#and he is a logical person who does not consider his feelings much save for his pride and trust. so if you took away him being ordered | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

69% of Tumblr users are millennials.

#and he is a logical person who does not consider his feelings much save for his pride and trust. so if you took away him being ordered

ironunderstands · 23 days

Text

These Aventurine, Topaz and Jade comparisons are getting out of hand…

As much as I adore both of them, I think it’s very disingenuous to compare Aventurine and Topaz’s lore and be like “but they are the same!!!! If people like Aventurine and dislike Topaz that’s just misogyny!!! and like… no?

Topaz’s whole thing is that she doesn’t know the extent of the IPC’s evil, and believes that what she’s doing is genuinely the right thing to do. Even if she never had a choice in joining the IPC, she (incorrectly) believes what they did to her and her planet is justified, logical and moral, and for those reasons she stands with them. Part of this is likely IPC brainwashing, as she was probably very young when she became an indentured servant to them, and someone living on a planet on the brink of destruction would likely view anyone who stepped up to save them as heroes (imo the IPC likely waited for the point of no return to establish contact so her people had no other choice to except).

However Topaz got best end of the proverbial stick, her planet and its people were deemed useful by the IPC, and didn’t fight back, even if in the end they were still exploited.

Unfortunately, we have seen through Boothill, Belabog and Aventurine what happens when that isn’t the case.

Boothill’s planet got bombed and people genocided because they had a resource useful to the IPC, but were unwilling to cooperate with them or hand over their home, so the IPC decided to eradicate them.

Belabog had a debt owed to the IPC that was ridiculously high and very unfair to expect them to pay back, and had Topaz not convinced the higher ups to give them some time (which she got demoted for), the IPC would have taken Belabog by force

That leaves us with Aventurine, whose story is in no way on the same level of bad as Topaz’s. Unlike her, he has witnessed and experienced firsthand the truly awful shit the IPC can do.

They took custody of Sigonia and promised to offer the Avgin aid in their fight against the Katacans, at the very least protect them from harm. (Sidenote, since the IPC held control over Sigonia, they should have stopped the fighting in the first place). However, they simply stood by and did nothing, resulting in the deaths of around 6,000 Avgin, with around 3,000 went missing (or injured, I don’t remember, either way it’s bad).

But wait! It gets worse! Aventurine when he was still known as Kakavasha referred to the IPC as “the men in black/the men in black suits”, and his first master says he bought Aventurine from “the men in black/the men in black suits”, likely mocking the way he referred to them. Therefore THE IPC TOOK PART AND LIKELY EVEN CREATED A FUCKING SLAVE TRADE IN SIGONIA

Look being made into an indentured servant isn’t fun, but idk personally I’d take that any day of the week OVER BEING ENSLAVED

That’s not even to mention how horrible of a reputation Sigonian’s have in the galaxy, one likely spread by/resulting from the IPC themselves, as at least on Aventurines planet they do not have the mobility to make a name for themselves. (Honestly it’s a mini theory of mine that Aventurines scam is what partly contributed to this reputation, and his status as a slave is something the IPC conveniently left out in their broadcast about it-)

But, you might be saying, didn’t Aventurine have a choice to join the masked fools and leave the IPC, isn’t he free now? And to that I say, it’s complicated.

Considering the amount of suicidal shit Aventurine has done while being part of the IPC, he clearly hasn’t been having a fun time as a member of one, so why does he stick around, especially with the Fools invite? Even if he was a slave, does that absolve him of the crimes he’s committing now? What could justify his actions?

Revenge, plan and simple.

This is going to delve into some spoiler territory for the end of the Penacony 2.2 quest, something which I didn’t feel like mentioning earlier because I’m sorry but everyone and their mother already knows Boothill’s lore. Now, let’s get into it.

Aventurine accepts Jades offer to join the IPC, and when he becomes a Stoneheart, the first thing he asks about is the fate of the Avgin, to which he then learns that besides him, they are all dead. You see, from birth Kakavasha was pushed onto a pedestal as the savior of the Avgin, but now that there are no more Avgin to save, his primary motivator in becoming a Stoneheart (beyond not being enslaved anymore) is gone.

So what does he do now?

Simple, try to kill the motherfuckers behind it.

That’s why he takes on such risky gambles still, and why he wagers and wants Diamond to promote him to rank p46. The higher Aventurine gets the closer he gets to his goal of taking down the IPC for good.

Which is why his meeting with Boothill is so meaningful. I think Boothill is going to “kidnap” him and together they are gonna take down the wicked bitch that is Oswaldo Schneider for his literal crimes against humanity.

Mark my words, an IPC downfall is going to happen, and I think Topaz, Aventurine, Boothill and Ratio are going to be at the forefront of it.

However, Topaz and Ratio (and by extension the rest of the galaxy) have to learn/realize the true horrors of the IPC (although I can sense Ratio doesn’t really like them, and he’s learned a lot from Aventurine, I doubt he knows the full extent of the situation or is in any way happy about it). Therefore? Topaz mental breakdown arc? Ratio lore? PLEASE??!? The IP3 compliment one another so well and god I can’t wait for that to come to fruition.

I really want to see a Topaz and Ratio centered story leading up to an IPC smackdown, and I think we are gonna learn a lot more about how shitty they are in the later half of 2.2 and in 2.3 when the interlude and Jades release arrive.

As for the aforementioned Jade, she’s gonna need a Aventurine squared amount of trauma or reasoning behind her actions to seem in any way sympathetic, because right now she just seems like an evil bitch (in a semi good way, I will always respect the commitment to the bit) who loves her job and would make Machiavelli weep over how hard her ends are trying to justify her means.

#honkai star rail #dr ratio #aventurine #topaz #ip3 #aventiopaz #its not necessarily a ship post it’s just these three are an inseparable unit made perfectly for one another and should kiss #Anyways I can’t fucking wait for future updates #DOWN WITH THE IPC we all screamed #jade hsr #2.3 is gonna be peak #2.2 spoilers #boothill #Also this has made me like avenhill #Avenhill #Kill those cunts!

384 notes · View notes

danse--macabre · 3 months

Text

unpopular astarion headcanons r.e. mirrors and reflections:

while I love the memes around this, I don't think, unless you had a particularly charismatic tav/durge, the whole party would draw him / contribute to some kind of spell where he could see his reflection. Obviously there's room for difference given how many routes your playthrough can take, but generally: he's not universally loved in the same way Karlach is, he's not the heart of the party, he's mostly clinging to the edge of it (and that's fine!)

I think showing him his reflection would impact him deeply and therefore if it is done at the wrong time/place, he'd actually resent the person who did it. this is because you're making him appear vulnerable.

e.g. if the venue is too public, if the others could see, he'd dislike the fact that others can see a moment of vulnerability

alternatively: if your approval with astarion is too low, he'd automatically distrust it / question your motives. this is someone who simply does not believe that people will be kind unprompted to strangers (because doing so violates his worldview and in some ways makes his abuse feel crueller -- if no one cares, there's a logic to what happened to him, at least)

the more permanent the method, the more effort put in, the more likely he is to have mixed/negative feelings towards it. a sketch is a kindness, but not one that requires a great sacrifice or planning - it's easy to dismiss as a fleeting gesture (while he will keep it, obviously, to look at, because he's not that willing to believe his own bullshit).

in contrast, if a permanent method of showing his reflection was given - e.g. a charmed mirror that casts a spell - I think astarion, with a high approval PC, would feel on some level obligated to pay that 'debt' back. astarion strikes me as someone who distrusts thoughtful, non-flippant gifts because again, he's used to transactional relationships.

I also think it might strike at an insecurity: the knowledge that astarion lacks autonomy/independence to deal with his own issues by himself, and, with some bitterness, is dependent on the PC to help him. if you give astarion an enchanted mirror, he, on some level, feels he is dependent on your magic and your supply of magical items to gain access to an element of his humanity. that doesn't entirely sit comfortably with him.

the "best" way to deal with this? let astarion figure out how to handle this himself. for example: gifting him a 'mirror image' spell scroll or something similar. give him time to study the scroll and he'll find a way to cast that spell himself. mechanically, astarion isn't a wizard, but narratively, his default class is arcane trickster, he has access to magic, I don't think it is really that much of a stretch to believe he could achieve that. in general, I think handing astarion the tools to achieve his own goals by himself will be more appreciated than handing that to him on a plate.

however! counterargument to consider: it may be more valuable in the long run to confront astarion's fear of dependence and the sense of reliance that exists particularly in a tav run, where you the PC have 'saved' him without needing to be saved in return. he needs to realise that the PC isn't expecting anything in return for friendship/romance.

either way, i think showing astarion his reflection is going to be more fraught than one might expect - a generous gift, obviously, he will take (he's been poor and starving enough not to turn it down), but there might be some tension beneath any show of gratitude your receive (or he might feign disinterest, if approval/trust is low enough!)

#astarion #bg3

265 notes · View notes

comradekatara · 3 months

Note

So, we don't often see Sokka being really passed off at anyone in the show. We see him being angry with Aang when he burned Katara, with Han bc of course, but like, Katara gets mad quickly, and it frizzles out, but I feel like, actually angry Sokka is dangerous, and no one is willing to see how dangerous he is going to be.

Thoughts?

I mean, sokka gets pissed off a lot. at idiocy, foolishness, incompetence, cowardice, rashness, cruelty, corruption, naïveté, illogic, callousness, heedlessness, and so on and so forth. he makes definite exceptions, but he’s constantly objecting to pretty much everyone and everything. besides the obvious blindspots in his judgment (usually father issues, occasionally a pretty girl) he is a ruthless critic chugging haterade at all times. even just mentioning your horoscope in his vicinity gets his heartrate spiking (and ppl wonder how/why he died relatively young). but you’re right, sokka isn’t really rageful in the way katara is.

it’s in fact crucial that while katara is motivated by blinding rage during her lifechanging fieldtrip/apotheosis, sokka is motivated by blinding guilt. sokka really only freaks out when aang hurts katara, hahn demeans yue (among other things), and azula threatens suki. and in all three scenarios, his rage overtakes him due to his own guilt. he feels that he, personally, has failed by “putting” katara, yue, and suki in danger.

as we know, sokka has deeply internalized the patriarchal logic that dictates that he must act a protector figure, especially towards girls. and sokka’s protectiveness is so entrenched in his identity that even when someone he cares for experiences harm in a way that is beyond his control, he feels directly implicated in their suffering, and the guilt plagues him. in the case of yue and suki, being imprisoned (metaphorically and literally) was a choice they made (obviously not an ideal choice, but an expression of their own duty, resigning themselves to suffering for what they believe to be the greater good). and yet, since sokka feels that it is his burden to carry all the world’s suffering for others (especially if those others happen to be a sibling, girlfriend, or parent), receiving definitive proof (and in the case of hahn and azula, deliberate taunts) clarifying that sokka is fundamentally unable to bear the brunt of everyone’s pain for them is what causes him to snap and physically attack them without first stopping to consider the consequences.

unlike katara, who is guided by impulse, sokka usually does first stop to think. very rarely does he let his rage overtake him the way she does. but occasionally, his own guilt complex is threatened to the point of overtaking his logic and letting his violent impulses take the wheel. this is magnified tenfold in the boiling rock, which is the ultimate expression of sokka acting rashly out of guilt. this time his failure isn’t even tangential, as he was actually responsible for the loss at the invasion that resulted in the imprisonment of those he has always most wanted to emulate, including his ultimate role model, hakoda. of course such overwhelming guilt would prompt him to feel as if he had no other choice but to save his father or die trying.

sokka is also full of rage, but unlike katara, his rage is only truly triggered when it is turned inward. katara blames others for her problems to a fault; only to aang does she ever actually apologize and take responsibility for her actions. sokka, on the other hand, internalizes blame to an absolutely absurd degree, and as much as it may seem like he is constantly finding fault with everyone around him, that ruthless criticism is really just a milder externalization of his own perpetual self-criticism, which is the sharpest and most ruthless of all.

#salt-popcorn #asks #sokka #katara #analysis #he is sooo. fucked up :)

175 notes · View notes

gavisuntiedboot · 1 year

Text

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 8

Warnings: ANGST! Idk if it's actually that angsty but I made myself sad. Very very brief mentions of kind of hurting yourself but not really? I actually can't remember what I wrote so if I miss something that needs a warning pls lmk

Word Count: 16.0k (fun fact: if you've read the whole series, you've read 105 pages single space)

A/N: y'all it's literally almost 1 am but I need to start this before I get crucified by the cult following I have created with this series. GIF credit @gavidaily

"You... are considering leaving Barca?"

Xavi looked at you with one brow raised. The same girl that had been fighting for her position at the club just 6 weeks prior was now thinking of quitting her job?

"You know Miss y/l/n, we are about to lose Antonio, and with how hard we push our players, we need to retain the largest amount of medical talent possible. You know that we think extremely highly of you and your ability, which is why you were selected specifically for this role. What can we do to make the job here at Barça more compelling than that of other clubs?”

You took a deep breath. You knew this question was coming. You had worked jobs and been in negotiations before. It would be a lot more expensive for them to hire someone new than to just give in to what they predicted would be a demanded increase in pay.

You looked at your lap, sighing with the weight of the feelings you had carried for God knows how long. It had sat on your subconscious, but was now bubbling to the surface, too powerful to be stopped. “Honestly, mister, I don’t think there’s anything that can be done.”

There’s a funny thing about women letting go. Some people call it the severance theory. Men are heavily guided by their emotions, contrary to popular belief. In a fit of rage they are capable of anything: screaming, blows - any number of crimes of passion. So when an extreme emotion overcomes them, be it sadness or anger or fear, they can end a relationship suddenly. Once they return to a base state of logic, that’s when the crawling back and groveling begins. Because they come to realize that her absence is a stronger pain than whatever drove him away. They exist in binary states: zeroes and ones. Either hatred or love. They don’t understand gradients or in-betweens. They don’t understand that there is another person who must also decide to return to the relationship.

Women on the other hand are much more resilient. It’s why we find the most gorgeous muses with the slimiest excuses for boyfriends. A woman will fall in love not with what she sees, but rather what she hears. What she is told. All the flowery, lovely promises about a glowning future, that’s what she clings to in the midst of a gray and bleak present. The soft whispers of “I love you” and “I don’t know how I would live without you” act as bandages, plugging the gaping wounds left by his actions. But her resolve slips the longer those promises go unfulfilled. The longer those holes go unfilled. She begins to see the truth of her situation, and realizes that the road she’s skipped down is a dead end. She imagines once again. She thinks of all the possible ways that he could change and be the man she wants. She searches for glimpses of it in his words, his movement, his aura. She does the silliest, most foolish thing a woman can do: she hopes. She holds on until not even her delusions can be a comfort. She realizes that there is no way for her to be happy with this man. That’s when she finally leaves. There’s no groveling, no tears, no remorse. It’s a clean severance of dead weight. She’s empty, and it lightens her being enough for her to walk away. There is no way to save it. The bridge has been burned and she was gone forever.

The funny part was, this didn’t just apply to men. That’s the thing about emptiness: it consumes everything. Loneliness is a black hole that swallows every ray of light that it encounters. That was your life recently. No light and no joy - not even sadness. You couldn’t feel anything strongly anymore. You picked up little habits to try and feel. You heated your food to scalding temperatures just to feel the heat on your lips. Your showers were icy, the pinpricks distracting you from the desire to cry. You no longer felt strong anger or desire or really anything. The color was slowly draining from your life, grays and sepias replacing the once vibrant existence around you. The beauty around you had mangled into gnarly trees and threatening uncertainty as you foolishly waited for the sun to peak through. But it had abandoned you. The sun had taken its rays and warmth elsewhere, almost mocking you as you shivered in the dirt. So maybe it was time to crate your own light: burn down the forest and start anew.

“Nothing? La, that can’t be true Doctora.”

Your eyes shot up at the title. There was, in fact, one feeling that you still sensed: pain. You could still feel physically pain, and inflicted it on yourself often just to experience an emotion. But nothing could compare to the sharp stabs and dull aches that lived in your heart. It was hard to look at Gavi without feeling like you wanted to fall on your knees. Realizing that you were in love was not beautiful or romantic. It was torturous, like snakes and thorns taking home in your throat. Reality was the salt in the wound; the knowledge that you two were destined to fail before you had began was a pill too big to swallow, suffocating you instead.

“If I can be honest, mister, I don’t feel like I belong here at Barça. I’ve been here for six months and I still don’t feel like part of the team. Maybe it’s just not a good environment or fit for me. That’s not something that can be fixed with just a salary increase. I just can’t tell if this is the place for me.”

Xavi looked at you, bringing his elbows to rest on the table and interlocking his fingers. He wanted to adamantly refuse, but there was truth to what you said. It was evident that there was a disconnect between you and the general environment of the team. You were close to some of the younger players, but had difficulty gaining the trust and respect of the older crowd and the medical staff. Your ideas for treatment were too modern - too far removed from what everyone else was used to. Hell, you were upsetting one of his players, and that was the opposite of your job as the support staff. But he would by lying if he said you weren't effective. The plan for Dembele that you had first presented got the striker back on the field weeks earlier than any other predictions. Your diligent maintenance had prevented players from getting injured as often, keeping the ones you were closest to on a strict exercise regimen, ensuring their continuous improvement. He cared for his players and his club. And if you were the miracle cure to keeping them healthy and playing, then he was going to keep you there, even if he had to tie you to the columns of Camp Nou.

"There must be something we can do to keep you. You're very familiar with the players and the equipment, as well as the workflow, and you're very good at your work. Hell, Gavi hasn't even had a cough since you started here, and he's quite accident-prone. Please let me know what I can possibly do to keep you with us."

"I really am not being shy or sneaky. I really have no demands. When then team heads to the UK for the game against Man U, I will visit the Chelsea facility and meet the staff. If I like what I see, I'll be moving there. I'm just... not happy here anymore."

There it was. The confession you had not even made to yourself. You were at the club of your dreams, living everything that your younger self had always wanted, and you just could not be happy. This was a disappointment that was hard to describe. Everyone always talks about shooting for the moon, but no one talks about what happens when you actually make it there. You work hard and your dreams become a reality: you're on the moon! But the moon is so, so far from Earth. And when you're cold and lonely and looking down on all of the people that could be loving you, then the moon doesn't seem so worth it anymore. When you realize the moon is just a rock, then what hope do you have left?

Thinking back, you recalled all the people that you pushed away to further your career goals. You think of the family gatherings and events that you missed to study and work. You think of all the friends you have lost touch with because they were never a priority. They were never smart or driven enough to keep up with you, and so they were left in the dust. You had a few, but none you could confidently say would pick up a call from you at 2am if you needed help. Boyfriends were even worse. Since your heartbreak in college, men had fallen to the wayside. You justified it to yourself, saying that you just needed to be successful, and you would attract someone at your level. Someone who wanted an equal. But here you were: alone, depressed, and thinking of running away from what you once thought was your life's purpose.

Before Xavi could respond, a loud thud from the hallway distracted the two of you, followed by shouts that chilled your blood.

"Gavi!"

You were out of your seat in seconds. There was no force that could stop you, feet and hands moving on their own accord as you entered the hall and laid eyes on the body on the floor. There was no air in your lungs or your larynx to make a sound, let alone scream.

Why was Gavi on the floor?

Your hearing was shot, like you were underwater. The faces of those surrounding were panicked, and all eyes were on you, shouts and points and calls for action flying straight over your head.

Why was Gavi on the floor?

Your stomach was twisting itself into elaborate knots, coiling tighter while pushing the bile further up your throat. Your eyes went in and out of focus, willing the scene in front of you to disappear. You blinked hard hoping for the image to change when your eyes opened again.

Why was Gavi on the floor?

"Doctora, please look at Pablo - he collapsed suddenly and we need to make sure he doesn't have a head injury. Move!" It was Antonio's hands on your shoulders and shouts that finally got you to move from your frozen position.

Kneeling over, Gavi looked even worse. His skin was pale, and he was crumpled like an aluminum can - limbs everywhere, like his life force had just abandoned him. You had to remove Gavi from the situation and pretend he was a practice dummy at school. You had to pretend he was plastic and rubber, because that's the only way you could go through head injury protocols with a calm mind. He couldn't be Pablo, because if he was, then the thought would have to fester in your head: Pablo was hurt when you had been distant. He was hurt because you had been distant. Worst case scenario, he could disappear from your life now, all because you hadn't been able to handle the proximity like a normal person. Your thoughts were spiraling now, painting scenarios of death and disease and making it even harder for you to stop the tremble in your hands.

But you had decided that his cold heap of flesh before you wasn't Gavi. It couldn't be. It wasn't even a person. You recited the head injury checklist under your breath: consciousness, breathing, vision, vomiting. Placing a hand on Gavi's neck, you felt a pulse, stopping you from performing CPR. The last thing you needed to do was unnecessarily crack a rib. You shook him several times, and received no response.

"Shine a light in his eyes!" "Shake him harder!" "Should we pour water on him? Get some water!" "You're not yelling his name loudly enough!"

You ignored the shouts of the peanut gallery, repeating the list like a mantra in your head. You would have time later to be angry at the staff for their utter uselessness in the situation, but right now, you just needed to keep going. Blood was pounding in your ears as you opened one of his eyelids. Consciousness, breathing, vision, vomiting. It snapped back into place, and Pablo's face was now in view. Other than his pale complexion, he looked perfectly at peace. His face was identical to the night you had spent sleeping next to him - sleeping atop him. His breathing was deep, as if he had spontaneously fallen asleep in the middle of the hallway. He was beautiful. And for the first time in days, it had allowed you to be filled with a warmth somewhat foreign to you now. Pablo was in your arms and beautiful, and you could not imagine how you were meant to go on with life seeing him every day and being denied this privilege. You didn't allow yourself to dwell on the thought. Breathing? Yes. Consciousness? No. That needed to be remedied.

"Pablo, if you can wake up now, it would be really helpful. Otherwise I'm going to have to cause you a lot of pain."

You waited for a response, but none came. You sighed deeply, moving your hands from the supple skin of his cheeks downwards, gripping the hem of his shirt and pulling it upwards, exposing the expanse of his chest. You made out the sounds of taunting and whistles, but they were promptly silenced by staff who reminded the crowd that this was not an appropriate moment for jokes. Forming a fist, you placed your knuckles on the center of Pablo's chest, pushing down and rubbing. Hard. His eyes shot open within seconds, and he threw your hand off, howling in pain. His breathing was shallow and panicked, vision erratic as teammates, coaches, and other staff all yelled questions and instructions at him.

"Everybody shut up! Let me do my job."

That was the voice he needed to hear. As the yells settled to murmurs, his breathing slowed and he began to see more clearly. His eyes fully focused on you, and it soothed the ache in his chest. His heart was racing faster than he had ever felt, causing Pablo to grab onto your shoulders to ground himself.

"Pablo, can you hear me?"

You were here. You were real. He could still hold you and feel you. He nodded slowly, not trusting himself to speak. The nausea that he had felt before he blacked out still lingered, and the last thing he wanted to do was projectile vomit on you. He flinched slightly at the feeling of your hand returning to his face, but settled quickly, listening hard to your instructions. There was nothing easier than focusing on the sound of your voice.

"Look at me." You said, shining a light in Gavi's eyes, checking for any hemorrhaging or internal bleeding. What a silly request, he thought to himself, squinting under the brightness. How could he look anywhere else when you were in the room? How could he ever tear his eyes from you? How could he waste a single second of you before him, especially with the prospect of you leaving at the end of the month looming?

"No bleeding. Are you experiencing any double vision?"

A headshake no. You instructed someone behind you to grab a bottle of water, and then turned back to Pablo.

"Good. What is your name?"

Gavi swallowed thickly, and took a deep breath before speaking. "My name is Pablo Gavi."

"Good. And who am I?"

"Ah don't worry, Doctora. Even with amnesia, I could never forget you." There was that stabbing feeling in your chest again. That feeling that accompanied Pablo's sweet words and kind eyes. The cold shard of reality that reminded you that he would fade away into an Instagram mutual in a matter of months.

"Alright, Gavi. No internal bleeding and no memory loss. We need to go through more of the concussion protocols and make sure you're okay, but we can do this in my office. Are you okay to stand?"

After a curt nod, you helped Pablo stand, and began walking with him towards your office. You informed Xavi of the next steps, and he told you to do whatever necessary to make sure his 'golden angry bird' was okay. But of course, you could never know a day of peace, as each one must be filled with the noise pollution that was Ferran's voice.

"If the door isn't open, just know that Pablito isn't moaning in pain." A round of snickers was heard from both players and staff. But before they had time to add on to the nasty comment, you swiveled around to face the group. You were seething with anger, and one very important realization came to the center of your mind.

You had nothing left to lose.

It was Pablo Torre who was closest to you, and he was the person that received the start of your wrath.

"What the hell are you laughing at? The fact that your teammate could have serious head trauma? Or at the fact that, with Gavi potentially out of commission, they might take you off the bench long enough for you to remember what grass feels like?"

He was silent instantly, eyes wide. He had never received words this harsh from anyone at the club. Or anyone not on Twitter. You turned to two more assistant physios, Luca and Gabriel, who stood next to him, still muttering to one another in hushed tones.

"And you two! Do you want to know why everyone has to rush and get me whenever someone hits their head? Because out of everyone here, I'm the only one that knows proper concussion protocols and how to identify trauma. I have more medical knowledge in my fingernail than in both of your heads combined. I have to take him to my office because you two are incompetent at your jobs! And instead of doing anything useful, this is how you occupy your time: slacking, cigarette breaks, speculating who I'm sleeping with, and doing absolutely jack shit when a player gets injured. So keep giggling like school girls. I can't wait to see you both giggling on the street corner while begging for spare change."

You held Gavi harshly, storming off to your office. Your speed and the bounce was making him nauseous, but he knew better than to speak in this moment. His chest had swelled with pride. He was patiently waiting for the day that you would put the guys in their place. None of them were bad people - it had just been a while since most of them interacted with a woman they didn't want to sleep with. Gavi loved that you were capable of defending yourself, but could not ignore the part of him that wanted to be the one to defend you.

Call it a toxic trait if you want, but Pablo had always taken pride in his ability to intimidate. He had eventually come to terms with the fact that he was done growing at a sweet 5'7, despite his desire to break at least 5'9 (because his friend Hanna at La Masia told him that was the shortest a girl would go for. Looking back, taking this information from a 5'10 female footballer was probably not the best idea he's ever had). It had taken a while, but after weeks of daily affirmations in the mirror about how short Messi was, he held his chin higher. Once he started receiving praise from fellow players, coaches, and media, Pablo gained more confidence in the fact that he could be part of the next generation of great Barcelona football. This allowed him to go up against any player with no worries or fear, winning headers against people with a foot of height on him. Pablo began building his upper body in the gym as well, compensating with strength. A broad and reckless teenager, there was almost no one he wasn't ready to take on.

He sensed that same quality in you as well: a desire to prove yourself, no matter the cost. But he didn't want you to. He never wanted to see you scowl or have to hear you yell (despite it being semi-hot). Pablo wanted to be your knight, whose sole purpose in life was making sure that you never experienced feelings but joy and pleasure. He wanted others to go through him before daring to speak to you. Because how could every person just have access to the beauty that is you? To the radiant soul and shimmering aura that fills the room? How could he be content with you shouldering the burdens of living in this world? Even if he never got to have you romantically, Pablo wanted to shield you from every harm in the world. And not a day went by when he didn't feel it.

This was one of those moments. He wished he was able to verbally berate Ferran for the garbage he spewed on a regular basis, but he could do nothing except let himself be dragged by you through the halls of the sports center until they reached your office, where he was promptly flung towards the exam table. He watched as you brought him your small office trash can, setting it beside the bed. He was brought back to your first month at Barca, when he had challenged you and been proven wrong. There was a confidence in yourself and your abilities that had dissipated from then to now. Pablo smiled stupidly as he remembered the excruciating pain and discomfort of trying not to throw up in front of the pretty physio. If only he had known then that it was nothing compared to the pain of holding back these feelings.

"Lay down on the bed. Look up at the ceiling. If you need to vomit, do it in there." You instructed curtly before moving to sit at your computer. Short nails clicked harshly against the raised keyboard, keys slamming down rapidly, sound reverberating around the room. Gavi wanted so desperately to flip over, lay on his stomach and stare at you. Just to see the curves of your face and the way your eyes reflected the light. But he looked up at the ceiling like you asked, more worried about pushing you further away than watching you type. He took several deep breaths. This didn’t feel like the last time he was concussed. Last time, he had felt his brain rattle against his skull, waves of nausea starting immediately. His head ad throbbed, spots forming on his vision. His jaw was clenched, and he could’ve sworn there was a crack down the center of his cranium, blood oozing out of it onto the practice pitch.

He remembered that day so vividly despite the head trauma. He had been livid, Ferran dragging him to a new and inexperienced physio. Gavi had interpreted it as sabotage to that Ferran could get the left wing back. And then he saw you. Angry that he was he wasn’t receiving treatment by the best, he couldn’t say he was upset to look at you. You were a stunning kind of beauty, young and lively and clad in cool gray scrubs. But you were three years older than him, wildly advanced and talented, and he couldn’t swallow his pride - especially not with this nausea. He could not swallow the fact that you looked so damn familiar. He had seen you somewhere before: those eyes had looked at him with that same distress and concern. But he could not place it for the life of him.

Pablo thought back to how sweet you had been to him that day. How you had encouraged him to take pride in himself and be confident in the fact that he deserved all the success he had seen. He was so overwhelmed that day. His brain was absolute porridge, and he was doing his best for it not to pour out of his ears, all while his cheeks burned under your gaze. He was too preoccupied by his desire to muster one ounce of hatred to replace the overwhelming admiration in his brain that he could not determine where the hell he had seen you before.

And now here he was, once again staring at the ceiling, head throbbing, and the thought came to him again: why did you look familiar? Despite having known you for half a year now, the feeling that there was history had not left him. It wasn't that you had a common face. There was something about the way you looked at him, with a knowing and sadness, that touched a part of his soul. Like you knew things he had never even admitted to himself. While he thought that was just your way of being, he was coming to realize that look was one reserved specifically for Pablo. Now he wasn't nauseous, and focused on the rhythmic sounds of keys being slammed. He poised himself to ask a question, but not the one gnawing at his brain.

"What're you typing so excitedly? Hopefully not your resignation."

You looked up in time to watch Pablo's chest heave with the breathy (and very fake) laugh that he forced out. Your fingers rested against the keyboard, pausing your aggressive typing. How did Gavi know about your plans to leave? Had he been listening at the door? How long had he been standing there before-

"Is that why you fainted in the hallway? Because I'm leaving the club?"

"So you've already decided that you're leaving? You aren't even going to wait until you see whatever shithole you've been offered a spot at?"

There was an emotion that made Gavi's voice wobble, and you couldn't pin it exactly, but it sounded akin to betrayal. You finished the last sentence of your email, the swooshing sound indicating the message had been sent. Pablo bit his lip and stared hard at the fluorescent light. He didn't want you to see the distress in his face, but he couldn't help it. He hated how the dynamic between the two of you had been so warm, so close to the spark he desperately sought, just to go back to how icy your interactions began.

You pulled up a stool to sit next to him, and grabbed a pair of gloves as you approached. You noticed the slight quiver of his lip, and turned away to put your gloves on. The deep sadness in his eyes, the way his body tensed, the voice like a hurt child - was this all because of you?

"I was doing what I should've done my first week working here: I sent an email to HR about Ferran's nasty comments. Barca can't have a sexual harassment scandal right about now, especially not during the transfer window. And if they fire me, then they..." Your voice trailed off, throat closing up. It was still hard for you to process the possibility.

"If they fire me, then that's one less decision that I have to make."

You ran a gloved hand across his crown, feeling for any bumps or lacerations because of his fall. You felt worse the longer you continued the exam, the feeling that this was your fault sinking in. You had pushed Pablo away wordlessly after brining him in so close. But the majority of your brain screamed back at you how selfish it would be to drag Pablo into your black hole, ruining his career so that he could run after a girl who didn't even feel. If the sun in its greatness could not warm you, then how could ask this of Pablo?

"Now we need to talk about your fall in the hallway. It's quite obvious that you fainted but-"

"Were ever going to tell me? Or were you just going to freeze me out until you left the country?"

Gavi propped himself up on his elbows, eyes meeting you directly. You didn't know what to say. You couldn't tell him how you felt, especially not now. Not right before you disappeared.

"Have you ever fainted like that before? What have you eaten to day?" You asked, moving to throw away your gloves. "If you're having frequent spells of losing consciousness, then we need to have your blood iron tes-"

"Are you being serious right now, y/n? You're on the verge of quitting your dream job, packing up and leaving the country, and isolating yourself from everyone who cares about you, and you're asking about my blood iron? No."

Pablo stood, getting off the table faster than someone with a head injury should. He walked towards you, anger evident.

"No. You don't get to change the subject and talk about my iron. Or sit and try and diagnose me with anything. You know that I'm perfectly healthy. Want to know why I fainted? I'll tell you, Doctora."

Gavi was right in front of your face now, heavy breath fanning against your skin. You swallowed thickly, breathing just as heavy as you met his blazing stare. For the first time in weeks, your eyes started to moisten. Why was this scolding from Pablo going to bring you to tears?

"Because from the moment I laid eyes on you, I felt like I knew you. I don't know if I saw you on the street or in a dream, but a part of my brain recognized you, and since then I've been in pain. Pain that you can't even help me with. Nobody can. It's so hard to watch everyone take advantage of you all the fucking time. It tears me apart constantly. But it let me get closer to you. You let me get closer. And I tried so hard to keep it at bay, to be the friend that you need."

Pablo was now cupping your face, holding it like it was the only thing that would tether him to the earth. He rested his head against yours, and suddenly it was too much. All the feelings that had escaped you for so long were coming back all at once, stacking on top of each other and smothering you. Your eyes welled with tears, and you wished the ground would swallow you whole to escape Gavi's piercing eyes looking straight through you.

"But you have to know that I don't just see you as a friend, Doctora. You have to know, even if you don't feel the same way, that I am -"

"We met before I got my job here. That's why you recognize me."

Gavi let go of your face, taking a step back. He looked at you with confusion and hurt. You both knew what he was about to say, and he couldn't understand why you wouldn't just let him get it off his chest. And as selfish as it was, you just couldn't take it. Pablo deserved better - someone that would lift him up, not hold him back. And if he said it, if it was out in the open, then you would never be able to put his needs first.

"The week of my interview, I went to pick up Angelika from the club. Angel went to get her from the VIP section and he left me in charge of keeping an eye on you."

"You... were watching me while I was drunk?" Pablo's brain was processing a thousand things at once. You had met him and remembered him? What had he said while drunk to make you hide that fact from him?

"Why didn't you say anything before?"

There were so many ways to answer this question that you didn't know where to begin. How could you explain to Gavi that you had been so captured by his beauty that night that it had thrown you off your axis, making you wonder if you had died and this was the angel sent to guide you to the pearly gates? How could you describe the intense pull Pablo had over you, tugging at your soul, urging you to stay with him? How were you to say the way your heart broke on his behalf, wanting to hold him in your arms and protect him from everything that made him feel less than the most special person alive? All you had wanted was to kiss him, to pull him in, to never let him go. But none of the words materialized. Because to you, the cruelest thing you could do to Pablo was keep pulling him into you. He was pure light, and you couldn't bear the burden of being the one to extinguish it.

"It was an insignificant moment in a club. Nothing worth mentioning. I didn't even remember until Pedri reminded me when I started."

There it was. The sentence that made Gavi crack. You watched the hurt seep into his features, and a heavy air filled the room. Brows coming together, he looked at you expectantly, waiting, praying, that you would take it back.

"Meeting me was ... insignificant?"

Eyes locked, there was nothing you could say that would erase this moment. You swallowed the lump in your throat, playing with your fingers. You spun the ring you wore around your finger, trying to occupy your mind with anything other than the thought that you were the human embodiment of garbage.

The silence remained, growing thicker with each passing second. It enveloped the both of you, tendrils wrapping around and ripping the two of you apart, fraying whatever string of fate had brought you together.

"You think it was just a coincidence, meeting me in the club weeks before we become coworkers? Friends? Something... beyond that...and you think that coincidence was so forgettable that it wasn't even worth mentioning?"

There it was. The cold front that you put up, the one that pushed everyone away, no matter how hot their love for you burned. You were the ice princess, destined to go through life cold and untouchable and alone.

"Some people you just meet, Pablo. It doesn't mean they're meant to be together. I needed to get my friend out of the club and I just ran into Angel. He left me in charge of you so that you wouldn't do anything stupid or childish while drunk. I was in a club babysitting an 18 year old kid who was pouring his heart out to me while wasted. I didn't say anything to save you from the embarrassment."

That was the straw that broke Gavi's heart. He stormed towards the door, unable to look at you any longer. Had he really been lead on; allowed to believe that you were his friend, or at the least respected him, when this entire time you just saw him as a little kid. His last line to you was spoken so softly you almost didn't hear it over the deafening slam of the door.

"They're going to love you in England."

"Your English is very good for someone educated in Spain."

You looked up at Steve, flashing a practiced professional smile that showed no indication of offense at the objectively offensive statement.

"Thank you, Dr. Hughes. I did complete my baccalaureate degree in the United States, but I'm glad the last two years in Barcelona have not damaged my language."

Now it was his turn to laugh uncomfortably as he lead you through the garish blue halls of Stamford bridge. The entire plane ride you had told yourself that this could be the fresh start you needed. This could be the opportunity to turn your life around, and so you should approach it with fresh eyes and an open mind. But the walls were hurting your eyes, the blue and white making you think of Martin in his kit. You were lead into the trophy room, which was a lot smaller than you were used to.

"Here you can see some of the club's shining moments. We have had an... interesting season this year, but you know that performance fluctuates between seasons. We hope to be back on top again very soon, especially with an entirely new medical team coming on board."

You scanned the shelves and glass cases, admiring the look of trophies you were familiar with, and ones you had never seen before.

"An entire new medical staff? No one is staying on?" You asked, confused. What kind of club replaced everyone all at the same time? Usually at least one person remained to pass the torch, to maintain familiarity. It set warning bells off in your head.

“Ah, well, many of our staff members were quite loyal to Dr. Henry, you know he was here for 17 years after all. So they all followed him out. But we are excited to usher in a new wave of sparkling young medical talent!”

You swallowed hard, still feeling from the information. You still hadn’t finished your degree, and yet you were being offered a head position at what was supposed to be a huge and well-respected club. You couldn’t help but think of the blaugrana.

Something flitted in your chest, a feeling that surrounded you whenever you walked into the camp. The feeling of family, like you were home. The coldness of Steve’s answer didn’t spark anything close to that feeling. Not every workplace needed to be a part of your heart, a new family. These days. You had no idea what your family was supposed to be, or if you had one at all. Your brain begged you to ask what the environment was like, how close the staff was, what created such a high level of loyalty that they would all follow this man wherever he went, abandoning club and home. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, asking instead,

“Do you only display the most recent. Champions League trophy?”

More laughter from Steve, but of the fakest nature. “Yes we have one on this side, one on the other. They’re … ehem, all of our UCL trophies are displayed here.” Your cheeks warmed with subtle embarrassment. You knew nothing about this room or this club, and if you were honest with yourself, you had no desire to. You missed Barca. But you had to give this club its chance – an honest shot to be your new home.

The two of you continued through the halls as Steve showed you all the medical equipment and facilities that would be at your disposal should you accept. At the end, he led you to the players’ lounge, offering you a seat. The blue had given you a baby migraine, and you were incredibly grateful for the ability to sit and rest. You refused the gracious offers for food, sipping on a bottle of water to dull the throbbing against your skull. You searched the room for something, something familiar – a face, a number, to make you feel like everything was going to work out in the end. But it never appeared, the bright colors and foreign faces more of a discomfort than anything else.

"Make yourself comfortable, Doctor. Let me get some of the players that you'll be working with, and you can hear from them what the environment is like."

You nodded sweetly, sitting up straight with ankles crossed in the way Princess Diaries taught you to. As the footsteps faded slowly into the distance, a sigh passed between your lips. What were you doing? Despite the lecture given to yourself on the uncomfortable plane ride over (Chelsea would only pay for economy), it had all gone out the window. Your gut was in knots, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were doing something wrong.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and the screen lit up in your hand to read "One Football: FC Barcelona vs Manchester United - Starting lineup now available." The notification had been pressed before you registered what was going on. Your eyes scanned the list just to land on one name. Your mind went back to the last conversation the two of you shared. The most venomous words had slipped past your lips, and you had finally done it: you pushed the last person who cared for you away. The sentiment was harsh. How could anyone ever recover a relationship after shattering it so completely? Despite how much much it hurt to grip the broken shards so tightly, you held on nonetheless, packing Gavi's hoodie in your bag, the '6' embroidered into the pocket cutting open a gaping wound in your heart, and yet you enjoyed its presence there.

"Doctora, I'm pleased to introduce Kepa and Christian. They have been with the club for a while, and they would be happy to answer all your questions."

"A scoreless first half here at Old Trafford as both Barcelona and Man U return to the locker rooms for half time. As we saw Pedri went down in those final minutes of the half, and we've received a report that he is out for the rest of the match. His injury status is unknown, but if the magician is out of commission, this could be a very easy steal for United."

The sounds of fists slamming against lockers was loud enough to be heard all the way home in Spain. Pedri Potter, the star, the leader of Barca's new era, was now in icing his right hamstring in some medical examination room, while the rest of the team scrambled to figure out a scenario in which they would win without him in a mere 15 minutes. Gavi bounced his leg anxiously, eager to see his friend and make sure he was okay.

"Listen up boys. We can win this game without Pedri. The score is now 1-0 to Man U, and all we need to do it score once to tie. Then we are back home, our turf and our fans. Robert, Rapha, your goal is to put the ball in the net. I don't care what you have to do. The middle, you need to get the ball in a good position for these two. That means Gavi, you'll be- Gavi pay attention!"

Head snapping up, Pablo's eyes met Xavi's directly. He knew he should be paying attention - this was the first of several games that needed to be won until they reached a trophy. He needed to be on his A-game, and yet, his mind was drifting. He wished it was just concern over Pedri capturing his attention. But in the corners of his mind, your voice lingered. "Babysitting... insignificant... embarrassment." All words you had used when talking about him as he was on the verge of pouring his entire soul out onto the linoleum for you. He didn't understand the anger that flowed through him. It was a sense of ... incompleteness. If you had let him finish, let him say the words that he didn't fully understand, then he would have been okay. He would have watched as you kicked his beating heart against the wall, telling him that you could never feel that way towards him. He would have been okay: relieved. But you had left him dangling off the edge of a cliff, with no relief in being pulled to safety nor mercy in being allowed to fall.

Xavi gave his instructions to the midfield and the defensive line, going over the weak points that needed to be addressed.

"Pedri is most likely out for the next eight weeks, missing both the next match and the SuperCopa, so this is your opportunity to adjust to playing in high-stress situations without him."

Gavi's head raised fully at this. Eight weeks? It has been forever since someone was out for that long. Since the beginning of the season... since you had joined the team. A pinch in Pablo's chest. His brain repeated over and over that the best thing to do was let you go. To let you be your own person, grow and be independent, saving himself the heartache because the one girl he wanted was the one he couldn't have. Yet his heart held on with an iron grip. It refused to release you, reminding him of every sweet moment shared in cars and offices and bedrooms. It was quick to forget the pain of being perceived as a child. Pablo's heart begged him to wait for you, because it was incapable of letting go of a devotion so intense. His heart ached for you, longing for the day he be deemed worthy enough to love you wholly and completely.

"Eight weeks is insane - we have never gone that long with our midfield handicapped. Is there no way to speed up recovery? Who gave the estimate?" Robert asked, wiping the sweat off his brow.

"Luca is the only one from the medical staff who is here right now. He is the one who made the determination. Of course, the rest of the staff will be free to reevaluate when we return home. But Luca will be the one continuing with the course of treatment, and so we will go with his estimate."

"What? Where is y/n?" The question came from Alejandro, followed by hushed agreement. Even if you were not the first point of contact for all the players, you were a team staple, becoming as familiar to them as the crest embroidered on their uniforms. The older players had watched as you performed medical miracles on their teammates that rivaled what Jesus did for the blind, allowing the team to prosper all season. 15 points at the top of the table, and at least half had your name on them. The youngers had felt your impact directly, following your instructions like gospel. They knew how much care you showed to every single one of them, from the starters to the bench warmers. Your hands had put them back together. A touch of you lingered in all the success achieved, and your absence felt closer to abandonment than anything else.

"You should ask Pablito - he would be the first one to notice that his girlfriend wasn't on the flight." Ferran's voice: the closest human equivalent to nails on a chalkboard. After everything that had taken place, it was a wonder he still had the energy to be an ass.

"Maybe you should ask Ferran about his HR investigation, which is a main reason that she's touring the Chelsea facility fight now. Hey, maybe you'll see her this summer when you get sold there. They're always looking for people to keep the bench warm while the important players are on the field." Gavi spoke calmly and evenly, like he was stating pure fact. He stood, leaving the room to avoid the round of questioning that was about to occur regarding HR and the doctora's new home.

The click of Pablo's cleats echoed loudly in the hallway a she approached the medical room, where Luca was fumbling with bandage and his laptop, while Pedri waited on the exam table like a fish at the market. His head turned at the sound of Gavi's approach, and he gave a weak smile to the younger player.

"I finally pushed it too far. Great timing, eh Hermano? It's only a Champion's League, a SuperCopa, and a potential classico that I'll miss. Nothing significant."

Gavi could do nothing but let out a slight laugh, cupping Pedri on the back of the neck. His heart hurt for his friend. This is what every player dreamed of: playing for cups, winning with the team of their dreams. And Pedri was going to miss all of it because they had relied on him to heavily, asked him to bridge too many gaps.

"Please don't say that word to me ever again. Luca, how's it looking? Eight weeks seems a little excessive for a sprain." Gavi knew that Luca was doing something wrong. Or stupid. Or, the most likely option, both. When Ansu had sprained his hamstring, he was back on the field in 28 days under your care. Alejandro had a minor tear in his meniscus, and yet still he was faster than the speed of sound 6 weeks later. Now there was no you. No melodic voice explaining muscle strain and stride length and tissue recovery. Just a stupid, lanky Spaniard in free Barca merch putting "leg hurts" into Web MD and seeing what he can diagnose with this time.

"Why don't you let the medical professionals do their job, Gavi, and you go back to putting your head in front of peoples' feet."

Looking to quickly diffuse the situation, Pedri turned to his friend, wanting to stop looking at the man who might end his football career with a wrong move and an 'oops'.

"I'll just let y/n look at it when I get back home. She'll fix me up in no time. That is, if you give me one of your spots on her schedule."

"Yeah, that's if she even comes back to work."

Pedri looked at the younger boy with confusion. It had been several weeks since he had seen Gavi with his favorite physio. Initially, he thought the crush had faded - that Pablo had found another pretty thing to maintain his interest, and you had fallen to the wayside with the other failed football loves. But Pablo was so clearly unhappy. He was more irritable, spending more and more time on his phone while avoiding the group all together. He sat silently in Pedri's passenger seat, screen illuminating his face but remaining silent.

[Doctora]: Good morning Pablo - running late. Will bring you an apology smoothie

[Doctora]: im going to need you to send me a video of you tying your shoes as proof

[Doctora]: i'll tell you when i see u tomorrow

Gavi had spent two weeks going back over every message you had ever sent him. He watched the way your tone changed from proper and professional to something lighter, more friendly and familiar. Over and over your voice played in his head.

"Pablo."

Pride be damned. He missed you. As he stood behind his teammates, whispers about the staff still whirling around the tunnel, it dawned on him. Barca, the club of his dreams, the fantasy of his childhood, would never - could never - be complete again if you left.

"And we're back in Old Trafford for the second half of this UCL match between the Historic FC Barcelona, and the red devils of Manchester United."

"That's incredible that you went to school there! I'm a ride or die for their basketball team, so you already have my respect."

You flashed Christian a smile - a real one, the first genuine display of joy you've been able to muster in a while. Both of the players had shown a genuine interest in getting to know you, trying to sell you on the idea of joining the club. Kepa had gushed over how much he loved living in London, citing his experiences as a fellow Spaniard.

"You're around so many Spanish speakers at the club, you hardly miss home."

Christian, the more injury-prone of the two, talked about his experiences with the medical team, and the close relationships he had built there. All of the medical team had become family to him in some way or the other. It calmed your previous anxieties. Maybe it was just a fear of change keeping you tethered to Barca, and all you needed was time to adjust.

"I think you'd get along really well with the other players, of course, the ones that opt-in to working with you."

This statement from Christian caught the attention of both you and Steve, who rushed over before you could ask for clarification. Opt-in? How could you opt-in to medical treatment?

"Miss, I think that Kepa and Christian have both done a wonderful job of providing just a small taste of what it means to be part of the Chelsea family. We don't want to keep them from afternoon training."

You said your thanks and goodbyes, but before they left Kepa turned to you, as if suddenly struck with a lightening bolt of realization.

"You're the Barca physio that works with Gavi, right?" He asked in Spanish. "He mentioned a girl physio during international training."

Another knot in your stomach at the mere mention of his name. "Yeah that would be me."

Kepa's face shifted, brows downturned and lips pursed. "Let me give you my contact information, in case you have any more questions." This line was in English, spoken more in Steve's direction than in yours. He approached, taking the phone from your hands and switching back to Spanish.

"Don't leave Barca. Gavi talked about you a lot during the break. They respect and value you a lot there - don't throw that away." He handed the phone back to you as you tried to contain your expression, suppressing the shock you felt from displaying itself on your features. What could Pablo have said that would make this man go out of his way to prevent you from joining this club? What had been so compelling that Kepa worked against his own best interest?

It was now just you and Steve in the room, and you turned to him, his skin flushed, to ask about Christian's little slip.

"There was something mentioned about players opting out of treatment?"

"Ah, just a small clause in your contract. Just says that players can choose not to be treated by club medical staff and find their own if they feel uncomfortable. It's all there in the paperwork somewhere. You can call my assistant if you read over it again and have more questions. Now, I know that you need to go soon, but I wouldn't be able to let you go without meeting one of our new signings. Someone else who knows what it's like to decide to make the shift from La Liga here to the old PL. Come with me."

You rose from your seat, migraine returning from the stress onset. What was being kept from you? Obviously you hadn't read your employment offer close enough. You walked through the passages somewhat mindlessly, following Steve with your body as your mind drifted elsewhere. What was being hidden from you?

"Joao, nice to see you again! This is Doctor y/l/n, and we're trying to convince her to make the same switch from Spain to London."

All of your medical education had told you that the masticator and other jaw muscles were voluntary; that they could be controlled and moved when you wanted. Not today. Your jaw went slack, and it refused to shut as you stared at the Portuguese beauty before you. There was no way. How had you missed the news of his move. How unprofessional was it to say 'pinch me' during what was essentially an interview.

"Nice to meet you, Doctora. I'm quite relieved that I don't have to speak in English - apparently my accent is not as good as I thought."

Joao Felix was shaking your hand. You had yet to say anything or even shut your mouth. Joao Felix was shaking your hand. You laughed lightly at his statement, muscles moving independently of the pudding that was your brain currently. Joao Felix was shaking your hand.

"I'm sorry, it's so nice to meet you, I'm just a little overwhelmed. You're one of my favorite players in football right now. I've been following you since your debut. Oh my God."

It was Joao's turn to laugh, a light and glorious sound. You had made him laugh. You wished someone was recording so you could send the video to Angeliika. And your mom. They would both go into cardiac arrest. His skin turned slightly pink as he scratched the back of his head, flattered by the admiration of someone so accomplished (and, as he would later reflect, gorgeous). Despite not understanding a lick of Spanish, Steve knew he had made a winning move by introducing you to Joao. The two of you leaned into each other as you spoke, and he motioned towards the field, inviting you to a stroll around the turf to chat.

All of your pride and prejudice fantasies were being realized in this moment. You were taking a polite stroll around the grounds with a man that you had salivated over while watching football on TV. A golden boy and future champion. He was something incredible. Witty and charismatic and easy to talk to. Everyone says not to meet your heroes, and yet here you were, floating several inches above the ground beside Joao.

"So, what club are you moving from? Can't be something in Madrid - I would remember you."

Lord, this was too much. You gave a silent thanks to the heavens, all the good karma you had accumulated throughout your life manifesting on this day.

"Oh no, not a Madrid club. Just a small Catalan club called Barca. Heard of it?" You teased as Joao stopped in his tracks. It was his turn to go wide-eyed and slack jawed.

"You're the Barca girl physio? I have heard of you! One of the physios at Atleti is your classmate. He said you're crazy smart."

How were you staying alive when all the blood in your body was in your face? How had so many people in the football space heard your name with you blissfully unaware. The smile on your face was not just due to the compliment. Maybe there were people ready to be there for you, and you just needed to reach arm out to them.

The conversation came to a close as you watched other groups come onto the field, preparations being made for upcoming matches. You thanked Joao for his time, once again involuntarily gushing about how surreal this experience was.

"Ah, there's really no need. The pleasure was all mine. I hope that I'll get to see more of you, Doctora, no matter what decision you end up making." Stretching his arm out, pulling you in for a hug. He enveloped you, arms wrapped tightly around your frame in a way that was borderline inappropriate for a goodbye. He smelled heavenly, the warmth radiating from his body akin to a fireplace. This was the stuff of dreams and imagination.

And yet, Joao was not the name on your mind. He way he smelled was beautiful and yet unfamiliar. Your thoughts traveled back to the last hug like this you had shared with someone. To the scent of One Million and powdery deodorant, mixed with something that couldn't be bottled. To the feeling of strong arms sitting lower on your waist. To brown hair and brown eyes and a brown leather couch. To white shirts and white bedsheets. To the soft voice and smooth voice that called for you.

"Doctora."

Logic be damned. You missed Pablo. And then the empty expanse of your soul filled with a feeling of dread. You had made a mistake. So many mistakes. Pushing away Pablo, lying to your friends about how much you needed them. Considering another job. Nothing in the the blue and white had given you even 1% of the feelings you experienced walking into Camp Nou every day. But you would never be able to go back if Gavi was angry with you. Ferran was cattle waiting to be sold. Gavi was a contender this year's golden boy, a powerhouse on the field, a bright star for both club and country. You reached into your bag, staring at his name in your phone. But your fingers shook too violently to press the call button. You remembered the hurt on his features, the way he couldn't even look at you as he passed in the halls. You weren't ready to see [Call Declined] appear on your screen. Instead you rested your phone on your lap, reaching in to retrieve your Chelsea contract.

Obviously, your eagerness to run away from your current life had blurred your vision. On page 22 of 31, there is was in what appeared to be a smaller font than the rest of the agreement.

"Under FIFA and British Football regulation, players may refuse treatment from club-appointed medical staff for any reason, including but not limited to feelings of fear, discomfort, lack of safety, and lack of confidence. Providers will be compensated on a fee-for-service basis, where compensation is scaled based on the number of players consistently treated. Should more than 40% of players request alternative treatment, the club may terminate the contract with the provider before the term of the contract has elapsed."

Your eyes widened, brows knitted together in confusion and borderline disgust. Women in medicine were already at a disadvantage, and that increased tenfold for women in sports medicine. Should the players feel uncomfortable with you because of your sex or age, you could spontaneously be out of a job after picking up and moving your whole life?!

Before you could pick up the phone and tell Steve that he would need to find someone else to fill this cursed position, a buzzing came from your bag. Who was calling your work phone?

"Hello?"

"Good evening Doctora y/l/n, hope that your visit at Chelsea went well." Andreas was Xavi's secretary, and he was the closest thing you would ever get to the cast of The Devil Wears Prada. He was rather cold in the way that he spoke, but never rude. Well dressed and straight to the point - commanding of respect.

"Went very well, Andreas. I got to meet-"

"Mister Xavi has asked for your presence on the flight back to Barcelona to discuss your future with the club. It is of the utmost importance that this meeting occur as soon as possible. So you need to be in Heathrow by tonight at 11pm for check in with the rest of the team."

"But my flight back to Barcelona is tomorrow and I-"

"You'll be fully reimbursed for the cost of changing your travel. We are leaving from Terminal 2. Have a wonderful evening."

Just like that, you were wondering how fast you could pack everything and leave in the next 6 hours when your personal phone buzzed in your lap.

[Pablo]: I know u said u need space but

[Pablo]: i rlly need to talk to u

[Pablo]: can i meet you somewhere?

Heart racing, you typed back as fast as you could with trembling fingers, telling him that you would be so happy to meet him, giving him the address of a café near your hotel. You didn't want him to see what your salary could actually afford (since Chelsea didn't cover your travel accommodations). You let out a sigh of relief. He wanted to see you. He wanted to speak with you. He wasn't completely lost.

Packing had been fast - you had only brought the essentials to London to avoid paying a bag fee on the budget airline you had traveled. Fixing yourself in the mirror, you let out a deep sigh. What were you even going to say to Pablo? Begging for forgiveness seemed the most logical choice. You practiced your apology in the mirror, and yet froze every time. How would you respond when he asked you why? Why it had been so easy for you to push him away, to strike him down, to make him feel so utterly unimportant to you and your life? You didn't know how you would respond.

Feelings of the heart are often the easiest to articulate. They're not like emotions. Emotions are straight forward: happiness, anger, sadness, jealousy. Things that were caused by one identifiable source, and could be expressed easily with words and actions. But the matters that went beyond feeling, those were the most difficult to understand, let alone communicate. Despite his form, it wasn't lust that drew you into Pablo. Those thoughts had made you breathe heavy and push your thighs together. The glimpses of Pablo's bare form were painted on the edge of your mind, soft skin and hard muscle, inviting you in for a touch, a taste. It was an exciting idea, but not the one that riled you up the most.

No, it was something different. It was a scene that had plagued your mind for weeks upon end, always causing you to wake in a cold sweat with a tightness in your chest, breaths labored. You pictured yourself laying on Pablo's bare chest, drawing circles on his skin as his heart beat rhythmically for you to listen to. As you drifted off, he would place a kiss on the top of your head, running a soothing hand down your spine. It wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer into him, as he whispered softly.

"Mine."

It was a magnetic pull that Pablo had, a force of nature that you were unable to escape. It could be described as nothing other than desire, like you would make the world stop spinning until the two of you were united. There was a higher force tying you to Pablo, and etched in your bones was a knowledge that you would never be able to leave him. But the sentiments died on your tongue before they could ever take to the air, never to fall on the ears of a certain Spaniard.

As your heels clicked against the city pavement, a sense of calm washed over you. He had reached out to you. There was an olive branch being extended. He was ready to hear what you had to say. Yet upon entering the small space, a different voice called out your name.

"Pedri?"

It was impossible to hide the disappointment in your voice. You had built up the confidence to come here solely based on the premise that Gavi wanted to see you. Your ego had deflated, back to feeling like utter garbage for the way you had treated the person who, in reality, was your closest friend. Before the self pity could fully sink its claws in, you noticed the full-leg brace that Pedri was sporting.

"I'm sorry that I used Pablo's phone to text you - didn't have your personal number, and it would be a little... salt-in-the-wound-ish to ask him for it right now. Especially since you asked him not to speak to you."

"I never said that!" You exclaimed a little more enthusiastically than intended, causing a couple people to glance in your direction. Pedri escorted you to a table in the corner, offering to go and get you a coffee to fight the chill of a London January.

"No please. It's completely fine. You shouldn't be standing with a torn muscle anyways."

Pedri looked at you inquisitively. He had not seen you in a while, especially with you and Gavi not on speaking terms. He had missed the quips and sarcastic comments he was able to catch during training. He missed the feeling of safety whenever you cared for himself or others on the field, as he knew that you were to be trusted with their bodies. He missed the fire you sparked in Pablo, leading to unparalleled passion and unprecedented performances. The air of natural confidence that you spoke with is what brought the smile to his face. Not hesitation or wobble in your voice. No need to consult a dozen others. Medically, you knew your shit.

"A tear? Luca told me it was only excessive strain on my hamstrings."

A scoff and an eye roll that widened Pedri's smile. "I wouldn't let Luca perform medicine on a Barbie. That's the wrong kind of brace if it's a sprain. It's immobilizing. You need something with compression - a thigh sleeve most likely. Have you been icing it?"

"How could you leave Barca when your successors are idiots like Luca?" His arms folded across the table in front of him as the realization spread across your features. You were acting like his physio on impulse.

"How did you know I was thinking about leaving?"

"Everybody knows. No one could focus on today's second half because of it. When I went down everyone was scrambling to find you and call you. Everyone, myself included, was waiting for you to run across the field, bag in those magic hands ready to come and give me a new leg. But then you weren't there. And I was just praying that Luca didn't schedule me for an amputation."

A shy smile and a breathy laugh. You met his kind eyes, piercing though you. It was surprising when you felt the wetness on your cheeks, registering you were crying only after the tears had rolled down to your chin. He brought his chair in closer, holding your hand, and you held on for dear life. Your tears were falling in earnest now, fat and fast enough to hit the table as you used Pedri as a lifeline.

"Come back to Barca."

"I can't Pedri. I've... I've just made such a mess of everything."

"You're talking about Pablo."

"I'm talking about everything. I have a player that actively hates me and is looking for every opportunity to get me fired. Everyone on the team thinks that I'm sleeping with Pablo. And Pablo - I can't even explain how much I messed up. I told him to stay away from me. To give me space. I don't want space." You rested your forehead against the cool wood of the table. "I just want him to talk to me. When you sent me that message I was so excited. I thought he was ready to forgive me."

"Don't worry for a second about Ferran. We heard about the complaint to HR and I'd be happy to speak on your behalf about the dogshit he says to you. Everyone with a brain knows you're not sleeping with Pablo - they all have so much respect for the work that you do. Dembele came to me after the match and told me to contact you. He said your first assignment for Barca was to work on his leg recovery, and it was the best treatment he's ever had." You raised your head, tears turning your eyes red and puffy as they stained your cheeks.

"This may be selfish of me to say, but I would do anything to have you stay at the club and work with me. I can't miss all of these cup games because the physios don't know what's going on. This is everything I have ever wanted in my life. And if you're the person that can help me get there, then nothing, especially not Ferran and the other airheads at the club, are going to hold me back."

He moved to grab your other hand as well, looking you straight in the eyes. There was not one indication that he was exaggerating his sentiments. He wanted to win more than he wanted to breathe.

"And Pablo? Don't worry about him."

"How can I not worry, Pedri. I was so cruel to him. He'll never speak to me again."

"Doctora, don't you know that there's no one on this earth he holds in higher regard?"

The terminal was surprisingly quite busy upon your arrival. It seemed that everyone was catching an international red-eye, causing you to stumble through crowds with your small bag and exhausted demeanor. You approached the airport staff, utterly lost in trying to find the meeting place. It was 10:56pm, and you didn't have the money to be missing the company-sponsored return flight.

"Excuse me, I'm with the F.C Barcelona team. Where can I check in for my flight?"

"I don't remember them becoming a unisex team.'' Your expression remained neutral as the staff member chuckled at his own joke. You didn't have time to give a lecture on the dangers of misogyny. "I need to see your Barca ID."

"I don't have my team ID badge, but if you let me speak to-"

"Don't you women have something better to do than try and fuck a footballer? Lord, you even have a suitcase and everything. I suggest that you go home and stop with these little charades - it's embarrassing."

You stood speechless as the man walked away, stationing himself in a different area of the terminal. Behind you, screams were heard coming from the door, followed by flashes of light in rapid succession.

"Gavi I love you!"

"Pedri Pedri! You're my idol!"

"Xavi have my babies!"

Your attention shifted to the security guarding the entrance as the Barca squad filtered through the doors, all dressed in coordinated pale yellow. You speed walked towards them, pace catching the attention of one of the guards.

"Miss, you need to maintain space."

Gavi turned to look at the person that was causing a disturbance. Usually it was a child who had gotten a little too excited to see their favorite players, and often the soft spot in his heart compelled him to give them a picture or signature. It was hard to have your dreams crushed as a child by a celebrity that didn't care, and he was determined not to be that type of person. That's when his eyes locked with a pair oh so familiar to him. He stood in place, frozen as his teammates narrowly avoided bumping into him and causing an awful domino effect. It felt like forever since he last looked at you this way: like you were the only person in the room.

"Ah, Doctora y/n, glad Andreas was able to coordinate with you. Sir, she's with us." Xavi's word was law, as usual, and you were allowed to pass through with the rest of the group, ushered to a more private area of the terminal, the screams of fans echoing behind you.

Pablo watched as you stood alongside the coach, chattering away about God knows what. Eric and Pedri were beside him, making conversation about the new additions introduced in the FIFA update.

"Did you know she was going to be here?" Gavi asked, interrupting Pedri's rant about how expensive different skins and expansions were. He had been desperate to see you, thinking of all the ways he might reconcile once he saw you again. But not now. He wasn't ready to face you - not ready to be told 'no' again. For the first time in years, a cold vein of fear ran through him. Was this it? Were you handing in your resignation, coming to Spain only to collect your things before moving to the gray fogginess of the Premier League?

"Yeah. We had a little chat earlier." Say what you want about the IQ of footballers, but Pedri was incredibly intelligent. He himself had given up a career in medicine to explore football greatness. This meant he was smart enough to have deleted the messages that he sent from Pablo's phone before he did his 78th re-read of all your text messages. He was also smart enough to figure out that Gavi had wanted you practically since he laid eyes on you. Contrary to what many may think, Gavi didn't really look at girls. He was usually absorbed in conversation with a friend, whether in person or virtually, and was not prone to looking at every pretty girl that crossed his path. He was hard to please and even harder to impress. So when he started seeking you out more often, mentioning you during random drives, he knew that Pablito was infatuated.

It was several months, however, before Pedri realized the extent of Pablo's affection towards you. It had been during the international break, when Pedri sat and played FIFA with Nico, the only worthy opponent among La Roja. Pablo was half watching the game, half staring at the illuminated screen when he stood suddenly. Pedri watched from the corner of his eye as Gavi stepped out onto the balcony in shorts and his training shirt in the bitter chill of December. When the match had ended (3-1 to him of course), he followed the younger outside, and found him with his phone pointed towards the horizon. The sun in its retirement had painted the sky the most vibrant shades of oranges and pinks, bleeding into a royal purple. The hazy, circular glow kept the sky warm, and the colors stretched out over the wide expanse of the city, painting everything in the golden light of dusk. That's when Pedri heard the shutter click.

"Since when do you take pictures of the sunset?" He was teasing again. It was always fun to rile up his fiery teammate.

"I'm sending them to the doctora. It's so pretty, I want her to see it."

"Isn't she in Barcelona right now? She's probably looking at the same sunset."

"But it's just so beautiful from this high up." Gavi said, eyes still transfixed on his phone as he searched for the most worthy flick to send you. "I just want to send her something beautiful. I want to send her every beautiful thing in the world."

Yes, Pedri was a smart man. Smart enough to see that Pablo's feelings to you were stronger than he had ever experienced for another. Probably the strongest he had ever experienced at all. He was smart enough to approach Alejandro and Ansu, while Gavi chewed on his lip at the prospect of speaking to you, to organize the seating during the flight home.

"Don't get too comfortable, Doctora. You'll be joining me upfront for a chat after takeoff." You laughed politely at Xavi as he boarded the plane. You gathered your things, acutely aware of Ferran's gaze on you while you bent over.

"Have a good time at Chelsea? Try and ruin any lives while there?" He asked, voice laced with annoyance. HR had approached him about your complaint, informing him that they would be asking other players and staff about comments made at your expense. While he could keep his friends quiet, he had done too much to piss off Gavi, leaving him vulnerable to everyone in his camp. His only hope was to get you to leave before the investigation had concluded.

"I would prefer we didn't speak about non-professional matters. Thank you, Ferran." You said, smiling so sweetly he felt his teeth throb. You boarded the plane last with the rest of the staff, Luca rushing past you like he would be left behind if he wasn't seated soon. Glancing down at your ticket, you read out your seat number. Row 6, seat G. Walking onto the aircraft, you were stunned by the beauty of the first class cabin. It was furnished completely with plush leather, with every two or three seats getting their own dividers from the rest of the passengers. You walked to row 6, and made your way across the aisle to the right side of the plane where your seat was meant to be. In row 6, seat F, sat Pablo. He looked up at the aisle at the sound of shuffling, and the two of you just stared at one another, wordlessly communicating a shared hurt. All you wanted was to pull him in and say how sorry you were. You just didn't know if he'd be ready to accept.

"Um, I think I'm in the seat next to you." You told him sheepishly. He moved from his place, allowing you to sit next to him by the window.

"I thought the staff usually sits together." He said, trying to prevent it from sounding like a complaint, because it truly wasn't. He wondered what force of fate had allowed your seat to be placed next to his. Little did he know that fate was from the Canary Islands. You sat next to him, adjusting your seat and the belt, before bouncing your leg nervously. The speed increased when you felt the vibration of the engine, watching the plane move from its parked space onto the runway. You wanted to say something - anything - but your throat was dry and the words failed you. You didn't know what to say to ensure that you would be forgiven. That was probably the scariest part: knowing that the forgiveness may never come.

"Are you afraid of flying?"

You turned your head at the question. Gavi's eyes were fixated on your sweatpants-clad thigh as it bounced at incredible speeds. There were many things you were scared of in that moment, but the plane didn't help quell any of them. You were going to be stuck next to Pablo for the next two hours at the least. The anxiety of not knowing how he felt towards you gnawed at your skin, eating you alive. You nodded your head, because in all honesty, it was the same fear, wasn't it? Flying, falling - all terrifying prospects.

Gavi put one airpod in, extending the other to you. It was a peace offering, the olive branch you had waited for. You accepted it graciously, muttering a quiet thank you as you slotted it into place. Your body turned back towards the window, 'Sky full of stars' playing softly in the right half of your brain. As the plane continued to move slowly down the runway, you felt a hand rest atop yours, bringing your bouncing leg to a halt. The skin on skin sent shockwaves through you, electricity running up and down your arm. His hand moved sideways, sliding under yours to lift, and then proceeding to interlock your fingers. The warmth of Pablo's hand, the strength of his grip. The slight squeeze as the plane began picking up speed. Despite lacking the confidence to look at him directly, you peaked at your joined hands. Pablo was here. And through the presses of his fingers and the soothing motion of his thumb, he reminded you that Pablo would always be here, so long as you would have him.

"y/n, Mister Xavi would like to see you now."

You hadn't even realized your hand was still laced with Pablo's until one of the assistant coaches came to collect you. Gavi had drifted off into a light sleep, waking as he felt the cold hit his once warm palm. He grabbed your wrist as you tried to follow the assistant coach.

"Don't leave." He said, voice dry and raspy. You weren't sure if he meant now or the club. You moved your hand to join it with the one on your wrist, giving a gentle squeeze of reassurance, as he had done for you.

"Don't worry. I'll be right back."

This was your first time on a plane that had a lounge. The coaching staff was spread across all four sofas, drinking champagne and discussing the efforts from this trip. Xavi sat at a table, an empty seat across from him.

"Doctora, welcome back from Chelsea. Did you enjoy your visit?" He asked, offering your a flute that you politely declined.

"It was wonderful. The staffand players were all great. I'm grateful for the opportunity."

Xavi raised an eyebrow at the diplomatic answer. You were not giving him much of an indication as to your decision. He reached into his bag and extracted a medical file, sliding it over to you.

"As I'm sure you saw on TV and online, Pedri suffered quite a severe injury during the Man U match. Pedri is a key component of our midfield, and Luca has estimated eight to ten weeks for his recovery. I'd like you to take a look at his medical examination report and recommend a course of treatment."

You took the papers in your hand, looking at Xavi cautiously. What was the purpose of this exercise?

"Well, I've already told Pedri that his brace was incorrect, and gave him the specifications for a sleeve to buy once we return home. The eight to ten weeks metric is based on the healing with this immobilization boot. Using the correct compression sleeves and ice, as well as rest, Pedri should be back on in 4 weeks. Five if you want to be safe. That would mean his first appearance back would be the SuperCopa semifinals."

Xavi laughed to himself, collecting the files and returning them to their place. He pulled out another sheet of documents, the words "Adjusted Contract" in bold at the top.

"Doctora y/l/n, it has become increasingly evident as I watch you practice and treat our players that you are a generational talent in sports medicine. You have a deep understanding of the body that few others, both in the club and outside, can fully grasp. At Barca, we strive to do everything in our power to keep generational talents in Camp Nou. I would like you to consider remaining at the club until the summer, when contract renegotiations occur. This would allow you to see out a season that you have contributed so greatly to."

"Why the new contract now then?"

"Just a few clause adjustments. Firstly, we have increased your compensation to absorb your living costs. Those will now be covered by the club. The other change is on this page here. It states that your main focus must be on starters, injured prioritized before healthy. So, if you choose to accept, Pedri would be the top priority as an injured starter. You would dedicate all the necessary time to his treatment."

You scanned the document, and it was just as he said. No other nonsense, just the clauses on compensation and prioritization.

"This is all so flattering sir, but..." Your voice trailed off, shy to speak in front of a legend and the man holding your future in his hands.

"What can we do to make this deal irrefutable?"

"The contract is perfect sir. What I would need is a promise from you. Chelsea's base compensation was higher, but the compensation was based on the number of services the medical staff provides. I could be fired at any moment if not enough players were comfortable being treated by me. I felt, or well rather I didn't feel the sense of loyalty, of family, that I get as Barca. And so I would need a promise from you."

"Name your demand."

"When the summer comes and my contract needs to be renegotiated, keep me on the team. Don't try and pawn me off to someone else. This is my team, my club, my family. So you have to promise me that I have a future here, or else I'll save the heartbreak and leave now."

Xavi placed a pen on the table, bringing his chair forward to be as close as possible to you. "Doctora, you are an incredible and frankly priceless asset to us. We were able to hand select you from the best of the best new physios in Spain. Our successes, any trophies and titles, we owe them in part to you. Help me finish the season with a strong and healthy squad, and I swear to you on my life that you will have a place at Barca until the day you die." He stretched out his hand, and you took a deep breath, meeting the shake midway. It felt weird, signing your contract again, but for more money. You definitely didn't expect to be in this position before you've even graduated, but it brought a pride to your soul. Xavi saw something in you. A generational talent. Somebody believed in what you could do.

You returned to your seat and found that it was Gavi's turn to bounce his leg. You sat down, and he followed you with his eyes. After a moment of silence, he spoke.

"Did you enjoy your trip?"

"Very much so. I got to meet Joao Felix."

Gavi's face turned to you, catching the beaming smile that broke out across your face.

"Yeah? You like him in person, or was he a disappointment?"

"He was less... dreamy than I had anticipated. But still sweet nonetheless. It was a cool experience."

Gavi responded with a hum, turning his music back on and looking away from you. His other airpod sat on the tray table, right where you left it.

"Pablo," it was your turn to rest a hand on his bouncing leg, "we have to talk."

Pablo turned to you, eyes sad and lip between his teeth. "Do we? I feel like you've said everything there is to say." He knew he was being difficult. He knew he was being petty. But Pablo could not let himself get hurt again, especially not in front of the entire team. If he was going to mourn your departure, it was going to be in the comfort of his own guest bed, the one piece of furniture he could sleep on for 7 continuous hours because it held no memories of you. It was your turn to find his fingers and slot them between your own.

"I didn't mean it. Any of it. I have so many reasons why I didn't mention meeting you, Pablo, but I'm just not brave enough to tell you yet. It wasn't because it wasn't important. It could never be. You are one of the most important people in my life. You're one of the only people I have left. Please don't push me away."

His eyes met yours, and he knew there was no way he could remain angry. It was you, after all. The person that made Pablo believe in the possibility of a soulmate. The one that Gavi thought of whenever songs about incredible love came up on his playlist. You were it. He gripped your hand tighter.

"Going to be hard to support you from several countries away, but I will try my best."

"You don't have to. I'm staying."

Gavi's eyes widened, face lighting up like a kid who had just been gifted an entire candy store. "You're staying?"

"Mhm. Barca is my home. My family. No matter how bad it gets, I could never leave this place behind." It felt as though you spoke those words right into his soul, breathing life back into his very being. You were staying. Your voice, your laugh, your energy - all of it would be at Camp Nou, waiting on the sidelines as he fought tooth and nail to capture your attention. "And plus, Pedri and Xavi basically begged me to come back so Luca doesn't have to treat him."

Gavi let a laugh fill his lungs and spill from his throat, maybe a little louder than necessary on a midnight flight. But he was feeling genuine joy course through his veins. He was a man on death row with a second chance at life. He removed his hand from your grip, bringing to above you and resting it across your shoulders. Professionalism be damned. He just wanted to be close to you right now.

"Xavi was more convincing than Joao? I bet that would be a blow to his ego if he found out." It was comfortable, sitting with Pablo in this way. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to be this close to him. You pushed up the hand rest so that the two of you could get even closer. Professionalism be damned. They wouldn't fire you while Pedri was still limping.

"Oh yeah. Portugal boy is cute, but Xavi in 2010? That was my first love. I could never refuse a request from him." More giggles from Gavi. You wished you would bottle this moment, eager to make his happiness perpetual. He was human sunshine, and he deserved every light and happy and beautiful moment life could offer.

"The spiky hair? Really?"

"Shut up!" Coupled with a smack to the chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, exhaustion of the day and its stressors finally catching up to you. "Every man looks hotter when carrying a trophy."

Gavi let out a light laugh, turning to hide his blush. Yet another motivation to lift as many cups as possible this season. He offered you his other airpod again, which you accepted, inserting it as a soft melody filled your ears. Your eyelids were heavy, and you were drifting in and out of consciousness.

"One day, we'll need to talk about it properly, you know." Pablo said from above you, voice soft and serious.

You nodded your head, letting out a quiet "Mhm" in a agreement. You knew it was an inevitable conversation. You would have to eventually face the music, let Gavi free himself from whatever feelings were sitting on his chest. But you couldn't do it now. Not with your future up in the air. Not with your feelings for Gavi still a massive tangle of emotions.

"Not tonight." You said to him softly, as he turned his head to meet your eyes.

"No, not tonight."

Your eyes finally closed and you began drifting off. Pablo's arm remained wrapped around you as he leaned in closer, basically cuddling you on this plane. Thank the lord for blessing the engineers with enough foresight to install dividers. As you breathed rhythmically against his chest, he pressed his nose into your hair, breathing deeply. Why was everything about you so intoxicating?

In the haze of your sleep, you heard Pablo speaking to you. You listened intently, hoping to catch these special words that he only released to your sleeping form.

"Doctora, I would wait for you forever. Even when you hit rock bottom, I'll be there, waiting for you with a ladder. You will always have me, no matter what."

~~~~~~~

A/N: Guys I did it!!! My longest part to date! I am so flipping tired. It's 4am. I don't remember a time before I started writing this part. Anyways, we are chugging along y'all! Only two parts left in the main story!! I surpassed my 15k word goal. Maybe next part is 18k? I think the next part is going to be my favorite. I haven't decided if I want the big boom pow event to be in part 9 or 10. We will see. Again, apologies for the long time between updates, but semi-decent writing takes time. As usual, please leave thoughts, feedback, predictions, etc. in the replies - I love reading all of them so much!!! If you notice any easter eggs/ small details, feel free to point them out!!! There are so many and I love when y'all get them. IDK when part 9 is coming out but when it's done y'all will be the first to know. Ok love y'all byeeeee.

Also please comment if you want to be added to the taglist ok bye

*~*Taglist*~*

@l0verl4ne @vibinwkay @anastasia-nova @mxgvmiii @mads-grace4 @bubblebeep69 @katluckybear @scuderiabarca @alwaysclassyeagle @simpingmyassoff @grlwithprblms @lqvesoph @pink-manz @graziemille @xxenia14 @nngkay @icedlattewithextracaramel @gyusrose @vip-access @julianalvarez9 @lavie3nrose @ge0rg1ewaa @i8yul @lovefordilfs271 @remuslupinluver @thattaylorswiftobsessedbitch @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @kaismybabe @notanenthucutlet @fullsun9890 @venomwh0re @renaissancewhxre @gaviandgrizisgirl @altgojo @urmomdotcom5678 @eliseline @invidia-of-alhambra @pixwls @stell4rrrs @80sloverry @car1no-xx @mrsgavira @888bear @kylianmbappee @ivyhrry @gaviypedrisbride @grlwithprblms @dessxoxsworld @user6373738

548 notes · View notes

jmdbjk · 22 days

Text

Come Back to Me.

As the first scene opened, my very initial reaction/feeling was overwhelming relief. Is that a weird feeling to feel first thing? With all that's happened these past few weeks, this seemed like this is finally a tangible thing to fight back with. I don't know if that makes logical sense but I guess I have been angry and frustrated and feeling helpless.

The party scene that opens the MV and which he returns to toward the end, perhaps this symbolizes his chosen career/life? At the beginning, he's tired and over it... "leave me alone, I need to step away." So he gets up off the couch. Yet the lyric says "I told you I'm fine, staying good..." (He has told us several times after Festa 2022 that he's fine, he's good.)

He stares (with longing?) at the mysterious door with three little glass windows.

"Spring's always been here." I know the lyric on the MV says Spring, but he clearly says "spring's always been here."

Then he is interrupted again so he strides away from the party and suddenly he's in his bathroom with his little family who are brushing their teeth.

The ideal scenario. Nice, perfect little smiling family, perfect little home.

The door to the bathroom has four little windows on it...

His little girl (Namjoon is a girl-dad) pulls him into the bathroom to join her and her mom. He is confused.

Lyric: "I forgot to shower, 세수할 시간도 아까워 or sesuhal sigando ahkkawuh" and translates to "even washing my face feels like a waste of time." He made the Korean lyric rhyme with the preceding English lyric.

Why just this line in Korean? The concept of "face" has a specific cultural meaning in Asia which includes Korea (but is not limited to this). Everyone's heard of "saving face", to save your honor or protect from humiliation. Its more than just a sense of honor though. There is much more to it, if you want to read something, here is one article that attempts to explain the cultural significance of it.

In the context of these lyrics, I think he means, as a Korean, he thinks keeping his face clean is a waste of time.

If we were to think of it as his attempt to keep his idol image clean, to be the kind of person everyone thinks he is, to uphold the honor of everything that some want to put on him and make him represent... that's gotta be a huge amount of pressure and its a waste of time for him to try to be the perfect man in his perfect home with his perfect family. Because he's not perfect. "You don't have to be the anything you see....Trying not to be that something in this sea."

As we've seen recently, what a challenge it would be to constantly be trying to uphold such a perfect image in the midst of so much shit being thrown from all directions from multiple entities.

Moving on.

He goes through another door and has to duck because something is being thrown at him.

The imperfect relationship. Conflict, anger, a lot of turmoil. The room is a total wreck. He attempts to diffuse the situation but she's mad, accusatory. The lyric he's singing: "I told you I'm fine tonight, staying good." Obviously not. She is dressed in some sort of cocktail dress, a little bit of glamour within this chaos.

Interestingly, the walls throughout this MV usually have some sort of box-like shapes embellishing them. Or the furniture is angular/rectangular. The wallpaper in this room looks like a maze. Each of these rooms could be considered a box.

They struggle, she grabs a lamp. He runs. The door to that room has no little round windows on it.

The hallway he walks down is lined with doors, some open, some closed, some with little round windows in them, some without.

He goes into an open door and then immediately comes back out, the woman in the previous room following, trying to pull him back in. What does she represent? Personal relationships? The aspects of his life that are tempting but toxic?

He tries to open the door with three windows. He cannot. It is locked to him. He keeps running and finds himself suddenly in a baby crib?! The wood bars resemble a jail cell.

What's up with the orange on his pillow? Oranges are given as gifts in Korea for good luck. The parents peering over the top of the crib entice him to come to them.

"You are my pain, divine, divine, get, get, get to the divine, divine, so fine." This part has stumped me. He's being treated like a baby, or he feels like a baby. Parents looking down at their baby boy... he is unfazed at their adulation... he covers himself with a blanket to shield himself from their attention, they are disappointed and leave him be by walking away... the lyrics: "You are my pain divine, divine, get, get, get to the divine, divine, so fine." Could it be the celebrity life he leads, the perception he's young and naive, a baby? Trapped in a box, not able to get out on his own terms? Endure the pain of it all in order to get to the divine of it all? I don't know.

When he uncovers himself, the blanket has turned into a big leaf from a houseplant, and. he's in a nice room which resembles his real home.

A different woman enters the room, seemingly searching for something. She's dressed in a drab looking dress.

He contemplates her while she is still in the room.

She doesn't see what she's looking for and leaves the room hurriedly.

The lyric is a repeat of forgot to shower, waste of time washing my face.

He follows her.

She doesn't seem to be aware he is there. He senses her but just misses seeing her slip away.

And he seems to make a circle and ends up back in the room he just left. And he turns around, and comes face to face with himself.

"I told you I'm fine tonight, Spring's always been here, I will sleep in her eyes." The camera pans to his other self and back and he's turned into the woman who was searching for something. They found each other.

Who does she represent? His alter-ego? His life? The balance he's been searching for? Does she represent us? his fans? or maybe all the people who support him and he depends on. She represents his center, his stability?

When they find each other, they are happy. There is a beam of sunlight that quickly moves across the wall behind them when they go to sit on the couch. They don't sit close to each other. Very platonic. Does she represent happiness and comfort, his guiding light?

Once they connect, his smiles are so big, he's laughing, he's happy once again and he returns to all the other rooms happy, settled, content even.

Hard to see but the baby in the crib who represents RM, is holding up the orange to his mother.

"I see you come back to me, you are my pain divine. You are my pain divine, divine." The last sentence repeats over and over as he rises and sees the happy sunlight woman again, beckoning him to come to her and he nods as if he knows its time to go with her.

He goes to her. As soon as he enters that atrium where she is standing, the sun comes out and we see both of their clothing has changed, he in a hanbok-like outfit and she back in the dress we first saw her in. The outfits are made of similar material and they are both barefoot. I am sure being barefoot has some cultural connotation. Getting back to basics, to a natural state perhaps? Simplicity.

"You are my pain, divine, divine" keeps repeating and "I told you I'm fine tonight, staying good, Spring's always been here." He is reassuring, perhaps indicating he knew he had to take this journey of self-discovery, or self re-discovery knowing there were those who supported him, the Spring would always be there no matter how challenging it is.

She seems to ask if he's ready and he takes a deep breath and they both go through the door and the light becomes brilliant.

As the camera pulls back while they walk amongst the corridors, we see a vast maze of similar rooms.

Navigating life or a career can be like a maze. The future is unknown, no telling which room he will enter next. But he has his alter-ego, happiness, support, his light, accompanying him through the journey, through his pain, divine.

When it was over, I was a little emotional. The production was flawless, so many details I'm sure I missed dozens of them.

It wasn't until the second watch did I realize the song was all english except for the one line about washing his face.

Remember when Namjoon came on Weverse live and he told us about how he got the cut over his eye? Here is a great interview of the director of the MV, Lee Sungjin and he explains how it happened and the experience of working with RM.

Edit: I just realized the "party" room is the same room as the one that resembles his home.

#rm x come back to me #namjoon #bts chapter 2

59 notes · View notes

oxydiane · 1 year

Text

i think naruto has genuinely, permanently ruined shipping for me because each time i see a pairing i’m like. ok you’re cute but would you shoulder the burden of his hatred and die with him? are you the sun to his moon? the yang to his yin? are you his one and only? are you his soulmate? are you willing to strip yourself of any pride and get on your knees to beg for his life to be spared? are you the one that completes him? are you the wind to his fire? did he feel warm and fuzzy while watching you as a child and considered it a weakness? were you each other’s first kiss? did you unravel his cold heart with said kiss? did he awaken his unhinged eye power to protect you? did he die and abandon the dream he was living for just so you could live on? does his body move on its own disregarding any logic when you’re in danger? is he willing to jump in knowing it was a trap to save you because you’re his precious person? are you each other’s most precious? did he unlock a new level of his crazy eye power when cutting his ties with you because he was writhing in pain over a lost love? did he try to kill you because you are his most important person? did parting from you feel like ripping off half of his own body to him? is he your driving force? were you chosen by fate? did he want to get rid of you because only then he could be truly alone? are you the only light in his darkness? are you the one that saved him from hatred? did he cry when you said you couldn’t explain your feelings for him and only said that when he hurt you hurt so much you couldn’t leave it alone? did he admit he also hurt when you hurt? did you keep an old token he had left next to your half alive body for years just to give it back to him as a token of your devotion and affection? did he say he’d hold onto it and give it back when things between you two were finally settled? did he compare what he feels for you to praying? did he say those feelings of his aren’t just about you two but there aren’t many people like you? does he look at you like you hung the stars? did you stay awake at night multiple times thinking about him and wondering if he was okay and thinking about you too? did you wish for him upon a shooting star? did he hug you and whisper in your ear during your reunion and purposefully make his attempt to kill you slow and drawn-out despite being perfectly able to do the job in seconds? did you curl up in a fetal position and cry your eyes out when he left again? did you have a panic attack that made you pass out when you found out your friends were out to kill him? does he know your heart well and you, his? can he read what is in your heart? how you truly feel? did you lose your arms to each other during your final battle of love and power? did he decide to stay alive for you and you only? did you say you’d rather remain a fool your entire life if being smart meant giving up on him? did you broadcast your feelings for him to the entire shinobi alliance? did a super smart villain who was targeting him say that they needed to keep you away from him because you were changing his heart, soul and goals? did you go insane when said villain called him his? did you openly reject two people because they said you needed to give up on him? does the author necessarily have to think of him when he thinks of you because you proceed as a pair and cannot be separated? did he disobey your teacher and try to feed you his lunch despite knowing that it would make them fail their exam and send them directly back to the academy which meant stalling and coming in the way of his revenge dream simply because you were hungry? does he go out of his way to make sure you don’t skip meals when you stay out training for too long? does he look at you so closely and attentively he could immediately tell somebody was an imposter because they didn’t have a scratch on their face and had a holster on the wrong leg? does he still remember what your lips tasted like after that one accidental kiss? can he get into your headspace and “begone, thot” your demons? if not we can’t do this

#another ramble #i’m sorry #i’m so #not normal about them #i will never be normal about them #soo talks #naruto #rambling #naruto shitpost #naruto uzumaki #sasuke uchiha #sns #sasunaru #narusasu #naruto shippuden #naruto manga #narutoposting #in the year of the lord 2023 yes

807 notes · View notes

justanotherhh · 3 months

Text

something i haven't seen much of so far is analysis of charlie's journey from the perspective of someone who also needs to change how she engages with others (vaggie too, but that feels more obvious as she's an ex-angel/exorcist and a sinner)

when charlie tries to help angel by confronting valentino it's been built to in the other episodes, because it's made very clear that she doesn't respect sex work -- she's got that "we need to save them from themselves" type attitude you see a lot with people who haven't done critical analysis into their own biases from a position of mildly-to-severe privileged disgust and haven't engaged with the perspectives of sex workers as people who can frame and understand their own experiences (whatever work they engage in and why they do sex work to begin with). same for her opinions on addiction

the scene where angel has to do a reenactment with sir pentious frames addiction as

something to be judged

something pitiable

something predatory

which isn't exactly a great way to bring angel onboard with the programme/make him feel less like shit. meanwhile the anti-sex + weirdly heteronormative attitude is also present in that scene by having sir pentious dress up as a virginal young girl in an anime-type school uniform with a big lollipop (the irony of this being practically indistinguishable from a porn setup feels very intentional), who declares that "she" won't be having sex before marriage as the great crescendo (sidenote, monogamy in the afterlife sounds.... like a long time to be monogamous......... yzma voice: "why do we even have marriage??")

angel, up until his duet with husk, is having it made clear again and again that the people seemingly helping him find the essence of his being inherently gross. he likes sex -- yeah there's the performance/face he has to wear to get through the day, but i think the bdsm club was a sincere suggestion and vaggie literally calls it disgusting/shoots it down without thinking about how to do so respectfully (again, she's an ex-angel/exorcist, she has biases of her own to contend with, but also the implications that nobody in heaven is having fun sex or negotiated kink and bdsm... tragic. do they even have a sex club called consent up there?)

charlie is a fairly conservative person at the beginning of the story. yes, she wants to help, but her framing of what "help" looks like doesn't take into account her own biases; presumably she grew up with the idea that "sinners are bad people" as much as anyone else did, if not more considering lucifer gave up on the sinners and that's been her environment from birth -- cut off from the people she's supposedly in charge of, but "hearing stories." (in both the pilot and happy day in hell she clearly has a fondness for the sinners, but it's as an outsider, someone who does not relate to them, and generally there's that overtone of "royalty doesn't know shit about what anyone is going through" which, charlie being a ruler, i wonder if that will be a focal point or just something to accept, it's not a dealbreaker for me, just something i noticed, esp as helluva boss has poked on power dynamics in hell along those same lines). the yearly murdering of demons is, likewise, something that is simply status quo and so even getting to a place of "hey maybe we shouldn't do that" is big and was inevitably going to create more cracks in the logic of black-and-white heaven-or-hell, so it's cool that that's where we the audience get to first meet her -- right as those threads are about to start unravelling

but at the very beginning, in some ways she echoes elements of characters like adam and lute (who are of course far more in-your-face, being villains) in her original assessment of what makes someone "a bad person" -- it causes her to create a system that doesn't actually work, and then of course the hotel is destroyed, but next time they'll build it to be better! (metaphor *jazz hands*)

why is angel in hell, is the question later asked. is it because he was/is an addict? because he drinks? because he does sex work? because he likes sex? (it may be because he's killed people/was in the mafia, but we don't have all the context yet, for now those are the things people know in the story itself) at the beginning charlie isn't asking the right questions, questions that would need her to go into herself and challenge her own biases, but throughout season 1 she goes from merely proclaiming that "everyone" can be saved, to sincerely challenging the idea of "needing to be saved" from things that shouldn't be judged in the first place. "if angel's can do whatever and remain in the sky." yeah, how are we stipulating what's allowed and what isn't hmmmmmm? stay tuned for s2

(and youknow, apologises to angel for overstepping his boundaries, so it's not like angel doesn't know that she does care for him, s4 gives a lot of development for their relationship as well -- it's the tipping point for a lot of what comes next)

interested to see how that challenging will continue in s2. she's gone from "we have to make you into a good person by cutting out things that make me (and others) uncomfortable from a conservative/purity-based judgemental framework" to "why do we have these systems of judgement in the first place?"

tl;dr angel changed a looot in s1 but so did charlie. she understands better now that the work she's doing is going to look very different from what she'd first anticipated, and poking at her own biases in relation to angel helped that journey and brought her closer to actually understanding and relating to the people around her

(there's another element here about charlie and vaggie as queer women in this particular universe, but it's a slight tangent so... different post)

#charlie morningstar #hazbin hotel #angel dust #vaggie #vaggie hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel meta #first post let's gooooooooooooooooooo #my meta

68 notes · View notes

miraculouslbcnreactions · 3 months

Note

This one guy I talked to on AO3 said that Emilie shouldn't be brought back because Adrien has already moved on from her death, but I'm not so sure about that. Other people think she should be revived so she can be her own character and not just someone else's sad backstory, and so Adrien has one good parent, of course. What do you think?

I think that it depends on the story you want to tell. There are cases to be made for bringing her back and cases to be made for letting her die. In the context of canon, I find not bringing her back to be fing stupid because it makes everything feel pointless. We obviously don't know the wish yet, but why let Gabe make the wish at all if he's not going to restore Emilie? Making a different wish isn't him being a good guy at the end. It's still him playing god, he's just now using his god powers to abandon his son for no logical reason. What loving father happily leaves his son an orphan???

Yeah, Gabriel saved Nathalie. I don't care. Nathalie chose to use the peacock to support Gabriel in his plan to terrorize Paris. That wasn't some noble sacrifice on her part! She didn't deserve to be saved any more than Gabriel did. Of the three dying/dead parental figures (I really don't know Emilie's status) Emilie is the only one who was never tempted by the dark side if we ignore the uncomfortable implications of how they got the peacock in the first place/Adrien's childhood isolation and just embrace the canon narrative that Emilie was a good and loving mother who was Too Pure For This World.

Meanwhile, Nathalie was a terrible mother figure! She supported Gabriel's awful treatment of Adrien for four seasons and then spent all of season five gently prodding Gabriel to change/tell Adrien the truth while leaving Adrien completely in the dark to everything that was happening. If Gabriel hasn't won, then Adrien would have lost both his father and Nathalie who knew that they were dying, but never gave Adrien a chance to say goodbye because Nathalie never stopped putting Gabriel first in almost every way that mattered. Adrien still doesn't know that he could have been allowed say goodbye to his father because Gabriel's death was entirely predictable.

Along similar lines, I don't think that Nathalie was wrong to undo Gabriel's senticommands, but it is deeply messed up that she was happily doing it in secret and never once considered giving Adrien a chance to consent. A loving parent should find the idea of controlling their child deeply upsetting. She should have been tempted to tell Adrien the truth, especially since she knew that she was dying, but we never see her consider that.

She also does nothing to get Adrien's slave collar away from Gabriel or to stop Gabriel from terrorizing Paris even though we have a scene where she literally pins Gabriel to a table. Her turn to "good" did nothing but maintain the status quo because she continued to support Gabriel in all the ways that truly matter. She never really protects Adrien. She does not deserve to be Adrien's new mother. #BringEmilieBack!!!

All of that is assuming that Gabriel's wish saved Nathalie while sacrificing himself and Emilie. If so, then that is literally the most boring way to go about letting the wish happen. You could have just as easily had Gabriel lose and have Ladybug know a way to save Nathalie via Guardian magic. The end result would have been the same.

If Gabriel had chosen to give up on the wish entirely? Then Emilie not coming back would be a satisfying ending. I personally really like Gabriel being defeated and the heroes then bringing Emilie back. Very much a spite move for me, plus it's a nice way to lessen the sting of Gabriel's defeat. Adrien losing his father, but gaining his mother feels really satisfying to me, especially if Emilie gets to serve Gabriel divorce papers. Got your wish, old man. Now suffer for it.

No matter the case, saying that Emilie shouldn't be brought back because Adrien has moved on is bad logic as it implies that Emilie is only worth bringing back if Adrien say he wants her back, as if she's a beloved childhood toy that someone broke long ago. It also implies that Adrien wouldn't want her back just because he's accepted her loss. Those are two very different things. Imo, one of the show's failings is the fact that Adrien is denied the right to grieve as if that makes him a better person. A better show would show healthy grief vs unhealthy grief (Adrien vs Gabe). She's been gone less than a year when the story starts. Everyone processes grief different, but that's really fast to move on from the death of a parent.

#ml writing salt #ml writing critical #ml season 5 salt

66 notes · View notes

thecraftyninjacat · 2 months

Text

shoutout to @princeasimdiya12 for their super cool matakara utena analysis, check it out i am chewing on it as i write this!!! i was honestly blindsided by how much the two had in common and it really made me think about why my interpretation was the way it was in the first place, so this ended up being…about a lot of other things, and a lot more complicated than my arajin utena post.

anyway, you wanna see me go fully off the rails? *slaps matakara = reverse anthy ramblings on the table*

(i would recommend reading my reverse utena arajin post first for slight context for this insanity. also some major utena spoilers below the cut, so be warned!!)

Now I can hear you asking: How is Matakara the reverse Anthy to Arajin's reverse Utena? How is Matakara an Anthy in the first place?? crafty how the fuck does this make sense to you this show is not that deep??? I can answer two of those questions!

First we gotta bring up princesses again. Princesses do not have a tangible equivalent like how honki people = princes, but they don't have to have one. After all, princesses plays a vital role in the Aladdin allusion. And yes by the logic of Utena all girls are princesses, but Matakara is specifically the princess to Arajin's 'prince', which from an meta perspective is what makes him special. But he's not the only princess. Let's talk Arajin and Mahoro!

(there was a tangent here about how the show defines strength, but it was kind of off topic so I cut it. TLDR, uhhh despite some evidence stating otherwise strength in bucchigiri exists separately from gender, something something girls can be honki people men can be princesses etc.)

In RGU, the student council members and Utena see worth in claiming Anthy because to them the Rose Bride is a symbol of something they wish to attain. Their wishes stem from events from their past, and since they all refuse to grow past these events they remain stagnant characters, trapped within the academy.

Guess who also remains stagnant because he refuses to mature past his wish!

(what i'm getting from this is that a reverse anthy is a lot like an utena lol)

Let's focus on Arajin for a second. Arajin, as the reverse Utena, abandoned the honki person dream as soon as he realised he couldn't save Matakara. Mahoro is a symbol of the ordinary life as a teenage boy he wants to have, and Matakara symbolises the fairytale he doesn't feel worthy of and wants to leave behind. Mahoro is like Anthy (and Matakara) kind of in the way that Nanami is like Anthy. Essence of Anthy. Rose Bride Lite. Which makes Matakara more of an Anthy imo.

(I think there's something to be said about compulsory heterosexuality if you consider how Mahoro being a girl makes her a conventional princess for Arajin to chase, while Matakara may be everything Arajin wants, but his gender and closeness to the fairytale Arajin is trying to escape bars him from being an option. Also interesting how no matter how Arajin tries to distract himself with Mahoro, everything he wants Mahoro to be eventually circles back to Matakara.)

(something could also be said about the mahoro/matakara and nanami/anthy parallels, but i Do Not have the brainpower to unpack that atm lmao)

Anyway, Arajin is just so, stupidly determined to achieve his dream, which I think makes him a lot more Utena-like. Matakara...not so much? Before Arajin comes back into his life, it's the community of Minato Kai that gives him the stability he needs to largely ignore his monster, so he kind of puts his dream on the back burner.

He was doing fine...then Arajin fell back into his life and he got reminded of the promise he left behind.

So, Matakara is a princess! He's literally the princess of the fairytale allusion and he's someone who wants to be saved from a monster (the nebulous driving force for princes to save girls and turn them into princesses). In Anthy's case, the monster Utena wanted to save her from was the burden of humanity's hatred. Matakara's monster is a product of his own inner darkness.

It’s established that while Matakara may have a strong will, he’s too weak-hearted to become a honki person on his own. In fact, his weak heart is exactly what makes him a princess. But even then he doesn't fully fit into the mould. Princesses are supposed to be pure and passive, and Matakara is neither (at least not completely). His darkness may manifest as a monster, but before his recruitment into Minato Kai he goes to pretty morally dubious lengths in his attempts to become ‘strong’. Furthermore, not only is he rejected by his prince, it's revealed to him that his prince never existed. Arajin was a liar, and he was never going to save him. And so Ichiya uses that against him. He acts as Matakara’s saviour and threatens him with the idea of the monster to get him to kill the 'false' prince.

As powerful as she is, years of trauma have made it impossible for Anthy to break from the cycle of abuse on her own. Isolated from all support, Matakara is not in a mental state where he can break free of his monster either. Ichiya and Akio have free reign to manipulate Matakara and Anthy into becoming vessels for their revolution because at this point in the plot, they're all they have left. The twisted visions of the once-noble prince and honki person.

In Utena terms, Matakara is a princess who wants to defeat his own monster by becoming a prince. Anthy is a princess who doesn't think she should be saved at all. Matakara is someone who fights tooth and nail to be free from his demons at all costs, while Anthy simply allows hers to consume her out of guilt and love for the monster she used to know. Both need help from someone who understands them.

But killing the fake prince won't turn Matakara into a prince himself. What was that saying about girls who can’t be saved by a prince? What's left for you if you're not strong enough to be a prince and not pure enough to be a princess?

Anthy could tell you.

Matakara from Episode 1-7 reminds me of the version of Anthy from Adolescene of Utena. Dios and Akio can no longer directly influence Anthy, so she gets to be far more strong-willed and assertive. However, she’s still ultimately trapped within mental barriers she’s set for herself, hence why she still wants Utena to become her prince (like how Matakara still wants to become a honki person with Arajin). If you interpret Adolescence as a sequel to the original series like I do, then you can picture Matakara's descent from Adolescence Anthy to RGU Anthy due to Ichiya and Akutaro's manipulations as the reverse of Anthy’s character progression.

so...matakara is basically a reverse anthy.

Incredibly jaded Anthy neck-deep in manipulative abuse from a higher power gradually warms up to Utena because of her genuine kindness and inner strength. Incredibly naive Matakara is manipulated by a higher power into losing faith in Arajin through the revelation that his strength and bravery were an illusion. Through their abuse and suffering both characters attain power that stored/drawn from their chest/heart from someone emotionally manipulating the absolute shit out of them to serve their own selfish goals. Almost the whole cast victimises Anthy and considers her lower than them, while Utena alone treats her like an equal. Matakara alone believes he’s inferior to Arajin and strives to be on even ground to him, while Arajin pushes Matakara away because he believes he’s not good enough for Matakara. Anthy gives Utena a respectful title that she gives to all of her grooms, only to call Utena by her name without any honorifics once she’s freed herself from the Rose Bride system. Everyone who wants to get close to Arajin gives him a nickname, but Matakara’s is particularly childish and personal. Anthy's older brother is a manipulative monster, and Anthy’s ultimate revolution is her emancipation from him and the system he perpetuates. Matakara's older brother is so ideologically good it ultimately becomes his downfall, and his injury becomes the catalyst for Matakara’s descent into despair. Anthy constantly changes how she acts depending on who she needs to manipulate into the duels. Matakara is the only main character who always presents himself with utmost sincerity. They’re both full of love at their core, but their circumstances fill them with hatred and hopelessness. Their first reintroductions to Utena and Arajin are them being observed through a window. They both suck at cooking. i have to post this before the next episode proves me wrong-

#bucchigiri?!#matakara asamine #anthy himemiya #revolutionary girl utena #reading way too far into stories through an utena-ist lens can be something so personal #i need utena anthy matakara and arajin all in a room together. see who kills who first #crafty speaks

51 notes · View notes

nolita-fairytale · 1 year

Text

call sign: tennessee whiskey | rooster x fem!reader & hangman x phoenix | chapter nine

summary: you spend one last night at the hard deck before the remaining daggers go their separate ways. jake and nat finally talk, and rooster introduces you to maverick as his father-figure -- not just your captain.

warnings: fluff, minor angst, suggestive language, swearing, mentions of death, military & aircraft carrier inaccuracies, second person pov

wc: 5.3k

listen to: she's gone - hall & oates | the playlist

a/n: how appropriate that i would finish this story during mdw. anyways, this is the final chapter for this story with so much more to come! thank you to all who have read, liked, reblogged, and shared your thoughts. it really inspires me and makes me happy to hear that others are just as excited about these characters and story as i am. while it's the end of the series, i have a longer oneshot coming up that checks in with these guys in about a year and a half, a rooster x whiskey christmastime oneshot, and... well we'll go from there.

chapter eight | masterlist

“Eject! Eject! Eject!”

Phoenix can hear the voices screaming in her ear as she finally gives up on saving the plane.

Only she can’t eject.

And neither can Bob.

“Phoenix, it’s not working!” Bob shouts over the radio.

“Hang on, Bob! I’m going to try again,” she yells back. “I’m gonna get us out of here. I’m gonna get you home, Bob.”

But it’s too late and the plane begins to spiral. It doesn’t matter what she does. She’s lost control and the plane is on fire, falling out of the sky, taking them both down with it.

“Phoenix, what do we do?” Bob asks, a panic in his voice.

Before she can answer, she feels the jarring sensation of the plane crashing against a mountain before it spirals into the Pacific Ocean, jolting her awake. She swears under her breath, realizing that she’s no longer in her F/A-18 but in the California king of the hotel room that Hangman somehow sweet-talked her into.

“Doesn’t have to mean anything, darlin’. Just think we deserve to get out of the barracks. Sleep in a real bed,” he’d persuaded her, making a perfectly reasonable case for her to accept, considering she’s nothing if not logical.

But she shoves the memory of Jake’s proposition aside as her mind reels back to her nightmare. Her heart is pounding loudly in her ears and she feels dizzy as she reaches up to place a hand on her chest.

It was just a dream, she reminds herself.

A nightmare.

She runs a hand through her hair, finding it to be damp with sweat as she sits up in bed, her heart still thudding loudly. Hangman stirs next to her in bed, one his hands moving across the sheets, reaching for her.

“Nat, you okay?” he murmurs, blinking his eyes open. He turns to her, awake now, and he recognizes the all-too-familiar look on her face. “Nightmare?”

“How did you know?” she asks, her voice quiet.

“Because I get them too,” he answers, honestly. Hangman sits up in bed, bringing a hand up to rub her back. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” she answers curtly, flinching as he touches her.

She doesn’t mean to reject him, but she’s still a little jumpy from the nightmare.

Jake sighs in response, feeling how sweaty she is underneath his UT t-shirt. The comforting, tender touch of his hand should be calming, but it only alarms her even more. She can’t stand the idea of being fragile and certainly has mixed feelings about Hangman being the one to soothe her in her moment of crisis.

“I think I just-, I’m just gonna get up. Splash some cold water on my face and change,” she murmurs, sliding sideways off of the bed so that she can get as far away from this feeling as possible. Jake opens his mouth to say something, but she’s halfway across the room before he can.

She heads into the bathroom, flicking one of the lights on. The harsh light of the bathroom helps bring her back to reality, and Natasha takes a moment to press her back against the wall. The cold and rigid plane of the wall is grounding, so she closes her eyes for a second, allowing her body to relax against it. After a few moments, she pushes herself off the wall, moving to turn on the cold tap water.

With two hands braced against the bathroom sink, she examines her reflection in the mirror. Her hair is messy from tossing and turning, pieces stuck together with sweat. She pushes her out of her face, tying it up into a bun with the hair tie around her wrist in an effort to provide herself some structure.

“Get it together, Trace,” she whispers to herself, focusing intensely on the sound of the running water.

She splashes cold water on her face, before using one of the plush hotel room towels to dry off. The last thing she needs to do is get out of this sweaty t-shirt, stripping off Jake’s old tee and tossing it to the floor behind.

It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, she reminds herself, as she reenters the bedroom, flicking off the bathroom light behind her.

Jake’s still awake, sitting up in bed in all of his shirtless glory when Natasha returns. Her eyes are glued to the floor, searching for another shirt using just the peripheral moonlight to guide her. She wraps her fingers around the button down Jake had worn to dinner the night before, sliding it over her body.

“Woah,” Jake marvels, running a hand through his messy blonde locks.

“I’m not fucking you right now, Bagman,” she grumbles, her feet carrying across the room.

“Didn’t mean it like that,” he replies, unable to hide the irritation in his voice at her assumption.

He can tell she’s shut down, so he’s not going to push back, and he’s sure the last thing that she wants to hear right now is how breathtakingly beautiful he finds her. Nope, definitely not going to be helpful. Natasha pulls the covers from her side of the bed back, realizing her side of the bed is still damp with sweat from her nightmare.

“C’mere,” he encourages, his voice low as he scoots over so that she can fit on his side. “Plenty of room over here.”

Thank God for the California King.

Instead of putting up a fight like he expects her to, she only nods. Hangman pulls her into his arms, scooting the both of them over, and allowing her to settle in.

He’d be lying if he said this didn’t feel good.

It feels too good.

He likes being this guy, and he likes being this guy for her.

He likes it too much, maybe.

Jake waits a beat before speaking again, asking again, “You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Yeah,” she manages to get out, barely above a whisper.

He knows he can’t push her – knows her well enough to know that’d never work – knows this, PTSD, well enough to know she’s going to have to reach out on her own time. But he wants her to know that he’ll be there for her if she wants him to be.

“It doesn’t have to be me, Nat… but you should talk to someone about it. I-, it helps me… to talk to someone,” he drags out, cautiously.

He braces himself for her response, but is pleasantly surprised to hear she sounds more like herself as she dryly quips in response:

“Don’t tell me the great Hangman sees a therapist.”

She’s not expecting the answer he returns with.

“I did for a while, yeah” he admits, taking a more serious approach. “And Coyote and Whiskey too… They’ve been good to me too. They’re good friends. Good listeners.”

“Can’t imagine you being a good listener,” she teases, and he can tell that she needs to pick on him just a little.

Just a little. Just something to feel like herself.

He chuckles and she can feel the low rumble of the sound resonating in his chest as she rests against him.

“Like I said. Doesn’t have to be me.”

“Yeah,” she half-heartedly agrees, as she feels him pull her closer.

“Anything I can do?” he asks, softly, his voice so gentle it startles her.

Phoenix is just surprised, is all. By Hangman.

By his kindness.

By his generosity.

She knows she has a long road ahead – that the bird strike had changed things – but the least she can do is not be a dick to Jake when he’s trying his damndest to be helpful.

She shakes her head, “No, I-. No. But thank you.”

“Just tryin’ to get in your pants, Trace,” Hangman jokes, earning a small laugh from her.

But she knows it’s more than that.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Bagman,” she fires back, beginning to close her eyes.

He thinks it may be inappropriate to say – like he’d be taking advantage of her in a vulnerable state if he admitted it now – so he doesn’t, but the words echo in his head as he closes his eyes in an attempt to drift off to sleep.

You. You help me sleep at night.

“Anything to drink?” the waitress asks, looking from Bradley to Maverick as they wait for you.

You were running late. Of course.

“Uh.. just coffee. And keep it comin’, thanks,” Maverick requests, a polite smile on his face.

“Why don’t you come check out the hangar? I’m packing it up… been looking for a place here. I’ve got some planes I’m workin’ on. Think you’ll find ‘em interesting,” Maverick offers over his first sip of coffee.

“Yeah, that sounds great!” Bradley agrees, wondering if he sounds a little too eager to bond with his previously-estranged-father-figure.

Maverick watches carefully as Rooster doctors up his coffee, a few creams and one sugar, before using his spoon to stir.

“Leave early tomorrow morning?”

“Sure.”

Maverick takes a beat. He wonders for a second what the hell he’s supposed to talk about with the kid. Sure, they’ve spent the last three weeks together, but they’ve been buried in training and things left unsaid. Now that the mission is over he’s not sure where to begin with the kid.

“So you and Whiskey…” he trails off, figuring he might as well start with why Rooster asked him to meet for breakfast in the first place. “I put two and two together when I saw the two of you on the carrier.”

Bradley blushes, “You saw that, sir?”

“It was uh.. Hard not to,” Maverick answers, half-apologetically.

“Right, yeah, I uh… thought you guys should meet. Not as captain and lieutenant but as uh… you know…” Rooster trails off, nervously, a warm blush running across his cheeks.

“As… something that may involve… paperwork?” Maverick asks, hoping to fill in some blanks for Rooster. He shoots the kid a reassuring smile in an attempt to put him at ease.

Maverick can see the pure adoration and happiness in Rooster’s eyes when he answers with, “Think so, Mav. We can talk more about it at the hangar. If you want.”

Maverick nods, mentioning a quick ‘sure’ before they’re interrupted by your arrival. He watches as Rooster’s eyes light up, and he’s not sure he’s seen Rooster like this… ever. Then again, he knows he’s missed a few years too.

“Hey. Sorry, catching up with my Dad and lost track of time,” you apologize as you slide into the booth next to Bradley. He gives you a soft kiss on the cheek as you’re all smiles, the two of you sitting across from the captain.

“Don’t worry about it. ‘S given us some time to catch up,” Maverick smiles. “Coffee?”

“Please,” you answer as you begin settling in.

Rooster gives your leg a squeeze underneath the table. He can tell you’re nervous. You’ve obviously met Maverick before, but that was as your captain.

“Thank you, Captain Mitchell,” you say, formally, as he pours coffee from the carafe into your mug.

“Here, uh… you can call me Pete,” he replies, a friendlier tone in his voice. “But tomorrow, at 0800 sharp, it’s back to Captain Mitchell… or at least, Maverick.”

“Yes, sir,” you agree with a nod and chuckle.

It’s an honor, really, you think to yourself, as you lift your coffee mug to your lips, taking a first sip.

“Well then, Pete,” you begin, making conversation. “I’m still dying to hear that story you never told us from class. From your last Afghanistan deployment.”

As Maverick grins, more than happy to share stories of his exploits, there’s a warmth that spreads inside of Rooster’s chest. He watches gleefully as you and Maverick talk, Maverick busy telling his elaborate tale as you listen attentively. He grows even quieter as the two of you debate pancakes over waffles, his heart swelling as he realizes what’s happening. After years of being alone – of being lonely – Rooster realizes that he just might have people now.

As you enter the Hard Deck this evening, everything feels different. It feels like an ending of sorts. Even though you’ll return in a few weeks for another Dagger mission, Bradley won’t be here. And neither will Jake. Or Natasha.

And you’re still processing just how much has changed in the last three weeks.

“You still want to do this?” Rooster asks, giving your hand a squeeze.

“Yes,” you answer, confidently.

You lead him to the pool table that your friends are all crowded around, drinking beers, shootin’ the shit. Nat grins as she spots the two of you – holding hands, no less – and you reach out, tapping Coyote on the shoulder.

“Hey, I want to introduce you to someone,” you say, a sly look on your face as Coyote turns around. His face goes from happy to see you to confused in under two seconds, looking from you to Rooster once more.

“I don’t get it. We already know Rooster,” Coyote states.

“I know,” you answer, shooting Nat a cheeky grin across the pool table. “... But you don’t know him as my boyfriend!”

“Oh my god!” she squeals, practically jumping over the pool table towards the two of you for a hug.

“Oh noooooo,” Jake groans, sitting up from the barstool he was previously perched on.

You catch his gaze as Phoenix drags both you and Rooster into the tightest group hug, watching as Jake approaches cautiously. While Nat is more than overjoyed to hear the news, Jake waits, his stance steady as he watches the celebration. As much as he’s pretending not to be, the look in his eyes gives him away, and you know your best friend is genuinely happy for you.

Bob rolls his eyes playfully as soon as he realizes what’s going on.

“You guys are so cheesy,” Bob scoffs, flicking another peanut shell into the empty cup.

“I’ll cheers to that,” Jake says, raising his near-empty beer bottle in Bob’s direction. “Ah shit. Anyone need another round?”

“A first round for the happy couple, please, Hangman,” Nat orders, gesturing towards both you and Rooster.

“Sure,” he mutters, keeping up his charade of disapproving-annoying-older-brother.

While he may think he’s thrown you off his trail, you can still sense the tension between both Jake and Natasha. It’s not exactly subtle, and you wonder if they’ve had a chance to talk about what happens when you all leave yet.

“You got plans for leave, Coyote?” Rooster asks, in an effort to make conversation.

“Yeah,” Javy sighs in response. “Headin’ back up to Lemoore tomorrow. Gotta break it to the Mrs. that I got back to back deployments. Can’t believe you two are crazy enough to do the whole dual military thing.”

You and Rooster exchange glances with a laugh before Rooster excuses himself to offer Hangman a hand with the beers.

“Maybe Helll really has frozen over,” Nat comments, joining the conversation as she watches Jake hand Bradley two of the four beer bottles.

“They’re… civil… chummy, even,” you add, watching the interaction carefully.

“It’s weird,” Coyote says, shaking his head. “Like a harbinger of doom.”

“It’s disturbing is what it is!” Bob declares loudly, earning a laugh from all of you.

You watch as Jake leans in, muttering something to Rooster, and slapping him on the back before grabbing the other two beers.

“You take care of her. And don’t fuck this up, Rooster.”

The two head in your direction, and you’re sure that Nat is right: Hell must’ve frozen over during the uranium plant bombing.

The rest of the night is filled with drinks, rounds of pool, darts, and is certainly not complete without a few rounds of Rooster on the piano. After his grand finale of “Great Balls of Fire,” it hits Natasha that this is all coming to an end: her time at TOPGUN for a while, the singalongs, and most likely, whatever this thing is with Jake.

It hits her as she watches him pull you onto his lap, playing something instrumental. It’s the look in his eyes and the way you look at him in return.

Her and Jake were no you and Rooster.

She’s happy for you guys. Of course, she’s happy for you guys. Hell, she’d been the one to parent trap the two of you in the first place! But tonight had been a glaring reminder that she still wasn’t ready.

For someone so fearless and action-oriented in an F/A-18, the don’t think-just do mentality isn’t something she’s figured out how to apply to her life. She’s got too much to do. Too many aspirations that don’t include having a partner. Too many many thoughts of how having one would hold her back.

She entertains the thought for a second that maybe it’s her specific bedfellow. The fact that it’s Hangman. Jake.

But she knows it’s not.

It’s not about Jake.

Natasha excuses herself from her conversation with Bob, before going in search of some fresh air. She hates what she has to do and wonders if it was worth it all to get involved with Hangman in the first place. As her mind reels, her feet take her further away from the Hard Deck and out onto the beach, wondering when the hell she started to care about Hangman’s feelings.

With the sand beneath her feet and the sounds of the ocean in the background, Natasha finds a good place to sit. Wearing a pullover sweater that was maybe Coyote’s, she curls up, hugging her knees into her chest as she watches the waves crash ashore.

It’s not long before she hears footsteps behind her followed by a familiar Texas drawl.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” she replies, turning her head to confirm that Hangman’s followed her out here.

“Mind if I sit?” Hangman asks, hesitantly, still standing behind her.

“Go ahead,” she exhales, patting a spot on the sand next to her.

Jake knows what’s coming. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. He lets out a heavy sigh as he sits down next to her, so that they’re sitting side by side. He steals a glance her way as he works up the courage to have the conversation they’ve both been avoiding.

“Nat, I-,” he starts.

“Jake, please don’t…” she warns, a fragility in her voice that surprises her. “Don’t… say the thing you’re going to say.”

A pang of disappointment finds itself in his belly. He swears under his breath, then swallows as he waits a beat.

He knows she’s scared. He’s pretty freaked out too. He’s not sure if either of them knew what they’d be getting into when they hooked up on the carrier. Jake could feel it last night – that something shifted – and he can feel that they’ve come to different conclusions on what comes next.

“Trace…” he trails off, his voice steady.

“I’m not ready,” she states, her voice sure. “I wish I was… but I’m not.”

Three words.

Three little words that had been nagging him all weekend.

She’s not ready.

The three words he could feel in his bones, but he’d pushed them to the back of his mind, not ready to acknowledge the truth.

He takes another beat, because hearing them feels different than feeling them.

“I know,” he finally says, in acceptance.

Nat sighs disappointedly, turning her head to look at Jake once again with an apologetic look in his eyes. She opens her mouth to say ‘sorry,’ but she’s also not sure if that’s the right thing to say. Hell, she doesn't know if there is a right thing to say. She open her mouth again, but Jake beats her to it, putting a hand on her knee to give her a comforting squeeze.

“I really like you, Natasha Trace. And I want you to know that,” Jake confesses, holding her gaze with an intensity that surprises her.

She’s quiet – his admission weighing heavily on her.

Would it be unfair to say it back? Does she even feel the same way? This feeling inside of her that’s settled in her belly – a fondness for the last man on the planet she ever thought she could feel this way about – only confirms her suspicions.

I really like you too.

“You don’t have to say it back but… I wanted… to tell you that. Not just for you. But for me,” Jake continues, his voice steady, knowing it’s something he needs to get off his chest.

In all honesty, he’s felt this way for her for a long time, but he knows now isn’t the right time to tell her that either.

She nods, as if she’s processing what he’s just said.

“Jake, I… it’s not like I expect you to wait for me or anything but-,” she begins, still stumbling over her words as she searches for the ‘right’ thing to say.

“Wasn’t gonna, Trace,” he interjects with a chuckle, lightening the mood.

She laughs, and the feeling seems to lift some of the pressure off of her chest.

“I guess I just-. Thank you for telling me,” she says, mustering up all the sincerity in her body that she can. She’s not ready to say it back, but she doesn’t want it to go unacknowledged. “And… I’ve… I’ve enjoyed this… whatever the hell this was.”

Jake smiles softly, stealing a glance in Natasha’s direction. It’s not like he expected her to say it back, but the look on her face seems to quell any pangs of disappointment he may have had. In his silence, Nat observes the soft smile on the aviators face, narrowing her eyes at him before she follows up with:

“But if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll kill you.”

“No one would believe me even if I did,” he drawls, leaning back on his hands and relaxing into the sand.

“Right,” she mumbles with a dry laugh.

She takes a breath, then a beat before asking:

“Are we going to be okay?”

Jake sits up once more to gently bump his shoulder against hers.

He shrugs, “Yeah, Trace. We’re gonna be okay.”

She’ll admit that she’s surprised by how well he’s taking this rejection. Was Jake Seresin actually much more mature than he led on?

“So what do we do now?” she asks, a hint of defeat in her voice.

“We enjoy one more night together,” Jake answers truthfully. “That is… if you want to. And then we go our separate ways in the morning.”

Her eyes search his calm expression, caught off guard by his casual tone. Could it really be that easy? Could it really be that simple when she feels so damn conflicted inside? And for Jake, it isn’t, but for now, it’s going to have to be.

Before she can give him the credit, in typical Hangman fashion, he’s got more to add, taking a much more playful approach this time as he wraps an arm around her shoulder.

“Then, by the time you get back to base, you realize you can’t get me out of your head. After agonizing over your decision to let me go, you come to said realization in a rom-com-worthy montage,” he goes on, telling his wild tale. “Doesn’t matter where I am: Texas, Japan, the middle of the Pacific Ocean – you book the earliest flight you can – and it’s all pebbles on my bedroom window, boombox blaring the cheesiest love song you can think of in a chivalrous attempt to win me back.”

She laughs, shaking her head incredulously at his described scenario.

“Don’t push it, Bagman,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“Can’t help it if I’m always right, Phoenix,” he gloats, earning another eye roll from her.

Natasha returns her attention to the ocean, watching the water ebb and flow like they’ve done so perfectly since the dawn of time.

“It’s a nice fantasy,” she admits, breaking the silence between them.

Jake nods, and they exchange a laugh; the look in both of their eyes, bittersweet.

Jake takes a breath before standing, making sure to offer his hand to help her up. Natasha gladly takes it as he helps her up to her feet, before they start their walk back up the beach. As they reach the back of the Hard Deck, shoes in hand, Jake pauses so that they can both put their shoes back on.

“Oh and Nat?”

“Hmmm?”

“I want a real boombox. Not a bluetooth speaker. I want authenticity and I’ll settle for nothing less,” he warns playfully.

“Fine,” she gives in, because it really is a nice fantasy. “I’m sure arrangements can be made.”

It feels dangerously close to making a promise.

“Shall we?” he asks, holding out a hand to her.

It’s an invitation – a promise of one last time – so she takes it.

Just one more night, she thinks to herself.

In the morning, everyone goes their separate ways. Bradley heads out to Maverick’s hangar early in the morning with a promise of a reunion.

“Why don’t I spend the rest of my leave with you at Lemoore? Before I head back to Oceana,” he’d proposed when you’d discussed what next. “Should be with Mav for a few days. Then I’ll drive up over the weekend.”

“Are you sure? If you want more time with Mav-,” you’d hesitated.

“I’m sure. The week will be plenty of time.”

And you’d found no other reason to argue with him, more than happy to have more time with your new boyfriend.

It’s less of a goodbye and more of a see-you-later.

But for Natasha and Jake, this morning feels far more bittersweet. He’s unsure of when he’ll see her again, the weight of it feeling heavier this morning. After she leaves in the morning, LA bound in a rental car, Hangman’s not ready to sit with it just yet. He changes into some workout clothes, eager to clear his head.

The weight of goodbye had colored their last night together, turning up the intensity – the intimacy – of their interactions. He’d had some of these feelings for Natasha Trace for a long time. It was her hunger for excellence, her fire, the fact that she could hold her own when it came to his quips and banter.

And after what they did on the carrier? After this past week? He knew he knew she'd carved out a permanent space there, taken up residence in his head (and maybe even in his heart) that he’d never quite be able to shake.

After parting ways with Rooster, It’s not hard for you to find Jake. He’s never quite figured out how to turn off his location sharing from that one time a few years ago when you’d showed him how to turn it on.

You find him on the beach, sitting and watching the waves. He’s sweaty from his run, his running sneakers somehow still in perfect condition.

“Bagman,” you call after him, the familiar nickname bringing a smile to his lips because of who it reminds him of.

“How’d you find me?” he asks, as he turns, watching you take a seat next to him.

“I swear to god, you barely know how to work a smartphone, grandpa. I’m pretty sure your location is shared with me eternally,” you tease him, sitting side by side with your best friend.

“Damn it,” he mumbles, returning his attention to the ocean.

“How ya doin?” you ask him, as if you know he needs to talk.

He wonders if that’s why you came to find him in the first place.

He shrugs, thinking about his answer, “I’m alright, kid.

You nod slowly, trying to read him as you ask:

“You got plans for leave?”

“Dunno,” he drawls, searching for answers in the pattern of the waves. “Might head back to Nevada early. I got booted off the shortlist for the next mission for defying orders to stand down but… you know how it goes.”

“Ahhh the price of being a hero,” you sigh, bumping your shoulder up against him.

He laughs, but there’s a sadness in his eyes as you exchange glances, that you notice immediately.

“Or I could head back to Texas. Might go visit Sarah and the kids,” he thinks out loud as he explores the options he has for the next few weeks you all were given.

Go see his sisters, Sarah and Caroline. Catch up with old friends. Maybe (and it’s a big maybe) see his parents.

“Texas, huh?

“Yeah.”

This time you turn your whole body towards him, scooting over in the sand.

“In that case… how would you feel about a pit stop in Austin? I could… get a ticket too and go see my dad. I’m gonna have to tell him I got called up for a top secret mission and all I came back with was a boyfriend he’s now gotta worry about,” you propose, dressing your offer with a little humor. “You wanna come with?”

“Someone’s gotta give him an honest and unbiased opinion on Rooster, kid,” he teases, taking a much more light hearted approach.

“Unbiased? Thaaaat’s not the word I’d use to describe your perspective of Bradley!” you fire back.

“Bradley, huh?” he asks, shooting you a look.

“You don’t think I call him Rooster when we-,” you begin to ask, before immediately being cut off by Jake.

“Woahhhh okay, kid. Way more than I need to know!” he interjects, because he really doesn’t want to picture you, his best friend, and Rooster doing anything right now.

He waits a beat before asking:

“So it’s serious?”

You smile, and the look in your eyes is all he needs to know as you answer, “Yeah, I think so.”

Jake hums in response before checking his phone. While he swears he’s checking the time, he’s only alotta disappointed when he doesn’t see a message from Nat.

“You… wanna talk about it?” you ask, noticing the shift in him.

“Hm?”

“You and Nat.”

“Ahhhh.”

He pauses and he can’t look at you when he drags out:

“She’s not ready.”

You sigh.

“I’m sorry. I know you’ve liked her for a long time,” you console him, giving his shoulder closest to you a squeeze.

“It’s-,” he starts to stay, before realizing what you’ve actually said. “What do you mean by ‘you’ve known for a long time’?!”

“Because… I have eyes!” you cry out with a laugh.

“I’m not that obvious,” he protests, shooting you a look that says, ‘oh, c’mon.’

“Oh you so are!” you reply, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I-,” he begins to say, before giving in.

You exchange another look with Jake before he just laughs, shaking his head this time too. You see him, you know him better than anyone else (except for maybe Coyote), and there’s no point in fighting you on it. It’s not like he’d been keeping it – his feelings for Nat – a secret, but he hadn’t thought it was that noticeable either.

“It’s okay,” he finally says, steering the conversation back to your question. “I should’ve known. Not all of us can just throw ourselves into it like you and Rooster.”

And even though he says it’s okay, you can tell he’s disappointed. You shift your position once more so that you can rub a few soothing circles over his back.

“Jake, you two are gonna figure it out one day. I know it,” you declare, reassuringly.

“I’m not so sure about that, kid,” he shakes his head, letting out a doubtful huff.

“Well, I am. C’mon,” you encourage, giving him a rallying slap on the back.

He laughs again.

“Have a little faith, Seresin.”

the end.

#call sign tennessee whiskey #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x reader #hangman x phoenix #hannix #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #natasha phoenix trace #phoenix top gun #jake hangman seresin #rooster x reader #hangman top gun #jake seresin #top gun maverick smut

148 notes · View notes

bennie-jerry · 2 months

Text

My Beef with Miguel O'Hara - A Spiderverse Rant

If you've read the title of this, you already know who I'm gonna be crapping on.

I know some of y'all are gonna flame me in the comments, but I do not care. Now, if you’re willing to bring up counterpoints about a FICTIONAL topic in a respectful manner, I’ll listen no problem because I don't mind being wrong (and I actually HOPE I'm wrong about this since I WAS excited about watching Miguel in action because there was so much hype around him). But if you take me having beef with a fictional character as me having beef with YOU, then I politely ask you to spare your mental health and drink some hot chocolate under a blanket after you click away from this post, thank you.

Now back to the topic.

Most of us Spider-Man fans have seen the movie, "Across the Spider-Verse" at some point (and if you haven't, what are you doing? Go watch it, it's on Netflix). Excluding everything that makes it a masterpiece aside, there's one character in the movie who really grinds my gears. Not in terms of how they’re written, but more so just how they are as a person in general.

Miguel O'Freaking'Hara.

I do not like Miguel. I feel pity for him, but I do not like him. I do like him as a character, though. I feel like he definitely adds to the story and makes it interesting. I genuinely feel like ATSV would’ve been really boring if he wasn’t part of it. But I do not like him as a person.

Miguel doesn't JUST have a stick up his butt, he has the whole TREE.

I couldn't care less about the fact this dude looks like a handsome statue because of the stuff he was doing to Miles. I think y’all forgot that this dude THREW A TABLE AT A MINOR UPON FIRST MEETING HIM and then has the nerve to throw away the food Miles got for him like it's trash. If that’s already not a red flag, I don’t know what is.

I don’t care if it was just ‘frustration.’ Miguel's 27 years old, he should know better. Unless Miles was attacking him in the beginning (which he wasn’t), there’s no reason he should’ve done that. But oh…I have much more beef with this dude than just a table.

I understand that his supposed role and whatnot in the Spiderverse is that he has to keep canon events going. He has to get rid of 'anomalies.’ Unfortunately, Miles Morales (from Earth-1610) is an anomaly because he was never supposed to be the Spider-Man of his universe. So, what does Miguel do? He tries to obliterate the guy.

…Ex–freaking-scuse me?

"Oh, but Miguel tried to talk to Miles about everything!"

Yeah. And he did it in the worst way possible. Miguel had absolutely no empathy towards the whole situation, then has the gall to wonder why Miles is running off and not listening to him. No dip, Sherlock. I'm pretty sure if you harshly told any normal person that someone they loved deeply was going to die and that they couldn't save them without any hint of compassion, they'd go against what you said and try to find a way to save them, bro.

Miguel's whole schmo is that Miles becoming Spider-Man was bad because it created Spot and Spot's creating a bunch of problems. As a result, Miguel also tells Miles that saving his dad is not allowed. Here's where I have a problem with that logic. If Miles being Spider-Man is an anomaly in the first place, why NOT save Jeff as a way to prevent more anomalies from HAPPENING? If anything, Miles losing his dad would've just been another canon event for him to continue BEING Spider-Man, even though he wasn't supposed to be. Legit, this dude’s logic irritates the pee out of me.

Miguel's approach to the problem is also hypocritical considering that he lost his own wife and daughter in the universe he belonged to, then invaded ANOTHER UNIVERSE he didn't belong to, which honestly in my opinion makes Miguel look even worse to me. I'm willing to bet that Miguel’s alternate daughter could’ve been that universe’s spider hero, but because THIS vampire edge lord stepped into a universe that was NOT his, it prevented the canon event of the classic “Dead Guardian trope,” leading to that universe’s evaporation.

Another thing that irks me about the whole thing is that MILES IS LIKE 15-16 YEARS OLD. So as far as I'm concerned, O'Hara is trying to eliminate a KID. Even though he knows what it's like to lose a KID. No wonder the multiverse prevented him from being a father—he’s violent, unstable, and completely short-sighted. He’s out here chokeslamming a teenager and calling THEM the mistake. Just because you went through grief and trauma with your own children, it isn't an excuse to take the breath of another child.

(Y'know, considering the events of Multiverse of Madness, I'm kinda seeing a pattern here--)

Miguel, for some reason, refuses to have a smidge of sensitivity for what Miles is going through. Heck, even Gwen and Peter Parker had more empathy for Miles despite them not telling him he wasn't supposed to be Spider-Man because they actually cared about his feelings TO SOME DEGREE.

I hate Miguel’s whole “You’re a mistake!” speech because Miles didn't create the spider. Miles didn't summon the spider. Miles didn’t choose to get bit. He didn’t find it on his own terms. Miles didn't choose to create Spot—the one who’s actually causing them problems. Someone ELSE brought the spider there. Someone ELSE took away a universe’s Spider-Man. Miles is just trying to deal with what he’s been given. So if Miguel wants to go after ANYONE for ‘anomalies’ in terms of Miles’ universe, he needs to track down the person who put something where it didn’t belong.

For crying out loud, he told the boy that HE was a mistake. It’d be one thing if he said “You being Spider-Man was a mistake” or something. But no. He says that Miles IS the mistake.

During that whole speech, it sounds like Miguel is trying to tell Miles that everything is HIS fault as if Miles had a choice in being bit. As if Miles even had a choice in the fact that a radioactive spider from an alternate universe chose to bite him.

There were so many other ways Miguel could've handled the issue and he didn’t do that. I don’t care what his so-called intentions could/would be because it really put a disgusting taste in my mouth.

I still have no respect for the fact that he hypocritically and previously invaded another reality where he was dead so he could be with his family--and here's what I mean by that.

Yes, I understand--Miguel's life on his original earth was freaking sad. He lost his wife and daughter. That's obviously a very tragic thing to go through. But it’s the fact that he's cracking down on Miles so badly despite Miguel LITERALLY being the one to pull a Kingpin vexes me. Miles had ALWAYS belonged to his universe. Miguel’s only in the dump he’s in because he was trespassing.

Don't get me wrong, I feel pity but I absolutely cannot stand the audacity of this man to go after a kid who got bit IN HIS OWN UNIVERSE even though Miguel was the one who contributed to some multiversal disaster in the Spider-verse. You could try to say, "Oh, it's because he doesn't want to make the same mistake again and shatter the Spider-verse or something!" While I could understand that, it’s still not a good reason for Miguel to do and say the stuff he did. I thought at the bare minimum, he'd be at least able to RELATE to Miles considering that he also lost people he cared about.

End conclusion:

Miguel is vexing to me–but I don’t hate the way he’s written. If anything, I think if he wasn’t written this way, the ASTV movie would be very different. Whether that’d be for the better or the worse, I’m willing to bet most of this storyline wouldn’t even exist were Miguel not like this. So even though Miguel absolutely grinds my gears with his mindset and who he is as a character—I’m not mad at his writers. And I honestly feel like that’s just a showmanship of how great the writing for the Spider-Verse movies is. Good writing is when you’re mad at characters for the decisions THEY make, and not at the WRITERS for having them make those decisions.

I’m out.

#anti miguel o’hara #character rant #character ramblings #character rambles #rant post #rant #ranting #across the spiderverse #spider man #spiderman #miguel is not your uwu daddy #miguel is not misunderstood #miguel is a violent man that needs to be in therapy

29 notes · View notes

sarcasticgaypotato · 5 months

Note

tell me about chell, that potato hauling criminal

Chell is such a fascinating character to talk about because she, even more so than Caroline, isn't a character... but she absolutely is, at the same time.

On the surface, Chell is simply a player stand-in. She's silent, her actions are decided by the player, and we never get the game telling us outright how she feels or what she thinks. The closest we get to a backstory comes from an Easter Egg (which I've already said I don't necessarily consider canon) and insults made at the player's expense. Insults that, for all we know, are completely baseless.

Chell can reasonably be whatever the player decides she is. (If she's like me, she's actually terrible at tests and fails at puzzles repeatedly before giving up and googling the answers.) Your Chell could be compassionate towards the robots— trusting Wheatley right off the bat and being torn up by his betrayal, forgiving PotaDOS and working together easily— or your Chell could be a silent, bitter, furious killing machine, craving robotic blood and hating every second she's stuck in this hellhole. Neither Chell is technically wrong, but neither is right either.

There's a lot that could be said about the personal projecting that people often do to their favorite characters in fandom, especially with characters as open-ended as Chell, but that's an entirely different can of worms. TL;DR If it makes you happy to picture a character as being like you, go for it. It might not be my cup of tea, but you're not asking me to drink it, so who cares?

All that rambling out of the way, who do I think Chell is?

I think Chell has more character than first glance would give her credit for. We can learn a lot from what actions the game's story forces her to complete and how other characters react to her, ultimately giving us a lot more to work with than Caroline.

Chell is intelligent. If you complete the games (even if you're terrible like I am), you've completed complicated tests and outsmarted a robot that nobody else has survived before. She has a logical brain for solving puzzles as well as a quick wit for thinking on her feet and getting through life or death situations. Chell might have some internal damage from her time in stasis, but she's not slow.

Chell is tenacious and stubborn as all hell. Canon material tells us this outright, I don't need to elaborate much. Chell refuses to be kept in Aperture against her will, she refuses to stay down, and she was willing to risk dying in space just to beat Wheatley. Our girl can hold a grudge if she wants to.

Chell is a little bit of a shit. There's an achievement for breaking all of Wheatley's monitors. Chell doesn't have to do that... but she can, and I think she does. Her jumping when told to say certain words? She's playing dumb knowing Wheatley's not going to get that she's making fun of him.

Chell is fair. She held up her end of the deal with Wheatley, he didn't hold up his, so he learned his lesson. GLaDOS saves her life, even when she didn't have to, and held up her end of the deal? Chell leaves Aperture without a fuss. She doesn't try to kill GLaDOS again or wreck shit on her way out. I believe that Chell's respect is hard to win back once you've lost it, but with the events of Portal 2, GLaDOS succeeded. Chell is perfectly willing to work alongside a partner, and in fact she does so quite well as we've seen, but only if they give her the respect she deserves. If you cheat her you are going to regret it.

Finally, concerning the 'mute' part of our favorite dangerous mute lunatic; I personally am in the camp of 'Chell can speak, she just doesn't want to give the robots the satisfaction.'

There are out-of-universe reasons for Chell not talking. Erik Wolpaw actually talks about the decision to keep her silent in the Kotaku article "Why Chell Doesn't Speak" and I'd recommend hearing what he had to say on the matter. However, that explanation doesn't necessarily need to dictate in-universe ones. I think Chell can speak because frankly, it checks out with the other observations I've made here.

She's a bit of a shit, so yeah, if she noticed it bothers the robots that she's not talking, of course she'd keep it up to annoy them, and she's stubborn enough to keep at it even when she's allied with one of them. Further, she's smart, so she would know that she has very little control in a place like Aperture. This is one thing she has complete control over, this is one card she can hold over everyone else, and she's going to keep it.

All that combines to become my Chell. She's probably different from your Chell, and that's okay, but I think I've made a pretty good case for why I see her the way I do.

I could spin potential backstories for her, but they'd all be very headcanon and speculative, so I'll save that for another time.

#chell #portal 2 #portal #I'm so sorry this took so long #nanowrimo was a lot

40 notes · View notes

k-martins · 4 months

Note

Hello.... What do you think are Fushiguro and Itadori’s greatest personality strengths and weaknesses? Why? What do you love about their dynamic? Thanks if you want to answer....

Hello! Sorry for the delay in responding.

That's a good question, thanks for submitting it.

Well, I'll start with Yuji. I think his strong point (which was currently pointed out even by Sukuna) is his unshakable humanity. He is always willing to be a stronger version of himself, to evolve as a sorcerer and a person, to protect those he loves. No matter how many times Yuji falls, he will always get up and fight again to protect those he loves most. His willpower is impressive and one of the reasons why he hasn't lost control of his emotions yet, something Nanamin and Todo pointed out as being useless as a sorcerer (I felt like a proud mother seeing him fighting Sukuna so seriously, no. letting the memory of Nanami and Higuruma's "death" affect him, something that would have happened in his times in Shibuya.) I think this is what makes his character to the general public so good and easy to love.

Now, his weak point is certainly the great empathy he feels for people. Don't get me wrong, empathetic and kind characters are my favorites in any media, but Yuji takes it to a very high level. He feels guilty about things that are often not his fault directly (such as the large flow of curses that arose after he ate Sukuna's finger or the deaths caused in Shibuya). The empathy he feels for people makes him forget about saving his own skin (as happened in juvie, as Yuji sacrificed himself to save Megumi and Nobara and only managed to make things worse by, well, leaving sukuna free to kill him and cause harm to Megumi) and consequently puts her friends in danger. This is so real that even external characters have to state that he is not to blame, like Panda saying that Yaga died post-shibuya and Yuta hiding that Toge lost his arm when Sukuna expanded the domain, although it is pointless since Yuji is so trapped in the request from his grandfather who cannot bear to be responsible - directly and indirectly - for the deaths of innocent people.

In Megumi's case, I think his strong point is his wit and maturity. He is a very focused sorcerer who quickly analyzes situations and draws up logical plans to win. Even though she seems cold and distant, Megumi always thinks of others when he makes a plan and puts the safety of others above his own - something very similar to Yuji. His intelligence is what makes a character trustworthy, so much so that he was already going out on missions alone, he was praised by Nanami and Nobara and Yuji trust him a lot when it comes to having a plan. However, his weak point is, as Gojo said, his mentality. Megumi has serious self-esteem issues that end up affecting how he interacts with the other characters, remaining distant and stoic, and how he fights - always saving Mahoraga as a last resort because we know what happens when he summons him. He cannot see himself as powerful, so he does not fight much when facing a powerful enemy, using Mahoraga to secure a victory. He doesn't consider himself important to others, so much so that, despite thinking about Yuji when he's about to die in Shibuya, he doesn't regret his decision. This is Megumi's weakest point and it is for this reason that he still cannot suppress Sukuna like Yuji did. Megumi gave up everything when Tsumiki died (which is understandable) and is now just waiting for someone to kill Sukuna (I doubt he's waiting for salvation and I believe a "there's nothing left to be saved" moment could happen soon)

When it comes to dynamics, I love how Yuji and Megumi complement each other perfectly, which reflects in their fighting style. Megumi is a long-range fighter, while Yuji is a melee opponent. Yuji is muscular and Megumi is intelligent. And they're also a lot of fun to follow, both in battle and in their interactions. Going further, I really like how Yuji always claims that Megumi is someone who is smart, kind and trustworthy, valuing those little details that Megumi doesn't seem to notice (in fact, I really believe that Yuji is much more observant than most people he thinks, because that alone explains how he noticed Osawa's cute handwriting and the way she eats fish; my boy may be slow, but he's not a complete idiot). I also really like how Megumi always takes care of Yuji, whether it's making sure he's okay and thinking of ways so they don't have to kill in the slaughter game, and giving Yuji meaning to continue living ("so start by saving me, Itadori ", a real glue to repair the crack in Yuji's conviction and humanity).

Anyway, I think that's it. I'm a little tired because I woke up early lmao. Thanks again for submitting this question. It was fun and I love talking about my boys.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #megumi fushiguro #itadori yuji #itafushi #fushiita

35 notes · View notes

the-judicial-assistants-notebook · 1 year

Text

You know, I think what really bugs me about the "Dadworth" dynamic applied to Kay and Edgeworth's relationship is that it usually makes Kay out to be this hyperactive, slight problem child (in the 'stealing and pranking' sense rather than the 'moody and abrasive' sense), occasionally with deep-rooted daddy issues like Edgeworth has, when that's... the opposite of her character.

(This post got away from me, so TL;DR: Kay is a quick-witted and independent young woman who has worked very hard to be both emotionally and practically intelligent enough to be seen as a legitimate successor to her father's legacy. Making her out to be the traits mentioned above, so she functions as Edgeworth's daughter rather than his investigative partner and equal, undermines her character and semi-conflates her with Maya [the deep-rooted issues bit]. Also I don't like it wksgskaj)

Kay is very, very sharp.

The thing about Kay is that she's not actually in the series as much as it feels like she is, which makes it easy for her character to be altered to suit the needs of the story (which I think happens in The Forgotten Turnabout, but I won't talk about that here). She turns up in two cases as herself in AAI (as in, teenager Kay whom we're most familiar with) and shares her role with Gumshoe, Ema and Franziska when she does, lessening her appearances even further. Nevertheless, there are still concrete elements to her personality that we're made aware of right from the beginning, and the first major one which I feel gets overlooked in favour of her hyperactive characterisation is this:

In terms of mainline assistants, I'd consider her the sharpest of all (maybe after Trucy? But I don't remember enough of AJ to comment on that). Yes, she's shown to be reckless and impulsive, but, when it comes to actual investigating and reasoning, she is solid. With Nick and Maya, you sometimes get the impression that they're both fumbling along until Phoenix catches on (most of the time with Maya's usually a little accidental help, and he still has to explain things to her near every time [not Maya's fault. Following Phoenix's reasoning is like being on a rollercoaster in a minecart]), but Kay is very rarely like that with Edgeworth. Within minutes of meeting him, she can predict what he's going to say (or 'steal his lines', as the game puts it), and there are several moments after he uses Logic and is about to explain what he's connected where Kay interrupts with the correct conclusion herself:

Edgeworth: A second Blue Badger that shouldn't exist... Clearly, the true identity of the person underneath is...

Kay: Oh, I know! It's one of the kidnappers, right!?

There's even a point where she tells him off for overexplaining things to her:

Kay: Yeesh, I told you I got it! Do you feel the need to explain everything!?

And, near the end of their first case together, he acknowledges that's she's generally quite quick:

Kay: OK, what should I re-create first?

Edgeworth: ...You haven't figured it out yet?

Kay: Heh, maybe I have, and maybe I haven't.

Even if you don't take these points into consideration, the fact that she comes up with a new way to use Little Thief, and knows how to use it at all actually, shows you that she's a really intelligent girl! Continuing on a bit from the point I made earlier about her being brash, Kay may be reckless, but she isn't irresponsible. Whenever she rushes into situations, she doesn't expect other people to come save her; she's quite assured that she can and will get herself out of them on her own, and, if she needs help, she asks for it in advance. She treats Edgeworth less like her guardian and more like her investigative partner:

Kay: I didn't get permission to enter Allebahst... so we're going to go gather whatever info we can over on the Babahlese side, OK!?

Edgeworth: Alright, I'm counting on you two.

Kay: Right, and I'm counting on you and Ms. von Karma to sniff out clues in Allebahst!

...

Edgeworth: A number of pieces connect in a very complicated way in this case... It's almost enough to make one completely mentally exhausted.

Kay: Let's not over-complicate matters, OK, Mr. Edgeworth? We've been so focused, like a laser, on only what seems strange and out of place... it's no wonder nothing's clicked and we haven't unlocked anything yet. But, if we think things through calmly, the answer should come to us!

There's an independence to her proactiveness that kind of forces Edgeworth to meet her on equal grounds, and this too is an element that gets lost when the Dadworth dynamic comes in because it involves making Edgeworth responsible -- or feel responsible -- for her actions and general wellbeing when Kay has never expected nor wanted that. She does things on her own terms, and she walks the path she's chosen by herself:

Edgeworth: Preposterous! On what grounds do you suspect her of such a thing!?

Shih-na: The fact that she calls the Yatagarasu. That in itself is a more elegant proof.

Kay: Ms. Shih-na.

Shih-na: Yes?

Kay: I... have no intention of taking back any of what I've said.

Shih-na: ...?

Kay: I am the Great Thief Yatagarasu. And I refuse to allow some imposter to claim that name as their own! The path of justice that my father pointed me towards... I will walk it the best I can!

Her relationship with Edgeworth works as an inverse to that of Nick and Maya's in the way that, where Nick and Maya have deep respect for one another beneath layers upon layers of playful insults and messing about, Kay outwardly respects Edgeworth first (and expects that respect to be returned) and razes him second -- that, too, never to an extent she wouldn't with anyone else or that crosses a certain boundary. Her messing with Edgeworth is shown to be more an attempt to get him to lighten up or not take himself too seriously than an act of (platonic) intimacy as it is with Nick and Maya (which makes sense because Nick and Maya have spent years together, while she's known Edgeworth for all of two weeks) or genuine obliviousness/silliness (although it definitely sometimes is). This is pretty obvious simply from the fact that she always calls him 'Mr Edgeworth', though she's perfectly comfortable calling Gumshoe and Badd, people whom she is more familiar and comfortable with, 'Gummy' and 'Uncle Badd' respectively. Also Kay, in general, is quite polite? Edgeworth calls something she said rude at one point and she gets insulted, and, when you ask for her opinion, she doesn't go 'What?' or 'What is it?', she specifically says, 'Yes?' (this changes in AAI2, which I promise I'm not discussing here) Upon meeting Oldbag, she has this exchange with her, where Kay chooses a more formal mode of address than what is actually offered:

Oldbag: My name is Wendy Oldbag. But you can call me "Wendy", or "Granny", or whatever suits your fancy.

Kay: Nice to meet you, Ms. Oldbag! I'm Kay Faraday.

She's also had moments where she calls Edgeworth out for being 'tactless', and she's shown to feel very strongly about rudeness throughout the whole game. I'm not saying she isn't mischievous or playful, she very much is, but the point is that she's really quite respectful, and this extends to her relationship with him. Her characterisation in Turnabout Ablaze, where she's considerably more excitable/high-strung than in Kidnapped, seems largely due to them chasing down Calisto Yew. Edgeworth even comments on this:

Edgeworth: Kay, you need to look before you leap. You tend to lose your cool when it comes to anything related to that woman.

Generally, though, you can tell that she was obviously raised with an adherence to certain formalities. She's not looking for another parental figure (because she doesn't need one, which I'll go into after this), but, if she was, she'd make that clear.

Kay's a very straightforward person at heart; she doesn't hide any part of herself, even the part that should be hidden (i.e. the Yatagarasu). There are points where she suggests that Edgeworth reminds her of her father, but, in AAI, she specifically mentions that it's both Edgeworth and Gumshoe who remind her of her father and Detective Badd. It's not about her seeing Edgeworth as a father figure; it's about their and her own dedication to the truth. Even in AAI2, where her comments could be read as leaning more towards the former angle, she doesn't get cut up about him not picking up on that or really paying it much emphasis at all, because it doesn't matter. The fact that he reminds her of Byrne is just that: a fact.

Returning to the point about Kay not needing/wanting another parental figure, I think it's pretty self-explanatory, but to put it succinctly: Kay has the guidance she needs without him.

To put it less succinctly, Edgeworth's possibly the worst candidate to go for for emotional support and guidance in the first place, and by the time she meets him again, she's basically processed her father's passing and has a better handle on herself emotionally than Edgeworth does (not a brag; most characters have higher EQ than Edgeworth); what she wants isn't necessarily closure for Byrne's death in the emotional sense but in the I-want-answers-to-this-mystery-that-will-restore-my-family's-honour sense. You could make the argument that Kay becoming the second Yatagarasu and shaping her entire future around continuing her father's work prove that she isn't over his death, but I don't think that's true and more of a result of conflating her with Maya a bit.

With Maya, becoming the Master isn't something she chooses; it's given to her by Misty and Mia. With Kay, it's the opposite. Kay's decision to become the Yatagarasu and pursue the truth is wholly her own, and her approach to that goal reflects that. While Maya uses her cheery, upbeat attitude to conceal a lot of self-doubt and vulnerability (and Franziska does the same with her hostility), Kay does not. Her cheerfulness is precisely who she is; it's not a mask so much as it is a distraction. It keeps people from looking at her too closely and realising exactly how capable she is, and, while I don't think it's fully intentional (again, she believes in living her life in a straightforward and upfront manner), she does imply that it's sort of her (or the Yatagarasu's) MO:

Kay: Well! By the time everyone notices, it's already gone! That's the Yatagarasu way!

Interestingly enough, this unintentional tactic of using humour and cheeriness as a distraction from her abilities makes her a mirror to Calisto Yew, who also uses her seemingly always light-hearted nature as a disguise for what she's actually capable of (Calisto's joviality is her true self, too, or at least as 'true' as she can get). The difference between them is that Calisto delights in ironically mocking the world around her, whereas Kay finds joy in life itself, and she's stronger for it.

The only part where we see Kay attempt to mask her feelings is when she's a child, and even then she admits that she feels better after crying, which, I believe, led to her becoming more open with her emotions later in life (see how her older self has a teary sprite which makes pretty frequent appearances where her younger self does not). In any case, to me, this shows that she has people in her life already who are helping, and have helped, her confront and process her trauma. She's not looking to Edgeworth to help her make sense of her father's death and she definitely isn't looking for a replacement (again, literally dedicated to continuing her father's [and Badd's] legacy). Whenever Edgeworth even gets close to becoming parental with her, she dismisses it, unless she acknowledges that she is in the wrong:

Edgeworth: ...Kay, it's not good for you to stay up late, you know.

Kay: Yes, gramps!

...

Edgeworth: ...I appreciate your sense of justice, however... I would appreciate it if you wouldn't go running into the heart of any more raging fires.

Kay: Nngh... Yes, Mr. Edgeworth... I'll try...

Despite her buoyancy and bright attitude, Kay is quite firm that she be treated as an adult (she doesn't see her cheeriness as a mark of youth; it's joie de vivre, it's who she is, and that's that), and, throughout the game, she gets annoyed when people don't respect that (her arguments with Lang are largely over how he calls Little Thief a toy and her crow-girl). She holds her own and relies on herself while being unafraid of asking for help.

Anyway, this post has gone on for long enough and I think I've addressed the points I wanted to. I should mention that I realise that a lot of how many people portray/interpret their relationship is validated by AAI2 but that's honestly a discussion for a separate post HAHA I feel like, when it comes to AAI, the father/daughter interpretation can maybe be argued with regards to the way Edgeworth treats her? Honestly, though, I think he'd treat any young lady who suddenly becomes part of his team/responsibility in pretty much the same way. And, like, he drops the ball almost every time he's supposed to give "fatherly" advice because he's just not that great with it/children!! It's actually hilarious HSKSDHSK

Either way, yeah! I just think Kay is actually given a lot less credit than she's due when the Dadworth card gets played and I just! Want better for her!!

#kay faraday #miles edgeworth #ace attorney investigations #EMBARRASSINGLY long post. i want to add that this isnt an attack on anyone who likes the dadworth dynamic!!! it's semi-supported by canon #and like. it's literally fandom wskdhdk do what makes you happy. i just feel like kay gets minimised a bit when it happens (including when #it's done in game) and i just want people to realise that she's not actually like that!! she's actually so smart and rly mature???#oh i want to add that i generally like both aai games i just prefer the first one. i know some people go for a sibling dynamic between them #rather than a father daughter one (which makes sense bc... they have 10 years between them hskddhk) but im an advocate for friendship being #just as important and valid as it would be if it did mimic a family relationship even if it didnt so that doesnt do much for me either #i just think she wants to be seen as an equal to him as any of his other partners would be #oh i didnt mention this in the post but i also feel like people mix her with ema a bit in the future versions of her?#like she becomes snarky and a little sarcastic (or suave/flirty in a roundabout manner if it's a ship post) when her whole thing is being #direct. she tells shih na to her face that 'those sunglasses dont do anything for her so she'll steal them next time' she's great #the snarky sarcasm thing is again ema. not maya or her but ema. and franziska #ok i need to shut up now im done thank u <3

152 notes · View notes

darkcircles4lyfe · 2 months

Note

Hii I’ve stumbled across a few of your posts and haven’t even gleaned the tip of the iceberg that is your blog, but I would love to hear a more fleshed version of your Bakugo with AFO post (if you have more that you wanted to share), because that is such a cool concept???

Like, it’s such a nice way to address the symbiotic nature of the two quirks + Bakugo’s relationship with Midoriya at the same time, and there’s also so much to explore in terms of the repercussions of that (not just the symbolism of it, but also the parts you’ve mentioned like what that would mean for people who’ve had their quirks stolen, how they will deal with all the stockpiled quirks, or even on a wider scale of how the media would react if AFO/OFA is leaked/ revealed to the public).

Just imagine the amount of continued exploration in terms of the nature of quirks v nurture of society, because AFO/OFA has so far been (imo) one of the few evidence that quirks carry personality, which is so awesome because it’s like saying a quirk literally holds a part of you through the vestiges while demolishing this idea through basically the entire plot of the manga loll. (To phrase it slightly better, the manga is sort of reaching the conclusion that a quirk is a part of you and you only, without being all of you, and that it’s exactly what the name says it is: a quirk.)

The thing I don’t really like about this conclusion is the blatant disregard for the quirkless community, which was the initial point of discussion and social commentary in bnha. This is why I think Bakugo being given AFO would be great fuel for the debate of should we be allowed to mess with the quirks we are given.

As in, who gets to decide? Who gets to play god? How will it be regulated? Should it even be regulated? How do you do all that without dehumanising Bakugo the same way society dehumanised pro heroes? (Bonus points for linking this to real life because I’m all for social commentary/ reflections in fictional media)

And then on a personal level, what will it take for Bakugo to be able to control AFO’s personality (hello, eye symbolism + name symbolism) within the quirk? How will All Might handle this info? How does this all relate to the conflict of children in war? The development of the league of villains’ character plots (esp Tomura’s)?

I have a lot of questions with very few answers loll, I would love to hear your thoughts on this!!

this post, for reference

Gosh, I am so sorry for taking forever to answer this. But you ask so many good questions! And I think this is actually a pretty good time, after 419.

I guess where I stand with the idea now is still somewhat ambiguous. All for One as a power is too big and interesting to go away--or at least, if it did go away, it would speak volumes. It feels like an almost elemental, fundamental, and even spiritual power, something beyond the man himself. So I'm still wondering about its future.

While a lot of other characters' narratives, including Katsuki's, are about this "nature of quirks vs. nurture," with the original Japanese name for quirks literally meaning "individuality" ("個性" or "kosei"), All for One (the power) oddly represents a lack of individuality. Like a shapeshifter with no form of its own. With that in mind, might we actually compare it to quirklessness? This is worth considering if we're trying to guess who might be a fitting person to inherit it.

I'm at least certain that Tenko shouldn't keep it, since he was literally groomed for it, to be a vessel. For him it represents a lack of individuality in the absolute worst way: a lack of agency, and an identity determined by/in the image of someone else since before even the moment of conception. Actually, as of 419, it seems like if there is any echo of him left after being possessed again, Tenko needs to get rid of the quirk. If he is able to regain control for even a second, the most logical action he can take to save himself and do something of his own free will for once, is to pass the quirk on to someone else.

What I'm a little less certain about is who should get it. On the one hand, Katsuki has a very strong sense of self, especially now. As I said before, this would make him an interesting candidate because he wouldn't want AFO, and thus wouldn't use it for his own gain, on principle. However...

In between now and when I wrote that little post, the future of One for All has also become ambiguous. Does Tenko have it even though All for One does not? (because of Izuku's intent in passing it on?) I've wondered for a long time what would happen if OFA and AFO combined. Would they become more than the sum of their parts, creating something new? Maybe something that can connect with other people and build them up? Perhaps it would develop some aspect of agency that takes away its capacity to exploit people. I'm just speculating...

And I haven't wanted to talk about it, but I'm ambivalent about Izuku becoming quirkiness again. As in, I think Horikoshi could pull it off either way. So this is just an idea:

Izuku could also be a candidate for AFO because he lacks a sense of self, in his own way, as I've gone into before. At best, this means a lack of an ego, the opposite of AFO's personality. In AFO's words, Izuku is the boy born with nothing, who now has less than nothing. There's also a nice symmetry to this idea: Izuku giving OFA to Tenko, then Tenko giving AFO to Izuku. It would be interesting to see what the power would be like in the hands of its antithesis.

But like I said, if you ignore AFO's own selfish interpretation of the power as a tool for domination and a sign of his natural superiority, its essence is a lot more comparable to quirklessness. Just as one's quirk does not encompass one's entire self even though it is unique to them, so too does the quirk have potential beyond its user's point of view. It is potentially ideal for someone who wouldn't make it a part of who they are or use it to enforce their desires, and this applies to both Izuku and Katsuki.

The final thing to mention from your question is the possibility that whoever received AFO would have to deal with overcoming his possession. Maybe this is too much for one person to handle. Maybe Katsuki plays into this either way.

#and I'll leave it at that because hoo boy there are a lot of unknowns #asks #lin answers #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha 419 #bnha manga #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #bakudeku #bkdk #dekubaku #dkbk #all for one #one for all #shimura tenko #shigaraki tomura

19 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

tias-fan

Unbetitelt

erodasfishtacos

Come & Get Lost For A Little ⛰

devilsadvocate007

Devil's Advocacy 101

garbouil

Garbouil

crazyqueenmoon

Where I post whatever I feel like posting