. Head wounds, you know the drill.”

“Your mouth! Moore, are you-”

“I think he knocked out one of my teeth?” She mumbled over Tenya’s frantic question, moving to sit beside him and then carelessly dragging the flap of skin from the split side of her mouth aside (presumably so she could count her own teeth). Tenya fought a wave of nausea at her rough actions, thankful that at least the destroyed side of her face was outside his limited field of vision. His own pain and injuries he could take in stride, but someone else’s because of him was…

He didn’t care for the sensation at all.

Todoroki eased them to the ground through careful manipulation of his quirk, until finally the three heroes and one villain were safely down. Stain had indeed been knocked unconscious, but whether by the punch, kicks or outright fireball was anyone’s guess. Shoto wasted little time securing the villain with some clothesline he found in a dumpster, practically mummifying the older man with the half-frayed rope.

“We need to get him to the street. The pros and the police should be able to handle it from here.” Todoroki said calmly.

“I can drag him!” Tenya offered immediately, taken aback when Todoroki shot him an incredulous look.

“Have you forgotten about your arms, Iida? What will you drag him with?” Shoto deadpanned. Tenya deflated a little. He had almost forgotten the beating he had taken, if he was being honest. Adrenaline.

Moore’s snicker was a half-hearted gurgle at best, the endurance hero scooping Midoriya up onto her back and starting the slow limp to the street. “C’mon Calf Crusher, let’s get you home. I’m sure your pros are really worried about you guys.”

Iida trailed silently after his classmates (friends, he reminded himself), flushed with shame. Moore hung back for a second, letting him come up alongside her and Midoriya.

“Hey, you know that this isn’t your fault, right?” She murmured as best as she could. “I would have done the same thing no matter who the hero killer was going after.”

“I wish I had said something at the train station that day.” Midoriya whimpered. “I could tell that you were hurting, Iida, but I just...I didn’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.”

Iida shook his head dejectedly. “Don’t apologize to me, Midoriya. It’s not your responsibility to look out for my emotional wellbeing. I ought to have better control over my-”

“As your friends, it’s absolutely our responsibility! We need to pay attention to each other in this line of work, Iida!” Midoriya actually interrupted him. “You never know...you never know what could be the thing that pushes someone over their edge! You’ve always been there for the whole class since high school and the one time you needed us, we weren’t there for you!” Izuku was always so passionate about hero work, throwing himself headfirst towards any new challenge they faced. It should be no surprise to Iida that he would have a speech prepared for this situation.

So why were tears blurring his vision further? Tenya tried to no avail to wipe them away with his limp arm, ending up smearing blood across his cheek instead. Moore clicked her tongue at him (an impressive feat in and of itself due to the wounding of her oral cavity), pausing in her forward motion to dig in her pocket and tug out a red bandanna. “Never know when you’ll need a field dressing.” She shrugged, using the cloth to clumsily mop at Iida’s face. “There. That’s better. Look a little less damp.”

“I’m relatively certain that I’m the furthest thing from ‘less damp’ right now. But…” Tenya hesitated, unsure if this was overstepping a classmate or coworker boundary. “Thank you for your, er, concern. I will...do my best to rectify this grave error in judgement.” His bow was, as ever, perfect. “I humbly beg your forgiveness.”

“You don’t need to, Tenya.” Moore using his first name snapped Iida’s eyes up, the large man startled. She gave him a thumbs up and a grin that was a wince, her facial expression a little more kindly than he was used to seeing on her despite the gruesome flap of skin that hung from her cheek. “Let’s go, dude.”

“Will you pull yourself together? You’re the class rep. You're practically our mascot.” Todoroki complained, the hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.

Gratitude closed Tenya’s throat and he nodded hurriedly, trying to blink back the fresh wave of tears.

[natzeeab1962]

SPLITING HAIRS OVER SPLITTING BODIES

On a typical day of enduring the drudgery of professional pretense in my old workplace, I chanced upon a news item regarding acclaimed Filipino Film Director, Amable “Tikoy” Aguiluz’s aborted Manananggal Project for Hollywood. For reasons not entirely clear, the project fell through. In discussing the project’s failure to launch, Tikoy bemoaned not being able to shoot the opening scene he had already conjured. It was the Manananggal circling the Empire State Building on its way to hunting prey in the whole borough of Manhattan.

For those not in the in the know, the Manananggal, also known by its categorical name Aswang, is the stuff of Philippine goblin folklore; a creature that severs its torso from its other half (hence the label) and roams the moonlit skies hunting for nourishment. The creature usually dwells in the countryside and is believed to prey mostly on infanticipating women in their first semester. It lands on the roof of a Nipa Hut (a native shack made of indigenous materials, chief of which is Bamboo and Nipa leaves), and there slips its long forked tongue through the cracks or slats and carves out the fetus of its unsuspecting victim.  If there are no preggy moms to feast on, it makes do with its usual staple of human liver (raw and bloody, natch).

I’m not sure if it was Aguiluz’s failed attempt to put the Manananggal on the global cinematic map that got me started on my own Manananggal fauxibility. One thing for sure, the image of the creature roaming and scouring for human cuisine in a highly urbanized setting such as New York city brought me back to my childhood haunts.

In the early 70s, a tabloid report exploded about a Manananggal sowing terror in the metro. As if to amp-up the scare factor, the article went on to talk about reported victims, albeit anonymous, and the public was advised to take necessary precautions. As asinine and preposterous as that news might sound today, there were some adults who were not quick to junk it as hokum (pretty much like the Trumpbeciles who still believe their Il Douche won the election).  I chanced upon some conversations in my neighborhood, where men in their early 20s babbled about spiking a lei of garlic on their window frames as a surefire measure to make them impervious to the Manananggal’s assaults while they slept (just like vampires, the Manananggal is averse to the scent of garlic). Others bragged about their augmented arsenal of salt, ready to do damage in case the Mananggal’s abandoned half showed up somewhere (as per folklore, vast amounts of sodium spread on the creature’s abandoned trunk would inhibit it from grafting its torso back leading to its demise).

These guys were not being facetious. Most believed that the creature was not just some figment of a twisted reporter or old wives’ imagination. Some based the veracity of its existence on hearsay that the creature walked amongst us in broad daylight. They transacted business; they rode public utility vehicles; they could even act as a Good Samaritan, lending a hand to someone who might need it in the street. No one would suspect that this wolf in sheep’s skin sitting or standing next to him could be coming after him or his pregnant wife that same evening. If you were sharp enough, this was how you could spot an Aswang amongst the crowd. No ridge or groove ran across its upper lip, making that portion beneath its nose as smooth as a grazed plain.

My mom was among those who scoffed at that news. My impressionable mind though would not agree and she had her own stories to blame for why I ignored my throbbing bladder in the middle of the night just to avoid gazing at the bedroom window where the creature could just pop up.

As a young girl growing up in the province, she too, heard rumors about the Manananggal preying on their community. Those stories naturally stuck with her on those nights she was asked to run errands like fetch water in remote places. (Why her mother chose her to be the designated runner and not her three other siblings could be attributed to middle-child syndrome which deserves another story on its own. My grandma reckoned that if the creature was coming after her children, it was her third child that should be on top of the pecking order).

On those errands, my mom might have picked up some disturbing noises along the way. However, the spooky sounds failed to put a face or figure to it that would have easily brought the fear of the creature in her.  Sure, she might have felt goosey at some point but she resolved not to be subdued by fear. Instead, she looked for something lethal to defend herself. She then dared whatever was lurking in the dark to show up, ready to sling it with the hard object in her hand while pelting it with colorful language that should never come out of a kid’s mouth. The creature never showed its face. Apparently, it was averse not just to garlic and sodium but to feisty little girls with salty language. After that, she was possibly more predisposed to believe Santa slipping through the cracks of their thatched roof than the Manananggal landing on it.

She had another story though about her older brother with a not-so similar experience. While on his walk home, he sensed somebody tailing him and saw a woman in a flowing white gown with eyes as dead as the night. He scampered off, paused, bent forward, and peered between his legs, perhaps based on what he heard was a preventive measure to keep the hell hound of his tail.  What he saw next was just that; the woman had turned into a black dog snarling at him. He scurried off without looking back. The dog/woman obviously didn’t give chase as he managed to reach home unscathed. As to why, go figure.

With those memories in mind, my own little Toy Truck process got me going.  As I was plowing on, it became clear that I wanted to avoid the trap of another Spook-and-Shock-Them tale. There’s just way too much of that already in those clunky and campy Tagalog flicks. What I was gunning for, much like Coppola did for the mob genre, was fashion my Manananggal story into a family saga like The Godfather (or at least come within proximity of that).

What came of it was Jebediah Magtanggal and his tale “The Honorable Magtanggals”, the second installment of the trilogy “Heroic Fauxibilities”. Following the thematic thread that binds all three books, Jebediah is an ordinary guy thrust into extraordinary circumstances. An orphan left under a tree and adopted by a poor childless couple, Jebediah doesn’t discover his otherworldly feral nature until the age of five. When he makes his first kill, he is beset with guilt. After that, he resolves to live by the moral code to only hunt those that deserve to be chewed out of this world.

If there’s a Yin there has to be Yang, right? The Yang in this case is his own family with whom he enjoins to live by his code. However, in due time, his family wages a mutiny led by his wife. Under her influence, their children stray from their raison d’ etre by using their condemned abilities not just for nourishment but to feed a much baser instinct, that is, to use that power to subvert both the powerful and the powerless. 

Of all my babies so far, this book proved the most difficult to get in shape, despite how easily it commenced. Even when the book was ready to go to print, I was doing last minute revisions and rewrites. I wanted to insert as many why’s and wherefores while still leaving lots of room for the imagination to speculate about certain things. The time it took me to do that almost proved costly. The final version of the book almost never made it to print, partly due to my failure to advise the publisher that I was still tinkering with the manuscript. But all’s well that ends well and what eventually emerged is the story of Jebediah that I found gratifying to tell.

Did I achieve my intentions? I would like you be the judge of that. Here’s hoping you can check out my book available on Amazon (https://www.amazon.com/Fauxibilities-Heroic-Honorable-Magtanggals/dp/1952894433/ref=sr_1_2?crid=2MUW4P631VSMN&dchild=1&keywords=the+honorable+magtanggals&qid=1607562252&sprefix=the+honorable+magtang%2Caps%2C390&sr=8-2)  and Barnes and Noble (https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-fauxibilities-series-natzee-ab/1137630280?ean=9781952894435). Let me know what you think.

[mirageofillusions]

Day 6 - 3/4/18

I am finally at my parents’ house for Spring Break, which means I’ve been able to do some serious thinking. A Google search on the topic finally, FINALLY found me some authentic, Scripture-based looks into the subject of transgender people and faith (can you tell I’m Lutheran yet?).

What follows the cut is my own interpretation of these verses. PLEASE feel free to debate these interpretations with me if you so desire. Christians are not meant to walk alone.

First, the problem that began this entire debate in the first place: transgender people are not mentioned in the bible. Whatsoever. The gays and the lesbians get to revel in the first part of Romans that condemns their sinful, sinful sex (hell, that’s the only part of Romans many Christians actually care to remember). The only mention that would be even close to our understanding of transgender people relates to eunuchs.

I attempted to look up a definition for those who have not heard the term. According to gotquestions.org, “ The eunuchs of the Bible were usually castrated males or those incapable of reproduction due to a birth defect. A eunuch could also be someone who performed work typical of eunuchs, although he remained perfectly capable of having sex—i.e., “eunuch” in some cases was simply a title. The purpose of intentional castration was to induce impotence and remove sexuality. It was a common practice in ancient times for rulers to castrate some of their servants and/or advisers in order to subdue and pacify them. It was especially common to castrate men who tended the royal harem.” The latter context can be seen in Esther 4:4 - “When Esther’s eunuchs and female attendants came and told her about Mordecai, she was in great distress. She sent clothes for him to put on instead of his sack-cloth, but he would not accept them.”

This kind of castration was often done as a young age, meaning biological gender would probably be severely stunted, if not outright prevented (don’t quote me on that, biologists in the room).

This understanding is important for the verses I am going to highlight, because highlighting these people’s appearances in the Bible is the closest anyone is going to get in regards to transgender people in the Bible. The vocabulary simply wasn’t there yet. As Christians are based primarily on the Good News of the New Testament with a history from the Old, I chose to place the majority of today’s focus on the New, since that is more immediately relevant to most Christians.

For starters, let’s go to Matthew 19.The chapter starts with the religious authorities, as they loved to do, trying to trip up Jesus. In verse 3, they ask, “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife for any and every reason?”

For his part, Jesus’s response to the question is relatively clear, despite many conveniently sweeping this rejection of divorce under the table (if you want to debate the destruction of family values, start there). however, he attaches a few points to this condemnation of divorce I never noticed until this very afternoon.

After he says those things about marriage, people start complaining, as they tend to do. Verse 10: “The disciples said to him, ‘If this is the situation between a husband and wife, it is better not to marry.”

What follows blew me away. Verses 11 and 12:

“Jesus replied, ‘Not everyone can accept this word, but only those to whom it has been given. For there are eunuchs who were born that way, and there are eunuchs who have been made eunuchs by others -- and there are those who choose to live like eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. The one who can accept this should accept it.”

Jesus seems to make an important distinction here between those who were born that way and those who CHOSE TO BE THIS WAY. Now, I know common language frowns upon “choosing to be transgender,” but the distinction is important enough I am going to ignore that for the sake of this argument (forgive me, Tumblr anons). While this passage seems to refer to marriage specifically, it DOES seem to validate transgender people as whole persons worthy of God’s love. Whether they can marry within the church or not is irrelevant; they are still within God’s plan, no matter how they became eunuchs. If you take the birth defect route, then God’s Word already tells us we are made in HIS image. Therefore, God created these people knowing they would be eunuchs and said “It is good.” Accordign to Matthew’s account, Jesus seems to look at the other two, willing versions of eunuchs and also said “It is good.” This is a rather liberal approach to this verse, but whether they can marry or not is unimportant. Jesus himself says these people exist and others should simply accept it.

The second reading is the one that shattered everything: Acts 8:26-40.

In it, Phillip is visiting Jerusalem in preparation for the yearly Passover celebrations. An angel tells Phillip to to the edge of the city. There he meets “an Ethiopian eunuch, an important official in charge of all the treasury of the Kandake.”

Right off the bat, I should highlight the obvious. After describing the person’s nationality, Luke, the author, goes right into the person being a eunuch. According to the author, this is the second-most important thing we should know about this person.

The person is basically trying to read the Old Testament at the edge of the city. They want to participate in Passover, but since they are not allowed into the city, they decided to get as close as possible and hope for the best.

Verses 30-31: “Then Phillip ran up to the chariot and heard the man reading Isaiah the prophet. “Do you understand what you are reading?” Phillip asked. “How can I?” he said, “unless someone explains it to me?” So he invited Phillip to come up and sit with him.”

Verses 36-38: “As they traveled along the road, they came to some water, and and the eunuch said,”Look, here is water. What can stand in the way of my being baptized?” Phillip said, “If you believe with all your heart, you may.” The eunuch answered, “I believe Jesus Christ is the Son of God.” And he gave orders to stop the chariot. Then both Phillip and the eunuch went into the water, and Phillip baptized him.”

It’s something I knew in my head but not my heart: nothing separates me from my faith. Nothing. No force on Earth can block me from my God, if I only believe it to be true. For a eunuch to be accepted in the same way, like any other believer, is pretty telling to me. After all, this is the same Gospel writer who had the proclamation of Jesus’s birth go to random shepherds in the nearby hills. Anyone and everyone can receive God.

This is not the end, of course. To accept I am trans will also mean to accept I am a lesbian, which will carry its own host of difficulties.

But at the end of the day, I can say this with confidence: If I am a man, I am loved by the God who died for me. If I am a trans woman, I am loved by the God who died for me. I have some more thinking and accepting to do, but this I know to be true.

You know what?

I’ll take it.

[buns-and-books-blog]

Dr. Derek “McDreamy” Shepherd is Not Actually that Dreamy

At one point or another, we all fell for McDreamy. Let’s just all admit it now. 

No one can blame us; Derek was the almost-perfect guy fans wanted (minus the bit with hiding the fact about Addison during season one) for themselves and for Meredith. And I can’t be the only one who was sighing out of happiness when the on-screen couple got together and then married. Yayyy

Now here are the top three reasons why I recently started to not like him as much. 

From the start and in the middle of the series, Derek knew that Meredith wasn’t the typical woman; she came from a broken family and was, as we say, “dark and twisty.” And that’s fine. No one can expect all women to be happy and sunshines and rainbows. At one point, we all had our own “dark and twisty” moment; it’s called a balance in life. 

So I will start off by saying props to Derek for catering to marrying Meredith on a Post-It note rather than the traditional church wedding that Izzy had planned that Meredith didn’t really want. 

I’ll put this disclaimer right here before we go any further: All relationships have their ups and downs, the good and bad, the laughs and fights. I’m not oblivious to this reality.

1. Derek Led Meredith On

Oh yeah, we’re going all the way back to the end of season one and throughout season two. 

Everything was going so well with Meredith and Derek, the dynamic was building up between them, he was being such a sweetheart to her. But since this is a TV drama, a wrench had to be thrown when things were going well, right?

I was a single, never-been-in-a-relationship twenty year-old when I binge-watched the series for the first time. So when Addison showed up, I was downright pissed and frustrated. How dare you mess with my canon couple!? 

But now that I’ve been in a relationship for five years and currently engaged, I’ve become more angry at Derek than anyone in the show. Two wrongs don’t make a right; two people cheating on each other doesn’t solve the fucking problem. 

If Meredith was just a one-night stand, fine. There would be no need to disclose that he was married to a smart and beautiful OBGYN who had slept with his best friend. 

But that wasn’t the case. 

It was turning serious between Meredith and Derek. And then Meredith gets slapped in the face when she finds out that she’s been sleeping with, working with, and getting serious with a guy who was already married. 

IT DOESN’T MATTER that he was currently estranged from Addison, who--during season one--I will assume was in Boston. The fact is that he was still married to her, papers and all. And just because she cheated on him did not make him striking up a side relationship with Meredith okay. It’s a childish reaction.  

Meredith gets a second slap in the face when Derek changes his mind to leave Addison for her and chooses to stay in the marriage with Addison, even after telling Derek in so many words that she loves him. She really thought they were getting somewhere serious to the point where she pretty much begs him, “Pick me. Choose me. Love me.”

Meredith, I am so sorry that this piece of crap had made you grovel like this. 

And remember that very last moment we see Finn in “Grey’s Anatomy” after Meredith picks the now-divorced Derek (A LITTLE LATE, BRO) over him, he tells Meredith, “He’s gonna hurt you again.” 

And he was right.

2. Derek Abandoned Meredith with Zola

Remember when Derek was talking about having kids with Meredith and Meredith eventually agrees that she also wants kids? She got the fertility shots, the pills, the legs-in-the-air, everything that she could possibly do to increase her chances of getting pregnant despite her “hostile uterus.” Despite this, she wasn’t able to get pregnant right on the get-go, and Derek was the supportive partner through all this. 

Now, let’s skip to when they meet adorable baby Zola and agree that they feel strongly about adopting her. And they planned everything for bringing her home. 

It would have been a no brainer for an adoption agency to choose Meredith and Derek as good parents; they were both doctors, obviously educated, loved Zola to bits, and could provide Zola with everything she could ever need. 

Then let’s skip to Meredith messing with Derek’s Alzheimer’s Trial and blacklisting him from the FDA. 

Long story short, she fucked up. Enough said. 

Oh he had every right to be angry with her; she let her emotions and personal life mix and interfere with her professional life. It didn’t matter when Meredith said that what she did wouldn’t affect the outcome of the trial; she screwed with the results which made the trial invalid right away. 

But that didn’t give him the right to leave her with Zola when the agency gave the couple temporary custody of her, the daughter whom they were hell-bent on raising together. Mind you, he gave her the idea to adopt her because he wanted it. And now he disappears when they finally get the OK to take her home. Ignores his wife’s calls and messages. 

He didn’t even want to communicate with her the day after Zola spent the night with just Meredith. He just brushed past her with Zola, like a divorced couple switching off parenting duties. 

Oh, and the kicker is when Meredith and Derek give different stories to the agent in charge of Zola of how they were doing overall. Derek asked why Meredith would give a different and untrue statement to the agent. Gee, I don’t know; maybe because you didn’t want to discuss what you were going to freaking say to the agent because you had been avoiding your wife completely when she was trying to talk to you.

And let’s also not forget that Derek wanted Meredith, his own wife, fired from the hospital. No, Derek, the world is not all black and white. She ruined your trial, okay, she apologized and was honest about why she did it. She tried to save your friend’s wife and keep you blame-free. YOU wanted to ruin her entire CAREER. (And this is why I advise people to not work in the same vicinity as their partners)

So when it came to light that Derek was angry that Meredith didn’t know how to accept a punishment, she said that the consequence of what she did would be for her to give up pursuing neurosurgery as her specialty. And that was enough for him. 

Moreso than trying to raise an infant together despite their differences whom they lose temporary custody of because of their lack of communication. *cough* I wonder why *cough*

3. Derek Thinks His Career is More Important Than Meredith’s

This happened twice. Twice.

Every time Derek gets an offer to work at a prestigious facility, he basically demands Meredith that they move.

The first instance is when Meredith has an offer from the Brigham in Boston and Derek gets an offer to work at Harvard University. His eyes light up when he says he could be working with some of the world’s most brilliant minds and teaching them. 

But Meredith’s career is just starting by becoming a first-year fellow. Derek’s career had been going on for years. If she wants to stay and accept the fellowship for Seattle Grace, then it’s her decision. Not yours, Derek. Remember, before they take off in the plane that ultimately crashes, Derek firmly tells her, “We are leaving,” when she wanted to stay. This is her moment to grow into the brilliant surgeon we all know she would become. Sometimes working for a prestigious facility isn’t everything. Cristina left to work at Mayo, and she even ended up coming back to Seattle Grace. 

The second instance is when Derek gets that offer to lead the research at the NIH in Washington, D.C. 

Meredith had already been working on her portal veins project up to this point because Derek had pretty much promised her that he would take a step back so she can focus on her research and shine. 

But now that POTUS wants Derek to move to Washington, D.C. so he can lead the research team, he expects Meredith to simply pack up and move across the country with him where she’ll have a job as a general surgeon in the area. It’s just as Meredith said when they were arguing about moving: her mother’s career was taking off was important for her, so whenever she moved for her job, she had to find something for Thatcher to do. It is a stark parallel to what Derek’s doing.

He even admits and shouts at her that his job to lead the research at the NIH is more important than her job to practice general surgery and continue with her own research. 

Boy, please.

And I’d like to give credit to Cristina who wisened Meredith up when she told her that Derek is not the sun, that Meredith is. That Meredith’s career and opinions in matters are just as important as Derek’s. 

Also, in relation to reason #2 above, when Derek leaves Meredith and moves to D.C., not once has the kids gone to visit their dad to take care of nor spend time with them. Derek even said to Amelia when he finally comes back that he basically didn’t want to watch his kids grow up on a computer screen. 

You had all that time apart, and not once did it occur to you to take the kids for the weekend? 

With Derek gone, though, Meredith became this confident, strong, independent women who is both an excellent and brilliant general surgeon and a loving and caring mother. For once she followed her own decision without his influence, and look at how far she has come. 

Aside from bashing on Derek...

He had to grow up quickly at a young age when his father was killed in front of him; the fact that his father was killed by robbers have also contributed to his whole “seeing the world in black and white” and has made him less able to see things in gray the way Meredith does. He took on the role of the man of the house for his four sisters and mother. That could have potentially led to him being very authoritative in a “my way or the high way” kind of mentality that had always stuck with him, especially moreso since he was Chief of Neurosurgery; his opinions held a lot of weight and power, contributing to that authoritative personality that he already has. But that is not the mentality you bring into a relationship, and I, personally, do not condone it. 

I’ll be honest; I was really sad when Derek died when I first watched the episode. But after rewatching the series multiple times and actually seeing Derek’s character, I’m not that bummed out as I once was. 

[newstfionline]

What If America Hadn’t Done the Dumbest Things Imaginable After 9/11?

By Danny Sjursen, TomDispatch, November 29, 2017

“Of all manifestations of power, restraint impresses men most.”--Thucydides

You’ve heard the platitude that hindsight is 20/20. It’s true enough and, though I’ve been a regular skeptic about what policymakers used to call the Global War on Terror, it’s always easier to poke holes in the past than to say what you would have done. My conservative father was the first to ask me what exactly I would have suggested on September 12, 2001, and he’s pressed me to write this article for years. The supposed rub is this: under the pressure of that attack and the burden of presidential responsibility, even “liberals”--like me, I guess--would have made much the same decisions as George W. Bush and company.

Many readers may cringe at the thought, but former National Security Adviser and Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice has to be taken seriously when she suggests that anyone in the White House on 9/11 would inevitably have seen the world through the lens of the Bush administration. I’ve long argued that just about every Bush-era policy that followed 9/11 was an unqualified disaster. Nevertheless, it remains important to ponder the weight piled upon a president in the wake of unprecedented terror attacks. What would you have done? What follows is my best crack at that thorny question, 16 years after the fact, and with the accumulated experiences of combat tours in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Taking It Personally. 9/11 was an intimate affront to me. It hit home hard. I watched those towers in my hometown burn on televisions I could glimpse from my plebe (freshman) boxing class at West Point. My father worked across Church Street from Manhattan’s World Trade Center. Only hours later did I learn that he’d safely escaped on the last ferryboat to Staten Island. Two uncles--both New York City firemen--hopelessly dug for comrades in the rubble for weeks. Stephen, the elder of the two, identified the body of his best friend, Captain Marty Egan, just days after the attacks.

In blue-collar Staten Island neighborhoods like mine, everyone seemed to work for the city: cops, firemen, corrections officers, garbage men, transit workers. I knew several of each. My mother spent months attending wakes and funerals. Suddenly, tons of streets on the Island were being renamed for dead police and firefighters, some of whom I knew personally. Me, I continued to plod along through the typically trying life of a new cadet at West Point.

It’s embarrassing now to look back at my own immaturity. I listened in as senior cadets broke the news of war to girlfriends and fiancées, enviously hanging on every word. If only I, too, could live out the war drama I’d always longed for. Less than two years later, I found myself drunk with another uncle--and firefighter--in a New York pub on St. Patrick’s Day. This was back when an Army T-shirt or a fireman’s uniform meant a night of free drinks in that post-9/11 city. I watched the television screen covetously as President Bush delivered a final, 48-hour ultimatum to Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein. I inhaled, wished for a long war, and gazed at the young, attractive lead singer of the band performing in that pub. She was wearing a patron’s tied-up New York Fire Department uniform blouse with a matching cap cocked to the side. It was meant to be sexy and oh-so-paramilitary. It might seem unbelievable now, but that was still my--and largely our--world on March 17, 2003.

By the time I got my “chance” to join America’s war on terror, in October 2006, Baghdad was collapsing into chaos as civil war raged and U.S. deaths were topping 100 per month. This second lieutenant still hoped for glory, even as the war’s purpose was already slipping ever further away. I never found it (glory, that is). Not in Iraq or, years later, in Afghanistan. Sixteen years and two months on from 9/11, I’m a changed man, inhabiting a forever altered reality. Two wars, two marriages, and so many experiences later, the tragedy and the mistakes seem so obvious. Perhaps we should have known all along. But most didn’t.

How to Lose A War (Hint: Fight It!) From the beginning, the rhetoric, at least, was over the top. Three days after those towers tumbled, President George W. Bush framed the incredible scope of what he’d instantly taken to calling a “war.” As he told the crowd at a Washington national prayer service, “Our responsibility to history is already clear: to answer these attacks and rid the world of evil.” From the first, it seemed evident to the president: America’s target wasn’t anything as modest as the al-Qaeda terrorist network, but rather evil itself. Looking back, this was undoubtedly the original sin. Call something--in this case, the response to the acts of a small jihadist group--a “war” and sooner or later everyone begins acting like warriors.

Within 24 hours of the attacks, the potential target list was already expanding beyond Osama bin Laden and his modest set of followers. On September 12th, President Bush commanded his national counterterror coordinator, Richard Clarke, to “see if Saddam did this... look into Iraq, Saddam.” That night, Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld told the president and the entire cabinet, “You know, we’ve got to do Iraq... There just aren’t enough targets in Afghanistan... We need to bomb something else to prove that we’re, you know, big and strong...”

Nonetheless, Afghanistan--and its Taliban rulers--became the first military target. Bombs were dropped and commandos infiltrated. CIA spooks distributed briefcases of cash to allied warlords and eventually city after city fell. Sure, Osama bin Laden escaped and many of the Taliban’s foot soldiers simply faded away, but it was still one hell of a lightning campaign. Expected to be brief, it was given the bold name Operation Enduring Freedom and, to listen to the rhetoric of the day, it revolutionized warfare. Only it didn’t, of course. Instead, the focus was soon lost, other priorities (Iraq!) sucked the resources away, venal warlords reigned, an insurgency developed, and... and 16 years later, American troop levels are once again increasing there.

Over the days, the months, and then the years that followed, the boundaries of the Global War on Terror both hardened and expanded. In his January 2002 State of the Union address, President Bush ominously included Iraq, along with Iran and North Korea (though he left out “liberated” Afghanistan), in what he called “an axis of evil.” Who cared, by then, that none of those countries had had anything to do with the 9/11 attacks? In a flash the president conflated all three in the public mind, ultimately constructing a self-fulfilling prophecy. Saddam would be toppled and Iraq occupied 15 months later and, had it not been for the ensuing chaos, Iran and North Korea might have been next. Unsurprisingly, both countries intensified their bellicosity and grew all the more interested in nuclear weapons programs.

So much followed the 9/11 attacks that it’s no small thing to sum up: the Patriot Act, warrantless domestic wiretapping, Guantánamo, Abu Ghraib, a Taliban resurgence, an Iraqi civil war, drones as global assassins, the Arab Spring, the overthrow of Libyan autocrat Muammar Gaddafi and the collapse of his country, the Syrian bloodbath, the worst refugee crisis since World War II, and that’s just to begin a list.

In short, U.S. policies have left the Middle East in chaos: perhaps a million dead, Iran empowered, and radical Islamists resurgent. Meanwhile, this country has become a garrison state, forever at war, its military budget doubled, its populace seemingly indifferent, and its warrior caste shattered--physically and mentally. Sixteen years have passed and Washington is no closer to its goal (whatever that was). Retired general David Petraeus, our nation’s prodigal “hero,” has now ominously labeled the Afghan War (and by implication the rest of the war on terror) a “generational struggle.”

Few, to be honest, even remember the purpose of it all. Keep in mind that Army recruits today were perhaps two years old on 9/11.

Lost Opportunities. It didn’t have to be this way. Nothing about it was predetermined. Much of the necessary information--certainly the warning signs of what was going to happen that September 11th--were already there. If, that is, one cared to look. History is contingent, human beings have agency, and events result from innumerable individual decisions. The CIA, the FBI, and even the Bush administration knew (or should have known, anyway) that an attack of some sort was coming.

As the 9/11 commission report painfully detailed, none of those agencies collaborated in a meaningful way when it came to preventing that day’s attacks. Still, there were warnings ignored and voices in the dark. When Richard Clarke, counterterror czar and a Clinton administration holdover, requested through official channels to deliver an emergency briefing for Bush’s key foreign policy officials, it took four months just to arrange an audience with their deputies. Four more months elapsed before President Bush received a briefing titled, “Bin Laden determined to strike the U.S.” Unimpressed, Bush quickly responded to the briefer: “All right... you’ve covered your ass now.”

Barely more than a month later, the World Trade Center and the Pentagon were burning.

Whatever else it did, 9/11 presented the United States with an opportunity, a Robert Frost-like fork in a divergent path. And we Americans promptly took the road most traveled: militarism, war, vengeance--the easy wrong path. A broad war, waged against a noun, “terror,” a “global” conflict that, from its first moments, looked suspiciously binary: Western versus Islamic (despite Bush’s pleas to the contrary). In the process, al-Qaeda’s (and then ISIS’s) narratives were bolstered.

There was--there always is--another path. Imagine if President Bush and his foreign policy team had paused, taken a breath, and demonstrated some humility and restraint before plunging the country into what would indeed become a war or set of wars. There were certainly questions begging to be asked and answered that never received a proper hearing. Why did al-Qaeda attack us? Was there any merit in their grievances? How did bin Laden want us to respond and how could we have avoided just such a path? Finally, which were the best tools and tactics to respond with? Let’s consider these questions and imagine an alternative response.

Why They (Really) Hated Us. Americans and their government were inclined to accept the most simplistic explanation for the terror attacks of 9/11. As George W. Bush would assure us all, Osama bin Laden and al-Qaeda just “hate us for our freedoms.” The end.

Something about the guilelessness of that explanation, which was the commonplace one of that moment, never quite seemed right. Human motivations and actions are almost always more complex, more multifaceted, less simpleminded than that. While Bush boiled it all down to “Islamic” fundamentalism, even a cursory look at bin Laden’s written declaration of “war”--or as he called it, jihad--demonstrates that his actual focus was far more secular and less explicitly religious than was suggested at the time. Couched between Koranic verses, bin Laden listed three all-too-worldly grievances with America:

* The U.S. military had occupied bases in the vicinity of Saudi Arabia’s holy sites of Mecca and Medina. (Well... that had indeed been the case, at least since 1990, if not earlier.)

* U.S.-imposed sanctions on Iraq had caused the deaths of hundreds of thousands of Iraqi children. (This was, in fact, a reality that even Secretary of State Madeleine Albright awkwardly acknowledged.)

* America’s leaders had long favored Israeli interests to the detriment of Palestinian wellbeing or national aspirations. (A bit simplistic, but true enough. One could, in fact, stock several bookshelves with respected works substantiating bin Laden’s claim on this point.)

None of this faintly justified the mass murder of civilians in New York and Washington. Nonetheless, at that moment, an honest analysis of an adversary’s motives would have been prudent. It might have warned us of the political landscape that bin Laden was beckoning us--in his own bloody, apocalyptic fashion--to enter. In addition, as journalist Stephen Glain astutely observed, “By obscuring the real motives behind the attacks, Bush relieved the U.S. government of any responsibility for them.” This was a fatal error. While the overwhelming majority of Arabs and Muslims worldwide did not approve of bin Laden’s methods or his theology, much of his critique of Washington’s Middle Eastern policies was widely shared in the region.

Avoiding the Al-Qaeda Script. Al-Qaeda’s leadership knew this perfectly well and they dangled it (and their suicidal acts) as a kind of bait, yearning for the sort of conventional U.S. military response that they knew would further inflame the Greater Middle East. Even in 1996, when journalist Abdul Bari Atwan interviewed bin Laden, the Saudi militant had expressed the desire to “bring the Americans into a fight on Muslim soil.” Only then, bin Laden surmised, could al-Qaeda buttress its argument, win converts from the apathetic Muslim masses, and--hopefully--bankrupt the United States in the bargain.

Suppose, for a moment, that President Bush had taken the high road, a path of restraint focused on twin tracks. First, he might have addressed broadly-shared Arab grievances, pledging a more balanced approach to the question of Israel and Palestine in his still-fresh administration, tailoring Iraq’s sanctions to target Saddam and his cronies rather than innocent citizens, and vowing to review the necessity of military bases so close to Mecca and Medina (or even the necessity of so many of the American bases that littered the region). He could have followed that with lethal, precise, targeted action by America’s intelligence, law enforcement, and Special Operations forces to hunt down and kill or capture the men actually responsible for 9/11, al-Qaeda’s leadership.

This manhunt needed to be ferocious yet measured in order to avoid the very quagmires that, 16 years later, we all know so well. Allies and adversaries would have had to be consulted and cautioned. Remember that, although al-Qaeda was disciplined and effective, on September 12, 2001, it remained diminutive in size and utterly marginal in its regional support. Dismantling its networks and bringing the true criminals of that day to justice never required remaking distant societies or occupying fragile nation-states with conventional military forces.

And keep in mind that such thinking about the situation isn’t purely retrospective. Take the Nation magazine’s Jonathan Schell. That October, after the invasion of Afghanistan had begun, appearing on the Charlie Rose show he called for “police work” and “commando raids,” but not war. He then prophetically observed:

“I think the question doesn’t revolve so much around the justification for war but about its wisdom, and I know that’s the question for me. I know that, from my point of view, terrorism is chiefly a political issue and secondarily a police issue and then, only in a very minor way, can it be addressed by military means and I think that, on the contrary, the war we’re fighting now will tend to worsen our problems. The question I ask myself is, at the end of the day, do you have more terrorists or do you have fewer and I think... today, right now, it looks like there are going to be more.”

Of course, at the time, just about no one in this country was listening to such voices.

A prudent president might also have learned from his father. Just as George H.W. Bush had meticulously constructed a broad international coalition, including all-important Arab states, to dislodge Saddam Hussein’s military from Kuwait in the Persian Gulf War, George W. Bush could have harnessed widespread international sympathy after the 9/11 attacks to blaze a judicious path. A new, broad, U.N.-backed coalition, which ought to have included several Muslim-majority nations, could have shared intelligence, rooted out jihadis (who represented a serious threat to most secular Arab regimes), and ultimately discredited al-Qaeda, dismantling its networks and bringing bin Laden himself to justice.

The Right Tools. Global sympathy--Russian President Vladimir Putin was the first world leader to call George Bush after the attacks--is as rare as it is fleeting. So that moment represented a singular and singularly squandered opportunity. The United States could have led a massive international effort, emphasizing law enforcement, not warfare, and including increased humanitarian aid, U.N.-sponsored peacekeeping operations, and a commitment to live America’s purported values by scrupulously avoiding crimes like torture and civilian casualties. Of course, it wouldn’t have been perfect--complex operations seldom are--but sober strategy demanded a rigorous effort.

One more imperative for the new campaign against al-Qaeda would have been garnering broad support and a legal sanction from Congress and the American people. Two weeks after 9/11, President Bush vapidly suggested instead that this country’s citizens should respond by getting in airplanes again and “enjoy[ing] America’s great destination spots. Get down to Disney World in Florida.” Instead, he might have steeled the population for a tough fight and inspired a new era of public service. Think: John F. Kennedy. Think: “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country.” Bush might have requested from Congress a narrow, targeted authorization for the use of military force rather than the rushed, expansive, open-ended sanction he actually demanded and received and that is still being used two administrations later to justify any acts against any group or country across the Greater Middle East and Africa.

He could have followed this with the presentation of a new National Service Act, rallying the young and incentivizing military or Peace Corps enlistment, infrastructure improvement, inner-city teaching, and various other kinds of public service. Imagine a new “Greatest Generation,” pulling together in a time of crisis. This, in retrospect, was a real opportunity. What a pity that it never came to pass.

It’s hard to know, of course, how such an alternate path might have played out, but honestly it would have been difficult to do worse. The U.S. remains stuck, spinning its wheels in regional conflicts and feeling no safer. The number of worldwide terrorist incidents has exploded since 2001. New Islamist groups were formed in response to U.S. actions and counteractions and they continue to spread without an end in sight.

I don’t know if there will be a next time, a chance to do it right. But should new threats emerge, more devastating attacks be endured, there simply has to be a better way, though the odds that President Donald Trump and his generals will find it are, honestly, next to nil.

Complex ideological threats sometimes demand counterintuitive responses. In such moments, hard as it may be to imagine, rational calculations should rise above the kneejerk emotional responses. True leaders step up and weather criticism in times of crisis. So next time, Americans would do well to set aside comforting illusions and take the world as it is, not as we imagine or wish it to be. The future may depend on it.

Major Danny Sjursen is a U.S. Army strategist and former history instructor at West Point. He served tours with reconnaissance units in Iraq and Afghanistan. He has written a memoir and critical analysis of the Iraq War, Ghost Riders of Baghdad: Soldiers, Civilians, and the Myth of the Surge.

[360degreesasthecrowflies]

FarscapeWatch 03: 1.03 ‘Exodus From Genesis’

Well, here we are folks. I watched the first few episodes a bit out of order after noticing a little late that the order I was watching in wasn't the intended broadcast order, and trying to correct that midway through with limited success. This was actually the second full episode I watched, so my reaction to it was a little coloured by it seeming to come as a direct follow-up to the premiere, yet acting as if they'd been in space bonding for weeks already. It was a little confusing! Having now seen 1.02 I, E.T. in full, I think I can better appreciate this one. Ish. Let's jump in.

~~

We open on Rygel...painting. Quite badly. And eating. Jump to D'Argo and John...D'Argo encouraging John to eat a bug to clean his teeth. Lovely.

Aeryn is in command of the ship. A cloud of debris is blocking their path. Everyone is still very colour-coded and very four humours. Aeryn's black and John's tan/off-white and Zhaan's blue to D'Argo's red are for sure deliberate.

Okay so they're goind to hide behind the debris to avoid a scan from another ship. Clever. Aeryn's idea. Pilot is grateful. Now there's a friendship I didn't expect, but hey, I guess she's used to practicality and tools and Pilot is effectively just an interface with a face.

The 'debris' turns out to be space bugs. Damn. Hope this isn't a gross episode. This has to earn its adults-only rating somewhere.

Post-credits, open on Aeryn and John. We learn a bit of Aeryn's history while she explains a little about Peacekeeper tactics. John makes a pretty weak joke but... despite myself, I do find him kinda charming. There's a twinkle there. I'm starting to think John could end up as adorkable due to being a fish out of water here, despite his position as a skilled scientist and Dude on Earth. I hope they go that way anyway, it would be interesting.

Oh. I love this. John starts to give a typical 90s afterschool special speech about them having to stick together and Aeryn interrupts sarcastically, amused at the very concept of them becoming friends, or worse, FAMILY. I miss me a character like that on tv, I'm almost getting Cordelia vibes, although the characters in other ways couldn't be more different.

Cut to Zhaan for the first time. She's with Rygel, helping clean up things that spilled when they first hit the debris field. She's such an interesting character, especially as the blue, and all of what blue normally signifies. Calmness is one, but coldness is another, and that's something we only see flashes of. So often, Zhaan is apart from the group, even while being a little like the group's mother or spiritual leader. She makes a good show of that being because of her status, or because, perhaps, of her age, but at times there are flashes that she simply thinks herself better than the others. And here's another; she mocks Rygel's painting with a smile on her face, projecting gentleness to hide the thorn, then proceeds to paint over it using her creepy super speed. It's a slightly random scene, used to give a bit more depth into Rygel mainly, and makes me wonder if what the writers are doing with Zhaan is deliberate or not. She's definitely the most interesting character for me thus far.

[So all through these scenes there are intermittent cuts to something watching the crew from the shadows; presumably it's the bugs, unless they've Alien-style mutated into some new second-level form]

Cut back to Aeryn and John. She's warm, and D'Argo reports that the ship's temperature is abnormally high. Aeryn is shot in the leg by something...one of the bugs, but it must be a light wound as she doesn't really react, nor does John notice as she was behind a table at the time. It shoots her again in the hand and this time she notices, but dismisses it as a splinter of metal. What will it be, poison? Aeryn out of action this episode?

They split off to search the ship to see why it's overheating as they don't know from diagnostics. Zhaan with John. He complains a bit to her about the others not respecting him; she is not quick to correct his view of her as separate from them! Very sly. She advises him he must win their respect. Unfortunately, although I'm a little charmed by this scene, it does also play as being aimed at quite a young audience. Just a 90s thing maybe?

So despite Zhaan's idea that no-one should search alone, she and John almost immediately split up after their heart to heart. Genius.

Cut to John. There's a bug in his quarters and holy shit these are big buggers! D'Argo and Aeryn over the intercom are no help and unsympathetic, telling him he must capture it. This will no doubt be a John-proves-his-worth episode then.

These bugs are nasty. John manages to catch it in his blanket and then beats it to death while inside. Not exactly capturing! Nice work, science guy...

Next scene; Zhaan is dissecting it. Another to add to her laundry list of skills. All she needs now is to be able to fly and she's got the whole set.

Okay so there's a whole load of these things on the ship. For the second episode in a row we have a plot that relies on Rygel being small enough to investigate/go through small holes. Hmm. While I'm not averse to that necessarily from a worldbuilding standpoint, it does seem a bit of an easy out to let the character still be a pain in the ass... although, on that point, I guess this is a twist on the special-skilled cleric/mage character being only too happy to help. I wonder which came first, the character design of making a small character to test the puppetry and make the world more alien, or, once that character was established, hastily building plots around small doors and passageways to give him something to do?

So we're 20 minutes in and it seems we've established the basic plot; the ship is going to overheat because the bugs for whatever reason are affecting the ventilation, so we need them removed. Somehow. Although they're heavily outnumbered.

Ah, so Aeryn can't take the heat. (So stay out of the kitchen?) That's an interesting weakness to have but I guess it's not hard to film and will open up interesting plot restrictions later down the line. Of course, they need a weak point to take Aeryn out of commission as it's between her and Zhaan for who's the most competent character aboard this ship.

Skip back to John and D'Argo for a bit of exposition. D'Argo is still fantastically racist, he hates all of Aeryn's kind - but he's going to make an exception for her. John is a little too shocked by this I feel, but then, I guess this was made in an optimistic,, pre 9/11 world.

Aeryn and Pilot is an interesting pairing. Also bloody hell Pilot is huge. (Pairing in terms of onscreen together, pretty sure Pilot is asexual)

Cut to Rygel exploring and wow, I hope they gave James Cameron a bit of credit for this episode, he's literally come across Ripley's Alien Queen egg chamber. Let me guess, they're raising the temperature to incubate, a la Aliens.

Well fuck me a bug stabbed Zhaan. Good storywriting though, take out the most competent characters one by one. That was a nasty stab but old bluey will probably be fine, god knows what she's made of. Cut to Aeryn who is also passed out, and now we're back to John, everyone seems to've gone radio silence... and well shit, there is now another John. That's a turn I did not foresee this episode taking. (I guess we have to vary it up away from *Aliens* pretty rapidly now after those last few scenes just to avoid infringing anything or stepping on anyone's toes.) Now, will this be a bug thing or will it be due to something else, just their luck?

New John also has the same clothes.  Mirror thing? Oh they're fighting, typical. Seems incapable of speech? Quite well shot esp for the 90s, doing twin scenes is never easy as anyone who's been watching Orphan Black (RIP! :( ) can attest to.

Okay so the clone people are bugs. Somehow. Rygel is trapped by a horde of them watching them spawn. Zhaan is somewhere. D'Argo, Aeryn and John are in command...and now I feel like the Big Brother voiceover person so I'm going to stop this. The crew are a bit hopeless, the heat is still going up making it hard to think and neither D'Argo or John are particularly the brains of the operation here.

Thank god, Zhaan comes in. She still has that stabby spike in her neck/chest but she is up and walking about doing her thing, what a trooper. She goes to have one of the others help her remove it and ohshit, now she's possessed. So I guess the bugs are somehow psychic now as well as being transformers and mad scientist cloners and a big cloud of space dust. Why not eh?

Because everything was going so well already.

Interesting. Removing Zhaan is a clever way to give John a level-up as Aeryn is out of action and D'Argo is reckless; John here has to use logic to stop him from slicing Zhaan in two while she is possessed because he forgets she isnt a clone. Smart writing as a way to empower the seemingly lowest-level member of the team. Crichton is Farscape's Squirrel Girl.

(Plot wise, essentially the bugs accuse our heroes of starting fighting with them instead of vice versa. That's some Trumpian logic.)

So yeah the hive has landed in the ship to reproduce because obviously space is cold, okay. This seems like a slightly 101 plot that, again, could have been lifted right out of Alien(s).

So, with Aeryn out and Zhaan out, John takes halfway command - mental, leaving D'Argo as the enforcer. It's interesting that the show seems to be in some ways agreeing with my early assessment of the characters' competencies and usefulness order. Especially because, if John is meant to be the actual central character, that requires devolving competency and narrative centrality to two 'alien', Other self-styled side characters. I guess in some ways that's usual with traveller adrift stories, though.

This is an aside, but an interesting parallel I'm feeling with this character structural setup is to Neon Genesis Evangelion. Zhaan being, of course, Rei, Aeryn Asuka, and Crichton himself a more self-assured, but equally, more fish out of water Shinji. I guess that leaves D'Argo as Makanami and Rygel as Misato's penguin?

Back to plot. The bugs want to keep raising the heat. John points out that if they do that, Moya will die and then the heat will go completely off, killing all the spawning bugs - the hive head's children. We cut to truce, and interestingly, John has taken pure command now, D'Argo is fussing over Zhaan and Aeryn is by all accounts, out for the count, and has managed to change into what looks like an anachronistic little black dress... guess if you're going to suffocate and burn to death, might as well do it in style. Rygel is still awol.

Zhaan is back in business. The four humanoids are isolated off in a small room that, perhaps, will be not so hot? Who knows.

Okay so now the ship has been invaded by randoms. Because this plot wasn't already bloated enough. They're Peacekeepers, and are attacked by replicants. Handy.

Pilot alerts our heroes that the ship has been invaded; the alien bug leader of course takes these new invaders as proof that the crew have broken the truce and cranks up the heat again.

We cut to the Peacekeepers roaming the ship, killing every clone they come across, and I can't help thinking how much fun I'm sure the actors had getting to die and act surprised and fall over in these scenes. Something else to take away; Zhaan's maxi dress robe reveals itself here to actually be more akin to capri pants. In 1998! Add fashion forward to her laundry list of skills and attributes.

The Peacekeepers are pleasingly gender mixed.

Aeryn wants John to promise to kill her, as a friend, to save her from a painful death with her brain melting. I can't help but think D'Argo would do it.

Cut to more action scenes. Then cut to Rygel. The crew have decided to send him in - or he's decided it himself, it's fuzzy - to negotiate with the bug leader in person. He is actually quite respectful if pompous and gives it gravitas. I can't quite help though but feel this plot twist is just a little of an attempt to give every one of the main characters a key role to play and something to do, here while they're still establishing.

Honestly so far, I feel like this episode is dragging. There's a bit too much going on and most of the cast are just playing to their core characteristics, while being split up, while a whole bunch of side characters come in. That's just me though.

Okay so Rygel strikes a deal. Now the crew strike another deal with the alien leader; now the Peacekeepers are attacking the bugs, our heroes will drive them off if...the bugs will forgive them? idk, because John also lets them crank the heat up more even though that's torture to Aeryn. I'm not quite following this plot beyond the bare bones.

So another aside, Bechdel test. Zhaan offers now to stay with Aeryn while the boys go and greet the Peacekeepers. I'm unsure, three episodes in, if Zhaan and Aeryn have yet directly interacted. Now, I'm not surprised because they're two women - it's not like vaginas necessarily commune, and tbh, who even knows what any of these folk have under their suits - but I am surprised that the two most competent characters as I've seen them haven't really yet compared notes. I guess in many ways they are foils, but on the flipside, that would be in itself a reason for them to have interacted. Anyway, this comes up because Aeryn, instead of being left with Zhaan, needs to be reassured by John before he leaves.

Now, tbh, I'm torn how I feel about John's defensiveness of, and implicit connection with Aeryn, this feels a little...soon... and also just a touch away from looking after her in the hopes she'll fall into his arms. I'm a little unnerved too, that she asks of him amercy, and he refuses to even consider the thought of acquiescing to her request. It's for honorable reason; because he believes she won't die or come close to death, but still... overriding a woman's dying wish because you think you know better is not so cool.

Action scenes follow. The PKs are being themselves adversely affected by the heat. This is intercut with scenes of Aeryn going mad.

Okay so they trick the PKs with a bluff; using multiple Crichton clones, they give the PKs the impression that he regenerates and is invincible; as the clones cannot talk, he also takes a chance in staring down the PK leader, armed, while unarmed, to give a speech about his invulnerability. The actor here shows shades of having a steel underneath the bluster that's thus far characterized John Crichton. (ohgod I have just realized the initials and I am hoping this will not turn at some point biblical)

A short fight scene but Crichton ultimately uses words to triumph. It's okay but very self-congratulatory to be honest. I don't dislike John Crichton, but this really was a second focal episode in a row that felt just a little contrived.

Time skip for a coda, everything is okay. D'Argo now respects John more. Good because THAT conflict was old two episodes ago.

Bug leader briefly possesses Zhaan again to say goodbye and thanks for all the fish. JC walks her back to her rooms and they have a heart to heart, and I've realized what it is I'm disliking, the focus on John in these episodes is unnatural. We only see a scene, generally, if John's in it. Nobody else is bonding that much except here and there as a nod to establish interactions. I'm hoping that changes.

Still. This show was a contemporary of Xena, which was hardly outstanding in that field.

End up for this episode. Aeryn and JC in a new location, 'the terrace' according to Pilot. Aeryn is back in her black leathers, thank god. Oh, they are leaning IN to this ship. Aeryn takes a step towards a truce with John with a joke about lesser lifeforms, double meaning; humans and bugs. And we close with them watching the...sunset? Thank god that's over.

So, ultimately I think this might tie with episode 1 for my least favourite so far. This episode felt overstuffed and my favourite characters pushed to the sidelines. Still, there was some character work done. Let's get into the beats.

 CHARACTER BEATS

JOHN

This episode is VERY John-heavy. His baptism of fire, getting Zhaan on-side and then moving to impress D’Argo and Aeryn…I guess everyone forgets about Rygel again. John shows a lot of skills in this episode, but it gets to the point where you almost wonder why we need the others, if John’s there to be the voice of reason, the warrior, the scientist, the logic, the negotiator, the moral centre, and the big damn hero. And all those in an episode where we’re supposed to believe he’s doubting himself and his skills! Okay then…

 ZHAAN

Zhaan, even though out of action for a lot of this episode, still is at a lot of her best. With every episode I find myself wondering what exactly she CAN’T do… but somehow, she’s not a Mary Sue either. I’m still unsure what age she is, especially as I already am sensing the seeds of the writing trying to move her into something of a mother figure role. I’m not sure if she needs to be older to contrast with Aeryn; two women can be a similar type or age in the same show without the universe imploding, even in 1999. This episode sees Zhaan the medic, Zhaan the telepath, and Zhaan the peacekeeper with a small p. I’m still sensing that Zhaan could have elements of danger within her though; no-one is that self-assured without knowing they have the ability to back it up.

 D’ARGO

Third time in a row this isn’t a great episode for D’Argo, and right now I can’t see him being anyone in the audience’s favourite character. I’m suspecting more character beats will come through at some point though, frankly, because D’Argo design-wise isn’t good looking enough to be able to keep going just as eye candy and a walking anger issue, as some ‘big guy’ characters are in other shows.

 RYGEL

Well…Rygel gets things to do in this episode, but generally is humiliated. I don’t know, I really didn’t like this episode so much. Rygel pulls diplomacy out of the hat, inspired by an ancestor, I guess…but I feel it loses its weight because I’m still not quite sure how old Rygel is. Also, although it was painted as a triumph that Rygel negotiated…I’m still not sure what it was he negotiated. At least he seems not to hate the others so much, but at the same time, he still feels a little apart from the group, which is already a little fragmentary.

AERYN

Aeryn is also not that well served by this episode. We see a few excuses to get her out of her clothes and generally helpless, and the narrative implies that this might be coincidence, but it might also be penance for her previous self-assuredness. Her desire to be mercy killed as well is also laughed off and unacknowledged; yes, it privileges John the human’s ways of doing things over the brutal Peacekeepers, but it also walks over Aeryn’s choices and desires just on a whim. Nice. This episode also leans hard into what it poses as a mutual closeness between John and Aeryn that I’m just not sure is at this point earned, it does edge almost into Tarzan and Jane territory. Eek.

 PLOT POINTS AS OF 1.03

They’re still on the run. They’re bonding. There is shipping. That’s kinda where we are now.

 WHAT THIS EPISODE ADVANCED:

Honestly, not a lot. We learn a weakness for both Aeryn and Zhaan, that plots need to be heavily contrived to feature Rygel prominently, and that John Crichton has hidden depths when needed, some steel there. Forgive the shade, fans, but this one just didn’t do it for me.

 CHARACTER RANKING AS OF 1.03:

1)      Zhaan

2)      John

3)      Aeryn

4)      Pilot

5)      Rygel

6)      D’Argo

And that’s it for this episode of FarscapeWatch! Check back in my Farscape 2017 section on my blog (also linked on the homepage) for my next episode reviews, as they come! Or feel free to give me a follow to catch all of my stuff ;)

Also, if you’re enjoying these, feel free to shoot me a message or comment :3 Sorry we’ve been a late at getting them out, pesky real life getting in the way! Also, would you guys like me to put a cut in instead of running these as one huge post? Let me know!

[choupetit]

GOT Recap: The Spoils of War

Airdate: 8/6/2017 ; Season 7, episode 4 

 So, I don’t mean to be dramatic or anything, but…OMG, THIS WEEK’S GAME OF THRONES WAS FREAKIN’ AMAZING!!! This episode was a beautiful gift from the TV gods with more reunions, more Jon and Dany, more Littlefinger side eye, and dragons galore! I’ve managed to gather up my jaw from the floor to bring you the recap of “The Spoils of War”, so let’s not waste another moment! 

But Jaime, I Want A Castle NOW! 

Ah, the spoils of war, indeed! The Lannister army has packed up all the goodies and gold they’ve won after their surprise attack on House Tyrell and they’re on their way home from Highgarden. Jaime Lannister grabs a hefty bag of gold from the money wagon and hands it to Bronn, then sends the driver on his merry way to King’s Landing. Mopey Bronn has a bad case of First World problems as he bitches and moans about how he wants a proper reward, like…oh, I don’t know, a castle…maybe even the one they just stormed. Jaime is all, “Seriously, dude? Quit yer whining, you just got a load of cash. Daenerys Targaryen would probably evict you in a week. And besides, castle upkeep is pricey.  Once you’ve paid the whole Downton Abbey staff and fed the moat monster, there’s barely enough money left to fill your Olympic-sized pool with champagne every day. You’ll get your pick of castles once we’ve won the war.” Bronn musters up the strength to silence his inner Veruca Salt as Randyll Tarly and Dickon (whom Jaime keeps calling Rickon) appear, and Jaime sends the three men off to shake down the local farmers for their harvest.

 Meanwhile at the Red Keep in King’s Landing, Queen Cersei tells the Iron Bank representative that she’s able to repay the full debt she owes. The money is on its way as they speak. The rep is duly impressed and informs Cersei that the bank will be happy to make a new loan for her next venture: Restoring her rule in Westeros. Cersei shares that she’s growing her army and has reached out to the Golden Company in Essos - your basic mercenary placement agency. As soon as the gold arrives, the rep assures Cersei that she’ll have the Iron Bank’s full lending support to pay for her hired guns. 

I Know What You Did Last (Long) Summer 

At Winterfell, Petyr Baelish aka Littlefinger has a one-on-one meeting in Bran’s chambers to give him a gift: The dagger that was used in the assasination attempt against young Bran shortly after his tower-falling accident. The blade is made of Valyrian steel, btw. Littlefinger muses that it could be argued that this dagger launched the War of the Five Kings. He claims that it is his mission to protect the Stark children - anything Bran needs, Littlefinger is his guy. Gee, coming from a slimeball who arranged the worst marriage ever between Sansa and Vile Ramsay, I’d have to say that’s a hard pass. When Bran asks Littlefinger if he knows to whom the dagger belonged, Baelish says no. Littlefinger goes on to ponder that it’s so weird, doncha think, how the dagger led to all the craziness that happened to the Starks, and made Bran who he is today. He remarks that Bran must have seen unfathomable things beyond the Wall (cue laughter) and sympathizes that it must be odd to return to Winterfell among so much chaos. To which Bran flatly replies “Chaos is a ladder.” A hint of alarm flashes across Littlefinger’s face, and luckily for him, Meera Reed appears at the door and he has the perfect excuse to leave. 

Quick side note: If you, like me, were totally confused by Bran’s line, then rejoice for the interwebs! Apparently it’s a callback to a conversation Littlefinger had with Varys back in season 3, when the former said “Chaos is not a pit. Chaos is a ladder.“ 

Bran just out-creeped the resident creeper! Looks like Lord Baelish is going to have to recalibrate all those battles he is always fighting in his head to predict every scenario that could happen in real life! 

 As for Meera, she’s come to bid farewell. She tells Bran that she’d like to stay, but she needs to return to her family what with the snow zombie apocalypse coming, and Bran is about as safe as it gets now that he’s home. Bran goes, “K, cool. Gracias. Bye, Felicia.” Dumbfounded, Meera is all, “Really?! That’s all you’ve gotta say? Wtf, dude. Lots of people died or almost died helping you.” And Bran’s all, “Yeah, so…I’ve got a lot of data uploaded to my brain and it’s kinda hard to keep track of emotions and personality and stuff. But hey, girl, I vaguely remember what it’s like to have feelings and the old me is stoked that you were there for me, but the new me just can’t do this whole attachment thing right now.” Meera’s face crumbles and she says what we all have been thinking, "You died in that cave.” She fails to add “You may want to tone it down on the voyeuristic creepazoid thing, which is freaking everybody out." 

Just outside of Winterfell, Arya has arrived and is trying to convince some a-hole bouncers at the gate that this is her home. They don’t believe her and tell her to eff off, but she talks them into letting her into the courtyard while she waits for them to get Sansa. The guards squabble amongst themselves and when they turn, she’s gone. 

When the guards give Sansa the news of her little sister’s return, she knows exactly where to look for Arya. In the underground mausoleum, Arya stands at her father’s grave when Sansa arrives. It’s a sweet reunion as Arya’s first words are "Do I have to call you Lady Stark now?” And Sansa replies, stone-faced, “Yes.” She breaks into a smile, and the sisters hug warmly. Each hints to the other that they’ve been though hell since they last saw each other. Arya is eager to know if Sansa really killed King Joffrey, and when Sansa says no, Arya tells her he was at the top of her kill list. Sansa thinks she’s joking and Arya lets her. Sansa informs her baby sister that Bran is home, too, and the look on her face screams “Gurl, things are pretty cray around here." 

 The sisters meet up with their brother at the Godswood Tree, which is Bran’s version of “Central Perk”…without the friends, java, or general joie-de-vivre. Arya throws her arms around Bran, who looks like he’s absentmindedly trying to recall typical human interactions, and gives her an awkward emotionless hug. He tells her he saw her at the crossroads to King’s Landing and Winterfell, and seems a bit surprised that she is here. Wait a second, did he only briefly flip to the Arya channel and not bother to see what came next? I thought this guy was all-seeing/knowing! Harrumph! He shows both sisters the dagger he received from Littlefinger. Arya immediately notes it’s made of Valyrian steel while Sansa warns that Littlefinger never does anything for anybody without wanting something in return. Bran don’t care. He gives the dagger to Arya, saying she’ll get more use from it than a cripple. I can’t help feeling he knows that Arya is going to have a run-in with some Whitewalkers and will find that dagger mighty handy. 

Then I Saw His Cave, Now I’m A Believer 

At Dragonstone, Queen Daenerys and Missandei are walking down to the beach to meet up with Jon Snow, who has found a cave full of Dragonglass, which he’s ready to mine. Jon calls Dany over. "Yo gurl…I wanna show you something inside this dark cavern…” and everybody immediately goes “Oooooh, Ygritte be spinning in her grave!” But this is Jon we’re talking about, and he legit wants to show her a bunch of cave drawings that he believes were made by the Children of the Forest. I'mma start to call them Toddlers of the Forest because they draw on walls, make rash decisions, and leave ginormous messes for others to clean up. 

 Dany is amazed by the artwork in the cave and marvels that it could have been made before men even existed. But Jon’s all “Nuh uh, look over here.” And we see crude drawings of men and then…Whitewalkers. Jon’s all, “See, queenie? Living proof! They worked together to defeat their common enemy. Case closed! You believe me now?” I cannot properly express just how badly I wanted the camera to pan down to his hand holding a piece of chalk, or show a close-up of the tiny initials J.S. etched underneath the Whitewalker stick figures. 

Dany tells Jon she will fight for him on one condition: Bend the damn knee! But Jon is all “Yeah, but no, ‘cuz my people won’t accept a Southern ruler, so that’s not gonna fly.” To which Dany goes, “They will if their king tells them to. It would be a shame for them all to die, just because you couldn’t get over yourself.”

 They emerge from the cave to bad news from Tyrion Lannister and Varys: Casterly Rock is won, but…oopsies, Dany’s fleet was destroyed and Highgarden is toast, too. Oh, and Cersei has made sure that all food has been removed from The Reach, so Dany's army of Unsullied will starve on their way back on foot. Daenerys is furious.  She’s lost all her allies and it seems the conversation she had with Lady Olenna about ignoring advice from clever men is really speaking to her. She wants to hop a dragon and go nuclear on King’s Landing. Tyrion strongly advises against it, but Dany points out that he’s been pretty sucky in the advice department.  She even suggests that perhaps Tyrion is purposely giving bad counsel to protect his family. Burn.  She turns to her Northern visitor and asks “What Would Jon Do?” and the reply is “Well, if I was trying to win the love and loyalty of all of Westeros and set myself apart from all previous and current rulers, I sure as hell wouldn’t lay fiery waste to an entire city, killing thousands of civilians.” You can practically hear Tyrion’s inner monologue screaming “Yes!!!! Thank you, Voice of Reason!" 

 Back at Winterfell, Brienne and Podrick are sparring in the courtyard, when Arya comes along and tells Brienne she wants to train with the woman who beat The Hound in battle. We get a sweet sequence of Arya showing off her badass fighting skills while Sansa and Littlefinger look on from the mezzanine and Sansa seems to be wondering "Wtf is going ON with all my siblings?!” Arya has an exhilarated smile on her face as she fights and eventually bests Brienne. When Brienne asks who taught her to fight like that, Arya grins and says “No one”. She looks up and sees Littlefinger and her smile fades fast. Is he on her kill list, I wonder.

 Hundreds of miles away, Jon and Ser Davos are walking the walls of Dragonstone and Davos asks what Jon thinks of Dany, hinting that she is a hottie. Jon’s all “Dammit, man, I don’t have time to date right now, I’m trying to save my people and all of humanity.” They encounter Missandei on their walk and she tells them what an inspiration Dany is to all the people who follow her. They notice a Good Greyjoy ship and head to the shore where Theon arrives by boat. Jon tells Theon he would kill him if it weren’t for the fact that Theon helped Sansa escape from Ramsay Bolton. Theon tells them he needs Dany’s help to rescue his sister from Uncle Euron, but Jon replies “Dany ain’t here, yo." Hmmm, where could she be? 

Don’t Mess With The Dragon Mama

On an open field, still a distance from Kings Landing, a large group of the Lannister army is taking a rest while Jaime and Bronn look on. Commander Randyll Tarly rides up and informs Jaime Lannister that the gold has been safely transported to Cersei. He says the soldiers need to catch up with the front end of the regiment at the Blackwater rush and asks for permission to flog any stragglers as motivation to get moving. You get the sense that he considers flogging others a perk of the job.  Ugh, Randyll is such a miserable guy. 

Jaime and Bronn ask Rickon - I mean Dickon! - what he thought of his very first battle at Highgarden and he confesses it was hard to fight men he grew up with…and surprisingly stinky. Bronn smugly points out it’s the smell of men pooping their pants when they die. Lovely imagery there, dude. Suddenly Bronn realizes things have gotten too quiet. Jaime is on high alert and shouts to the soldiers to get into formation, because something’s a comin’. 

The tension is palpable. In the distance we see a horde of Dothraki closing in. Hurrah for Team Dany! Although, it’s kind of a conflicting feeling of triumph, because I hate Queen Cersei, but I’m also rather fond of Jaime and Bronn.  Maybe they’ll be aight…hopefully. I know the term "epic battle” is brought out often, especially where Game of Thrones is involved (deservedly so), but believe me when I say what follows truly is an epic, heart-racing battle scene. Words can’t do it justice, but here are some of the need-to-know highlights: 

 The Dothraki ride in like the unhinged, badass warriors they are, and as they get closer and closer to the Lannister army you just know a dragon is gonna appear soon. And appear it does! Drogon swoops over the horde, taking the lead, and we get a close-up of Dany on his back as she says “Dracarys!” and her Dragon spews out a stream of fire onto the shocked Lannister army. Total chaos ensues as burning men flail and run and we get lots of breathtakingly awesome shots of Drogon just shooting out flames like a laser beam, making a barbecue of any poor soul who happens to be in the line of fire. Meanwhile the Dothraki are handling things on the ground. 

 Amidst the madness, Jaime instructs Bronn to get to the wagon with Cersei’s secret weapon: Qyburn’s jumbo dragon-slaying crossbow. In true Bronn fashion we get the retort “Why me?” -“Cause it takes two working hands, ya jerk, DO IT!!!" 

 A Dothraki warrior singles out Bronn as he makes his way through the burning hellscape, and there’s a sad moment for all animal lovers when Bronn’s horse loses a leg.  Bronn eventually gets the upper hand when he reaches the giant crossbow and fires it at his Dothraki assailant - skewering him. I mean…they ARE at a barbecue, after all. 

 As Dany continues to soar over the disoriented mass of soldiers and Drogon sets things ablaze, Bronn takes aim at the creature. He misses the first time, but the second shot hits Drogon in the chest. It’s not an immediately fatal shot, but the dragon falls from the sky.  Somehow the beast manages to regain enough control to land with Dany still safely perched on his back. Jaime is about a football field’s distance from where Dany and Drogon have landed, and Dany is trying to remove the massive spear from Drogon’s chest. 

Tyrion and Varys look on from a great distance and Tyrion mutters "You effing idiot!” when he sees Jaime charging toward Dany on horseback. Just as Jamie is mere feet away, Daenerys turns around and Drogon turns his head to blow a giant stream of fire at Jaime. But before the inferno can engulf him, somebody rides up and knocks Jaime from his horse and both men fall into a conveniently-placed body of water. Jaime sinks deeper and deeper into the water and…the credits roll. 

 Holy Mother of Dragons! What an intense final 20 minutes that was! The music and camerawork were simply perfect and I loved the sequence of Bronn making his way to the dragon-killing weapon - it was shot beautifully and conveyed the disorienting horror of the battle. I was covering my face for the whole battle scene, cringing and shouting expletives at the screen, praying that no Dragons would die. 

 Man oh man! Still kind of recovering from the excitement. I’m hoping desperately that Drogon’s wounds aren’t fatal. Dany can’t lose her favorite dragon-child! Perhaps it’s time to invest in some dragon-sized chainmail. 

Pretty sure Jaime will survive - at least till the next episode - and my guess is that Dickon saved him, and will be getting more screen time. Even though this was a set-back for Cersei, I’m sure she’ll return with a vengeance once her hired hands from Essos come to town. 

 It’s great to have all the legit Stark kids back home and I’m loving the buddy pair-up of Arya and Brienne. Although poor Sansa is all “Damnit, I’m stuck with Littlefinger while everybody else gets to have all the fun.” What will Baelish do next? I feel like he probably wants to peace out of Winterfell, considering there is a highly trained assassin in the hizzy and a know-it-all who likely has seen every scheme and backstabbing thing Littlefinger has ever done. I think it’s high time for Bran to start giving people some useful info instead of just being all “I’ve been working on this cool time traveling Peeping Tom hobby lately” with everybody he meets; giving Arya the dagger is a good start. 

 Next week it looks like we’re getting some Whitewalker action, or, at the very least, an update on the Wildlings at East Watch. Will Jon finally “bend the knee” in order to get a dragon on loan from Dany to help out his pals in the north? He’s just gotta suck it up and do it, right? But will Dany even be able to spare any of her Unsullied what with Cersei’s sneaky outmaneuvering at Casterly Rock? So much can happen! With only three episodes left, every minute is precious and I’m pretty optimistic the final episodes are going to deliver mucho good times! Hang tight until next week, my dears!

[emm-doubleyou]

BONES 12x02 Recap: The Brain in the Bot

With the mystery of The Puppeteer gearing towards a resolution at the end of last week, the second episode of the season was back to the typical Bones style of storytelling. But there was mention of Zack, just not prominently sprinkled throughout the episode. No hour of this show is truly stand alone. Every episode builds on the previous. And every episode illustrates the profoundly remarkable development of these characters.

The opening scene depicts a “traditional” body find at the Virginia Regional Dog Show. I put traditional in quotes, as there is usually nothing traditional about body finds. Two canine participants escape from their owners, as I suspect their olfactory receptors sensed a rather potent set of human remains. How could they resist? The dog owners are horrified. And I presume there is not enough time to visit a groomer before the competition. I absolutely love dogs, but I will never understand show dog grooming trends. That poor poodle…

Have I mentioned that car scenes are among my very favorite? I will undoubtedly be repetitious here by saying that I will never get enough of car scenes featuring Booth and Brennan. And the two of them had some really wonderful ones in this episode. Booth and Brennan are in the car heading to the crime scene near the dog show. Booth calls Brennan “incredible” for already putting together such a robust case file without having ID’d the body. But these are not case files. They are files she has pulled from the archives. Given Zack’s recent disclosures, she has begun reexamining the evidence from the lobbyist case. Booth is proud of her, and assures his wife that she is doing the right thing. In true Brennan fashion, she responds “I am simply looking for the truth.” But so far, the evidence is inconclusive. Booth comments on the volume of files she has assembled for the case. But the other files are actually for Brennan’s “surprise party.” I’m about as confused as Booth at this point. “Bones, you do know you’re not supposed to plan your own surprise party.” When has Brennan ever been conventional? Okay there have been a few instances in her history. But in this case, I shouldn’t have been at all surprised that she would plan her own party. “The traditional custom is illogical. Being startled is unpleasant, while engineering a surprise for others is proven to be quite pleasurable.” She is truly a gem. Also, I actually agree with her. Though, birthdays have never been my favorite thing. Moving on.

Booth really just wants to know what Brennan wants for her birthday. Even before she answers this question, I predicted the answer. Brennan has never been interested in presents, at least not in the traditional sense. She has treasured gifts given to her by Booth in the past. And this is because they meant something more. They were not particularly valuable in the monetary sense. But the thought and intention behind the gifts is what ultimately rendered them irreplaceable- Jasper and Brainy Smurf certainly could not have cost more than a few dollars. Though Booth has surprised Brennan with a few more conventional gifts in the past, including the lingerie and the necklace. But what do you get someone who has everything and wants nothing? Booth would eventually figure it out. But not just yet. Brennan lets Booth know that her party has a “strict no-gift policy.” But it’s a milestone birthday, and Booth cannot just let it pass without getting her something special. She assures Booth that she has everything she needs. And I believe that. Because she once said she wouldn’t travel to any other moment in time. And because she also realized she did not need a bucket list. She’s genuinely happy. She loves her family and her life. And while she wishes the lives of herself and her family were threatened a bit less, it’s a life she would not trade for anything. I did enjoy how Booth wanted to get her a “chunky stone necklace.” He knows her taste, for sure. He brainstorms other types of gifts he could give her. He throws around the idea of going to a concert. “The Tuvan Throat Singers already passed through town last month.” “Not quite the concert I was thinking of, Bones.” I love them. Could you imagine these two at a concert together? I’m going to pause here and think about that. 

At the crime scene, Hodgins seems to be having a good time scraping evidence off the poodle. The dog’s owner is not quite as jovial. She begs Hodgins to be careful with the dog’s fur. Cam and Brennan examine the body, and Brennan determines the victim is a male in his 40s. Cam finds it strange that there is a piece of plastic fused to the victim’s wrist, but no evidence of burnt tissue. “Huh...almost as mysterious as Dr. B’s birthday party.” Cam wants a hint on the dress code for Brennan’s surprise party. “Yes, wearing clothes would be advisable.” Knowing what I know now, Brennan really kept this secret well. Brennan’s acting has certainly improved. She gives Cam a sly smile after that statement, which affects me more than it should. Because Brennan is teasing Cam. And there was a time when she was 100% no-nonsense at a crime scene. Actually, both of them were. It’s always the little things for me. Booth comes back to the scene, as he has found a pipe on the trail. Hodgins asks for any leftover marijuana, and Booth shoots him a perplexed look. But Hodgins only wants to take it back to the lab for a forensic workup. Meanwhile, the poodle’s owner is growing more impatient by the second. She is panicking about the blood fused to her dog’s coat. Brennan instructs the woman to be patient, and Booth tells her they are trying to solve a murder before dismissing her completely. But she’s still worked up. And promises “hell to pay” if the blood turns her dog’s coat pink. Hodgins is fed up too, and attempts a quicker approach to gathering the evidence off the dog- shaving the off. However the owner was not going to let him butcher her dog’s coat. She sprints down the hill and tries to pry the electric razor from Hodgins’ hands. And poor Hodgins accidentally shaves off one eyebrow. He asks if it’s as bad as he thinks it is, and his colleagues just stare at him in wonderment.  Yes, Hodgins. It’s not great.

On the platform, Brennan observes evidence of post-mortem blunt force trauma and fractures to the legs. Angela receives a call from an unknown number and chooses to ignore it. Brennan posits that the body could have sustained such intense trauma after death by being dragged. Daisy takes this moment to ask Brennan if she would serve as her reference for a position at the NFL- NOT to be confused with the National Football League. Now that Daisy has finally completed her doctorate, she has applied for a job at the National Forensic Lab. Brennan agrees to be a reference, but advises “Dr. Wick” not to get her hopes up. “In light of your young age, landing a job of that status would be a long-shot at best.” Angela points out that Brennan got her job at the Jeffersonian when she was still in her 20s. Actually, if my math is correct, Brennan was in her early 20s when she first came to the Jeffersonian. “Yes. But that was clearly an exceptional circumstance.” She really is just telling the truth. And obviously Brennan believes Daisy is an exceptional intern as well- Again, based on what we know now about the ending. At that moment, Angela ignores yet another call. I wouldn’t point this out, except it becomes more relevant in a few scenes. The unknown number has now called Angela three times at this point. That’s about when I would block a number, but I suppose it’s a good thing she did not.

Hodgins ascends the platform and is ready to share that he pulled prints from the pipe found at the scene. But the ladies on the platform cannot look at him without laughing. Poor Hodgins. “You’re...asymmetrical.” Apparently Angela told Hodgins that his missing eyebrow was barely noticeable, which makes me love the two of them even more. Hodgins attempts to continue explaining his findings, but the rest of the team cannot hold it together- especially Cam and Brennan. Long story short, the person smoking the pipe in the woods was likely there when the victim was killed. And I can hear Brennan’s laughing still echoing off the walls. Bless, Emily. 

Aubrey corners a man stumbling down the street named Randy Stringer. He claims he did not call an Uber. But Aubrey assures him he’s not Uber. Randy was in the woods the night the victim was killed, and the pipe found near the crime scene belonged to him. Randy was arrested twice for selling LSD and once for assault with a deadly weapon. He denies selling drugs, but he does sell sausages? All he witnessed that night in the woods was “a dude” walking around with a flashlight. He attempted to explain when and where he saw said “dude.” And FOX got a nice Sunday night Animation Domination shout out. Randy asks why he’s being questioned, and Aubrey informs him about the body dump. Randy then spouts off some nonsense about Mother Earth. This man just seemed far too random to be completely innocent in all this. And Aubrey looks so done.

Brennan enters Angela’s office to check her progress on the facial reconstruction. But this case did not require any reconstruction. The victim could be identified by the piece of metal on the his wrist. It was a “skin mounted bioelectronic fitness monitor.” Hodgins chimes in on how Angela can find the ID using this monitor. But Brennan is surprised and seemingly delighted to see that Hodgins has somehow produced a new eyebrow since last she saw him. “Sorry to ruin your laugh fest there, but yeah!” He constructed the eyebrow using hair from his beard. This man is as precious as anything. Brennan and Angela try to keep from laughing, as the eyebrow still does not quite look normal. Hodgins is frustrated that he has not managed to shut down the ridicule yet. Suddenly, Angela’s phone rings yet again. Obviously, it is not a prank call and not a wrong number. She picks up the phone and tells the mystery caller on the other line that she has no debt and is not interested in buying a cruise. But mystery caller must have said something to pique her interest. And also incite a bit of confusion. She asks if the caller is sure that they have reached the right person. She exits the room to talk, and leaves a seemingly perplexed Brennan and Hodgins behind. Brennan takes that opportunity to shift focus back to the case. She was unaware these types of biometric fitness devices were available to the general public. Hodgins hypothesizes that the victim may have had some sort of occupational connection to the tech world.

Angela returns to her office and with a look of pure astonishment on her face. “You guys are never going to believe this, but I just won a MacArthur Fellowship. You know, the one that everyone calls the ‘Genius Grant.’” Hodgins is absolutely thrilled for his wife. “That’s unbelievable.” Brennan agrees with that assessment. To her, it is “truly” unbelievable. She explains that it’s one of the most prestigious awards a scientist can get. “They said my work with the Angelatron was groundbreaking.” Hodgins goes onto say “I always knew I married a genius.” “Technically you did not. Though Angela is incredibly talented.” Angela is a bit put off by Brennan’s lack of enthusiasm. Hodgins tells Brennan that Angela is her best friend and she should try to be happy for her. And she says she is happy for her. She just never imagined Angela would achieve this honor “let alone before I did.”

Here’s the thing: The way this scene seemed to be playing out at this point, well, let’s just say that we have seen that particular storyline before. I had ample time to think about this storyline between the time the sneak peek came out and the west coast airing. There was once a time when Cam won the Outstanding Women of Science Award. Brennan struggled with the fact that she was not the recipient. It’s not as though she discounts Cam’s intelligence or contribution to forensic pathology. But in her mind, objectively speaking, she is the most outstanding. Whether or not you think it’s right, you really have to attempt to understand her perspective. It’s obviously not her intention to come off as jealous or bitter, by any means. This is her friend and her colleague. Brennan only works with the best in their field. And she knows Cam is certainly that. A conversation with Booth would make her reconsider her stance on the award. 

Booth, do you think I'm being small-minded about Cam getting the award and not me?

Yes.

What?

You might want another answer, but I can't give that to you.

But I'm clearly the best scientist.

And are you a worse scientist because Cam's getting the award?

Of course not.

See? Yeah. So you're just being petty because you want to win.

I thought you would take my side. I am on your side, okay? I'm on your better side.

Booth can see and read people. He understands their motivations. And what’s most impressive is his understanding of Temperance Brennan. That’s a tough nut to crack. But he knows how her mind works (for the most part), and he’s not going to tell her what she wants to hear. He’s going to tell her what she needs to hear. And it’s effective. Brennan is truly exceptional in so many ways. She is the best in her field. And she is one of the best scientists in the world. She is still exceptional even if someone else is honored. I am about to go off on a major tangent here. But I can relate this to Meryl Streep and the acting world. That woman has been in countless films and has hundreds upon hundreds of nominations. She is arguably one of the greatest actors of this particular generation (some would disagree, I happen to believe she is brilliant). But she cannot win every single award. In fact, she will be the first to tell you she is the biggest loser in the history of the Academy Awards. Does that make her any less exceptional? Absolutely not. With Brennan, she is still the queen of forensic anthropology. It’s not a bad thing to have someone else recognized for their invaluable work. Whether it be Cam or Angela or Hodgins. They are all exceptional at what they do. That is why they all work at the Jeffersonian. Brennan knows this. It’s ultimately why she apologizes to Cam and supports her as the award recipient. Though when Cam surprises her with the announcement that the three Jeffersonian women + nine other exceptional women of science would be honored, Brennan is stunned. And she is duly impressed at the credentials of the other women who agreed to be in this rather unconventional spread. All of them are brilliant. And all of them make key contributions to their field. It’s important to celebrate different people and different achievements so as to encourage more people go get into science.

My reasoning for bringing the past up is that it would  be a recycled storyline to have Angela receive an award and make Brennan react poorly to it. It would also be a gross example of regression for this character. It’s not as though I knew in that moment that it was all a ruse to throw Angela off the trail. But I did know that it was going to play out in a different way. We are much too eager to jump to conclusions sometimes. I simply was not willing to believe Brennan had not evolved past these feelings. In that moment in season 9, she learned. And she grew as a result. She realized that it was okay for others to receive accolades. She can still certainly believe she is the best. But how many times has Angela and her brilliant technology helped crack or solve a case? Bones has taught me several lessons over the years- not to jump to conclusions, look at all the evidence, and that sometimes it’s okay to rely on your gut. The evidence tells me that Brennan has evolved since season nine. And also that she is a constant surprise. And my gut tells me there is something more to this story. This was a very roundabout way of getting to this point. But that’s how I reacted to this particular scene. On a semi-unrelated note, it’s also how we should approach teases and certain spoilers. I think there would be an overall reduction in blood pressure levels if we did.

Angela refocuses her attention on the Angelatron, as it has come up with an ID from the fitness monitor. It belongs to a man named Ian Goldberg, who Hodgins recognized. He built robots to help children on the Autism spectrum. The three of them watch one of his videos featuring AMI, a robot, interacting with a young boy. “There’s someone who deserves the genius grant.” The trio cannot understand why someone would want to kill such a kind-hearted man. 

Booth and Brennan are back in the car on the way to visit the victim’s work. I did find it strange that the two of them were listening to the radio, since we never really hear them do that when they drive. But I suppose I didn’t think too much more of it. Booth notices that Brennan has been quiet during the ride, and asks if she is at all upset that Angela won the “McDonald’s award”  But Brennan claims that she is not the slightest bit jealous. She is still quite focused on planning her surprise party. “It’s not every day that one turns 40.” I grew considerably more curious with every mention of this party. But it should be no surprise to anyone that Brennan was going to make sure everything was planned and perfect, down to the very last detail. Daisy calls with evidence that indicates someone punched the victim repeatedly in the back of the head. Booth calls it a “rookie move.” Daisy figures that whoever punched the victim must have sustained a serious hand injury.

After Brennan hangs up with the lab, Booth asks her about Social Cybernetics. He makes a Star Wars reference, which of course goes right over Brennan’s head. She talks a bit about the work Ian Goldberg did with robotics. She explains that he created complex systems designed to emulate the human brain. Booth believes that it’s insane to think that a robot’s brain could come close to a human’s. “At the end of the day, humans have something that robots will never have...a soul.” “The existence of a soul has never been proven with scientific data.” But Booth begins to explain that you don’t prove the existence of a soul. He’s interrupted by a very familiar tune. And even louder, he tells Brennan that a soul is “something you feel!” And now I definitely recognize the song. “You hear that? That’s our song!” Their song. I may melt. “You hear the soul in that?!” All Brennan can do is look on at her goofy husband and laugh, with so much love and adoration twinkling in her eyes. Booth begins to sing along to Hot Blooded- and while I consider it to be the most adorable sound in the world, I’m not sure he would win a Grammy for his performance. That’s what makes it so endearing. Brennan continues to smile the brightest and most dazzling smile I’ve ever seen. She’s utterly charmed by this man. And I am charmed by them. 

I do believe my reaction to this scene upon first viewing was a series of offensively loud shrieks. There is something so special about a Hot Blooded moment. Sometimes it’s hard to believe there have only been (now) four of them. Because it seems as though it has been such a constant over the years. I am about to go off on yet another tangent…

The Hot Blooded phenomenon began in season one with Two Bodies in a Lab. Booth and Brennan were still getting to know each other, and this was also the first time Booth had been in Brennan’s apartment. He was there because he refused to let her out of his sight- someone had tried to kill her. They shyly interact and discuss music. Booth is surprised to see that his partner owns so much jazz, and she explains why she loves it. He looks dazzled already. And then he finds a CD, which excites him. He puts the disc into the player (this was 2005, iPods were a thing, but not everyone had them…) and Foreigner began to ring out from the speakers. Booth started dancing and singing, and then Brennan joined in. It was the beginning of them. And if we ignore the fact that Booth was blown up in the next minute, it’s such a sweet moment.

The second occurrence of Hot Blooded was in season five. Booth and Brennan were recovering from that fateful night outside the Hoover when Booth asked Brennan to give “them” a chance. She couldn’t. She didn’t believe she had the kind of open heart required to be in a relationship with this man. She could not give him all that he needed. And she couldn’t risk her friendship with Booth. That friendship was the most important thing in her life. If they took that next step, she would surely ruin it. And he would leave her. Because everyone eventually leaves. Booth stayed because she asked him to. And because I think he couldn’t actually bear to leave her. He only decided to go back to the Army at the end of the season when finding out that Brennan was leaving. I never look at that time as awkward. They were both in pain. But Booth was there for Brennan. And she was there for him. And during this particular case, they were able to engage in a carefree and somewhat nostalgic moment. Hot Blooded began to play at the “fantasy camp” and Booth is energized to hear “our song” playing. He convinces Brennan to go up on stage with him and sing. And they do. It’s an emotional marker of where they are in their relationship. But it’s also a vital component of their story.

The third (and most recent before this episode) time Hot Blooded resurfaced was when Booth and Brennan were living together with a baby. They had just wrapped up a very emotional case with an adolescent victim. Before the boy died, he made a mixtape for the girl he loved. Brennan wondered why Booth never made her a mixtape. But she chalked it up to the fact that she is not a very romantic person. I actually would disagree with that. In the end, Booth finds Brennan playing “dancing phalanges” with their daughter in the kitchen. He tells her he has made a mixtape for her. “I find I think that is very sweet.” I’d be willing to bet that no one has ever thought to make her a mixtape before. Which makes me both sad that no one ever understood her enough to truly love her like she deserves, and thankful for Booth. Booth adds that it features their song. “What, we have a song?” “Every couple has a song.” And she finally realizes which song is playing. They dance around the kitchen with their little girl. And it is perfect. Because you think back to the previous times this song was played in the show, and where this couple was at that time. And how far they have come. And now, this fourth time. They are married. That little girl is nearly seven. They have another baby boy who is likely walking by now (we know he is highly skilled at utilizing a spoon!). Each Hot Blooded marks a significant time in Booth and Brennan’s story. I find that beautiful. So when I react to the inclusion of Hot Blooded. It’s not merely because it’s their song and it’s recognizable to me. It’s that my mind barrages me this montage of flashbacks detailing this couple’s beautiful journey.

Booth and Brennan arrive at the Social Cybernetics lab, where they come face to face with a robot named AMI- an acronym for Advanced Modular Intelligence. Both Booth and Brennan appear quite impressed with AMI. AMI assesses each partner's’ facial expressions. “Dr. Brennan appears 78% curious and 22% jealous. Agent Booth is 94% amused and 6% skeptical.” That seems about right. The woman showing them around is “100% nervous.” She claims it’s only because she’s being questioned by the FBI, which for the time being I believe. She tells Booth and Brennan that she and Ian had a “fruitful” working relationship, and that they would have likely reached singularity with their technology within the next decade- making these machines indistinguishable from humans. After watching Westworld last year, I’m not certain that’s the best endgame. Booth notices a man with a wrist brace, and questions him about it. The man claims it’s Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, but don’t try to pull that with Brennan around. She semi-aggressively grabs his hand, and informs Booth that he has a Boxer’s Fracture. “You don’t need a robot to figure that out.”

Back at the FBI, Booth and Brennan interview Alan (the suspect). His injuries are an exact match for those found on the victim’s skull. Alan admits to hitting Ian, but not to killing him. Booth attempts to get Alan to admit to murder, but the man sticks to his story. Brennan notes that if one of her employees struck her in the back of the skull, she would have immediately fired said employee. But Alan claims he would have been too hard to replace. He is the best coder they have. Booth inquires as to where he was on the previous Friday evening. His answer- his desk as Social Cybernetics. Rather than waste their time on him, Alan recommends that Booth and Brennan speak to the “nuts” from “Stop the Robopocalypse.” I laugh about this now, but I’m sure it’s a very real fear, relative to the future and the advances being made in robotics. Apparently, Ian used to go onto this organization’s blogs and bait members into fights. This baffles the partners, as it seems out of character for someone who has dedicated so much of his time and energy to helping Autistic children through this advanced technology. Alan explains that while Ian was an invaluable asset to the field, “in reality the guy was a dink.”

Did he just say dink?

I think he did.

Cam finds Daisy in the bone room and asks if she has heard from the NFL. I find it really difficult to not to think about American football when this acronym is mentioned, even after having watched this episode dozens of times already. Daisy hasn’t heard from the organization yet, and cannot stop stressing over it. She’s concerned about what Brennan might say if they call her for a reference. Daisy wonders if she could call the NFL herself, and make Cam a reference instead. I know Brennan can be blunt. But let’s say we didn’t know how this particular story plays out. A reference from Temperance Brennan probably holds more weight than any other person in the world, no matter what words she uses to give the reference. Additionally, Brennan would not have agreed to give Daisy a reference if she believed she wasn’t capable of handling the job. And she would tell Daisy that- because she is blunt. But Brennan agreed. Which means that she likely had positive commentary relative to Daisy’s skills and intellectual acumen. Though looking at it from Daisy’s perspective, I know what it is to stress over a job like this. I understand how your mind will not shut off and stop worrying when you’re essentially in limbo waiting to hear about a position you legitimately desire. I’ve been there. It’s excruciating. You wonder if you should do something more. Should you follow up? Should you send another reference? It can drive you to the brink of insanity. But if Daisy could just breathe and think rationally, she would understand that it’s in the NFL’s hands now. And if it’s not the right job for her, then she will find something else.

Cam recommends that Daisy focus on her work in lieu of worrying. Daisy has found multiple incidences of blunt force trauma, but there is no rhyme or reason to any of the injuries. The trauma occurred both before and after death. Cam leaves to ask Hodgins to swab the skull, but she turns back to Daisy before she goes. “If the NFL doesn’t hire you, you’ll always have a job here.” Daisy smiles, though I think it would take her a little while longer to really process what Cam was telling her. These two make me so happy. All of their scenes together lately have been all too lovely. 

Angela confirms that Alan was telling the truth about working on the Friday night the victim was murdered. Aubrey begins talking about robot conspiracy theories to Angela (who thinks AMI is actually adorable), and he is starting to sound a bit like Hodgins. “Wow, Aubrey, I never knew you were so paranoid.” They are interrupted by news that a member of Stop the Robocalpyse crashed one of Ian’s speaking engagements last year and struck him in the leg with a baseball bat.

In the Ookey Room, Daisy finds Hodgins creating a map. Ultimately, he wants to pinpoint the victim’s injuries to different locations in the woods. His explanation is a bit more complex and detailed, and Daisy listens intently. “I have to say, it’s good to see you back to your old self, Dr. Hodgins.” She doesn’t mean his eyebrow, nor his legs. She’s talking about his demeanor. She’s talking about that zest for life and passion for science. Hodgins is back. And it’s a wonderful sight to behold. She then asks Hodgins if he thinks she has a chance at the NFL job. Daisy really seems to be obsessing over this. Bug again, I understand. “The thought of not getting it makes me feel like such a failure.” This is not necessarily relevant to the point, but not getting a job does not make one a failure. And that’s not a reason to want a job so desperately- fear of failing. If that’s the most dominant emotion, the job is probably not the right one anyway. You want a job because it’s something you’re passionate about. Not because NOT getting that job would make you a failure in the eyes of your peers and yourself. Hodgins tells Daisy that while they have a history of getting on each other’s nerves, he truly believes that she is a highly skilled scientist. Daisy agrees, but notes that Brennan was younger than she is when she was running the Jeffersonian. “Yes, but life is not a competition, Daisy. Trust me, if I’ve learned anything being in this chair, it’s that happiness comes from accepting what you have.” Daisy is worried that all she has is “one big question mark.” Hodgins can certainly relate. He refocuses his attention on the map, and realizes that the killer could have purposely dragged the victim through the woods to obscure evidence.

While Aubrey and Booth are walking to speak to Matthew Coburn, the head of Stop the Robocalpyse, Aubrey brings up Brennan’s birthday. “You’re really not gonna get your own wife a birthday present?” But Brennan swears she doesn’t want anything. And Booth seems fine with that. I mostly just wanted to write the word “wife” because no matter how many times I hear it, I still need to pinch myself. Aubrey thinks it sounds like a trap. But Brennan is not like most women. She says what she means. And Booth knows that. When she says she doesn’t want a gift, she means it. And so he will have to think outside the box on this one. When they locate the suspect, he takes off running. And the two agents are forced to chase him up a fence, through an abandoned building, and finally catch him before he can jump another fence. Why do they always run? During an interrogation session, Matthew admits he never intended to hurt Ian. He was merely trying to smash his robot, but Ian stepped in to protect it. He explains to Aubrey that the government is weaponizing this technology. Aubrey is a bit confused, as Ian did not make weapons. He created these robots to help Autistic children. “So he said.” Matthew claimed that Ian was going to sell out to the highest bidder. On the night of Ian’s murder, Matthew was in his RV writing a blog post. Aubrey is going to keep this man in holding. But I’ve seen this before. The head of an opposing organization is never actually the killer in these tales. Too obvious.

Daisy is back in the bone room, this time examining the bones with Brennan. She is tense. And before she can even say anything, Brennan tells her that she has not yet heard from the National Forensic Lab. I like that Brennan can read Daisy. She knew exactly what she was thinking. Development. Cam enters with evidence that someone tried to rip the victim’s arms from his sockets. Brennan notes that a human could certainly not inflict that level of damage. But Hodgins has found evidence of AMI’s materials on the victim. Could AMI have killed her creator? There’s a frightening twist.

At the FBI, Booth and Brennan bring AMI in for questioning. Booth is a bit in disbelief that they are actually interrogating a machine. But Brennan points out that AMI is no different than they are. “That is not accurate, Dr. Brennan. Unlike you, my memory will never degrade with age.” Brennan’s reaction is adorable. As usual. AMI says she did not hit Ian. Not even by accident. Brennan asks AMI to share any memories she has of Ian from the previous Friday. But she has no memories of Ian from that day. Since she cannot lie, this is a very startling admission. Ian was seen programming the robot that day. As it turns out, someone deleted her memory. When Brennan asks who deleted the files, AMI shuts down completely.

Brennan returns to her office to find Max waiting for her. I already had a very sinking feeling about Ryan O’Neal’s appearance in this episode. He doesn’t show up for no reason. And sadly, I already figured I knew the reason why Max was there. She asks Max what he’s doing in her office, since her party doesn’t start for another seven hours. He just wanted to come by and have some one on one time with his “favorite” daughter. She is genuinely pleased to see him. And my heart aches that much more. Brennan has to continue working on the case, but he doesn’t mind. He only wants to spend time with her- it doesn’t matter how they spend that time. For a second, I thought maybe Brennan had figured something out. She asks Max if everything is okay. His answer does not have me convinced. But Brennan has a lot on her mind, and she believes him. Max heard from Hodgins that Angela won the MacArthur genius grant. “We’re all very proud.” Max tells her it’s normal to feel a little jealousy. She doesn’t have time for “such petty emotions” because of this case and planning her surprise party. This must be one doozy of a party. It’s taken a great deal of planning. Max wants to know if there will be dancing at the mystery party, as he has been taking salsa lessons. That’s a surprising admission, in my opinion. When people find out they only have a certain period of time left on earth, they sometimes try to fit in new experiences and learn new skills in the time they have left- like salsa. Brennan is amused that her father is learning salsa. “You have to live life to the fullest. None of us live forever, you know.” And it is at that point that I think most of our worst fears were essentially confirmed. Max continues dancing as Brennan works, and he makes her laugh. Please, stomp on my heart a little harder, show. Their relationship has evolved so much since we first met this man in season 2. And it took Max a considerable amount of time to earn his daughter’s trust. Where they are now is just astonishing. Because I can only think back to that time on the bench, with Max dressed as a priest. I don’t even want to think about Brennan’s reaction when she finds out what he is hiding. At this point I don’t know specifically what is wrong. I just know it’s nothing good. This is a man who understands that he does not have much time left. That much is obvious.

Daisy is second guessing herself while examining evidence in the bone room. “No wonder the NFL hasn’t called.” Brennan tells her to stop being so hard on herself. “So far, your work here has been perfectly adequate.” Brennan would have given Daisy a “solid B” had she been grading her. This does not assuage Daisy’s worry. She is capable of A+ work. Brennan knows this as well. But if she wants to be a lead forensic anthropologist, Daisy needs to be doing A+ work at every moment. Daisy is inspired to think more critically about the case. She realizes that the body could have been hoisted up into something after death. Brennan commends her discovery. A+ work, indeed. 

In the Ookey Room, Cam is surprised to see Hodgins gliding over his map. “...or should I say Peter Pan.” Hodgins is a lot like Peter Pan, when I stop to think about it. Obviously he’s not stuck in some fairy tale. But there’s a part of him that never wants to “grow up.” He looks at science with a childlike wonderment. It’s completely pure. Sure, it’s nice to have money. But all he really wants to do in life is explore, and dream, and play. He does all this through his job- which has always been more than a job. Aside from a brief dark period, he has always been that way. In 11x18, he said he wanted to be someone who never stops looking. He always wants to be inspired to explore something more. He wants to perform experiments. He wants to play with bugs. He wants to build giant maps of the woods and glide over it with a pulley system he built. This is Hodgins. This is who he is. And like Daisy, I am elated to see him back to his old self as well.

Hodgins still has yet to figure out a pattern within his map. Cam goes to look at Hodgins swab results, and notes that they should help narrow down where the victim’s body was hoisted. Cam walks back over to the map and is surprised at how quickly Hodgins managed to make a nest. But it is not a nest. It’s Hodgins’ makeshift eyebrow. This show...Hodgins cannot get what he needs from this map. He has to go back into the woods (and now I want to sing Sondheim).

Angela finds out that Ian was the one who deleted AMI’s memory. She digs up a record of AMI’s neural network, and finds the last item recorded before her memory was wiped. It was a call from Ian, and he mentioned an address. The address in question belongs to something called Patriot Industries, which happens to be a warehouse in close proximity to where Ian’s body was found.

Booth and Aubrey are exploring the warehouse. They posit that perhaps Ian was selling his technology to a weapons manufacturer. But they couldn’t be more wrong. They open one of the many crates stored in the building, only to find a sex doll lying inside. They ask the manufacturer about his meeting with Ian. The agents bait the man into telling them what they want to know by implying that he could have killed Ian for his technology. But he claims that he and Ian were about to go into business together. “Sex bots are the future my friend.” I love this show. Ian was alive when he left the meeting. So where did he go? Who got to him? And why?

Out in the woods, Daisy and Hodgins are combing the area for any evidence they can find. Hodgins cannot seem to find a compelling motive for hauling Ian’s body so deep into the woods. But Daisy wants to take a break from the case and discuss something personal once more. She has been mulling over Hodgins’ words to her earlier in the episode- about accepting circumstances in life when things do not go your way. “And even if the NFL doesn’t hire me, I love being at the Jeffersonian and working with all of you.” Hodgins agrees. I know that staying at the Jeffersonian may not be ideal for her. She would never be lead forensic anthropologist so long as Brennan was there. She finished her doctorate and it was time to start her own career. But until she finds that first great job, the Jeffersonian isn’t such a bad place to work. It’s become her home as much as it’s been for any of the other characters. During her time there, she fell in love. She also lost that love, more than once. She gained a family. And that family has been there for her through it all. And they have been there for her son as well. It’s more than a job. She won’t lose that family by leaving the Jeffersonian. They will still always have those ties. And maybe it is a safety net. Who cares. Even if she went out on her own and failed, these people would still welcome her back with open arms. She will always have a place there. She will always have a home there. It just took a few words from Hodgins to make her realize that. Both she and Hodgins have lost so much recently. But they have found solace in this place with these people. They were able to heal because of it all. So I love seeing them share like this. But I always love Hodgins’ unique interactions with all the interns.

They find the tree where Ian’s body was hoisted. Hodgins realizes that it was also the spot where he was murdered. He finds a speaker made out of the same materials as AMI. So the robot is innocent. Whoever killed Ian must have hit him in the back of the skull with this speaker. What the two haven’t quite figured out is why the body was dumped a mile away.

While Brennan cannot detect fingerprints on the speaker, she does find evidence that Ian was stabbed in the neck with a very small knife. Brennan explains that this type of injury typically implies an attempt at decapitation. Booth has a realization in that moment. What if they weren’t looking for a brilliant computer scientist? What if they were actually searching for a “knucklehead stoner” who admitted to having a pocket knife earlier in the episode. And now we know who the killer is- Randy Stringer. Randy and Ian were taking LSD together the night he died. Apparently, he killed Ian over a gift. For whatever reason, Randy thought he was going to get a substantial chunk of change from Ian. And all he got was (this lousy) a bluetooth speaker. He was the one who came up with the idea of putting AI into sex dolls. And he should have gotten credit for his “brilliant” idea. This revelation not surprise me one bit. Another case closed.

That night, Booth and Brennan are back in the car presumably driving to Brennan’s surprise party at their home. Brennan is concerned that Booth lured Randy into confession by claiming they had conclusive evidence. When in fact, what they did have was not necessarily definitive. But Booth instinctively knew it was Randy. And he was right. He used his “gut” to feel out the situation. He notes that robots cannot do that. Before Brennan can continue arguing, Booth stops her. She doesn’t want to spend her birthday arguing about robots. He wants to give her his present. Brennan is not happy, as she specifically requested that there be no gifts. But when have Booth’s gifts ever been just gifts. They always hold a deeper meaning. Even if said gifts have no intrinsic value. He knows she’s going to love this present. “We’ll see.” She opens it up to find a letter approving a court date for Zack’s appeal. Booth wanted to go ahead get it on the books, though it is still a few months out. The reason for appeal lists that new osteological evidence is being considered. Brennan is concerned that she has no such evidence at this moment. But Booth has faith that she will find it. “I cannot embark on my research with the presumption of Zack’s innocence.” She doesn’t have to. She can embark on her research as she would any other case. Booth tells her once again that he has faith in her. And I may die from a heart attack. This episode contains so much sweetness. “But your belief in me does make me very happy.” Brennan may not rely on or even believe in intangible constructs such as the “gut” or faith, but Booth does. And so his faith in her means something to her because of that. With a huge smile, Booth tells her that he is glad she likes her gift. They are too perfect. Remember when Hot Blooded came on earlier in the episode? It’s not relevant to this moment but it’s all I can think about, apparently.

Brennan’s guests are waiting for her back at Booth and Brennan’s home. Angela is nervous about Brennan’s reaction to her grant. “She can be a bit competitive.” Hodgins claims that most people freak out when they turn 40. “Well my daughter isn’t like most people.” Truer words never spoken, Max. Christine announces that her parents are home. And the team doesn’t know whether to hide or not. No one knew what to expect from this party. No matter, Brennan opens the door yelling “surprise!” She instructs Booth and Aubrey to open the large box on the table to reveal three very different and distinct cakes.  Daisy takes notice of the (American) football cake, and reads the message. It congratulated her for landing the job at the NFL. “Though I did not ask for your cake to be decorated in this manner.” I can only imagine the conversation she had with the cake decorator. Angela notices that there is a cake for her as well. And that’s the surprise. The party is a celebration for Brennan and all of her friends and family. The camera quickly pans to Max who has a very strange look on his face. He is likely feeling conflicting emotions- proud of his daughter for the remarkable person she has become. And devastated that he will not have much time left to see what extraordinary things she does in the future.

As it turns out, Brennan recommended Daisy for the NFL job. And she nominated Angela for the grant. Angela is shocked, as Brennan seemed to have made such a big deal about her not being a genius. Brennan gives the credit to her much-improved acting skills. I have to agree with her, finally. In the past, she wasn’t much of an actor. But she did an absolutely stellar job keeping these secrets. Even Booth was impressed. “That’s one of the many benefits of growing older, we grow wiser in the process.” The camera pans back to Max who is wearing a giant smile across his face. Daisy is growing emotional, as she is going to miss Brennan and the rest of the team. “You are a highly-skilled scientist, Daisy. You deserve all the success in the world.” Brennan and Daisy have come so far. And it’s really beautiful and rewarding to witness this moment.

With so little time left, I wondered whether this episode would delve any more into what secret Max is keeping. I didn’t have to wait much longer. Christine finds a hospital bracelet on the floor next to her grandpa. She picks it up and hands it back to him. He tells her it’s nothing, and quickly stuffs it back into his pocket. Christine isn’t at all worried. But I spent the remainder of this party crying my eyes out. Booth lights the candles on the cake, and everyone starts singing Happy Birthday to Brennan. She looks so unbelievably radiant in this moment. And Max looks haunted. He cannot even manage to continue singing with everyone else. He watches his baby girl blow out her birthday candles, knowing full well that this could be the last birthday he spends with her. And maybe, one of the last times he can be with her and her family. Flipping back and forth between a joyful Brennan (pun intended) and Max is one of the more emotional experiences I’ve had watching this show.

I do not know the exact details of what is ailing Max. If I had to guess, I would have to say that he is terminal. From what, I do not know. When he came back into Brennan’s life in season 2, it was a confusing time. She was so guarded, and couldn’t trust him. After all, Max and her mother abandoned her when she was just a teenager. Fifteen may seem old to some. But she was still just a child. She managed to survive on her own, but she shouldn’t have had to. That’s part of the reason Brennan was so vehement about finding Christine the right school. She wanted her daughter to have stability- a luxury she never had. But in season nine, Max does remind his daughter that her childhood wasn’t always so bad. If she can look beyond the painful memories, she can recall that her home was filled with love. She has always been different, and was treated as such in school. But at home, she was celebrated. She and Max always shared a love of science. Her life was enriched by this man. And the only reason her parents left was to save their children. So in time, she was able to forgive. Though she never forgot.

It took Max and Brennan so long to get to this place. And there have been little missteps along the way. But Max proved that he was not going to leave her again. At least not indefinitely. He went to prison to show her that he was here to stay. And while Brennan still couldn’t fully trust her father, she concocted an alternate story for the jury to save him. She couldn’t bear to let him go. Not after she just got him back. His resurgence may have reopened old wounds, but we know it’s better to feel sad than dead inside. She was learning how to open her heart and trust again. Booth helped her with that. Angela helped her with that. Max still engaged in some illicit behavior, but generally it was only in the interest of protecting his family. Max and Booth are alike in many ways. Maybe that’s why Max took an instant liking to his daughter’s “partner.” He could see this man was good for his daughter in so many ways. If only they could both see that themselves, they could be something wonderful- like he and his late wife. Max only killed to protect his loved ones. He has a clear conscience because he would never kill in cold blood. His kids were threatened, so he removed the threat. He’s a good man. Booth would have done exactly the same. 

Thinking about where his daughter was when he reentered her life and observing her during her 40th birthday, there’s a stark difference. Of course she is still the same Brennan at her core. So much of her is the same as when we met her over a decade ago. But she has also experienced immense growth.  All of these people with whom she has surrounded herself have changed her. New experiences have affected her. She has a family now. She has more love in her life than she knows what to do with. And she can trust that these people are here to stay. She no longer lives with a constant fear of abandonment. She is strong, yes. But she allows herself to feel. She took a chance on love. And while it has brought her some degree of pain every so often, it has enriched her life in such profound ways. Max sees what his daughter has done for her friends. This is the little girl he knew growing up. He has always known that she has such a kind heart and giving spirit. She just doesn’t show her emotions and relate in the same way other people do. But she found people who understand her and celebrate her in the same way he and his wife did when she was growing up. Max always knew that Brennan was special. And she is. He couldn’t be prouder. I almost want to say he had a “my work here is done” face on. I know that’s completely reaching, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. His daughter has it all now. And he can rest easy knowing she will be well taken care of when he is gone.

What worries me now is Brennan’s reaction to whatever Max is keeping from her. Logically, she knows that people die every day. Obviously she sees that on a daily basis. But her father- she lost him for 15 years. They are in a good place now. They are finally at peace. And now he’s going to abandon her again. At least that’s how I feel she may take it. Because even the most rational person can be affected by death in unpredictable and highly illogical ways. I am also going by the teases for upcoming episodes. Something is going to affect Brennan in a deeply emotional way. I don’t know if Max is going to tell her what’s wrong. Or if he’s just going to die without having ever warned her. I really don’t know. I am terrified of either scenario. I am terrified to see this strong and brilliant woman completely fall apart. When Booth or Brennan fall apart, I fall apart. But she will get through it. Eventually. There will be a beautiful resolution. Because that’s what this show is all about. It’s never death for the sake of death. It’s always an enhancement to the show. There is always a purpose. Both Brennan and Max will never regret the time they did have together. It was like bonus time when he came back into her life. Max surely wouldn’t have traded it for anything. And I assume this life with his daughter was more than he ever expected from her. In time, she will heal. But it will take time.

I believe we have one more lighter episode before the one that is going to set the next Big Bad killer arc in motion. I am looking forward to all of it. Every single moment. But again, can we slow down time? FOX should have aired an episode of this season once a month. Anyway, no use in talking about that right now. I am already too emotional over this episode’s ending. As I have posted this late, I’ll be back soon with the next one!