#and i hope he will be in protocol in some capacity. but i also hope he'll be played by a black actor | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sirowsky-stories · 9 months

Text

Collision

Part 2

Description: While struggling with how to keep Niki safe, Pero ends up making some hard choices, creating far reaching consequences.

Warnings: Pero Tovar x OFC, no reader insert, Pero's pov, hospital scenes, cursing, shooting, gunshot wounds, minor character death, angst, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, secret identity, AU fic. Rating: Mature/Explicit 18+ONLY Word Count: 5700 Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Well, that didn't take me long... We get a bit more history on Pero here, and I hope you won't be put off by my attention to detail on hydraulic lifting.

-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-

The unknown man has seen her. He doesn’t just know what Niki looks like, even covered in tubes and wires and completely unmoving, but also which equipment she needs to be connected to. Which things that are keeping her alive. And it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that if she’s moved, all anyone needs to do to find her, is look for any place where that array of machinery can be plugged in. Which basically rules out everything but one of the patient rooms.

He can try to hide her by switching rooms with someone, but there’s no guarantee that the people hunting her would even care about looking at records. They might just search through the entire hospital, and since he doesn’t know how many of them there are, he can’t say how effectively they might be able to do that. It’s not a big city hospital, the patient capacity is only a couple hundred in total, and it’s not like he’s gonna risk these people tearing through a children’s ward.

“Excuse me,” Pero says to the nurse at the front desk, another new face to him. “Can you tell me what your protocol is for if a patient’s life is threatened? I mean, not medically, but if someone actually threatens them?”

The young woman looks him over before answering, as if trying to ascertain if he might be contemplating threatening someone. But she seems to decide that he probably isn’t.

“We alert our security team and if the threat is serious or ongoing, they stand guard by the affected patient. If it’s deemed necessary, we call the police and on rare occasions we will move a patient to an undisclosed location within the hospital.”

Exactly what he expects to hear, but it’s not good enough. He knows it won’t save her. Even under guard this eerily calm man can get to her, either himself or by proxy. He just knows it. He looks around the ward while he tries to think. There are nine other people there at the moment. All of them potential threats, because as good as he is at reading people, there are those who are just as good at hiding in plain sight.

The nurse is still looking at him, and she’s starting to worry now, seeing his eyes repeatedly dart towards Niki’s bed.

“If you have any concerns about Ms. Morse’s safety, I’d be happy to call security for you.”

“It’s just… I can’t prove that there’s anything wrong,” he says, nervously drumming his fingers against the taller front section of the desk while he keeps scanning the halls.

“Why do you think that she’s in danger, Mr. Tovar?” she asks, and he meets her eyes.

She’s young, probably no more than twenty-three, but there’s a lot of experience in those eyes. Like the unknown man, her calmness is also practiced. Tested by years of overcoming her own stresses and fears. But where the two differ, is in the warmth that she projects around her. Her tribunals have been about understanding the value of helping others, about leaving a better world or even just ward behind, at the end of each day.

The man doesn’t care about living things.

“Because the crash that put her here was intentional. Someone wants her dead. I know it, but I can’t prove it,” he frustratedly admits, and resumes his survey of the ward.

He needs to come up with a way to get Niki out of here, there’s no other option. The nurse is kind and means well, but she can’t help him. Not really. He leaves the desk and heads back to the same spot where he’d been when the man had walked in. A corner at the far end of the hallway which connects the arrival lounge and nurse’s station, to the four ICU slots.

From there, he can see almost the entire ward, and he can just make out the third slot behind its curtain, although only if he stands. Leaning against the wall, he tilts his head back to rest his neck for a moment. He’s so tired. It’s only 7:30 am and this has already been the worst fucking day ever. But he can’t stop. He’s not supposed to care about her, but he does. And because he does, he won’t stop.

What will it take to get her out of here safely?

An ambulance won’t work, her bed is too big, and he can’t risk transferring her onto a gurney, not with her injuries. Plus, all that equipment would have to come too. He knows that all the machines have a battery back-up in case of power failure, so as long as the journey isn’t too far, they’ll be fine in transit. But it’s gonna take a truck of some sort to move her, and that’s if he can even get her out of the building.

He stands there, seemingly idle, as his gaze is drawn to the medical staff gathered at the nurse’s station. There’s no visible hierarchy among them there. Doctors and nurses sit together, trading information as well as insights, equally dependent on each other, and not just to manage their work. Banter passes between them effortlessly, keeping their hearts light, despite the many horrors which surround them.

A long time ago, in a different life, Pero knew what it was like to have that kind of relationship with his coworkers. He’s all but forgotten it now, but the thought brings his mind to his current colleagues. People who know how to handle precious cargo with ease and efficiency, who are experts at safely lifting heavy and delicate items, who can work under the most stressful conditions without losing their heads.

They’re not his friends, but they’re good people. Maybe… they’ll help him if he asks.

He can’t use his cellphone in the hospital, and while he doesn’t want to step outside, he also can’t call from the front desk where any number of people might overhear the plan that’s begun to take shape within his mind. And he’s quite certain that the staff will try to stop him if they find out what he’s thinking. So, he takes the risk of walking outside to make the calls.

“Brandon,” his supervisor answers.

“Hey, it’s Tovar.”

“Hi,” the guy replies, suddenly sounding unsure and clearly stunned to hear from him, because Pero never calls anyone at work unless he’s there himself and there’s a work-related issue.

“I need to know who’s on shift right now,” he demands.

“Okay, that would be, uh… Haig, Kurtz, Olivera and Andersson.”

“Thanks,” he says and then hangs up, having gotten the information he was after.

The two people he needs the most, Carrera and Boon, aren’t working so they might be available. But that also means that he’s gonna have to convince them to go to the warehouse anyway, if they’re gonna be able to help him. He has no reason to think that they’ll even want to. They don’t owe him or Niki anything. He’s placing all his hope on the idea that they’ll at least be willing to help her, as most everyone at work likes the quiet mechanic who never fails to fix their problems.

“Hello?” Boon’s deep voice asks as the call connects, having not recognized the number.

“Hey, it’s Tovar.”

“Tovar? Why you callin’ me? Isn’t it your weekend off?”

“I need your help,” he admits, and the other man scoffs, but with surprise more than anything else.

“Well, that’s a first.”

“Yeah. Sorry to spring this on you, but I don’t know how much time I have. Morse is in the hospital and she’s not doing so good,” he rattles off, nervously treading on the spot because he doesn’t like being out here while she’s alone inside.

“Shit… What happened?”

“I think someone tried to kill her, and I think they’re here, monitoring her at the hospital. That’s why I need your help.”

There’s a moment of silence on the line. Then…

“What do you need me to do?” Boon asks, and his tone is sure now, any hesitation or confusion blown away by his determination to protect.

Unlike most of the guys that Pero works with, this man is a father. Of two girls. Even if he doesn’t know Niki or care about her the way that a friend would, he sort of automatically cares when bad stuff happens to good people, and especially women.

“I need to move her out of the hospital, bed and equipment and all,” Tovar explains, and the guy instantly sees where his head is going.

“You’re thinking of using the modified hydraulic table?”

“And the new flatbed lifter. We can run the table out of the building without a hitch, there aren’t any thresholds, but it won’t get the bed into a truck,” he explains, giving Boon enough information to work out the details himself, without wasting time on lengthy deliberation.

“So, we’re gonna need to borrow all three, without getting stopped at the gates and preferably without losing our jobs.”

“All within the next hour,” Pero confirms, and hears the other man sigh.

“Shit.”

“I was thinking Carrera.”

“Yeah. It’s gonna have to be,” his colleague agrees, and while he sounds worried, there’s no doubt that he’s onboard. “Let me make some calls, alright. Can I get back to you on this number?”

“Text me, I’m going back inside to keep an eye on her.”

“Sure. Hey, you keep that girl safe til we get there.”

“Trying to. Just hurry.”

He hangs up and half runs back to the ward, where he quickly notices that another new face has turned up. A man with the same impassive expression as the unknown man that he saw before, has taken a seat in the general waiting area, leafing through a magazine, but not reading a single word as his entire focus is on his surroundings.

-=¤=-

Boon walks into the ICU fifty-three minutes later and immediately clocks Pero, who’s now pacing as close to the slots as he’s allowed to get. The same young nurse who was at the desk when he’d asked about security is standing between him and the area that’s off limits, with her arms crossed. But her face is calm, and her eyes are compassionate.

“Hey, Tovar. Everything okay?” his coworker asks as he reaches them.

“Not really,” he grumbles between tight jaws, but he can’t find the words to explain why, so the nurse takes over.

“There was an incident. Mr. Tovar got into an altercation with another visitor here.”

“He is not a visitor,” he persists with absolute certainty, to which she patiently sighs.

“Unfortunately, there’s no way to know for sure, because you broke his humerus. You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t press charges.”

“He won’t, because then he’d have to explain why he was loitering here for half an hour before making a beeline for Niki, a person he definitely doesn’t know or care about,” Pero spits, still high on adrenaline from the encounter, and only more worried now that there’s no longer any doubt that he’s right.

“Shit…” Boon says, nervously scratching his neck. “Why would anyone wanna kill Morse?”

“I have someone else working on figuring that out. In the meantime, we gotta get her somewhere safe.”

“I understand your concerns, Mr. Tovar, but she can’t be moved yet, she’s too fragile,” the nurse interjects. “I can have security stand guard, but she needs to be right here for the time being.”

He’s been too preoccupied the previous times he’s met her, but Pero now looks at her nametag, hoping to create a temporary relationship of trust, which seems more likely to succeed if he at least knows her name.

“Gillian, please listen to me. This woman is the only person in the entire world that I give a shit about, so you need to understand me when I say that I will not leave her lying here as a sitting duck for the next assassin who shows up, which I know they will.”

“Sir, you’re being dramatic. I admit, he had a cold manner about him, but an assassin?” she poses with incredulity, but Pero merely sucks in a deep breath, entirely undeterred.

“No actually, I’m not being dramatic, I know what I’m talking about. There were two of them, one to scout ahead and make sure they had the right location and the correct patient, and then a second guy to perform the job. That guy then sat there, waiting for an emergency to come in so that most of the staff would leave, and then he snuck past you, heading straight for her. The only reason she’s still alive is because the guy failed to notice me. But now they know that I’m protecting her, which means that the next time they come, they will have changed tactics, and I might not be lucky enough to figure out what they’re doing until it’s too late.”

She stares at him with her mouth hanging slightly open, and she looks as though she’s unsure of whether to laugh in his face or back away to a safer distance.

“You were watching him?” she deduces, but phrases it as a question, probably to emphasize how abnormal she must find all of this.

“Yes, because I know when people don’t belong. He was either gonna bomb the place or come after Niki.”

“What are you? CIA?” she whispers, and when he exasperatedly shakes his head, he sees that Boon is looking at him with the exact same expression that she is.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake… I used to operate outside the law, alright. I was a criminal. And the type of crap I did, was the type where knowing people at first glance was the difference between a safe job, and a death-trap,” he admits, and they both look a little sheepish.

He hates talking about the past, for several reasons, but primarily because he isn’t proud of any of it. He’s nearly forty years old and he’s got nothing to show for it. Life as a crook had its benefits, sure. But the downside for a man who had specialized in extorting people by using their secrets against them, was that it was impossible, and dangerous, to make friends.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, feebly trying to chase the past away.

“The point is, I’m not wrong about this. There’s at least two of them, and the other one might already be here.”

“Okay, I hear you. But you need to understand that there’s no point in protecting someone if you kill them, and if we try and move her, that is entirely likely to happen,” Gillian counters.

Pero had lowered his voice considerably while he’d spoken about his past, but he now realizes that the nurse is following suit, to the point where only the two men in front of her can hear what she’s saying. And there’s no reason for her to try and hide anything, unless she’s already contemplating doing something that from the hospital’s standpoint, would be wrong. Which means that there’s every chance that so long as they have a good enough plan, she might help them.

“Moving her is risky, I agree. But leaving her here is worse. Now, my colleagues and I have a plan, and it’s not as idiotic as you might think. Please, just hear us out.”

-=¤=-

As it turns out, Gillian doesn’t just approve of their plan, she decides to improve it by becoming the boss of it. And for someone as young as she is, the authority that she commands when she sets her mind to something, is admirable to say the least. First, she somehow convinces Doctor Leo that Niki needs a new CT scan, to give them an excuse to move her off the ward. Then she manages to rope in two other nurses, without even telling them what’s going on, to help move all the equipment without having to disconnect the patient from it.

And when they’ve all crammed into the elevator and Pero presses the button for sublevel two, the garage, the two nurses are understandably confused.

“Radiology is on the third floor, sir,” one of them needlessly informs him, since each button has the relevant floor information printed next to it.

“We’re not going to Radiology, Chris,” Gillian firmly announces, and both nurses turn to look at her with confusion.

But before either of them has had a chance to speak, she continues.

“No questions, just do what I say. That way, you can rightfully blame me as much as you need or want to, when you’re being asked about it later.”

And that’s the end of it. Neither nurse dares to say anything more. They reach the garage and gently maneuver the bed and the five machines, each one individually mounted onto either a pole on wheels or a cart, out of the elevator. The truck is standing by, parked in the middle of the driveway, and the moment he sees them, Carrera jumps out to open the back.

He waited so that he’d be able to move if anyone should see it and worry that a truck standing with its tail-end in front of the elevator is terribly suspicious. Which it is, especially for a garage with no loading dock or goods reception. Once the back is open, he jumps in there to start up the electric flatbed lifter. The hydraulic table is already positioned on top of the metal bed, being unloaded along with the lifter.

It’s a very clever machine, designed specifically for cargo needing to be loaded into a trailer from the ground, without having to be tilted or removed from the lifting mechanism at any point. The only drawback is that once loaded, the machine goes wherever the cargo does, but for this endeavor, that doesn’t matter. The hydraulic table is just that. A smooth flat surface, approximately five by eight feet, and only two inches thick, capable of lifting eight thousand pounds at the most.

Together, these two factory tools should be enough to get Niki, her bed, and everything attached to her, into the truck and safely away from the hospital. But since no one has ever tried something like this before, they’re going to have to take it slow and make sure that they get it right. The hospital bed sits on top of a hydraulic system of its own, and it has wheels that need to be securely locked throughout transfer. Contrarily, most of the medical equipment can’t be locked into place at all.

The two nurses exchange a look of nervousness as they begin to realize what’s happening here, but to their credit, neither of them tries to back out.

Once the machines are on the ground and positioned, the delicate work begins. The bed is lowered to its bottom setting to put the center of gravity as far down as possible, then Pero and Boon carefully roll it up on top of the table, while all three nurses manage the equipment, constantly keeping it close enough that no tubes or wires are being stretched to the point where they might detach from Nikita’s skin or blood-vessels.

The wheels are locked, and then the table is raised just a few inches from the ground. Only enough for the flatbed to be able to slip underneath. Unlike what the name suggests, it isn’t simply a solid flat surface that makes up the lifting area of the flatbed. It’s actually made of eight parts, all of which can be shifted individually with a series of levers next to the steering wheel inside the cabin.

Carrera is thus far the only one to have mastered this new piece of machinery since it’s arrival at the warehouse just a week ago, which is why both Pero and Boon decided that he needed to be involved. Either of them could technically have operated it, mechanically it isn’t that different from a forklift, but since they’re unfamiliar with it, that would’ve taken five times as long and it wouldn’t have been nearly as smooth as the seasoned Latino is managing.

He shifts six of the sections up and out of the way, leaving just one at each end of the lifting area, and then slides them under the edges of the table, slowly taking up its weight while checking that nothing is misaligned or slipping. Once he gives a thumbs up, Boon presses the button which lowers the hydraulic table back to its bottom setting, and then everything stops while the medical equipment is lifted onto the flatbed as well.

The nurses have to climb on too, in order to keep the unsteady carts and poles from rolling or tipping, and then Carrera begins the precise task of raising the entire machine along with its cargo, off the ground and up to the edge of the truck’s cargo hold. There, he engages a different engine, which pushes the entire flatbed into the trailer, but not by dragging it along the floor. Instead, there are little wheels, much like the ones in commercial airplane cargo holds, embedded within the underside of the flatbed, letting it slip effortlessly and with minimal vibration, into position.

Next, the machine itself needs to be brought onboard, because it can’t be detached from its loading bed. But it has another trick for that. Another engine, this one operating two legs which are pushed into the ground and thereby lifting the machine. The engine which works to push up the flatbed now works in tandem with the one that operates the legs, so that the bed remains on the floor of the truck even as the machine rises.

It’s clever, but not quick. Nearly ten minutes have passed since they stepped out of the elevator, and just as Carrera has completed the maneuver, they run out of time. The legs have just been retracted into the belly of the machine and the engine switched off, when the elevator doors open, and the first of the unknown men that Pero encountered up in the ICU, steps out.

This guy doesn’t have a broken arm, or anything else to slow him down, so when he realizes what he’s looking at, he reaches into his open leather jacket and pulls out a revolver. Down here, there’s no reason to be discreet or quiet, and his quarry is conveniently trapped inside a trailer along with all the witnesses. But, as is usually the case with people and guns, once the first shot is fired, panic ensues.

At the foot of the bed, Boon is closest to the opening of the cargo hold, and being the protective person that he is, he jumps out of the truck and runs straight for the assailant. He gets there without getting shot, as the unknown man is focused on Niki, and tackles him to the ground. While the two men wrestle around, Gillian all but shoves the other two nurses out of the trailer and screams for them to run for the stairwell.

Meanwhile, Pero remains at the head of the hospital bed, trying to keep the equipment from toppling over in all the ruckus, and Carrera, having still been in the cabin of the flatbed when the shooting started, has gotten out and is trying to close the double doors at the back of the truck. He eventually manages to get a hold of them, but then seems to change his mind about something, and jumps out before closing them, leaving Pero and Gillian trapped in there, with no light besides the faint glow of the digital screens on the medical gear.

A revolver holds either five or six bullets, and Tovar can’t remember how many shots he’s heard in total, but another two suddenly hit the back doors. They must’ve hit at an angle, though, because neither shot manages to penetrate the metal. He worries about his colleagues out there, both of whom are only here because he asked them. But he can’t help them now. He can’t even help himself.

The sound of the driver’s door opening behind him draws his attention. There’s no window between the cabin and the trailer, so he can’t see who is climbing in. But the sound carries over well, and he hears the door close and keys rattling over there.

“Carrera, is that you?!” he screams in the direction of the driver’s seat.

“Yeah… hold on!” the Latino calls back while starting the engine.

“What about Boon?!” he asks, but there’s no reply.

The truck begins to move just as another shot is fired and hits metal somewhere on the truck, but he can’t tell where. The father of two is left to fend for himself, and Pero tries not to blame himself. Tries not to think that those girls are fatherless now. But it’s possible that they are. Maybe even probable. And if so, how can he not blame himself?

To him, Nikita is worth it. But to those girls, she’s nothing but a stranger.

Carrera tries to drive carefully, but the ride is still not free from bumps, and every time she’s jostled, Niki’s breathing hitches. But like the nightshift doctor had observed, her heart never misses a beat. And that is tremendously reassuring. Soon though, the truck is brought to a stop, which is not surprising because he hasn’t had time to tell his coworker where they’re going.

It seems to take longer than it should for him to get out and walk to the back, before unhooking the locking arm and swinging one of the doors open. But when he comes into view, Pero understands why. He’s been shot. It must’ve been one of the very first bullets, since his position while he’d been sitting in the flatbed’s cabin had put him in between the shooter and his mark.

He falls backwards onto soft grass, and Gillian rushes to try and help him while Tovar secures the medical gear and then follows.

“Sorry, man…” Carrera gasps once he’s by his side.

“No… It’s not your fault. You did perfect.”

“Thought you were exaggerating… but that guy…”

“Yeah. A real fucking assassin. But don’t worry about it anymore, we’re gonna get you some help,” he says and then reaches into his pocket to grab his phone and call for help.

There’s no point. The bullet went through his liver and this long afterwards, there won’t be enough time to save him. All three of them know it, just like they know that they can’t stay there and wait for emergency services to show up, given that they’d find a stolen patient and a truck with bullet-holes in it, along with a gunshot victim.

“Get outta here…” Carrera says, putting his hand on Pero’s to stop him from dialing.

It’s not fair that a good man should die for trying to help someone. But that is what’s happening, and there’s no stopping it. But leaving him there alone while he takes his final breaths would be inhuman. They’re not safe out there in the open, but they risk it. He’s earned as much.

-=¤=-

Gillian stays with Niki while he drives the rest of the way. He’s impressed that she hasn’t run off yet. He won’t blame her if she does. As he drives further and further away from the city, the streets grow quiet, and traffic becomes sparse. He sticks to the larger roads for as long as he can, because they’re smoother, better maintained than the one’s he’s going to have to travel as they near their destination.

But it’s a six-hour drive all in all, so he stops about halfway there, to buy some food and supplies. To avoid prying eyes, he parks half a mile away from the store, at a rest-stop, and then jogs there and back. He climbs in the back to give the nurse some food and water and check how Niki’s doing after so long on the road.

“She seems to be coping well, right?” he asks, since he can’t see any obvious changes in the readings on the various monitors.

“Considering the circumstances,” Gillian nods, but she’s still concerned. “She needs fresh IV's, though. And her wounds need to be re-dressed. How much further?”

“We’ll be turning onto smaller roads in a few miles, which is gonna force our speed down. I’d say another three hours. Do you think she can handle that?”

She deliberates for a few seconds, looking at her patient and then the battery levels of the equipment.

“Don’t dawdle,” she sighs, looking up at him, but then something occurs to her. “Are we going to some kind of medical facility? Because unless there’s medical supplies ready and available-…”

“Everything she needs is there,” he gently cuts her off. “But no, it’s not a medical facility.”

The rest of the drive demands his entire focus for every yard that passes. The smaller roads are okay for the most part, but the larger cracks and dips are often hidden in bends or at the crest of a hill, so he can never relax. He has to scan every inch of the road surface every second, or he risks missing something that could jolt his passenger into cardiac arrest. It drains his energy and his nerves, but he doesn’t even dare to reach for a snack for fear that he’ll mess something up.

All of which means that by the time they finally get there, he’s exhausted. And that’s when the next strenuous task begins: Getting the bed out of the trailer.

The process is the same, just in reverse order, but he’s never used the machine in any order before, and there are no extra hands to keep track of all the medical gear this time. Thankfully, there’s also less of a time-restraint, so he can go into the garage and fetch rope and duct tape to secure the poles and carts for the maneuver this time. But it’s still nerve-wracking to try and use the machine smoothly and prevent jostling, when he barely even knows the controls.

He’s got no wiggle-room at all, there’s no trial and error here, if he does one thing wrong, it could kill Niki. And he’s so fucking tired that he almost uses the wrong controls twice, only managing to avoid it by triple checking his every move. But he does eventually get her down, safe and sound. It takes nearly twenty minutes, though, so it was a good thing that Carrera had been there for the loading, or she would definitely have been dead now.

“What is this place?” Gillian asks once they’ve gotten the bed through the extra wide front door and are gently pushing it through the front hall.

“My place,” he offers, and sees her eyes widen with surprise.

“I’m gonna need a bit more than that…”

He waits until they’ve completed a ninety degree turn into the master bedroom before answering, both because he needs to concentrate on one thing at a time when he’s this tired, but also because it’s far from his favorite subject.

“I told you I was a criminal, but I never mentioned that I was also a very successful one. And this is what I did with the fortune I was able to amass.”

While he paused to lock the wheels of the bed and start untying the equipment, she looked around the room, admiring the exposed wood panel, the floor-to-ceiling glass walls and the woodlands beyond. The house stands on the edge of a cliff, so along this side of it, one is literally among the treetops. The floor above looks out over the entire valley below, but here in the bedroom, the conifers seem to embrace the house, creating a soft green duskiness.

“The idea was to have a place where none of the people who I’d scammed would ever be able to find me, so this place has no address. I own the land here, but under a different name that can’t be tied to me. The water is pumped up directly from the bedrock, the sewage system is self-supporting, and the electricity comes from the wind, sun and an underground river.”

From a cabinet inside the closet, he retrieves an IV bag which he hands to her, and an extension cord with ten extra sockets into which he begins to plug in all the gear.

“You have all this stuff laying around here just in case?”

“It was always meant to be a safehouse, especially if I needed medical aid, because hospitals are really fucking unsafe, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Her face turns somber then, and he regrets the harshness of his tone. It’s her second home, as most workplaces are, and chances are, she’s never felt unsafe there before. Not like today, at least.

“I don’t know what happened to them… Chris and Talia,” she whispers, referencing the two poor nurses she’d roped in to help. “I told them to run but I never managed to check if they made it.”

She finishes with the IV and then checks to make sure that all the equipment is functioning properly, and that Niki’s vitals are still good.

“Thank you,” Pero says once she’s done, and she turns to meet his eyes.

He doesn’t need to tell her what for, she knows what she’s done and that she could’ve backed out at any number of points along the way. She nods at him and then moves to take a seat on the protruding edge of the wood frame of the bed. He wants to lay down on the bed and sleep for about two days, but he remains standing. Once he allows himself to rest, the fatigue is gonna make him crash, and he can’t let himself do that yet.

“So… What now?” she asks, for the first time letting him see that she too is exhausted.

“Get some rest.”

“And what are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna find out who’s trying to kill her.”

-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-

Part 3

Thank you for reading, and remember: I have no taglist anymore. Follow @sirowsky-stories and turn on notifications for updates on my writing :)

#pedrostories1k #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar x ofc #pero tovar x original female character #modern!au #the great wall fanfiction #the great wall au #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #sirowsky stories

45 notes · View notes

the-royal-teacup · 2 years

Text

I feel like some are judging others for how we are dealing with Harry and his she devil being allowed all the air time they’re getting.

Am I mad? Yes. Have I perhaps lashed out in my anger about the terrible twosome? Yes. Do I feel confused as to why they were allowed to be so public, after everything they’ve done and said? Also yes. Have I slowly, over these past couple of days come to accept it? Yes and no. I understand Harry being here in a grandson capacity, fine. But it’s the audacity and sheer hypocrisy of his she devil, standing there and pretending like she didn’t disrespect the Queen in every way shape and form, before and after they left.

And I know I don’t have to understand, I’m not a part of The Royal Family, but as a British citizen, born and bred, who was brought up to respect The Royal Family, and for the last two years (four if you count Markle coming into the family and disrespecting protocol etc) I have watched as the monarchy and all Her Majesty built has been trashed, by that woman and her grandson, all the while clinging onto their titles and exclaiming at every point they can that they don’t care about titles and being Royal, whilst also still expecting everything and everyone to treat them like Royals, whilst once again proclaiming how much they hate the pomp and circumstance and all the ‘stale’ protocol and traditions.

They are hypocrites of the highest order and they should be called out for it. Maybe not right at this very second, because the family need to grieve, but they need to be taken in hand after the funeral and put in their place, finally. Nobody knows what King Charles will do after he has laid his dear mama to rest, but we can only hope he reigns them in.

Did I in my anger for the hypocrisy and disrespect, and grief for our Queen lash out? Yes, yes I did and my temper will no doubt flare again when I see that woman pretend to care and respect our Queen, now that she is gone when she couldn’t be bothered to do it, whilst she was here. She thinks she can get what she wants from the King, because that is why she’s back, she wants what she thinks she’s entitled to and I only hope King Charles puts her right in her place.

So, yes, I’ve been mad and I’m allowed to be mad at the blatant disrespect and hypocrisy surrounding not only Murky, but Harry as well.

Thee end.

222 notes · View notes

sorapricots · 2 years

Text

Silent Love

Summary : being an agent in Valorant Protocol is not easy. Sometimes the mission can be really hard that it ruined your mood even for someone as strong as Yoru. But he always had you support his back.

Pair : Yoru x Reader

Genre : Hurt/comfort, fluff

Warnings : A curse word. Yoru being an ass.

A/N : I play valorant?? Yes I am. I was too much into valorant I kinda neglected my genshin. Not anymore tho now that I got my boy Kazuha. But nonetheless I play valorant. It’s fun, a little bit frustrating, and also annoying with how toxic some players are. this fic is kinda short but I like it for idk what reason.

Wc : 660+

Sometimes having Yoru as a lover can be a little bit challenging. Because due to him having high ego he rarely gave the attention you hoping you will get. And of course, sometimes he unconsciously said mean stuff to you.

But it’s okay. You know him for a while. And you know he never meant all the mean words he said. But with your patience sometime it was nerve wrecking for Yoru.

Just like today. Yoru comeback to the valorant protocol base a little bit grumpy after he somehow manage to whiff some of his usually accurate shot in the mission.

Usually everyone will stay away and give the lone wolf some space alone. Even usually they try to keep you away from his wrath. But you being a stone head never back up. You always come to his side.

“Yoru.” You softly call him as you following him to his room like a lost puppy. Yoru let out a harsh sigh before he spin his body to face you and put his hands firmly on your shoulders.

“Stop. Following. Me. You. Are. Being. A. Fucking. Bother.” You blinked as Yoru continue to walk to his room and slam the door hard. Jett and Phoenix frowned with how Yoru treat you. Carefully they approached you.

To their surprised, you didn’t seem to be upset at all. You instead just shook your head softly before you walk to the kitchen. Both of them follow you to the kitchen and watch you cook some cold soba noodle and brew some green tea. You then proceed to bring the food and the tea you made to Yoru’s room.

Jett and Phoenix look at each other before they jumped out when they hear a loud bang from Yoru’s room. They quickly run to his room thinking Yoru hurt you. But to their surprised, it’s actually you just kicking down Yoru’s door. With Yoru complaining in the background. Both of them decided to left you both in peace.

You carefully put the food and the tea you made in front of Yoru. Silently signing to him to eat the food you made. Yoru looked at you with furrowed brows but still eat the food you made anyway.

You watch him eat in silence. Occasionally wipe his mouth like a parent watch their child learn to eat their own food. No matter how bad Yoru’s mood, a blush never stopped showing on his face.

After he finished his food and his tea, you collect the dirty dishes in silence before put it on the table in his room. Then you go to his bathroom and preparing for a warm bath for your lover.

Yoru watched you with a frown on his face. Thinking that he did not deserve your love and undivided attention after what he said to you. Then you show up from the bathroom with damp warm hands, walk to him and help him take off his jacket, his gloves, etc.

Then you proceed to pull him to the bathroom and help him sit down in the bathtub. The warmth from the water and your love overwhelmed him as he tried so hard not to cry. Even your presence alone can’t stop make him feel like he was loved to the maximum of capacity he ever felt.

After finished with bath, you even help him putting his nightwear. And pull him to lay down in bed with his head on your chest and your hands softly scraping his scalp.

“Why did you do this?” Yoru asked carefully. But you only answered him with a kiss on his head before you continue to scrape his scalp.

“I love you.” You simply answered. And you can feel your shirt is damped. You of course didn’t say anything. You just let Yoru let out his frustration in your arms as you show him your love in silent.

“I love you too.” Was the last thing you hear before you drift off to sleep.

#valorant #valorant fanfiction #valorant yoru #yoru x reader #yoru valorant #valorant imagines

218 notes · View notes

commander-hanji-zoe · 2 years

Note

I’m receiving my bachelors degree tomorrow at the ceremony. Neither of my parents can make it (I don’t want my father and my mom can’t), only my sister comes. Quick headcanon on how the vets react to being invited to the graduation ceremony, please?

Hey - so as your graduation ceremony is tomorrow I've done this quickly on my lunch break so you have it in time, so these are just short thoughts but I hope this helps. Congratulations and I hope you have a lovely Graduation Ceremony, even though only your sister can make it - the Vets will be with you in spirit! 💖㊗️🎉

Erwin

He would be honoured that you’d asked him to attend your graduation and as long as he wasn’t needed in any other emergency capacity, he would be more than happy to attend.

He’d wear his best suit or Dress Uniform and want to look smart for you in front of your friends and fellow students.

Erwin would absolutely be one for following protocol, he’d be enthusiastic about supporting you without being embarrassing or over the top – polite but loud and commanding clapping rather than cheering.

Afterwards he’d take you to a nice restaurant to celebrate and make sure you had a memento to mark the occasion, perhaps something engraved like a goblet, glass or piece of jewellery.

Levi

He’d really enjoy the occasion of it, how smart everyone is dressed and the order that is demonstrated – at least during the ceremony itself!

He’d be very good for calming any nerves before the ceremony itself or if you were nervous about the presentation part of the ceremony. Of course they’ll be calming tea involved (but not too close to the ceremony, he’s aware no one wants to be worried about a toilet break!)

Will help you put your robes on or any other formal attire and ensure everything is neat, tidy and that you look like the most professional and well dressed student there.

Levi is happy to celebrate however you’d like afterwards, if you want to go out for food he’s happy as long as it’s somewhere with a good hygiene rating! Equally he’d be happy to cook for you or to hang out with you, friends and the other vets.

Mike

Would be really happy that you asked him to accompany you to your graduation, I think he’d feel a great sense of pride and very grateful you thought so highly of him to ask him along. Before you head off to the ceremony he’d give a quick pep talk and perhaps a reassuring shoulder rub or big hug.

Despite his generally quiet nature I think he’d be quite vocal during the ceremony, lots of loud clapping, some cheers and perhaps a whistle.

After the ceremony Mike would be more of a let’s go somewhere casual that you love for a celebratory meal and drinks rather than going somewhere formal.

He’d continue to talk about the ceremony even after the day and tell others how proud of you he is and that he knew you could do it. He’d drop found a congratulations gift a few days after the ceremony, like an afterthought but it’s touching – perhaps homemade food and some drinks.

Moblit

He would also be incredibly honoured if you asked him to come with you to the ceremony. He’d possibly feel a little out of his depth and worried that he may do something to embarrass you, but he wouldn’t let this get in the way of being there to support you.

Possibly more nervous than you are, but he doesn’t let it show in front of you. Instead he gives helpful pep talks and just repeats how proud of you he is, how great you look etc. Before the ceremony they’ll be quite a few hugs and he’s quite emotional.

During the ceremony he’s reserved but has the biggest smile on his face as he claps for you, he watches your every move and doesn’t want to miss anything. If it was a modern au he’d take so many photos, otherwise he’d sketch you quickly in your robes/graduation outfit.

Afterwards he’d like to go somewhere fun without it being too casual and want to talk about your future plans from here. He’s supportive in every way and happy to celebrate however you see fit. He’d also buy you flowers and make a cute card.

Hanji

Loves that you ask them to accompany you to the ceremony! They’re incredibly proud of you and also feel honoured to be asked. They’ll promise to be on their best behaviour and try not to get too excited or carried away.

But it’s Hanji so of course during the ceremony they clap, cheer and whistle for you – a beaming smile on their face where they’re simply so happy for you and proud of how far you’ve come.

Career wise Hanji loves to hear you talk about what you want to do next, where you want to go and what your dreams are. They too have big dreams and so enjoy having discussions full of ambition, hope and perhaps a little bit of scientific research.

More likely to want to join up with the other vets and/or your friends to celebrate afterwards rather than it just being the two of you. Hanji definitely bakes a cake for you, it isn’t the best but it’s made with love.

Nanaba

She’s excited to be asked to come along with you as support – it means a lot to her and she truly values you and doesn’t take the invitation lightly.

Will dress incredibly smartly for the occasion and helps you to pick out the outfit you want to wear, sort your hair and makeup if you want it.

A little more reserved during the ceremony and like a proud parent, she loves seeing you happy and feels you should be so incredibly proud of yourself.

Books a lovely restaurant for after the ceremony for a casual but delicious meal before heading out to meet up with the others. She reminds you that this day is all about you.

#AoT Vets #SnK Vets #my writing #graduation #Erwin Smith #Levi Ackerman #Moblit Berner #Nanaba #Hanji Zoe #Hange Zoe #Mike Zakarius #Mike Zacharias #miche zacharias

43 notes · View notes

hesperio · 3 months

Note

Some time has passed since your adventure across time and space.

Today, a letter finds you. This letter isn’t delivered by the postal carrier that you usually expect: you would be met at the front door of your dwelling by a young man dressed in white, a hat on top of his head, and a professional, kind smile on his face. Having to sign for a simple letter seems odd, but the courier assures that ‘this is standard protocol for us.’

A white envelope stamped with the familiar golden trident of the Aether Foundation is in your hands. Inside of it is a letter written with extraordinarily neat penmanship.

Mr. Hassel,

I hope this letter finds you well, and that you are recovering from our expedition from the comfort of your own home.

In the coming days, myself and the Aether Foundation will likely be in the international news regarding our ‘strangely timed’ decision to sever certain partnerships with fellow giants in our shared industry. Do not be alarmed by this. It is a direct response to harrowing usage of my intellectual property in another time, and another place. I, and the entirety of my team, will not allow Aether technology to cause harm to people, or Pokemon, neither by our hands, or the hands of our competitors. You may sleep soundly knowing that our collective actions will prevent an apocalypse of that magnitude happening in our home.

From my mind to yours: I wish to personally thank you for your involvement, and the tireless effort that you put into destroying Archeus. It has left a lasting impression on me, as I am sure it has with the rest of our team.

Several of the partners that we relocated from Area Zero are currently being rehabilitated in the Aether Conservation Area. We are currently zoning an area strictly for our iron partners, so that they may receive enrichment and resources whenever they need.

The Aether Foundation is dedicated to improving the relationship between people, Pokémon, and technology. Consider myself, and my foundation, as a permanent ally, and useful resource for anything that you may need. I highly encourage you to take advantage of these resources whenever necessary.

Lastly, you are cordially invited to the Aether Paradise on a later date, to be honored for your duty, for defending life as we know it, and for instilling a bright new belief in humanity– for me.

Thank you.

Do not hesitate to contact me. Attached to this letter is my business contact, and personal contact. I request that you keep it to yourself.

-President Lusamine Delacroix

At the bottom corner of the letter is a large, strange blotch of ink. A thumb print, maybe? Upon further investigation, it seems to have been left by the tip of the tail of a serpentine creature, who also wanted to sign the note.

The letter finds him home for once, with the Treasure Hunt back underway and his classes fewer and further between. He sits at his desk to open it alongside spattered student artworks and pencil drawings of local Pokemon.

His house, these days, is full of song. Donna had come back in some capacity - they were still working her memory back, but he had introduced her to new songs that she was determined to keep filling the room with while he worked.

A warning of coming separations and an invitation to an awards ceremony. Part of him feels....wrong for accepting an award for this, but if she insisted, he would not snub her invite.

He does, however, click open his email - the official one, for the League - and types in her business contact.

Dear Aether President Delacroix,

Thank you for your correspondence regarding our mutual work. I am delighted to hear that you are willing to host us in Alola and will make plans to attend as soon as I can get away from work.

Regarding the outreach of your foundation, I would recommend getting into contact with the Paldean League and Headmaster Clavell in order to discuss the protection and expansion of study on the other Pokemon in the Great Crater.

If needed, I am willing to act as a go-between for your work here, considering my position in the League.

Your Partner In Business, Hassel B. of the Elite Four

#aetherceuse #plot: electric dreams.

2 notes · View notes

tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 2 years

Text

A few days ago, I had the best night I’ve had in a long time. I’ve been struggling lately to get back to the coaching job I did before COVID, going to practices once in a while but feeling disconnected, like it’s not my home the way it used to be. Or like I’m not who I used to be. Like I don’t know what’s worse, the people I used to be close with but I let those bonds go when I shut down in the last two years, or the new people who don’t know me at all, and I’m a stranger where I used to be a fixture. My mental tolerance for being around people in an intense environment has gone down so much. I was scared I could never get it back.

The other night was by far the best time I’ve had so far for that. It was the official first day of a new season, and the room was full of hope and anticipation and excitement. Old friends came back and new people came out and it felt like community, not like a lot of people who were already comfortable and me in isolation. I helped so many different people with so many different things. Taught new moves to a twenty-three-year-old who’d never done any sport in his life but had always wanted to, and had decided during the pandemic that it was time to finally have the courage to try something. Also taught new moves to a nineteen-year-old who’s been training hard for seven years and medaled at the national championships before the pandemic is so excited to get his plan back on track. And I worked with a bunch of people in between. Everyone helped each other and at the end I jumped in and participated in the matches until I was exhausted, and I remembered why I love all this so much.

It was the first time I was in an enclosed space with lots of people and didn’t have worry about COVID in the back of my brain. When I was a kid, I had a lot of issues around OCD-related contamination fears. Getting into this contact sport did a lot to get me over that for a long time, but they’ve gotten worse in the last two years, and that’s been a problem as I’ve tried to get back to this sport over the summer. I keep seeing ways that spreading germs is dangerous. But the other night, I was so focused on the people and the things that I loved, I didn’t even think of that. Didn’t think of COVID, didn’t think of anything. I’d decided it was safe and I was finally able to really believe that.

I came out of it feeling like I really can get this back, not at some nebulous point in the future but now. Like I already have it, it was there. After spending so much time using media as a way to vicariously get my emotions, it was a reminder of how it feels to actually go out there and experience things I love for real. I believe David O’Doherty described is best in his song about feeling “truly alive”.

This morning, I woke up with a bad cough, very sore throat, and I don’t have a thermometer but based on how I feel I’m pretty sure I have a fever. I took a rapid test and it was negative, but my friend who was at practice the other night just told us that he just tested positive, so I suspect mine is a false negative and I do have COVID. I’ve been so careful for two and a half years, and have avoided getting it in all that time. I know statistically it will probably be okay, but I also know about the long COVID horror stories and I like being able to taste and smell and breathe at full capacity and I’m imagining what it’ll be like if I never do those things again. Also, next week I was supposed to start the final in-person placement in a college program I started nearly three years ago. I’ve put so much work into it, and now at the very end I got out for one night and fuck it all up, I have to figure out protocol and I’ll start late and it’s a mess.

The moral of the story is never love anything. Wait, actually, I know exactly what the lesson is. I just have to find the picture.

2 notes · View notes

indexuniverse-eu · 2 years

Link

0 notes

kuroopaisen · 3 years

Text

takes one to know one || fushiguro megumi

➵ megumi just wants to buy some flowers from the nice stall attendant he definitely doesn’t have a crush on in peace. gojou has other plans.

wc: 2.4k

warnings: gn!reader, incoherent chaos

a/n: gracie dearest this one’s for you :( you are so sweet and so lovely to me and i’m so, so glad we met in this hellscape (i would personally like to thank psycho-pass for existing) i hope i did your boy well!

By the time he arrives at Jujutsu Tech, Megumi knows the flowers are a mistake.

“For me?” Gojou gasps, hands clasped and mouth agape in perhaps his most punchable smile. “Oh, you shouldn’t have.”

Megumi’s fist tightens around the handle of his bouquet. Today, it’s lilacs, irises and white lilies. It’s also much bigger than usual – too big to inconspicuously leave on someone’s fence or place in the school gardens.

“You can have them if you want,” he murmurs. What else is he supposed to do with them?

The delight on Gojou’s face collapses into a precarious mix of genuine confusion and insatiable curiosity. “Hah? They’re not for anyone?”

“No,” Megumi says. And if they were, I wouldn’t tell you. Although he doesn’t say that last part. Gojou would perceive it as a challenge, and the less he knew about Megumi’s private life, the better.

“So…” A grin splits Gojou’s face. “The person you bought them from must be special, then.”

Megumi freezes for just a second. But he knows a second is enough for Gojou to glean all the information he needs.

“Ah,” Gojou hums. “I see.”

“No, you don’t,” Megumi mumbles, well-aware of the heat rising in his cheeks.

“But why would you go out of your way to buy a bouquet of flowers, hm?” Gojou grins, shit-eating grin back on his face. “They don’t hand these out for free, you know.”

Megumi’s grip is so firm he’s scared he’ll crush the stems.

Although, he still doesn’t know what he’s going to do with them. It doesn’t feel right to throw them out – not when you’d spent time putting it together – but he wasn’t about to revamp his room with a distinctly floral accent.

Is it against social protocol to give the flowers back to you? Not now, of course, but maybe on his evening walk… or tomorrow morning…

He still doesn’t know why he didn’t just walk past you that first day.

But something about the way you were gazing out into the street, eyes wide and hopeful as you watched people ignore you on their daily commute… something about that drew him in.

And once he’d bought something from you once – just a small flower, one he didn’t know the name of, but seemed appropriate behind a cute girl’s ear – he couldn’t very well start ignoring you.

Not when your smile is so bright, your eyes sparkling with gratitude whenever he takes whatever floral arrangement you’ve lovingly bundled together out of your hands.

But now he’s paying the price – in more ways than one.

✧ ✧ ✧

Your flower stall is just a few feet away from one of the trendiest cafes in this area of Tokyo, and whoever oversees your little operation is obviously trying to capitalise on that. Setting up so early must be an attempt to catch the rush of bleary-eyed corporate workers craving their necessary morning coffee.

What use an office worker has for flowers, Megumi doesn’t know. But he has a feeling that you’d probably say something along the lines of “it’ll help brighten the place up.”

As usual, you’re waiting there patiently, eyes hopefully scanning the streets for any potential customers. Your face positively lights up when you finally catch sight of him – something that still makes Megumi nearly trip over his own feet.

“Good morning!” You call out, waving to him.

Megumi raises a hand in response, shuffling towards you with all the embarrassment of a high schooler on their way to their first date.

“Can I interest you in a floral arrangement on this fine Saturday morning?” You grin, eyes twinkling as you make your marketing pitch.

“Sure,” Megumi sighs, scanning the vast array of flowers currently on display. He’s getting better at picking them out, but he still can’t name any of them on sight.

You wait patiently, hands folded on the counter. If you think he’s an idiot, you keep it to yourself.

“Those ones,” he says, pointing at a group of blue heart-shaped flowers.

“The morning glories?” You ask reflexively, reaching over to pluck a bunch out of their display.

“Yeah,” Megumi shrugs. He has no idea what a morning glory is. The term sounds like something Gojou and Yuji would snicker at.

“They’re gorgeous,” you smile, taking a moment to admire them.

“Yeah,” Megumi says again.

Flowers aren’t really his thing; God help him if he was ever asked what his favourite kind was. But there’s no point in saying any of that – not when he’s already spent an embarrassing amount of money at this one stall.

“You’re keeping the business afloat, you know,” you giggle, as if reading his mind.

Megumi blinks at you. “Really?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “It wouldn’t be amiss to say you’re our most important patron.” You beam at him, same sparkle in your eyes as always.

He’d be furious, if you weren’t so nice.

How is he supposed to focus when you’re looking at him like that? How’s he supposed to ask who ‘we’ is? A business partner? A partner partner?

But you look so young. You can’t possibly be running a business. But you might have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Or both. Or a partner of an otherwise non-binary gender.

Too many questions, no social capacity to ask them.

“So,” Megumi begins, his voice calm and composed as ever. His mind, however, is scrambling around like a fast-food joint at rush hour, trying to string together a sentence that’s not only coherent but also fascinating.

“How old are you?”

Whoops.

It’s the forbidden question. Or, at least, that’s what people always say. People, in this case, is Gojou. It usually is.

You seem unbothered. “I turn seventeen this year.”

Was it only a forbidden question for people who’re older? But in that case, surely knowing someone’s age was pertinent for the whole ‘respect’ thing. Maybe Gojou just didn’t think he should ever ask anyone’s age because then he’s not beholden to honorifics.

But Megumi can’t imagine him using them properly anyway.

That’s not the point. The point is that you’re the same age as him. You weren’t somehow twenty-seven with a baby face.

“Oh,” Megumi nods. “Me too.”

The smile you give him is almost unbearable. How is it even more of a smile than your usual smile? That doesn’t make any sense.

There’s a certain excitement bubbling in his gut that he doesn’t recognise or like.

Wait, if you’re his age, then…

“Do you not go to school on Saturdays?” He asks.

Is this conversation too dry? He’s not sure. He doesn’t usually make an effort at this sort of thing.

“My school doesn’t have classes on Saturday mornings,” you smile, meticulously wrapping brown paper around the stems of a set of particularly bright morning glories. You always do it so delicately; where on earth do you find the patience?

There’s something… graceful, about how you go about it. Sure, it’s your job, but Megumi still enjoys watching you work because—

“Hello there!”

Megumi knows that voice.

Oh no.

“Hello!” You fold your hands in front of you and give your new customer a bow. But your usual smile has been replaced with an expression of middling confusion as you look him up and down.

Megumi doesn’t need to turn around to know who’s standing behind him.

“Who’d’ve thought there’d be so many kinds of flowers in bloom, huh?” Gojou grins, slinging a lanky arm around Megumi’s shoulders.

Megumi glances to the side.

A pair of startingly blue eyes peek at him from behind black shades.

“What are you doing here?” He asks through gritted teeth.

“Oh, I thought I’d just come out for a morning stroll,” Gojou sighs, gesturing to the sky. “Don’t you think it’s gorgeous?”

Megumi’s ready to commit a murder.

“And look at all these flowers!” Gojou exclaims, bending down to peer at some asters closely. “Did you grow them all yourself?”

“Of course not,” you laugh. “I just sell them.”

Jealous maybe isn’t the right word. But there is a twisting in Megumi’s gut upon the realisation that within minutes of meeting you, Gojou had made you laugh. Megumi, on the other hand, was yet to do that.

“Well, either way, my student is a big fan,” Gojou smirks, shaking Megumi’s shoulder. Megumi’s soul is currently leaving his body.

“I was just telling him that he’s our most valued customer,” you smile, tilting your head at the pair of them.

“Ah, is that so?” Gojou grins. It’s amazing, really, how he manages to capture all the terror of the apocalypse in one smile. “I never really took him as a flower guy.”

“Everyone’s a flower guy, sir,” you tsk, shaking your head. “Even you.”

Gojou places an affronted hand on his chest. “So quick to make assumptions!”

“Not at all,” you smile. “You’d be surprised by what our customer base looks like.”

“You don’t say,” Gojou grins, turning to Megumi.

Megumi considers the consequences of punching Gojou right in the nether regions. He doubts he’d be punished for it by the higher ups; if anything, he’ll probably be rewarded. Maybe even pushed up a grade for his invaluable service.

“Fushiguro!”

Oh no.

Megumi’s eyes widen ever so slightly. His head whips round to Gojou. His teacher is already looking straight at him.

“Ah,” Gojou grins. “I told Yuji to meet me here this morning.” The glint in his eyes strikes terror right through Megumi’s departing soul.

Sure enough, Itadori barrels his way towards them, damn near colliding against Megumi with a ‘thump’.

Megumi can do something but stare into the abyss, hoping, wishing, praying this is just a nightmare.

Unfortunately, it’s not.

You give the newest addition to this strange little posse a customary bow. “Good morning!”

Itadori beams at you, his entire face lighting up. “Good morning!”

A strange panic starts to rise from Megumi’s gut. If he thought about it, you and Itadori would get along well. Too well.

Thoughts of you and Itadori walking hand in hand down the street as you laugh, Itadori offering you his coat on a clod morning as you blush, Itadori walking you home, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully as you lean towards him and –

Megumi blinks the thoughts away. What is wrong with him today?

You and Itadori have just met. And what was it to Megumi anyway? It’s not like he—

“Megumi?” Itadori tilts his head at him.

Megumi stares back blankly. “Hm?”

“I wanted to know how you found this place,” Itadori asks, voice bright but with the uncertain quality inherent to repeating oneself.

“Oh,” Megumi murmurs. “Well, I…”

In truth, he doesn’t remember. He just saw you one morning and decided to approach. He still doesn’t know why. But he doesn’t regret it.

“I roped him in with my charm,” you piqued up, picking up the lull in conversation.

Try as he might, Megumi just can’t concentrate. Itadori’s pressed against him, Gojou’s still got his arm slung around his shoulder, and—

“Ah, Nobara’s here!” Gojou beams, waving a hand over his head.

“What are you doing here of all places?” Nobara frowns, raising an eyebrow at Megumi. “I wouldn’t have taken this as your sort of scene.”

If there’s a hell, Megumi’s sure it’s this.

Conversation is bubbling around him but none of it is registering in his mind, he can see Nobara’s dissatisfied look as she takes in the situation at hand but he doesn’t have the energy to retort, Gojou is playing with the petals of one of the display flowers but Megumi knows he’s not going to buy it and—

“Hey, Megumi?”

He snaps back to reality at the sound of your voice, gentle and concerned.

“Are you alright?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. It’s as if you’re completely ignoring the rabble, as if you see him and only him.

Next to him Gojou, Yuji and Nobara watch with rapt attention.

“Yeah,” he lies. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

You frown at you look at him. Something flashes in your eyes and you suddenly duck beneath your countertop.

Megumi and his gaggle of fools blink in surprise.

In a moment you hop back up, something purple bundled up in your hands. “Here,” you smile, handing it out to him, “this is supposed to help you sleep.”

One whiff and he knows it’s lavender.

“How much?” Megumi asks.

You shake your head. “Oh, no. It’s on me.”

Megumi’s heart flutters as you smile. Despite the chaos going on around him, despite the fact that he knows he’s going to be mocked for this for weeks to come, he’s grateful.

Somehow.

“Sorry about this…” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s fine,” you giggle, shaking your head.

Megumi feels Gojou chuckle quietly, his chest rattling. Itadori is unusually quiet and Nobara seems moments away from a laughing fit.

“I should go,” Megumi says quickly and suddenly. He doesn’t give you time to respond, zipping down the street as fast as his feet can carry him. He needs a shower and then a run and then he needs to beat a training dummy up and then—

“Wait, Megumi!”

He freezes in his tracks. That’s… your voice.

And around his wrist is… is…

He turns to look at you over his shoulder, eyes darting for where you hand wraps around his wrist. Why is his heart racing so absurdly fast? Why does it feel like his head’s about to explode? You’re just holding his wrist. You’re not even touching his skin. Not that it matters—

“Will I see you tomorrow?” You ask, not quite able to meet his gaze.

It brings him back to the moment.

“Of course,” Megumi answers reflexively.

You finally lift your eyes up. They seem to be sparkling. “I look forward to it.”

Before he even has time to process it you’ve let him go and trotted back to your stall, tending to your flowers as if nothing’d happened.

This has been too much embarrassment for one day. He’s not entirely sure what’s going on and he’s not sure he wants to know. But man, he needs at least several hours alone to process everything.

As Megumi shuffles away, Gojou bounds after him, still grinning like a fool.

“So, Megumi’s got himself a—”

Megumi elbows him in the stomach before Gojou even has a chance to finish his sentence.

#megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #megumi x you #fushiguro x you #fushiguro megumi x you #I don't know how to TAG #STILL #this is a disaster but now it's everyone else's problem

1K notes · View notes

galaxywhump · 3 years

Text

Proper Introductions

[Masterlist]

Dusted off another old WIP, so here’s a continuation of Wrong Place, Wrong Time.

cw: hero/villain whump, winged villain whumpee, hero whumper, defiant whumpee, manhandling, captivity, restraints, police, forced name change, dehumanizing name, referenced drugging, trophified.

~~~

He was handled like cargo, sedated while Bradley dealt with formalities, and when he was finally allowed to sober up he wasn’t even given any time to process the revelation of what was going to happen to him; instead he was unceremoniously thrown in the back of a van, wrists and wings restrained. The officers handling him weren’t wearing uniforms, and the van was unmarked, a clear sign that whatever was happening to him was no longer official and constrained by protocols.

It didn’t instill him with optimism, to say the least.

He was a criminal, of course, and now that he got caught he knew he wouldn’t be treated as anything else, but he’d never considered being handed over directly to the hero who had defeated him, who would be given free rein.

Stop being paranoid, he scolded himself, stretching his legs out as he sat up. He wanted to lean against the side of the van, but with his wings folded up and pinned together he couldn’t do so comfortably, so he decided against it. He winced when the van hit a rock or a pothole and his temporary prison swayed. He’s a hero. He must have some kind of a moral code, even-

Even though he had effectively trophified him.

He exhaled and fixed his eyes on the headliner as the van continued its trip, one-way for him. He cursed under his breath and his heartbeat picked up the pace when they briefly came to a halt, raised voices sounded outside, then the van revved up again and, judging by the sound, the asphalt gave way to gravel.

He was scared. He didn’t want to be, he shouldn’t be - risk was, after all, what he operated in, he knew how to keep his cool when faced with danger - but there was no denying that he had never felt more fear.

The van stopped definitively, the engine powered down. There were voices again, doors slamming, footsteps of someone circling the car until they reached the back door, and Oscar had to turn his face away when light flooded the dark space.

“Get out.”

For just a moment he wanted to refuse, but he knew there was no good way out of this, and him staying inside could be taken as a sign of cowardice rather than defiance. He got up, almost losing his balance, his body still accustomed to the swaying of the van, and leapt down from the back with as much nonchalant energy as he could muster. The officer immediately grabbed his arm, holding him in place.

Oscar looked around, keeping his chin up. There were a few people staring at him; the officers, three more tough-looking people in black button-up shirts, and, finally, Bradley McKenna himself, lighting up the driveway with what seemed to be a genuine smile that gave Oscar a sliver of hope. He quickly looked away from Oscar, though, and the feeling of being nothing more than cargo came back with full force when the button-ups - no doubt security workers of some kind - approached him and the officer handed him over to them with a nod. Two of them grabbed his arms with way more force than necessary and began to lead him away from the van. He strained his neck to see what was happening behind him and caught a glimpse of Bradley conversing with the officers, his posture relaxed, before the third security guard caught up and obstructed Oscar’s view.

He gave an experimental pull, squirmed a bit, but all it got him were fingers digging into his arms until they hurt and a light kick to the shin, so he settled on sulking in silence, taking in the sight of the house he was being led towards. It was huge and modern, clear cut angles, white pain and wooden panels, obscenely large windows, even a damn swimming pool to the left, which he noticed out of the corner of his eye. It looked like a house from a brochure, an unattainable dream that was hard to imagine anyone could afford.

It didn’t surprise him one bit that Bradley lived in a house like this.

What he was being taken to, however, was a garage, and there was a part of him that found having to awkwardly stand still while the door slowly opened almost amusing. They led him in - there was no car, or cars, judging by the capacity of the garage, only a few shelves with everything and anything, spare tires, a workbench, and a few metal stools.

There were also chains, almost comical, thick and rusty with heavy daunting manacles, already waiting for him.

“Rustic”, he commented, barely able to hear his own voice over the beating of his heart. No one laughed. He was held still while the third security guard crouched down and closed the manacles on his ankles, making sure it was secure with a tug on the chain.

Then they left him alone, just like that. He followed them with his gaze; he wanted to make another comment, anything to appear more collected than he really was, but words were stuck in his throat, so he watched the garage door close, sealing him inside, in silence.

“Alright”, he muttered under his breath, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, looking down at his restraints. First he gave the short chain of the handcuffs a pull - it felt almost dainty, thin, like it should be severed easily, but of course it couldn’t. He tried his legs next, shuffled his feet and grimaced at the weight of the chain and the sound it made when it was dragged across the floor. He didn’t know what he was counting on, and yet his stomach sank when the reality of being restrained like this, with nothing to do but wait for Bradley to tell him what he was going to do to him, dawned on him.

He looked at the workbench, way out of the range the length of the chain allowed, and frowned. It almost felt teasing, knowing that there must be tools in there that could help him break free, until he realized that they could also be used for torture, and fear struck again. He averted his gaze, let it wander over the shelves, the spare tires, canisters, work clothes which he doubted were Bradley’s. He considered trying to pull one of the stools closer, but didn’t do that in the end. He’d done enough sitting when they were keeping him drugged.

Is he even going to come here?

The uncertainty was already killing him. He forced himself to focus on minute details, counting the canisters, following the pattern of the tiled floor with his gaze, measuring the space he could freely move in. He was in the middle of counting the tiles when the door connecting the garage to the rest of the house opened and Bradley came in, hands in pockets, and the same genuine smile appeared on his face when he locked eyes with Oscar, who gave him a hard stare in return.

“Heya”, he started in a conversational tone, closing the door behind him, but not coming closer, staying well out of Oscar’s reach. “Glad you finally got here.”

“What the hell do you want?” Oscar asked, his frown deepening. He stayed still as a statue, not breaking eye contact, chin still raised, and he noted that the two of them seemed to be roughly the same height - at least Bradley wouldn’t get to tower over him.

Bradley cocked his head to the side and didn’t answer - instead two things happened simultaneously when he took a step forward and Oscar’s handcuffs yanked his hands upwards like they had a mind of their own, pulled until he stumbled and was forced to turn around, and pinned his wrists to the metal frame of one of the shelves, high enough that he was unable to move, almost standing on his toes, his arms straining.

He struggled, tried to pull back, fight the invisible force, but its hold was strong, and then his fate was sealed when he heard the clinking of another chain, this one with a lock, which floated up, neatly connected the handcuffs to the frame, and locked itself, securing his hands in place. All he could do was look back over his shoulder to watch Bradley with narrowed eyes as he approached.

“What do you want?” he repeated. The plastic tape dug into his wings when they twitched, stopped in his instinctual attempt to stretch them out to shield himself.

“Just to get to know you!” Bradley laughed, disappearing from Oscar’s field of vision, and he flinched violently when he felt his hand on his wings.

“Hands off!”

“They’re dyed, aren’t they? Your wings.”

He squirmed, trying to get away from the touch, but he was trapped, trapped like he’d been ever since he got caught, barely able to move in a way that mattered. Defeated, immobilized, helpless when there was an unpleasant - but not really painful - popping sensation when Bradley ripped out one of his feathers.

“Hey!” he protested, his words once again falling on deaf ears. Bradley rubbed the feather between his fingers and smiled seeing the powdery black residue.

“Hm. There go my name ideas.” Oscar tensed up again when Bradley patted him on the shoulder. “But we’ll find something else.”

“Something- The hell?”

He heard footsteps, a deafening echo in the mostly empty garage, and once again he tried - and failed - to crane his neck to see what was going on behind him. There were strange sounds he couldn’t identify, probably tools of some kind, and that combined with Bradley’s words turned his unease into unbearable fear.

“I doubt they cared about keeping you clean there, so let’s take care of that before I show you to your room, alright?”

There were so many confusing messages and stimuli, the primary fear, name ideas, your room, the sounds, that for a split second he just felt overwhelmed - which made the sensation of freezing cold water hitting his back with enough force to pin him to the shelves all the more shocking.

He cried out, uselessly tugging at the handcuffs to get away from the jet of water, but there was no escape. He was already shivering, his clothes soaked, his wings getting heavy with water, weighing him down.

And Bradley laughed, no doubt upon seeing their real color.

“I think I’ve found a name for you, buddy!”

“I already have a n-name, buddy”, Oscar snapped, his teeth chattering from the piercing cold.

“Yeah, now you do.”

After what felt like an eternity, during which the high-pressure water was washing off even the most persistent specks of the dye, it halted at last, and Oscar could swear he got even colder. He let his head hang low, taking deep shaky breaths, while Bradley coiled up the hose to put it away. For a few moments the only sounds were the happy tune he was humming to himself and the dripping of water, amplified by the echo chamber of the garage. Then his footsteps joined as he approached until he stopped by Oscar’s side, and he turned his head to look at him, glaring despite how pathetic he looked with water trickling down his face. He jolted in place when Bradley reached around him and ripped another feather out of his sopping wings, then held it in front of Oscar’s face, smiling his annoyingly genuine smile and gently waggling the feather, clean, light yellow in color.

“Nice to meet you, Canary.”

[next]

115 notes · View notes

mybg3notebook · 3 years

Text

Does Gale love Mystra?

So far in EA, we have been shown that this is complicated to answer: human love is complex as well as the delirious lore of Forgotten Realms.

Disclaimer Game Version: All these analyses were written up to the game version v4.1.104.3536 (Early access). As long as new content is added, and as long as I have free time for that, I will try to keep updating this information. Written in June 2021.

The number between brackets [] represents the topic-block related to (this post), which gathers as much evidence as I could get.

The narrative is clear until the party scene which, as I stated many times across these posts, it's a scene that feels a bit inconsistent for me (reasonable since it's EA). But if we follow what the game explicitly shows us, we know that if we send Gale to sleep at the beginning of the Weave scene in which he is watching the incantation with the shape of Mystra, he will say:

Gale: Long days, yes. And long, lonesome nights.

If Tav knows that the incantation on his palm is Mystra, Gale will explain:

Tav: [insight] You don't have that look on your face when you're looking at “no one” / There's more to it than that. The figure I saw: she means something to you. Gale: [...] I can’t quite describe it, the need I sometimes feel to see her – to draw the filaments of fantasy into existence. [...]

Dev's notes: Passionate. [...] He was recalling Mystra as a lover, but doesn’t say that out loud. [...] Narrator: The Weave evaporates, and as it does so, you realise the night feels suddenly cold and lonesome.

This allows us to infer that, at this moment, Gale is feeling alone and probably very anxious with the oppressing feeling of the "orb" in his chest. The tadpole only increased the number of problems he has, so he resorts to seeing Mystra melancholically. We notice later in the Weave Scene that not having Mystra around increases this feeling of loneliness. The whole scene seems to give us the idea that he still loves her. There is yearning and loneliness in his current situation.

After a moment of passionate description of magic, Gale invites Tav to experience the Weave. The Weave has a particular effect on Gale: "The moment feels intimate. You realise the Weave is making you one." Considering how Gale was feeling while conjuring the incantation, this moment touched him deeply (the narrator implies that this feeling is mutual).

If Tav expresses their romantic interests, Gale will be surprised:

Gale: I.. I didn’t think.. Narrator: You perceive quick-fire gusts of embarrassment, trepidation, and finally.. elation Gale: Sorry, I wasn’t expecting… But it is a pleasant image to be sure! Most pleasant, in fact. Most welcome. Dev's notes: Warm, with real affection.

The narrator is giving us meta-knowledge, we can trust in what she says, and we can see that the situation was truly shocking for Gale. These emotional stages described here made me suspect that Gale is a character who has focused for too long on healing his condition, ignoring any chance for romance. His surprise here may confirm that, in my opinion. He feels embarrassment, a feeling that one can interpret as a sign of the surprise of being thrown into a situation he had not seen beforehand (the death protocol and Gale’s conversations show us that he is a character that thinks ahead). It follows trepidation: fear or anxiety about something that he is going to do or experience. Gale is scared of the possibility. Maybe because he is thinking in the danger he is, maybe because he was already burnt by Mystra's attention and having someone else's attention now makes him feel a bit anxious. And then, the final resolution of the process: elation, which is a feeling of great happiness and excitement about something that has happened. Gale is suddenly excited by the possibility. Something he will be thinking about, many times, for the rest of the EA.

Tav: So what did you think about what I pictured when we were connected by the Weave? Gale: Oh, I was surprised. But pleasantly so, just like I said. Amid the madness that has befallen us, it seems almost out of place to think of a kiss/ of a romantic walk. And yet... now more than ever, it's important to recall what makes us human. [if Tav is not human] Well- you know what I mean. A stolen glance- that sudden heartbeat... Sometimes the little things are worth more than kingdoms. They promise things to come.

So romance was not something he had even considered until the opportunity arose (this is why he won't pursue a Tav who didn't show romantic interest towards him). I think that, since he is a character always living on the edge of death, he will take this opportunity to feel “human again”: after all, he follows the concept of "living life to the fullest".

During the Loss (see the post of the "Loss Scene"), we know that losing Mystra was a big blow for him. He regrets his decisions of the past in this scene, and it reinforced the idea that he is the only one to blame for Mystra's loss. There is a yearning for the lost Chosen powers, but Gale's context in the majority of his scenes seem to reinforce the idea that he sought power not as a means, but as a goal itself to be closer to Mystra and Magic. Since we are talking about a wizard, his passion lies in magic itself, in being one with the Weave/Magic/Mystra. A Chosen of Mystra is so entangled with the Weave and magic that when they die, they are part of the Weave itself. This is the level of passion that Gale has for Magic, and since Magic can only be performed by most mortals via Weave, and the Weave is Mystra, the whole three concepts are, in fact, one; and it makes it very difficult from a lore point of view to separate them.

Tav: There's something I don't understand. If Mystra abandoned you, how can you still cast magic? Gale: The Weave is still here, all around us – inside of us too. As long as the goddess lives, magic is a tangible thing for those who know how to touch. I've studied magic for many years, and in as many ways I am still a more than capable wizard. It's just that I'm no longer able to perform those feats even arch wizards would marvel at. To have one hand on the pulse of divinity. You have to remember that the Weave is a living thing, both the embodiment and the extension of Mystra herself.She can give and she can take away. I'm afraid I'm still very much on her naughty list. Consider yourself lucky you're not.

I personally think Gale will never stop being devoted to Mystra (and won't stop loving her in many ways), because his passion for magic and knowledge is his own life, and Mystra IS those things. He loves magic for the sake of it. So losing this unique contact with magic itself that only Chosen of Mystra have was a terrible punishment for him. His abandonment issues are not just the result of a “guy being left by a girl”. They have an extra complexity because of the nature of Magic in this world and how its deity behaves with her chosen. Gale was not only abandoned by Mystra, but was also removed of a good amount of his capacity to perform magic. If magic “is his life”, the abandonment removed a part of his life away. I think some people miss this point, because, once more, it's related to Forgotten Realm lore and not Dragon Age. Many of these people keep constantly comparing this situation with Dragon Age, which has nothing to do with it. Dragon Age has no wizards, their relationship with Magic is natural, it’s sorcerer-like if we want to compare it, and the relationship with their deities (mostly absent, silent ones) are nothing alike the ones in Forgotten Realm. The context is key, as I repeated several times in these posts and in the one about "Context, persuasion, and manipulation".

Tav: I don't know what to make of what you've told me, but I sympathise. Gale: Thank you. [no romantic weave] I want you to know that you’re a good friend. [romantic weave] I often think of that moment we shared together – one under the Weave. I hope you think about it too. /I'm glad to know you think about it too.

Narrator: You sense a moment of unspoken affection. You want to know where it may lead. Gale: I consider myself very lucky to have found you Tav: I think perhaps we could be more than friends Gale: Perhaps.

Tav: You said you think about the moment we shared under the weave. Do you think about it often? Gale: Do you? 1-2-Tav: Yes / From time to time. Gale: So do I. 3- Tav: Not really. Gale: And yet you ask. I do, as a matter of fact.

Gale: You see. I'm not a big believer in fate, but I do believe in serendipity. Life is a tempest of events that sometimes we brace against and sometimes embrace. You're one such event that one day soon perhaps I'd like to embrace.

So after sharing this regret during the Loss scene, Gale will show affection if Tav remains friendly during the Weave (but Gale will never directly engage it, he is waiting for Tav to give the first step; understandable if we consider he also has a dangerous bomb in his chest, so he may be torn between wanting to, but knowing he should not to). If there is no interest in pursuing romance, he will show a gesture of gratitude for being a good friend during that night of regrets.

If pursuing the romance, we can interpret that Gale, at this point, even though he is still struggling with all the emotions that Mystra inspires, wants to experience something more “human”, a romance with a mortal. We know for sure that Gale is getting interested, slowly, while thinking about it, since in each of the following scenes he will ask (or Tav will ask) about that “moment in the Weave”. He has been thinking about it for many nights, and he is “embracing” the idea.

If Gale is treated with judgement (despite not knowing his whole story) or allowing him to keep the secret of what or who he lost, we will obtain lines likes:

Gale: Good. Goodnight. And thank you for your patient understanding. // And try not to think too poorly of me. A cat can look at a king. A wizard can look at a goddess.

Tav: Another fool pays for his arrogance. A tale as old as time. Gale: Arrogance? Ambition, rather. And ambition is a fine thing – until suddenly it no longer is. Then again, if that is how you judge me, there’s little I can do to change your mind. But know that I have this ambition still. First to save myself, and after that, the licence to dream. (Gale Disapproval)

We could interpret these lines as the only ones so far that may suggest that Gale is still wanting something from the goddess. We know due to the tadpole dreams that Gale’s desire is Mystra. On the comments of the second tadpole dream we know more details about his major desire: it is not just Mystra, but her forgiveness.

Tav: Gale, who is the apparition in your dreams? Gale: She's... It doesn't matter. I just know her to be unreal. Tav: What's impossible about what you're been shown? Gale: Forgiveness Tav: Gale, who is the apparition in your dreams? Gale: It's indeed Mystra I see. And yet it cannot be her. There was a time when I would have believed - but no longer. I told you that I lost her. Lost her favour and lost so many of the powers I took for granted. What magic I can still weave is met only with undercurrents of disappointing silence. Mystra has not changed her mind about me. That's how I know our dreams are delusions.

I think this scene shows the difference between a standard desire for power as a means, and power for the sake of power itself (since this power allows Gale to be one with the Weave). The scene is ambiguous enough to see it as Gale wanting to return to Mystra’s side as well as remaining as an ardent devotee of her (because she is magic herself). I keep repeating that these scenes show that Gale’s most important thing in his life is Magic, which is Mystra: the extension and the embodiment of magic. So his desire for her seems impossible to be extinguished completely. In previous scenes we saw that he certainly had thought through the idea of loving her more like a devotee than a lover, but certainly the weight of being his first love will remain, especially since she is deeply related to magic itself.

During the Party Scene we find some information about his feelings for Mystra.

I personally ponder the book of Amn’s description as very important because, from a narrative point of view, it's a lot of lines/content that, if they were not important, tend to be removed from the script. If they are there, they are meant to be interpreted. For this reason those lines mean to me that Gale has finally embraced the idea of having something important with a mortal. In my post of the "Party Scene" I go into details, but here I will stick to the interpretation related to Mystra: all what Gale numerates in that book are things that he could not access to with a Goddess. Curiously, part of those descriptions are things that make humans human, so I personally think it reinforces Gale's intention in heading into this romance with the eagerness of finding some shelter (never forget the “orb” has a constant oppressing effect in him, increasing his anxiety and fears) and to experience (maybe for the first time) the love of a mortal.

So, for some assumptions made in the post of the "Party Scene", we suspect that Gale needs to share a night to feel confident enough to speak the details of his “orb” condition. Since he wants this relationship to be strong (after all, he implied commitment during the description of the book) he speaks about the true origin of the “orb” immediately after that night, starting with Mystra (which is, after all, the true origin of his folly). Depending on the version that Tav picks, we have extra information provided by Gale about his emotions for the Goddess:

Tav: What did Mystra’s attention feel like? Gale: Love. Perhaps it was not quite love, but you see, the wizard was but a very young man. It was most certainly love to him. [...] One day all too soon, the whispers stopped. The goddess spurned the mortal. [...] and the wizard was left behind heartbroken. Tav: I hate to say it, but he really could have seen this coming Gale: He was blinded by love. Good stories are rife with lovers’ follies after all.

[Short Version] Gale: Before long Mystra tired of me. What was I after all but a mortal plaything in sacred hands? You have to realise I was heartbroken. I was a young man, she was my first love. I thought it would last forever. I vowed to win her back.

[after explaining the mistake of the “orb”] Gale: It is this folly that led Mystra to abandon me completely. I can only hope you won’t abandon me as well. After all we’ve been through.. After the night we spent together. Surely we can brave even this side by side

Gale is giving a very detailed context about his love for Mystra: she was his first love, and the first love tends to have a special weight in a person's life and their memories. That doesn't mean the person has become unable to build more relationships for the rest of their life. If we add the fact that he was very young when all this happened (more details in the Post "Gale Hypotheses- Part 1") we find him under two effects: the impression of the first love and the naivety of the youth. Both elements made him believe it was a love that was going to last forever. With a Goddess, no less.

Besides, Gale expresses this, highlighting his naivety and foolishness: he is aware of how silly he was back then, and how impossible it could be for a mortal to keep the love of a goddess. He is a pragmatic and realistic character, after all. He recognizes in the end that he was just a mortal plaything for her.

I think these pieces of information give us a very clear context of his emotional state: he is still nostalgic for Mystra because of all the reasons I enumerated above; she is also more than just a woman, she is Magic itself. But he is aware that those emotions were the consequence of a very naïve and young self that has awakened by the burden of his own mistakes. There is also a reinforcement of “forever”, which recalls the concept of commitment that Gale pursues so much in his romance: he is not there just for the sex “intimacy”, he is there for serious commitment, maybe because he doesn't want to experience another abandonment. After all, we are talking about a character with a profile that shows abandonment issues (see the post of "Gale Hypotheses- Part 1", section: "Abandonment Issues")

[If rejected] Tav: No. This is too large a betrayal. GALE: I see. I am sorry. I am sorry that it had to come to this. All that’s left to say is farewell. Dev’s notes: hurt but understanding Gale: Farewell. (Leaves) Dev’s notes: A slight hesitation, hurt but understanding. He makes a polite little bow, then we see him walk away.

[If accepted] Gale: I don’t know what I did to deserve the magic that you do.

Despite being terribly cheesy, this last line shows that Gale was more than convinced that Tav would abandon him because he doesn’t deserve Tav. This is why he doesn't put up much fight if Tav chooses to tell him to leave. He will try to make Tav listen to his story, and once it's done, the verdict will fall and he will accept it. He learnt his lesson with Mystra. This line also shows how everything important around Gale is or has to be worded with magic, even a silly metaphor like this is related with the word “magic”: Tav's acceptance is like magic. For him, as important and good as magic itself.

As if that were not enough, after the scene there is a comment in which Gale will reinforce his gratitude for Tav's acceptance:

Tav: If you ever feel the netherese magic overtaking you, what will you do? Gale: If it should ever come to that... if I ever know I am no longer able to stop it... I will do anything I can to ensure no one but me pays for my mistakes. I will find the remotest place on the surface of Faerûn, or perhaps far below in the depths of the Underdark. I will await that death alone. [*] I promise I will not betray your trust... You kept me by your side despite the menace that I am. If worst comes to worst, I will be gone long before the curtain falls. [*] If romanced, Gale will say here "I cherish you."

Which makes me suspect that Gale can disappear at any moment (in full game) if for some game mechanics we are unable to get magical artefacts but the deal with Raphael did not happen (if that’s even possible). But that's just me speculating. Nothing in EA seems to suggest this. What i's clear is that acceptance—that strong concept in the book he put so much emphasis on—is really important to him, so he shows gratitude for that: he promises to protect Tav (and many innocents) from his own mistake. He also says pretty soon an equivalent of “I love you”, in a more formal/meaningful way: “to cherish” is not just to love, but to care/protect as well.

Finally, in case someone lost those hints, or maybe as a consequence of this unpolished scene, we have a direct question with a direct answer:

Tav: Gale, are you still in love with Mystra? Gale: I’ll be honest with you; I don’t know. She is my muse still, the embodiment of magic, but the embodiment of love? Only if we ever meet again will I know

Gale simply says what we have been inferring so far with all the previous information: Gale reinforces the idea that he will remain as a strong, loving devotee of Mystra, because she is magic. I personally don't even consider it possible to remove that love from him. He may not be a cleric, but he loves his deity as one. But he also learnt his lesson that loving gods has its own dire consequences for mortals. He is very aware of it during the discussion about Karsus:

Tav: Nothing good ever comes from mortals wanting to be gods.

Gale: Loving them has its side effects as well. Now, so many centuries later, I tried to follow in the footsteps of Karsus, not to destroy Mystra, but to prove my love for her. It tried to control only a fraction of the magic that was unleashed that fateful day. I merely sought to return one tiny diamond to an imperfect crown. Gale's Folly one might call it. History. Repetition. It's the way things go.

Once more, there is no scene where Gale doesn't reinforce that what he did was a mistake, a foolish action, a Folly.

Finally, if talking about a previous lover immediately after awakening with a new one was of poor taste, Gale acknowledges this, giving an honest apology:

Gale: Before we go on though, do first let me apologise. To share such a night with you only to tell you of a previous lover the next morning... It wasn't the most gentleman-like behaviour. But I had to finally tell you. Silence would have been far worse behaviour still. Nevertheless, I am sorry.

He accepts any rude response or lash-out from Tav without approval penalties. This is an interesting meta-knowledge that speaks about owning up to his mistakes. Unlike the Loss scene, where rude responses made Gale disapprove because Tav was judging him without knowing the whole story [16], in this scene he doesn’t. Now Tav has the whole picture, and he accepts whatever reaction Tav shows. Of course he will approve a forgiving Tav, since Gale is a character very related to forgiveness [12, 12b].

Conclusion:

So, answering the question that gives title to this section: yes. In my opinion, Gale loves Mystra. But it’s not a white-and-black love; it has the complexity of human love mixed with this crazy lore of deities in Forgotten Realms. I believe Mystra will always be part of Gale's life, because the Weave and magic are his life, and she is both. He will always love her as a devotee, even though he now understands the mistakes of his young self and seems more aware of how naive he was when he was a “very young man”. The comments on the second tadpole dreams explicitly show that what Gale wants the most is Mystra’s forgiveness, but at the same time, he knows that he does not deserve it. And this raw realistic view of himself is what makes him understand that those dreams are illusions. During the party scene he is uncertain about his emotions, but still he emphasises that there is a big chance for him to not see Mystra as the embodiment of love any more but reinforces that she will always be the embodiment of magic to him (a very important concept in his character design).

Whether Gale is romanced or not, I don't see a difference in the information he shares on this matter in EA.

This post was written in June 2021. → For more Gale: Analysis Series Index

#bg3 meta #gale #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale

82 notes · View notes

jaimebluesq · 2 years

Text

WIP Wednesday

The start of something I'm working on for polyshipping week - Jin Guangshan blackmails Nie Huaisang into helping to get Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli back together - and technically gets what he asked for.

~~~~~

The festivities were in full swing in Nightless City, with revelers from every victorious sect raising toasts to the defeat of Qishan Wen. Even though he hadn't been among the combatants, Nie Huaisang celebrated as loudly as any other, sharing drinks and listening to battlefield tales from those who had survived the war. By the time the night was half-way through, he was pleasantly light-headed and had chosen an isolated seat where he could rest for a few minutes before wading back into the sea of revelers.

His eyes had been focused on an exchange between Meng Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen when he felt movement at his side, and turned his head to see none other than Jin Guangshan seating himself next to him. The older man only ever interacted with him in a brief, diplomatic capacity, always with an insincere compliment to him in order to endear himself to Nie Mingjue. Both brothers saw through the deception, but at least it gave them something to laugh about in private.

“Jin-zongzhu,” he greeted – he may have been lightheaded with alcohol, but he had enough of his wits to adhere to protocol. “I hope you're enjoying the festivities.”

The sect leader nodded, but Nie Huaisang could tell by the look in his eyes that this wasn't a social call. The man wanted something, and he wished he would just spit it out, but when had Jin Guangshan ever gotten directly to the point of anything?

“It's a joy to see so many enjoying the fruits of our labour, Nie-er-gongzi, the peace that has come with the end of Wen Ruohan's regime.”

Nie Huaisang held back a snort. Fruits of our labour indeed – even as a non-combatant, he had spent more time on the battlefield than Jin Guangshan, yet the man had the gall to act as if he'd had any real part in the victory. “May the coming time be unprecedented in its wealth and peace,” he offered – he too could give the occasional word to butter up his 'betters'.

“I wish my son had remained to share some of the grander toasts.” Jin Zixuan had turned in early, stating he was tired after the months of fighting, but Nie Huaisang knew the man hated large gatherings and the inherent awkwardness of having to socialize. “You've come to know my son a little, haven't you? I believe he's mentioned attending the opera with Nie-er-gongzi on occasion, before the war of course.”

I've come to know both of your sons quite a bit, not that you'll ever think of Meng Yao as anything but a political advantage. “Jin Zixuan and I share quite a few interests, yes, and I find him excellent company.”

“Good, good.” Jin Guangshan attempted to sound casual, but again Nie Huaisang waited for him to get to his point. “I hear you were also close to Jiang-zongzhu and his shidi while you were in school. Quite formidable young men. Did they ever introduce you to Jiang-guniang?”

And there it was. “I've had the honour of meeting Jiang Yanli once or twice while at Cloud Recesses, but that is all.”

“And what do you think of this silly matter of putting off the engagement? We all know they will be united in the end, so why delay it?”

“Yunmeng Jiang has lost so much,” he offered, “and it will take much time and effort to rebuild it. I can't blame her for wishing to focus on her sect's future before considering the possibility of moving away to another sect.”

“Perhaps, but the future should also be about family and bringing in a new generation. What better sign of progress than a marriage union between sects and the birth of a child tied to both?”

“Ah, I don't know, Jin-zongzhu. Such matters don't tend to concern Qinghe Nie, after all.” Why should I bother to help you with your alliances when they don't even benefit my own sect?

“They could.” That gave Nie Huaisang pause. He tried not to look too curious as he awaited Jin Guangshan's explanation. “The assistance of a member of Qinghe Nie in such an alliance would have me feeling extremely grateful, and might even be a greater tie between our sects than even this sworn brotherhood the others have planned.”

Not on your life. “I'm afraid, Jin-zongzhu, I'm no matchmaker. I truly don't know what help I would be, nor what benefit it would be to my sect.”

“Perhaps the benefit is to have everything remain as it is,” Jin Guangshan finally said, all pretense at charming conversation gone in one fell swoop. The older man's eyes turned hard, practically boring into Nie Huaisang's head. “After all, I can only imagine the changes there would be in the Unclean Realm should Chifeng-Zun and the Nie Elders find out how much Qinghe coin goes to pay the courtesans at the Golden Pheasant.” Nie Huaisang's heart lurched and his mouth went dry. “And that it goes to pay for women and men alike.”

His eyes immediately sought out his brother, his mostly-gruff face softened in the midst of the joy from all those around him.

“In the greater scheme of things, a little romantic encouragement is a small price to pay, is it not?” Jin Guangshan's words sounded sweet as poison.

Nie Huaisang hadn't realized his fingers had so tightly wrapped around his wine glass until he peeled them away, only to see the indentations in his flesh from the glass' engravings. “When you put it like that, Jin-zongzhu, how could I refuse to provide such encouragement to a pair of wayward lovers?”

“I knew you'd see things my way.” The man's meaty hand clapped on his shoulder and gave him a small shake before Jin Guangshan rose up onto his feet. “I look forward to your friendly meddling – I'll most definitely keep an eye out for it.”

He looked at the small amount of wine left in his glass and suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He no longer felt like rejoining the festivities, only felt a terrible dread at what wold happen if he didn't do as Jin Guangshan demanded – though he also feared that, even if he did succeed in renewing the betrothal between Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli, that this piece of information would still be held over his head.

He rose and quickly excused himself for the night, ignoring his brother's concerned looks as he exited the great hall.

#wip wednesday #the untamed #nie huaisang #jin guangshan #polyship endgame

12 notes · View notes

vaguely-concerned · 3 years

Text

The Mandalorian Chapter 15 rewatch thoughts

- mayfeld does hear when the droid talks to him the first time, you can see him pretending not to like he hopes he’ll just go away haha. I also guess he’s had a lot of time to think, picking apart pieces of the large fascist machine he used to be a part of and going over everything he clearly regrets

- hahaha fennec and boba are in the back intensely keeping watch the entire time they’re on the prison planet. I suppose a good two thirds of this crew is uuuuh extremely wanted by the new republic lol

- the thing din’s voice does at the end when he says “but you still know your imperial clearances and protocols. don’t you.” is beyond fucking words, it sends a chill right through me

1) din fiddling with that panel; I think he’s phenomenally nervous behind the helmet here, that’s the sort of keeping his hands busy he does when he’s anxious and 2) why the hell does boba have this many chairs instead of like space for cargo haha does he throw bounty hunter parties in here or what

- ngl boba correctly guessing at a glance what sort of ore they’re mining and informing everyone in his sardonic deadpan voice is Big Sexy

I love how he and fennec are standing together when they’re both present in these opening scenes too, first at the very back when they’re keeping a lookout:

and then in the foreground while they discuss the scan

it’s a nice subtle way to get across that they already have a dynamic, they’re somewhat used to working together as a unit at this point. (she’s also looking over at him when she asks what they might be mining in there, like she’s mostly asking his opinion instead of opening it to the floor. they’re talking the mission out between them before din enters the conversation)

- the inside of slave 1 when the ship’s moving makes me a little bit motion sick, I really love seeing it but I hope we don’t stay in here too often haha

- aaaw the small weary sigh din gives upon realizing none of his bros can go with mayfeld. I’m sorry about basically your entire life buddy

the awkward way din adjusts the helmet like he’s trying to get used to the way it feels ;______;

- ah the distinct implication that mayfeld is needling din about this because he’s actually feeling super uncomfortable being back in empire gear and he needs to transfer that discomfort over onto someone else so he won’t have to feel through it... very psychologically understandable and such a fucking piece of shit asshole character trait to give in to haha

- din’s level of side eye is so epic you can see it straight through the helmet fhaskjfhd

- neat detail: din’s head turns slightly toward mayfeld when he calls mandalorians a ‘race’. (it’s sort of cool that we as the audience know why that bothers him, but mayfeld probably didn’t even pick up on it). also shows that mayfeld doesn’t actually quite understand what he’s talking about, even when he makes decent points he’s caught up in his own myopic nihilistic point of view. ‘we’re all the same’ ------> ‘everyone’s secretly as shitty as me deep down’. (which also betrays a lot of self loathing, since we see later he does have the capacity to NOT be that shitty when he chooses to. rick famuyiwa manages to get a LOT of really interesting nuanced stuff into this character in two short episodes, that’s super impressive)

the bright sunny look on mayfeld’s face when din finally gives in and takes the bait tho fsajdkfhasj he’s awful but that’s very funny

- rip all these excellent dudes who really only wanted to accomplish the noble goal of ruining the empire’s entire day and didn’t know they were also trying to blow up My Dad Who Does Not Deserve Any Of This, it’s honestly just really sad that there’s no moment to talk that out

well at least they blew up the entire refinery on their way out, I’m sure that’s the way they would have wanted their memories honored lol

- the comedy beat of din running out of ammo for the first time ever and the music briefly cutting out for it is so so good for me

hahahaha din seems to actually take a moment to be a little aghast at that dude who ends up crushed under the treads of the tank thing, he’s just sort of staring for a few seconds too long and that’s how pirate nr 2 takes him by surprise and shatters his shoulder armour

- I feel a bit bad -- two of the ‘pirates’ try to hold on to each other for balance and then din punches them apart and off the tank :( I mean it’s not like he could just let them murderate him either but like. ouch I’m guessing this one might haunt him for a while for several reasons huh

(the sequence is actually this guy, let’s call him pirate 3, swings the spear at din and misses, instead hitting his buddy who’s trying to get to his feet, then looks horrified and grabs for him to make sure he doesn’t fall off, and then... mando’s forehead happens to them haha)

- poor fennec and cara just running up that hill while everything’s on fire, they must be wondering what the FUCK is going on (at least cara knows that things blowing up is a sure sign din djarin is in the middle there somewhere)

- everything about carano in real life aside for one second -- I do like that we get this contrast in build between our main female characters of the episode and the way their costume designs enhance it

- awwww the little gesture din does with his hand after he removes it from mayfeld’s chest after stopping him from leaving, it’s just so... sweet. it’s a little bit appeal, a little bit reassurance, it just lightens/softens the tone of what he says a bit (he has quite a lot of like... not conciliatory mannerisms exactly, but small touches here and there that are there to communicate that he’s not angry/aggressive or trying to be a dick about it even when he’s emphatic. I keep wondering how much that is just him being him and how much is him being practiced at settling other people’s hot tempers)

- this shot is just... genius

it’s din seen entirely from the outside, with nothing of what we’ve learned to recognize as him for almost two seasons now in view -- not even his face, which we have at least a tenuous fledgling attachment to from before. it’s like we get introduced to him almost as if anew again and again in this episode, just like he’s getting introduced to new aspects of himself and what he’s willing to do and having to struggle to find ways to have that fit with who he is. his discomfort and stress is our discomfort and stress. it’s so interesting

- I can’t stop cackling at this moment even in all the tension -- you only get a sliver of din’s profile but you can feel the sheer MURDER radiating off him sdhfasjk

- aaaaaaaagh the way you get a whole different view of din’s habitual impassiveness when you can actually see his face... the way he keeps appealing to mayfeld ‘just don’t make more trouble, just shut up’, the way he goes completely silent and watchful and frozen..... those are all really obvious trauma responses, and it leads you to wonder how often he touches into that even when he’s in his element, when he’s got the full armour on. hmngh my heart

- ‘the believer’ is such a galaxy brain title for this episode, because it could be referring to either of the three men around this table or all of them at once. (and crucially the only person whose beliefs aren’t in a living, breathing state of adapting to the world around them is the empire officer, with his horrific inhuman ideology. mayfeld thinks he believes in nothing, and proves himself explosively wrong by the end of the episode, and it’s redeeming for him in some capacity. din is facing a more internal dilemma of different parts of his (and his culture’s) beliefs/values clashing and having to decide which one’s more important, to his identity and to how to exist in the world as a person (and love for the baby wins out supremely in the end. of course it does Y_____Y). the empire dude only sees the same sterile fascist world at the end of his shit rainbow that he’s clearly always done, even when faced with proof that it’s untenable. (I mean he wouldn’t give a fuck that it’s immoral because he’s y’know evil, but he’s not even fazed by the fact that the empire provably FAILED, and failed so quickly) his belief is a dead and deadening thing to contrast the others. man when this show goes off with the themes it goes OFF haha)

- love the triumphant heroic mando music kicking in as we’re finally getting to pick off imps, love that for us

- din’s protective instincts at work again, he helps mayfeld to his feet and makes sure he’s safely on board before going further in himself ;_______;

- fennec’s professional approval at mayfeld’s shot hahaha. well I guess he was supposed to be a sharpshooter back in the day huh

I do Not think she likes mayfeld even after all that, though, the withering look she sends him on her way past... should have killed him stone dead on the spot

- seeing din back in the armour is like a physical relief, I can breathe again haha

- tfw you catch yourself thinking ‘at least when all this is over we can go back to the razor crest and everything will be normal again’ and then you rEMEMBER 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

#star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian meta #honestly I could add a lot more of my boba thirst in this lol (idk din is always Dad not Daddy to me but boba's Doing something for me haha)

334 notes · View notes

richardlawson · 3 years

Text

After a screening this afternoon, I stood on the busy sidewalk of 29th street and smoked my last cigarette of Cannes (having been home for almost a month). I decided to listen to a sad song while I walked back to the subway rather than finishing the latest comedy podcast droning its way into my ears from LA.

It was windy, but the air was still humid and close. The weather felt big, and the tall, tall buildings of almost midtown were enormous. (It is still so boggling to pop back into Manhattan!) I walked the short distance imagining myself at the cinemascope ending of a movie—what a poignant, subtle conclusion it would be, a person simply making their way to the subway after so much has happened.

It is difficult to grapple with what’s happened. Am I the only one finding that? I know that we must admit the important layers of this: we did not die, loved ones were okay, we kept working, held ourselves in the clench of our lives as so much cratered outside. Past that, though, it was tricky. It still is. More than that. Immediately post-vaccination, I felt the airy lift I was supposed to, the world not cracking open but gently re-revealing itself, a shining, outdoor Shangri La that had been hovering there, only hidden, all along.

That feeling lasted just a few weeks, though, as grim news lapped at the edges of the merriment. But it wasn’t really the news—concerning as it is—that sunk me back down. It was more the sudden weight of life, tossed into the pool and crashing down on me just as I was coming up for air. It was the realization that a year and a half—and quite likely longer—does actually change a life, that things will never go back to being the same. And the realization that I no longer really remember what that same was.

I remember parties, and a kind of cross-city ramble resembling the boozy digression of my 20s, but a bit more assured. I remember a rush, a haze, a feeling like I was living some grand existence without ever touching the ground, ever really connecting to any one thing. Of course, there were dull and dire days during all of that, but who would choose to remember those? No, in the abstraction of my mind there is just a sparkling blur, one I have found myself clumsily grasping for as real life has, allegedly, set back in.

I hope I am not alone in this feeling of mourning, this constant fear—a terror, really—that I am scrambling at something entirely irretrievable. Like I am trying to pick up an anecdote midway through, after a long and pregnant pause. Isn’t it so strange, and so sad, that so much is now definitively over, that we are on the other side of an undeniable piece of punctuation. There is no return, really. There is only carrying on, a new limp a part of the portraiture.

My sister and I took a trip in July, she meeting me in France after the Cannes film festival, and that almost felt like a before thing. Except it was charged with difference—masks and tests and all that necessary protocol, yes, but also an ineffable haunt, this little curl of a voice that whispered, “It’s not like it used to be.” I thought maybe it was France, that I’d somehow grown tired of it (spoiled me!), or it was just the weirdness of rumbling around on trains with my sister for the first time in so long, surrounded by people speaking a different language.

But it wasn’t that, not really. It was "not like it used to be" in a sharper, more persistent way, the pebble in my shoe that has me so startlingly aware of the lines and shapes and matrices of the world, all of a sudden. How could anyone, with death so persistent a topic for so long, not grow to see the frayed and finite threads binding us to everything? How are we supposed to enjoy anything fully again, when we’ve had such a regular reminder of its eventual end?

Luck, I’m aware of. Fortune, too. I know that some maudlin post about how out of step with reality I have been feeling is, well, out of step with reality. But there it is anyway, this nagging feeling like maybe we all died already, that what we're staggering through now is some after-effect, residual but fading. I find myself imagining a membrane that I might step through—back into the life I think I had, or into a future when all of this feels so peacefully settled.

A friend and I found a little tucked away space in a park by the river, a picnic table and an umbrella where we can post up to surreptitiously drink wine and watch the boats on the river. I love those fucking boats, the busy process they confirm, New York chugging along in its infinite capacity. You can see the planes from Newark, too, a view recently stolen from my building's roof by some hideous new condo building tinkering its way upwards to blot out the sky. There, in that park, the East River breezes whispering a calming song, I begin to feel re-clarified, certain again about my mind and my body and their place in—as Mary Oliver wrote—the family of things.

That feeling is fleeting, though. Then it's back into the plainness of life, the sensation that everything has flattened into some tiny fragment of what it once was. I have to trust—I hope you trust, too—that we'll get it all back. Or, rather, that a new and thorough thing will slowly bloom in the old thing's place, for those of us lucky enough to still be alive and, for all the wear of age, healthy enough.

A few years ago, I wrote a poem about a restaurant in Cannes, in which I wondered what it might be like to revisit it in the future. I found it again this year. It was still open, though I think it has a different name. And the little burbling fountain that stood next to its outdoor seating was silent and dry. So there it was, still plugging along, just a bit hobbled by circumstance, a little less pretty than it was in more ideal times.

I hope I get to wander by it again next year. I hope that the person glimpsing it then feels fuller, sturdier, more sure of the weight and consequence of his presence. That he knows he did not disappear into the couch, was not wholly lost to worry, did not irrevocably snap some tether that linked him to the great and troubled and bitterly missed past of his life.

The song I put on, walking to the subway in all that huge weather today, was this. I love its swell, its grandeur, its reminder that some stuff is not entirely reducible. It stays, small and determined and indelible as the new scar on my shin, from when I tripped on my suitcase, the night before I got back on a plane, cursing in the dark, forgetting how grateful I was to be feeling it at all.

46 notes · View notes

calzona-ga · 3 years

Link

SPOILER ALERT: The story includes details about the April 1 episode of Grey’s Anatomy.

After a string of intense and heavy episodes marked by tragedy, including the deaths of DeLuca as well as Bailey’s mom, Grey’s Anatomy delivered a hopeful one-hour tonight. The biggest development came at the very end, when Meredith (Ellen Pompeo) was taken off the ventilator and was able to breathe on her own. She was “helped” by two old friends who tragically died nine years ago, her sister Lexie Grey (Chyler Leigh) and Mark Sloan (Eric Dane) who visited her on the beach and made the case why she needed to fight to live.

While Leigh’s return was revealed in the promo at the end of last episode, Dane’s appearance was kept a surprise as his Mark joined Meredith and Lexie on the beach. As the trio chatted, Mark shared that he talks to his daughter Sofia, as well as her moms, Callie and Arizona, all the time. Mark and Lexie also showed a lot of affection towards each other, and when Meredith asked if the two were still together, Mark said, “On your beach it looks like we are.”

While Meredith kept saying how much she loves it on the beach, Lexie and Mark talked about what they miss about being alive and urged her to choose life. “Don’t waste one single minute,” Mark said in their final conversation before Meredith was taken out of the coma, possibly ending the season-long beach motif, conceived by showrunner Krista Vernoff, which also featured visits from Patrick Dempsey’s Derek Shepherd and T.R. Knight’s George O’Malley.

Elsewhere in the episode, there were positive developments all-around. The two main medical cases had happy endings, including one where the doctors at Grey Sloan Memorial faced a Sophie’s Choice situation with one ventilator left and a mother and her daughter both in desperate need to be intubated. Teddy was on the mend, Owen and Koracick almost reconciled. And, along with Meredith’s successful reentry after she was taken off the machine, Winston proposes to Maggie at the end of the episode, and she said yes.

In an interview with Deadline, Dane spoke about how his Grey’s return came about. He took us behind the scenes of filming the beach scenes with Pompeo and Leigh, shared his take on Mark and Lexie’s relationship status and the duo’s pivotal role in giving Meredith strength to cling onto life when she is taken off the ventilator. He also discussed the remarkable longevity of Grey’s Anatomy and his return to production on his current series, HBO’s Euphoria.

DEADLINE: When and how did you get approached about returning to Grey’s Anatomy?

DANE: I was in Shanghai, filming a movie, a Chinese production for that market, a historical piece, and Krista reached out to me and said, hey, I’d like to talk to you about something, let me know when you have some time. I said well, I’m in Shanghai, China right now, let’s talk right when I get back. I don’t remember the timeline, I know I was in Shanghai in August. She explained to me what was happening in the story, and she said, we want to put Mark Sloan on the beach with Lexie Grey.

DEADLINE: What was your reaction? Did you like the idea?

DANE: Yeah, I thought it was a great idea. I thought it made sense, considering the circumstances.

DEADLINE: What do you mean?

DANE: I mean, if you’re ever going to bring Mark Sloan back, I guess with Meredith in a coma, it’s a good way for her to see him. So, it wasn’t a tough sell, and it made sense.

DEADLINE: Tell me about the filming of your scenes. You got to spend time with Ellen and Chyler, the crew. How was it going back into character, revisiting your past and reuniting with old friends?

DANE: It was like I’d never left. It was a great day at the beach. It was great to see some of the familiar faces and same crew members, and we didn’t skip a beat. I love those people. I spent a significant portion of my life with those people, I’d do just about anything for them.

DEADLINE: What did you, Ellen and Chyler chat about in-between takes?

DANE: Masks, Covid. I hadn’t seen Chyler in a while, but Ellen I stay in contact with, and just, how are the kids? Kids are good. Small talk. There wasn’t a lot of time in-between takes because of the protocols and how we had to set it up. So, once we got going, it was almost like a runaway train.

DEADLINE: And it was easy to go back into character?

DANE: Yeah. I mean, look, I created Mark Sloan. It was not that difficult for me to get back into character.

DEADLINE: What did you think about Mark and Lexie playing such an important role in giving Meredith a will to live and a reason to fight as she soon thereafter started to breathe on her own?

DANE: Well, Mark Sloan and Lexie Grey are embedded in the DNA of that show, and also literally, Lexie and Meredith share the same DNA. So, I think there’s a connectivity there and reminding her that, gone but not forgotten, we’re always around if you need us, and it’s too early for you to stay on the beach.

DEADLINE: And there was something comforting, I’m sure, in you reassuring fans that Mark is OK…

DANE: Sure. Absolutely. You see that everybody’s okay and happy; it allows you to want to come back for something.

DEADLINE: .. And that Mark also is watching over his daughter.

DANE: Yeah, whether she’s listening to me or not. You always have somebody looking over you. I lost my father at a very early age, and I feel like he’s watching over me in some capacity.

DEADLINE: When Meredith asked whether Mark and Lexie were together, you said “On your beach, we are”. What do you make of that, does it mean that they’re happily together in our imagination?

DANE: I didn’t dig too deep into that. I sort of took it as like, not in your imagination but the way you’re seeing it in your subconsciousness, wherever you are right now, whatever state of being you’re existing in this coma, fever dream, whatever it is, I guess that’s (Meredith’s) projection of perfection. Mark and Lexie are together forever, and I’m sure Mark and Lexie aren’t too bummed about it either.

DEADLINE: What is your vision of Mark and Lexie, how you think that their story continues in the afterlife?

DANE: Mark would’ve found Lexie. He would’ve found her eventually.

DEADLINE: Since you left Grey’s Anatomy, you did one successful series, The Last Ship, which ran for five seasons, and now you are on a second successful series, Euphoria. Meanwhile, Grey’s Anatomy is still going. How do explain the longevity of that show which continues to be going strong 17 seasons in?

DANE: Well, I think there’s a lot of factors but at its core it’s just a great show. People connect with the characters on that show. It seemed to have found a whole new generation of viewership. Shows typically will grow up with a generation, an audience, and eventually that audience will either outgrow that show or move onto something else. But with Grey’s, there’s always been an alchemy in that cast, a dynamic, a chemistry which keeps people showing up. The writing’s good. Krista, Shonda (Rhimes), Betsy (Beers) and now Debbie Allen’s exec producing the show. They’re so good at understanding the tone of that show and finding characters that people will invest in, and what that translates to is season 17.

DEADLINE: Is there anything you miss about Grey’s?

DANE: Well, I’ve maintained contact with a lot of the cast members. An answer somebody would give you, had they not, would’ve been I missed the people, but I’m still friends with all of them. So, there wasn’t really anything to miss.

DEADLINE: Are you going back into production on Euphoria soon?

DANE: In mid-April. We’re actually started now on Season 2. I think I don’t start shooting for a couple weeks, but we are. I’m sure we’re going to get this out as soon as we can. We’ve set a pretty high bar. I’m very proud of that show, everybody involved is very proud of that show.

#grey's anatomy #17x10 #eric dane #Mark Sloan #lexie grey #Chyler Leigh #deadline #Meredith Grey #Ellen Pompeo

60 notes · View notes