#cannot wait for the rest of season four i might explode
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sometimes you just have to get into a media that makes you absolutely insane
#m#this is about.#midnight burger#i am in an indescribable state of mind. wgat fhe hell is going on#cant even POST about it because of SPOILERS.#cannot wait for the rest of season four i might explode
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Agh, it got so long I had to read-more it; no one look at this; I just had to get it out of my mind, but don’t look at it just ignore this and go examine a pretty nature photo; honestly these just keep getting worse why does this keep happening? And I hate dialogue. And I hate characterization. Ugghhh... just insert a Mermista groan here.
also a more mature Catra helping Hordak on his journey provides me with happiness don’t judge me
Please consider, a concept:
A few months have passed since Prime’s demise. Reconstruction of Etheria’s damaged settlements is well underway, and all parties involved have gotten... if not entirely comfortable with one another, then at least able to interact with civility. Enough so that, when Entrapta and Bow end up delayed on one of their interplanetary trips, Hordak is only moderately uneasy about heading off to Bright Moon on his own. Oh, of course he’d rather wait for Entrapta, but certain planned meetings (dictated by Etheria’s terribly inconvenient seasons) simply cannot be delayed. So off he goes, determined to maintain decorum and dignity and uphold his end of all relevant treaties. He is received by Glimmer, Adora, and Catra. The other Princesses are all otherwise engaged (with what, he cares little, though he is admittedly amused to learn that Mermista and Perfuma are occupied with an apparently disastrous seaweed-related snafu). So it is the four of them against a whole mess of administrative work.
The girls, for their part, are equally uneasy but likewise determined to proceed as usual (Adora and Catra seeming particularly determined). They meet Hordak’s reserved politeness with a tentative poise of their own, and the group’s work commences.
And for a number of days, it goes fairly well. Even Glimmer has to admit that, whatever anyone’s misgivings about how an Entrapta-less Hordak might behave, things are running smoothly. She maintains control of the meetings, guiding them through agenda after agenda, while Adora and Catra provide input based upon their recent scouting trips to Etheria’s various corners. Hordak rounds the discussions out with whatever technological information is relevant. Their sessions run long most nights (too long, if Catra were asked her opinion on the matter, which she pointedly is not), but they are productive. The four of them get an impressive amount of work done, and all without any tense moments or uncomfortable quarrels. One might even say that they are getting along quite well, all things considered.
In fact, Catra is nearly certain that, when Adora mentions appreciating the work of some Dryl-made construction bots in a seaside village, Hordak subtly quirks his lips in what a careful observer could term a smile.
So the three girls are legitimately stunned when, about three-quarters of the way through their intended time together, Hordak’s behavior abruptly changes. His calm demeanor turns sullen and tense. Previously comprehensive explanations gain a taciturn edge, eventually devolving into clipped, half-snarled responses and sneered refusals to provide clarification. More and more often, words are accompanied by the baring of red teeth and the angry glare of red eyes.
Glimmer is... less than pleased, but between her own determination to make this treaty work and Adora’s dogged, somewhat frantic optimism, she strives to maintain civility long enough to get through the last few days. But, well... limits are limits. And limits are surpassed when, one evening, Hordak furiously declares that he has lost patience with their “embarrassing incompetence” and, with nary another word, storms out of the conference room.
“That’s it! How dare he?!”
Glimmer promptly explodes, and Catra spends the next few minutes watching Adora try to quiet what is proving to be a very loud, very angry, moderately uncouth Queenly rant. It is in the midst of this rant that Adora catches her eye and, with a quiet groan and a nod and a mental wish of good luck, Catra slips away with Melog silently following at her heels.
“I guess this is better than dealing with Sparkles,” she mutters to herself as she stands at the door to Hordak’s temporary quarters. Beside her, Melog trills encouragement, and she sighs. They’re right, of course: between the two of them, Adora has more experience dealing with an upset Glimmer. And Catra... okay, so she doesn’t have “experience dealing with an upset Hordak.” Not... not good experience. But she worked with him for nearly a year. And, given what she’s seen, what she knows... she has a fair idea of what’s been happening. She’d been quietly hoping that it would work itself out, or that it wouldn’t become enough of a problem to cause trouble before they finished their work, but alas: it seems that that sort of luck just isn’t on their side.
Which, given the fact that Hordak seems to have the worst luck of anyone she knows, probably should have been something she’d seen coming.
Melog trills again, adding a gentle headbutt this time.
“Okay, okay... give me a second.”
She takes a breath, lifts a hand to knock, grimaces, and drops said hand. She clears her throat.
“Hordak?”
Nothing. She frowns and tries again.
“Hordak? Are you-”
“Leave.”
His snarl is all-too familiar, and even muffled through a door, it causes her hackles to rise, her ears to pin back, her tail to lash.
“Look, I just-”
“Go. Away.”
She grits her teeth, clenches her fists, and turns away, ready to return downstairs with nothing to show for her efforts but a bad mood. Next to her, Melog meows in protest. She rounds on them.
“What? If he wants to be a jerk about it, then that’s his problem! Besides, what am I supposed to do? Break down the door?”
And she resumes making her way back to the staircase, ignoring Melog’s continued protest (which, come to think of it, sounds fairly alarmed, but... well, what is she to do?) and... she freezes. The world around her is starting to shimmer. She knows that shimmer: teleportation via alien cat.
“Wait! I said-!”
And just like that, they’re in his room, and though Catra’s first instinct is to make her displeasure very loudly known, said instinct quickly fades at the sight of Hordak.
“Oh, damn it.”
From his place on the floor, crumpled in a sweating, trembling heap, Hordak looks up at the intrusion. His eyes widen, face twisting with fury as he prepares to shout what Catra predicts will be his trademark “get out,” only to choke up and curl in on himself as some sort of painful spasm races through him.
Once upon a time, this sight might have spurred Catra into a bout of cruel gloating, but circumstances are vastly different today.
Today, before either of them can really take stock of what is happening, she helps him up and half-leads, half-carries him to the corner sofa, depositing him with a strained grunt before taking a step back and giving him a moment to collect himself. Which he does while glaring at her.
For some time, the only sound between them is the ugly rasp of Hordak’s panting, then: “Get. Out.”
Ah. There it is. As expected. As anticipated. Catra’s ears flick at the command.
A part of her still bristles at his snarling, at his combative ire, at his accusatory glare... but a different part notices instead how that glare comes through dull eyes, how that snarling fades into exhausted panting, how he’s still trembling, even before his very unwanted audience. As the seconds pass, this part maintains its position at the forefront of her mind, until:
“You want some water?”
“...”
“...”
“...what?”
There’s a sudden lightness to her thoughts.
“I’m gonna get you some water. Just... stay there, okay?”
Melog punctuates her words with a happy chirp before providing the necessary teleport. A minute later, they’re back from the kitchens, glass of cool water in hand. Hordak remains where they left him, though he actually gives a bit of a start when they reappear. The momentary surprise disappears under a scowl as Catra holds the glass out to him.
He curls his lip. He doesn’t take it.
Catra remains steady. Next to her, Melog sits, tail waving a constant, slow path in the air.
Hordak bares his teeth.
“I do not require your pity, Catra.”
“Good, ‘cause all I’ve got is this glass of water.”
He gapes at her.
“Which, y’know, you should take. Because my arm is getting tired.”
His expression closes off again in another scowl (he never did see the humor in her sass, did he?), but after a few more moments, Hordak relents. Slowly, clearly trying to keep his hand from trembling too much, he takes the offered glass.
Catra sighs and, suddenly drained, sits down on the ground a few feet away from him, resting her back against the arm of the sofa. Melog stretches out beside her, and Catra turns her back to Hordak to focus on providing the desired belly rub. She swivels an ear towards him, listening for him to finish draining the glass. He does so.
She can hear that his breath has lost that ugly rasp, and a tightness in her chest that she hadn’t been aware of loosens.
“So,” she begins, trying to keep her tone casual, “do you... need to call Entrapta? Is it... is it your-”
“Entrapta is currently beyond the reach of our communication modules.” She’d steeled herself for another snarled response, but his voice is calm, almost quiet. “And no; it is not my armor.”
“...oh.”
A minute passes. Two. Catra starts to tentatively turn around, wishing to steal a glance, but Melog thrusts their head into her lap and refocuses her gaze downwards. Another minute passes, then:
“It... it has proven somewhat...” He starts, stops, starts again. Stops again. Something that is not pain chokes his words, and though she wants to somehow encourage him, a soft rumble from Melog compels her to wait.
“Even with the armor, there are times that I... have difficulties.” He is breathing quicker again, she can hear; not quite panting, but definitely breathing quicker. In her lap, Melog seems attentive but otherwise unconcerned.
“Particularly during periods of higher stress, or exertion. Though,” he suddenly hisses, and Catra hears claws scrape against fabric, “hardly anything about our current work should merit this... exacerbation.”
He falls quiet, and for what feels like a long while, neither of them say anything. Melog’s soft purring fills the silence.
“Sparkles is mad,” Catra finally says, “Adora’s calming her down.”
This time, when she tries to turn her gaze back to him, Melog remains quiet. She watches Hordak nod, sees his ears droop.
“My behavior has been... unacceptable. I shall go request an audience with Queen Glimmer and make an apology-”
“Uh-uh.”
He frowns at her.
“Oh, I mean, yeah! Definitely apologize. You were a jerk. But not now; you should rest first. I’ll go tell them that you’re not feeling great, and-”
His scowl returns.
“That is not necessary.”
She matches his frown with her own and scoffs. “Uh, according to what just happened, it is. What? You’re just gonna... pretend you’re fine and keep going?”
He looks like he wishes to say something less-than-polite, scowl deepening, but instead he turns away with a quiet huff. His ears droop even further.
“The terms of the treaty are fair, and it is my duty to adhere to them. This... lapse... aside, I am entirely capable of doing so.” He sighs and seems to will his ears into a more neutral position. “So yes: I shall ‘keep going.’”
Catra blinks at him.
“That’s... really stupid.”
He blinks at her.
“...what?”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s stupid. What’s the point of it... pushing yourself like that when you’ve obviously had enough? If you need a break, then-”
Suddenly he snarls, he rounds on her, teeth and eyes glowing too-brightly, and she nearly jerks back. Melog tenses beside her but remains still.
“Then what?! I should inform the Queen, and she will suspend proceedings and accept needless delays for my comfort? That is... that is-”
He stops abruptly because she’s laughing, a dry sort of chuckle that might have infuriated him save for the fact that, when she notices his attention and stops, it’s to smile at him. Catra smiles at him, and the expression holds an honest sincerity that he’s never seen her exhibit before. His indignation fades; his aggressive posture deflates.
“Yeah. That’s exactly what she’ll do.”
At first, he only stares at her, as if uncertain that he has heard what he believes he has heard, but eventually Hordak swallows, glances away, glances back, presses his lips together.
“That is... highly illogical, given the circumstances. I am not... I do not...” His voice fades, and his ears all but wilt.
For the second time that day, Catra does something without thinking, settling herself into the seat next to him and placing a hand over one of his. It’s tense and cold to the touch; her thumb begins to stroke his knuckles without her realizing it. Hordak remains silent, lips slightly parted, transfixed. He does not even react when, on his other side, Melog presses their body gently against his leg.
“It’s a treaty, Hordak,” she begins, and her voice nearly strains for a moment when her brain catches up with her actions, but she steels her resolve and continues, “not a sentence. Not a punishment. I thought it was, at first. I figured it had to be, because of all we’ve done... all I’ve done. But it’s not.”
Catra remembers how she first felt, all those months ago, and she makes the connection between her old fears and his current ones, unconsciously pausing to squeeze his hand; her ears have pinned back, and her chest is suddenly tight again.
“It’s not supposed to... to hurt. For either of us. Y’know? I mean... I was out with the flu for a week a couple of months ago, and the worst thing that happened was having to choke down Perfuma’s gross herbal junk.” She huffs out a laugh, but there’s no amusement in it. “This...”
Now her voice does strain, and she has to stop for a moment before continuing. Beside her, Hordak is breathing quickly again and trying very hard to stop.
“This isn’t the Horde. Either Horde. How we feel matters. How... how you feel matters. So if you need a break, you get a break. ...okay?”
It takes him some time to answer, and in that time Catra realizes what her hand has been doing; she snatches it back just as he finds his voice.
“If... if you believe that your suggestion is... appropriate, then I shall agree to it.”
Catra lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The smile returns to her face, and she nods. Melog trills happily and rewards each of them with a gentle headbutt.
~
For what had seemed such a dramatic conversation, the aftermath is anything but. Catra and Melog return downstairs and tell Glimmer and Adora of what has transpired. Their reaction is as expected: the work is postponed, and Hordak is given leave to rest as long as is necessary, no questions asked.
He spends the remainder of that day and the next in bed, rising in the late afternoon to deliver a very formal, semi-awkward apology to Glimmer. She responds with a very formal, semi-awkward acceptance. Their working session resumes, though Hordak finds that he needs to excuse himself again after only a couple of hours. That evening, Glimmer has a basket of strawberry tarts delivered to his room. She also makes a point of ensuring that their sessions no longer extend into the late night hours.
Catra remains nearby, much to Hordak’s (admittedly only half-sincere) chagrin, and between her stubbornness and Melog’s perception, he is kept well-supplied with snacks, water, extra blankets and, though both refuse to admit it, friendly company. Adora spends her time trying to contact Darla; when she succeeds, Hordak happily accepts Entrapta’s enthusiastic check-in (and assures her that, yes, he is being provided an adequate amount of soup).
A few days later, he is able to rejoin the group in full capacity, and they finish their work with little harm done by their extended schedule.
Then it is time for him to return to Dryl (Entrapta arrives the next day), but before he boards his transport, he takes a moment to do something he’d once never imagined he’d do: thank Catra. Awkwardly, as seems is his communicative style this trip, but sincerely.
She grimaces slightly, refusing to meet his eyes, and scratches absently at the back of her head. Next to her, Melog utters a noise that sounds like a warbling coo, their mane glowing a faint pink.
“Yeah... well... better than you passing out and bringing the wrath of Entrapta down on us. Bright Moon’s still rebuilding, y’know.”
This elicits an actual laugh from Hordak, sudden and rather loud, and Catra fails to keep the surprise from her face as he regains control of himself and gives his final farewell with a small, genuine smile.
Despite Melog confirming for the world that she is blushing under her fur, Catra smiles back.
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Marinette did not sign up for this pt 3
Part 3 time. part 1 here part two here, ao3 link here
Cass had long since taken to eating at Yan Toh Heen when she was in Hong Kong, where head chef Cheng Wang served her favorite soup, Marinette Soup. Given that Cass often came at odd times and remained a regular whenever she was in town, she had come to know of Shifu Cheng’s inspiration, his niece’s daughter. A girl who reminded Cass of Bruce’s usual adoptees when she first saw her picture, and mentioned it was a good ting her father hadn’t begun adopting until the girl was already a toddler. Shifu Cheng had laughed at the time, and mentioned that Cass might be a good influence on her, if she could keep her father from trying to steal his great-niece away that is.
Now Cass was looking at the girl’s picture a bit more critically, and with Bruce and his parents in mind, she wouldn’t be surprised if this Marinette—a young designer who had managed to have two major figures in the industry recognize her by 16 with an apparent knack for helping her local heroes—was Bruce’s daughter. Her eyes reminded Cass of Thomas Wayne’s from the portraits, and her smile was a lot like Bruce’s when he wasn’t hiding anything.
With all this in mind, Cass was already on a plane to find the girl and test out her theory—to see if Marinette of the Dupain-Cheng Boulangerie was also Ladybug—Batman and Bruce Wayne’s daughter.
She did smile when she saw the group chat for “Middle Kids Only—No D’s Allowed” exploded with Jason, Tim and Steph arguing over who would find her first and what the prize would be. It looked like Cass would win at this rate. She was fine with that—and having a no-questions asked favor from each of the three in the future would be the icing on the cake to meeting their new sister first.
---
Marinette has to explain to Adrien a bit of her blow up while they were civilians and out of sight in her room. Tikki and Plagg were napping.
“So, you’re uh…” she couldn’t blame him for the lack of words. She tended to forget (re: ignore) the fact herself most of the time.
“Yeah,” Marinette shrugged. “Maman and Papa got me in a closed adoption case, the mother was young.”
“… I’m now picturing a young Batman and can’t wrap my brain around it.”
Marinette snorted at that. “It was before Batman existed.”
Adrien frowned at that, thinking it over as… “So did you ever…”
Marinette shook her head. “My mother warned against it, the note she left for me said it was dangerous to even attempt contacting him.” She ran a hand through her hair as she remembered Maman and Papa letting her read the note not long after her Guardian training began. It was another life entirely. “She said he was an unfit father, and that she never wanted kids so I was better off not looking for them when I grew up. I never planned to—Maman and Papa were all I ever needed or wanted.”
Adrien smiled at that, grabbing a cookie for himself. “So what happened?”
Marinette winced. “I, I don’t want to talk about it. Long story short, a wild Murder Robin appeared and told me not to contact his family or else, and I promised to steer clear of affiliates so he wouldn’t try anything.”
Adrien twitched at that. He knew Marinette and Alya made a few comments about it once upon a time but…
“Is he the one dropping off the weapons and flower threats?”
Marinette looked away, keeping her eyes low.
Adrien tightened his fists. “I see. If he or that family get near you, they’ll have to take on Chat Noir first.”
Marinette huffed at that. “They’re the normies that took down the world ending metas, I doubt there’s much we could do against them chatton.”
Adrien shook his head and jabbed a thumb at his chest. “Black Cat wielder, destruction incarnate, and the idiot you share a soul with.” He gave her his Chat Noir smile. “There’s nothing I can’t take on.”
Marinette snorted at that. “Chemistry.”
Adrien’s face fell at that. “You cannot tell me chemical reactions are that easy!”
Marinette smiled at him then. “I can and will say it—Chemistry is easier and superior to physics. Kitchen Chemistry is how we get food.”
“And physics keeps us from floating off into space.”
“Not studying it. Studying chemistry I get food, physcics is just a headache of formulas on formulas on formulas.”
“But the theories!”
With that, the pair fell into their familiar rhythm of banter for the rest for the night.
Tim was crossing French designers in Paris aged 14-20 that own or work at a boutique, online or physical, and turned up a large number of candidates for who Ladybug/the missing Wayne could be.
Babs rolled in on this particular search, and gave him a look. “You know the Justice League wants us to not to contact her, right?”
Tim made a vague sound of acknowledgement.
“And that Bruce probably didn’t have a kid at 15, right?”
“Just covering my bases.”
Babs looked over his search margins. “Did you check Damian’s search history?”
Tim scowled at her. “Of course I did, he’s been doing more through wipes, I couldn’t get more than a few scarps of useless code.”
Babs began to grin then. “So that means I do have a leg-up on you then.”
He didn’t even want to know how she knew about the competition. But she wasn’t officially in it either (all of the placed their bets down negotiated rules (re: no asking for help from Damian) and agreed the only participants were the four of them). What did Barbra Gordon want out of this?
Tim paused at that. “What.”
Babs grinned at him. Tim remembered why Oracle is the queen of hackers everywhere—nothing is safe from her reach.
“He was particularly taken with a few designers, and one of them happens to be in the range you’re looking for.”
Tim scowled at her. “What do you want?”
“You know that picture of me you took a few years back?”
Tim blinked as that was what she wanted. His ‘Don’t tell The Family’ insurance.
“Yes.”
“I want your copies of burned, and any you may have floating around returned to me.”
Tim weighed the pros and cons to this. The girl should be in his current data pool. And he does know to use Damian’s search again (tracking Bab’s hacks was child’s play now) but she probably deleted most—if not all of—her trail. Decisions, Decisions…
He could just wait to meet the baby bat. But then he would owe Jason a no-questions asked favor if he found her first… and he didn’t want to know what Jason would use it for. Owing Cass a favor meant family nights with the worst board games or tea parties when he was elbow deep in a mission. A no question favor for Steph was always interesting and usually resulted in Bruce giving them both looks.
Did he want to lose his leverage on Babs, or did he want to avoid the consequences of the bet more?
--
Chat and Carapace exchanged a quick look when the pair arrived. A nod from Carapace as he trailed after their paling Ladybug was all Chat needed to begin operation Distract the Justice Leaguer Members.
He and Rena Rouge were having the time of their lives. Both were genuine in their admiration of the pair and the work they had done. And they were both eager to learn from them—both as individuals and what their people knew of the Miraculous—something Chat and Rena knew there were large gaps in the history of still. And if they could help out Ladybug with gathering information and ensuring she was given space, well, the pair were down for it.
Chat was asking a confused and mildly frightened Aquaman for combat tips in aquatic situations for future Syren-eqsue akumas.
“So how do you keep an eye on attacks from all directions? Is it a ‘feel the water movements’ thing? Or is it just something you know how to do from growing up underwater? Could you teach me a few things on it—it’s a weak point that I need to work on.”
Aquaman was quick to agree to help, eager to avoid angering the Black Cat and given Ladybug’s (apparently continued) evasion of Justice League Members, this may be the best way to both prevent the possible apocalypse and ensure Atlantis’ future safety.
Wonder Woman was having an interesting conversation with Miss Sting about the uses for her spinning top and potential ways to work on her use of Venom while Rena asked about the Amazons and was there really an amazon who wielded the Ladybug miraculous? There were no confirmations from Ladybug and the Guardian was impossible to find to ask. Was there a Fox and did they have anything on the Miraculous’ history?
Wonder Woman was quick to supply answers while scanning the area for Ladybug, and noted that the Turtle was missing too.
“Is Ladybug well?”
Rena and Miss Sting exchanged a look.
Miss Sting stepped forward. “Ladybug just needs some space. She isn’t willing to risk breaking her promise since certain people do know where she lives.”
Rena tensed at that, a scowl quick to her face as she remembered why Ladybug was absent. “She can’t talk to either of you until Murder Robin,”--Wonder Woman winced at the reminder of the current Robin’s past--“makes it clear he won’t keep threatening her if she does.”
Chat caught enough of the conversation to join in. “Its also not good to stress her out, especially since its going to be open season soon.”
Miss Sting sighed at the reminder. “Application and testing season.”
Rena rubbed her forehead. “Don’t remind me. Last time Ladybug was so stressed over her workload that the cure was off for a week.”
Wonder Woman and Aquaman exchanged a look.
“Are you stating that stress on Ladybug alters how the Miraculous Cure works?” Aquaman asked cafefully, hoping it wasn’t the case.
“Yeah,” Chat rubbed the back of his neck. “I figured it always did.”
Wonder Woman shook her head, mind racing as, “No. Not during Mother’s time—it must be a side effect of something. May I speak to one of the Guardians?”
Chat didn’t even have time to respond. Both adults noted the way his pupils shrunk and body tensed at the question. He knew something the others didn’t.
“Uh, there’s only one, and the guy has been radio silent for months now,” Rena explained. “And not to be rude, but given the security breaches in the past, I don’t think it’s the best thing for our Guardian to be in contact, just in case.”
“I see…”
Aquaman was the quick to defuse the situation. “Perhaps one of your sisters could reach out to Ladybug? They are not affiliated with the League so that should lessen her stress.”
Chat nodded along at that. Good. It was better to keep the Destroyer content.
“I can see who Mother would like to send of the historians given the interest in past miraculous wielders,” Diana conceded. “Could you ask Ladybug if that is acceptable?”
The teens grabbed their respective weapons and messaged Ladybug. A moment later the trio stated that Ladybug would agree to those terms.
In the meantime, Chat, Rena and Miss Sting caught the adults up on the Hawkmoth situation and their limitations on investigation. Rena was particularly annoyed by the lack of progress as “Our best suspect was akumatized before Mayura showed up, so he can’t be Hawkmoth. But he lives in the target area, has the funds for a butterfly garden and the ability to keep it underground if LB’s theory about artificial sunlight to keep it secret is right.”
“But we know he can’t be, so we should drop it and look for other suspects,” Chat added a bit nervously.
Miss Sting nodded in agreement.
Rena sighed. “I know, its just, too much adds up on him being Hawkmoth, but then again, that would mean he’d put his own kid in danger just to get the Miraculous. I mean, he’s bad and all but…” Rena shook her head. “LB is right about him making sense but it’s too obvious. I mean, who hides in plain sight, right?”
Wonder Woman made a mental note to find out who this suspect was and maybe—MAYBE—let the bats do a deep search on this suspect if Rena would name them. He could very well be their villain, but she didn’t know enough on this investigation yet to make a call, nor did she have much knowledge on the Butterfly or Peacock miraculous. She only paid attention to the Ladybug and Black Cat legends—a soul spilt in two, destined to always find one another and willing to do whatever it took to protect the other from self-destructing once they grew close as allies.
--
In Gotham Jason Todd is on a Mission. That mission happens to be meeting the Baby Bat before Timmers or the Waffle Queen herself beat him to it. Cass hadn’t responded to any of their texts, so he figured she was knee-deep in Black Bat and forfeited for once. He hoped.
Either way, Red Hood would be tracking a certain Little Lady when he touched down in Paris once his plane took off, and take out whoever this “Hawkmoth” was. Magic terrorism is one thing. Targeting kids? Well, that puts you Hood’s list and high on his priorities real quick. Add threatening his family (estranged, feuding or 'well they're a Bat') to that? Gotham would live without him for a bit.
--
Ladybug is currently holed up with Carapace in one of their hide-y holes on patrol. She has borrowed (re: snagged and is not returning any time soon) Carapace’s headphones. The music helps her breath. No immediate danger, she didn’t (further) break the rules of engagement, and she didn’t see any sign of Murder Robin in Paris from news reports.
“So, uh, Murder Robin?”
Ladybug wanted to groan. She knew this conversation was coming. “Can you send the others the cliff notes?”
She did not want to do this with each one of them. there are a lot of miraculous users. Besides Chat and Carapace, there was Rena, Miss Sting, Pegasus, Ryuuko, King Monkey, Viperion, and Bunnix. She did not want to have this conversation seven more times.
“Sure thing Ladybug.”
Ladybug took a deep breath.
“Remember Incinerater and Goo-Boy?”
Carapace paused, face a bit slack as he nodded his head. “The first time Mr. Bug appeared, and the day Rena, Sting and me got our miraculous.”
Ladybug nodded. “Well, it lasted so long because my transformation timed out. I couldn’t figure out what my lucky charm meant—I didn’t know what the kwami box looked like, and a bigger version of the jewelry box I got Tikki in meant nothing to me.” Ladybug sighed, as once again, she realized how much easier it would have been if Fu contacted her and Chat Noir after the first attack, or even during one on their built-in communicators. Just. Something.
“So you timed out.”
Ladybug nodded. “And I got caught in the building that went down.”
Carapace froze. “Most people were still injured.”
Ladybug winced. “I was. Still. Chat somehow knew to look for my civilian identity and found out I was Ladybug. I thought…” Marinette shook her head, pushing old fears of losing Tikki away. She’s the Guardian now. Tikki and her are together as long as Marinette remains so. “Nevermind. The point is, even after he cast the cure and helped me get home, Goo-boy showed up and Mr. Bug was needed again.”
Carapace put the pieces together. “You were still hurt. And he left you alone.”
Ladybug ran a hand through her pigtails. “He had to. I told him to, I figured I could make it the rest of the way.”
Carapace frowned at that. “LB…” He put a hand on her shoulder. “What happened?”
Ladybug swallowed a lump. “Tiny Murder Robin.” She stiffened a bit, fiddling with her yoyo then. “He uh, grabbed me, pulled me into a car and held me a sword-point. Not gun point, sword point.” Marinette bleed through then. “Who does that? What kid goes around and says they’ll kill you with a sword at your neck?”
Carapace rubbed her back, keeping her grounded. “I managed to get him to leave since I was ‘unworthy of the Bat legacy’ and all, discarded and useless.” Marinette shook her head, reminding herself she’s moved past those feelings, the one that tried to well up in her moments. She was bigger than those thoughts. “He let me go since I wasn’t worth the effort if I didn’t know I was Batman’s daughter.” Marinette kept her eyes on her lap, a nervous hands running through one pigtail vigorously. “I kind of sicced him on the current Robin to save my skin.”
Carapace pulled her in for a hug. She clung back a bit. she didn’t have to look at him as he explained the deal. “I promised to not contact Batman or the JL and he agreed to leave me alone. And he did.”
Carapace pulled back. “That’s not all of it, is it?”
“He uh, started leaving flowers and some weapon for winter holidays, Easter and my birthday in my room….”
Carapace paled at that. “He’s threatening you.”
“y, yeah…”
“So that’s why….”
Ladybug nodded.
Carapace hugged her tight. “One sec, I’ll text the team. Then we’re doing that plan of action you made the rest of us do for when we can’t show up.”
Ladybug nodded.
She noticed a text from the others, asking if she’d be willing to talk to an Amazonian historian on the history of the Miraculous and learn from her. That… wouldn’t violate the terms of the agreement, in spirit or wording. She sent her agreement on the terms that none of the sent historians were Wonder Woman or the Queen herself. As cool as meeting Hippolyta would be, Marinette does not want to risk the violation in spirit (family members probably counted to Murder Robin.)
“Done.”
Ladybug blinked as Carapace turned to her.
“Now what can we do to help?”
Ladybug opened and closed her mouth, running over her options. “Just keep non-miraculous heroes from contacting me, especially in battle. I just...” Ladybug struggled for words. “He knows where I live. My family.”
Carapace nodded, keeping a steady hand on her shoulder. “Can’t risk it, I got you—we got you.”
After a moment of silence, Carapace spoke. “Keep the team on speeddial—if you don’t want everyone on, then at least me, Pegasus and Rena. Rena can distract without getting hurt, I can protect all of us and Pegasus can send him and anyone he works with packing. Monkey probably would want in on this too—he is the Distraction King after all.”
Ladybug laughed a little at that. It came out weak. “Sure. Chat, he’s…”
“Busy.” Carapace shrugged. “We all know his dad has him running through hoops to make it to patrol half the time.”
“Yeah…”
(Marinette agreeing to intern with M. Agreste and work on her accessories brand under the Gabriel umbrella did give Adrien more lee-way than he had before, but not by much at first. Ever since her line of scarves based on the miraculous heroes took off last winter, he was given more free reign if it involved Marinette as a designer, not Marinette as his friend and classmate. Adrien was allowed at her house at all hours now without no questions asked on the basis of ‘Marinette’s muses have spoken’. As far as Gabriel was concerned, Adrien was learning more about the designing process and crafting of individual garment and accessories from her, and offering critiques as a model on wear-ability and helping her develop her style as a designer while keeping her ‘on-brand’. The fact they mostly goofed off or worked on miraculous-related things together was another matter for another time.)
Ladybug and Carapace stayed like that for a while, until after the JL left. She may have trolled the Monkey tab on the Ladyblog and snorted at someone’s short of ‘era 1’ Chat running at an akuma while screaming “this is how I will get Ladybug will love me!” with an ‘era 2’ Chat cringing. “That. That is how I got Ladybug to baby brother me.”
--
Dick was wondering where the rest of the bats were during patrol. The night before, it was only him. Something about needing to look into something for the JL on Bruce’s end, and Damian was working on something again—trying to make up for a past wrong was the most Dick ever got out of him. It was the third year in a row this happened, and around the same time. Apparently needles are part of this apology.
Dick really hopes Damian manages to meet the person face to face this time. He has a feeling the person Damian’s apologizing to might be a civilian by Bat standards, and is probably missing Damian’s message completely. Maybe Dick would check up on him tomorrow—Gotham wait for no one and apparently Nightwing is the only responsible Bat at the moment. Thank god for Oracle’s Birds of Prey and the other vigilantes Gotham’s collected over the years. Dick doesn’t want to think about what would happen if this happened without them all.
--
PART FOUR HERE
Thanks for waiting on the update. Working with burned hand so it will take longer for the next installments. Mostly planned for the next chapter but character will do what they want and highjack my writing constantly. Things are moving forward (somewhat) on the Bats and JL end, while Miraculous Team stands with their leader, Ladybug, and aren’t ready to let Anyone threaten her.
this makes for a set-up for much to go Wrong. Feel free to add to the upcoming chaos or put in things youd like to see happen in the comments or by messaging me.
@heldtogetherbysafetypins @laurcad123 @raisuke06
#bio!dad bruce#bio!dad bruce waye#maribat#my writing#marinette did not sign up for this#long post#how do i tag
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Avatar fic rec post
Hi people, this is an Avatar fic rec post for @kuruccha who wanted a primer. Happy Avatar renaissance to you :D
Everything under cut, because boy, there are a lot of fics. Forgive me for being repetitive in my recs, but they are all so good and amazing and *melts in a sea of feelings*
First, some authors who are so, so very good and my favourites by them (fics aren’t in any particular order, authors are in alphabetic order):
Avocadolove (Tumblr: @awesomeavocadolove )
The Problem with Zuko: I love the idea that Zuko finds his way to team Avatar even without the Agni Kai and the rest. One of my favourites fics for at least 10 years.
Another Brother: Zuko was adopted by Hakoda, but he doesn’t remember his past. I really like how Iroh is portrayed in this story, very interesting!
Unchained Melody: Sokka doesn’t return with his body after being spirit-napped from Her Bai. Strangely, only Zuko can see him. I really love how everything is developed here :)
Consider Chaos: series where Zuko finds Vaatu and becomes the Chaos!Avatar. Really interesting premise, cooler effects!
Half a Heart: Zukka!soumates AU. Very interesting choices about world building and Hakoda’s character.
Haircrescendo
Carry On For You: from the series intro “Not the Pokémon AU you asked for but the one you’re getting anyway.”. I like it a lot, amazing adaptions and backstory building for Zuko. It focuses on Zuko and Sokka.
Compassion For All Our Monsters: intro “How Sokka learned to shut up and be nice, and also learn a little bit more about Zuko than he wanted to.” mandatory Sokka-finds-out-about-Zuko’s-past.
Fire Nation Yacht Club: one of the angstiest series I’ve read, I love it and I re-read it like once a month. Intro of the fist fic “Sokka knows three (3) things: 1. The caldera is on fire. 2. Ozai’s really, really dead (and so is his daughter). 3. The only one having a worse day is probably Zuko.”
What We’re Given: such an amazing series! Intro “Started out as a “What would happen if Zuko happened to rediscover sky bison while searching for the Avatar?” and turned into something more than that.” Zuko blasting Aang for not washing Appa properly will always be amazing xD
MuffinLance (Tumblr: @muffinlance, suggest following for plot-bunnies)
Towards the Sun: Zuko doesn’t manage to escape on the Day of the Black Sun, a very angst novella-length intro ensues. I love this a lot because of the angst and how it sparkled inspiration for other stories with a similar premise.
Salvage: here it his, the original dad!koda fic. Intro “Mid-Season-One Zuko is held ransom by Chief Hakoda. Ozai's replies to the Water Tribe's demands are A+ Parenting. Hakoda is… deeply concerned, for this son that isn't his, and who might be safer among enemies than with his own father.” Lots of feelings and amazing A+ writing.
The One Where Zuko's Hair Matches Sokka's and Other Tales: fillets from tumblr, extra material, general awesomeness all around.
Miscellaneous
The Home I've Searched For by Kayasurin: I didn’t know Azula/Kuei could be that good! Really awesome story, amazing Azula.
The Festival of Four by SuperKat: Aang knows his time is coming near and he says goodbye. Very touching and moving (yes I did cry), amazing Aang voice.
Sunday in the Park with Appa by Dracze: Parks and Recreation!AU, Aang as Leslie Knope and Zuko as Ben Wyatt. I loved how the AU was adapted on the characters and on the format -blogging instead of “watching in camera”.
Like Fire and Water by Setari: Sokka and Katara find their father in Ba Sing Se with his new wife, Ursa. Very funny, especially when Sokka/Katara and Zuko/Azula realise that they are siblings.
the beginning of a new and brighter birth by aloneintherain: from the intro “In a new era of peace, Zuko works to be a very different Fire Lord than his forefathers.”. I love how Zuko tries to make changes in the Fire Nation at the start of his reign.
The Family You Choose by TunaFishChris: the platonic Gang soulmate AU I needed without knowing. I liked it a lot, especially at the end. One of my favourites!
illustrate the remnants of the life i used to live by WitchofEndor: also a platonic Gang soulmate AU but much angstier. This Zuko is simply heartbreaking.
where the stars do not take sides by WitchofEndor: intro “When Azula is nine, she becomes an only child. She hears the Fire Lord call for Zuko's life, and in the morning, her mother and brother are gone. Azula may be young, but she isn't naive. She knows what happened to them. Which makes it all the more surprising when Azula tracks the Avatar down and fights his group of peasant friends, only to find herself staring into an eerily familiar face.” as beautiful as it sounds, really amazing Azula voice.
Doe-eyed by OldeShoestrings: Azula as the big sister of Zuko. I love how Azula is fundamentally the same but how her being the old sister changes everything. I like this a lot.
How to Care for Your Local Fire Lord; A Memoir by The Palace Staff by RejectsCanon: the fire palace’s stuff joins the Zuko protection squad. I salute them.
The Sins Of Our Family by Mangaluva: amazing series inspired by Towards the Sun. Intro “Zuko didn't escape the Fire Nation on the day of the eclipse. Azula decides to invite him to her coronation, setting off a chain of events involving abuse, trauma, siblings, recovery, and rebuilding.”. Really love this portrayal of the fire siblings.
There Is No Fire Lord by OccasionalStorytelling: other fic inspired by Towards the Sun, basically Zuko remains in prison even if he is basically the Fire Lord. The plot soon becomes its own creature and I love how it develops.
Two Perspectives by Sabretoothgooselion: series about Zuko and Kuei, really lovely. As of now there are 2 fics, but apparently more are in the works. Cannot wait!
this love burns so yellow (becoming orange and in its time, exploding) by meliebee: the first year and something of Zuko reign. Amazing Zuko voice, very angst, much approved.
and love will be your teacher by Ford_Ye_Fiji: series on hiatus, AU where Azulon doesn’t die and takes Zuko away from Ozai giving him to Iroh instead. Very very nice, I love the relationship between Zuko and Iroh.
Of Dead Fire and Dragon Dreams by ChickadeeChickadoo: during the Day of the Black Sun Ozai lies to Zuko saying that Iroh is dead. Zuko redirects lightening to him and he finds himself Fire Lord. Very cool story, love Azula in here.
In the Soft Light by CSHfic, VSfic: Zukka, moon-spirit-Sokka!AU. I love this story so much! Zuko is so very an awkward turtleduck here.
How to Disappear Completely by aeoleus & the long way around by ciaconnaa: two modern Au where Zuko is Kiyi’s guardian, very very nice.
kintsugi by discordiansamba: when Zuko is banished he becomes Toph’s bodyguard. Yes it is as amazing as it sounds.
it's the illusion of separation by argentoswan: very nice Zukka!modern Au. Sokka starts working at the Jasmine Dragon, but alas, his old high school bully Zuko works there too. I love how Zuko’s past with the gaang was adapted and how the relationship between him and Sokka develops.
Finding Solace in Parking Lots by RejectsCanon: Zukka!Modern au, Sokka and Zuko find themselves in the same McDonalds’ parking lot having a breakdown. Really really lovely.
Fractures by EvieNyx: instead of being banished, Ozai imprisons Zuko far from everyone’s eyes. When Ozai and Azula are defeated he evolves from prisoner to Fire Lord in one big step. Love the characters and the cliffhangers!
Fight by Electrons: Zuko doesn’t side with Azula at Crossroads of destiny, but that doesn’t make everything much easier. Amazing word-building and lovely dive in cultural diversity. Also, ace!Zuko which is very lovely.
Dragon of the Yuyan by 00AwkwardPenguin00: intro “In which Zuko is fostered/adopted/raised/recruited by the Yuyan Archers of Pouhai Stronghold, and destiny hiccups.” very very cool story, I really like how Zuko is portrayed here.
Always trust Sokka's instincts by Thisisentertaining: whereas Jet shows Sokka an interesting Fire Nation prisoner... a Zuko-joins-the-Gaang-early-Au. Very very good :D
all my skeletons out for the taking by 136108: Azula wins the Agni Kai. It’s still on progress but for now it’s very very good and I can’t wait to read what’s happening next.
Mark Time by foil: yes, another Zukka modern au. This is very very angst, be careful with the tags’ warnings. This story keeps surprising me and I hope Zuko and Sokka will find their happy ending.
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INTIMACY, SEX AND BUDDIE (BETTER KNOWN AS I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT THIS SHOW, SOME OF WHICH ARE RELATED TO THE BEFORE MENTIONED TOPICS) - Part 3
Well, hello there (again)!
I got to say, this was both my favourite and least favourite part to write because by now all my theories are (hopefully) explained enough that I can just ramble about the characters and connections and ya’ll will forgive me if I stray away from what’s actually happening in this episode. Which I will do. A lot actually.
On the other hand side I have so many thoughts about what’s happening and this is gonna be long af as I started writing on part three at the same time as I wrote part 1 and 2 and I barely found things to cut, which means we are clocking in at a casual 7700 words. So maybe get that drink now, cause it’ll be a ride!
Also the links to part one and part two
And look, by now you probably know the drill but I’m just gonna give you my preface again:
This meta was supposed to be a lot shorter and only talk about how both Buck and Eddie use sex to distract their respective partners from whatever topic they actually wanted to talk about but since I decided to rewatch the show to make sure I don’t miss any such scenes, it has exploded a bit and taken on more topics
I should also mention that I am a Buddie shipper and while I tried, you will find several references and arguments for the ship in this Meta, not all of which necessarily call for a romantic pairing but just: These two are deeply connected and you cannot look at one without discussing the other and they are each other’s strongest emotional connection.
I should also preface this by saying that the whole of the 118 has some obvious intimacy / commitment issues except Bobby (which is sort of surprising) but *John Mulaney voice* we don’t have time to unpack all of that!
On another note I cuss a little in this Meta because my parents let me listen to TicTacToe as a small child and after that it never stuck that cussing is wrong so, uhm, parental supervision is advised or something
This Meta will so far have FOUR parts now. The original plan was to do three, one for each Season and is organised by episode so you could technically follow along, but due to personal reasons, also known as *feelings*, Season 3 has already exploded disproportionately and for readability reasons I have split it in two (this is part three, the cut will happen after Christmas, it works storyline-wise)
And now, for our next instalment of I read too much into things: Season 3A (also called: „Eddie Diaz, stop being such a boy scout (Wait, no, not like that!)“)
Episode 3.01:
911 as a show has a fairly interesting way of storytelling where it sometimes feels a little like they cut together snapshots of lives in regards to certain topics. And because of that you only ever see a small part of the lives of the characters. That being said: I hate hate hate how 5 months passed between the Season 2 final and the first episode of Season 3 and aside from a few offhand remarks we get virtually nothing. Also it’s very unrealistic that Bobby and Athena didn’t have any parties for 5 months, like nope, I don’t believe you show!
That being said, I appreciate how much time it took Buck to heal because it’s realistic! And also most importantly gets Oliver Stark a chance to truly shine!
I wanna take this chance real quick, to thank the producers and writer both for writing Evan Buckley the way they write him and for casting Oliver Stark to play him because omg, it works so well! Look, Oliver Stark is attractive. He is buff and handsome, but he is not perfect. He is Tinder-buff, not MCU-I haven’t seen a drop of water in a month-buff, he’s the kind of fit that will fill the whole screen one minute and make you say „Wait, I thought he was wider than this!“ the next (you know how everyone always talks about the hips to shoulder ration of Chris Evans? Yeah, the opposite of that) . And he has a really pretty face but his nose is a little too cocked and he has scars and there’s the „adorable facemark“ and he seems so damn dorky which is exactly why Evan „Buck“ Buckley works, why he is hot. And he gets to be emotional and sensitive and caring on top of that and yeah, I don’t know if I wanna be him or date him anymore either. Like he singlehandedly made me rethink my view on dating, just because I am hoping for someone like him.
Anyways, that’s probably something none of you wanted to read about in a META so we’ll get to the juicy stuff now, alright?
One thing that I realised as I watched season 3 for the third time just now is how often it repeats itself. It feels a bit stagnant at times, the way the characters make two steps forward and one step back all the time, most notably in Bobby.
I wanna talk about Bobby for once because you can not look at Buck in Season 3 without looking at Bobby as well. These two characters are connected the same way Buck is connected to Eddie. Most things Buck does character wise in Season 3 are caused by Bobby’s actions, in the same way most of Eddie’s are caused by Buck.
And the thing that 3.01 tells us from the get go? Bobby thinks of Buck as somewhat of a son (which we knew already) and Bobby sees himself in Buck, which is why he does what he probably hoped someone would have done for him the 10 or something years ago when he hurt is back and holds him back. There is also the fact that he tries to teach Buck to have a life outside the firehouse, though that is something he probably should at some point in the near future actually voice to Buck, because Buck on his own can not draw these conclusions from Bobby’s actions. Buck on his own thinks it’s about him not being good enough and so he works himself to the bone to try and proof otherwise. (Someone please just finally tell him what a good boy he is? Yeah?)
As for the scene during the party, you could actually see how much Buck had to force himself to be that open and that vulnerable with Bobby (and not just because he is *literally* having an embolism) and that hurts because to this day Buck has not realised that Bobby will always be there to catch him. Buck still thinks he needs to proof himself to Bobby because of his firing in Season 1. And would you believe I actually cried a little typing these words?
And now I’m gonna talk about my agenda, also known as Buddie real quick, and point you toward the fact that while we have seen Eddie be vulnerable with Buck and Buck be vulnerable with everyone else we have not seen Buck be audibly vulnerable with Eddie and I do not think this is a coincident at all.
Look, Eddie is a guarded guy, right? He has a hard time being vulnerable, a hard time asking for help, a hard time giving up control. But he does all these things with Buck and he does them willingly and with barely an outside push, which is different to say with Bobby. Eddie let’s himself fall with Buck and by doing so raises Buck’s self worth and gives him the feeling of being in control Buck craves so much (while Eddie sort of despises it because he feels like he always has to be the one in control), but it also means that Buck is afraid to let himself fall with Eddie because it might mean Eddie won’t trust him again. Buck generally is a very emotional guy and he doesn’t seem afraid to voice his weaknesses, in fact he is probably too aware of them and too willing to let others poke at them, except with Eddie. With Eddie Buck always tries for strong, because he knows Eddie needs him to be and because he thinks, if he’s not, Eddie will see what everyone else saw and leave him. On Eddie’s side I do think by now he is more than willing to catch Buck and still let himself be caught in return. At least at this point.
(also, if we do ever get Buddie I could see a reverse of the Shannon-Eddie situation happening where Eddie is the one being open and Buck has a hard time being emotionally vulnerable, afraid it’ll scare Eddie off and he’ll leave like everyone else.)
But then, one could also point out that Eddie probably knows all the things going on with Buck anyways because I truly think they know each other inside out and are two feathers of the same bird and same recognises same and all that - it’s just that Buck is someone who needs to actually voice his feelings to deal with them, so unless he voices his vulnerabilities to Eddie, for him, the other guy doesn’t know them. (Except Eddie does know.) (and man, I wish the rest of the 911 would finally figure out that with Buck you always - always - have to say things! You can’t just imply. You can’t think your actions speak loud enough. You need to actually use your words and do so in a way that leaves no doubt because that boy thinks so little of himself and he will make himself doubt every nice thing that ever happens to him.)
Now, moving back to what’s actually happening in the episode and why all of this is important:
We have the very important talk in the Station were text points out some of the things I just said and Eddie realises that he needs to do better, so he pulls a Buck and steamrolls him. (also do we truly believe that Carla was out of the country? Do we? Do we not think Eddie spent the whole ride over coaching his son on lying to his best friend because Eddie is just like that?)
Also I love how before this Maddie is talking to Josh and she says something along the lines of wether she should push Buck or coddle him and it cuts to Eddie trying the first.
On Eddie’s side of this meta we somewhat learn where Eddie’s issues stem from and it’s of course Daddy issues because this show loves them very much. (Seriously, out of 5 firefighters 3 have confirmed absent fathers causing issues and one has it heavily implied. Tim Minear, do you wanna talk?)
Also, Ramon Diaz probably threw in a „real men don’t cry“ with his macho speech about just brushing shit off and thereby emotionally crippling his child further, because he seems cliche like that.
Sidenote: The Buck and Christopher relationship is so beautiful and important and „Some cool outfits, too.“ is one of my favourite lines, though I do have to say - as someone who works professionally with kids - that this is what really shows how much Eddie truly thinks of Buck and how much he trusts him because it’s safe to assume that Buck has never been alone with Christopher or any child for longer and has never had to take care of one by himself and yet Eddie just trusts him to take care of his son for what is probably a 24h shift. Truly magnificent. An unparalleled relationship. So meaningful.
Episode 3.02:
No actual relevance but I do wanna point out that the thing about the mom being the love of boat guys life but her son being her’s? Yeah, that’s Eddie (and Buck).
Also, Buck’s just a natural at being a dad (not because of the fun stuff but the stuff when he knew exactly how to distract Christopher when those bodies floated by) and at some point I need Eddie to point this out to him and I need him to voice his jealousy about it, because Eddie? Not a natural dad.
(I actually think that is something that is true about a lot of things for these two. I mean yes, Buck is a hard worker but I think only in areas he is already naturally gifted (remember that whole thing with the Seals? “You just have to be badass, which I am?”) and he generally doesn’t try if things don’t come naturally because Buck hates failure because Buck already feels like a failure. Meanwhile Eddie seems like the kind of guy who has this huge capacity for learning, so even if something doesn’t come naturally to him (like fatherhood) he has the determination and willingness to try and try again until he finally gets it right and is perfect because Eddie, too, hates failure.) (And now I wanna see more about their childhoods because I could actually see Buck be somewhat of a gifted child in his youth who never learned how to actually apply himself and because of that has always been told he had so much wasted potential while Eddie was either an overarchiver or a slacker, I’m sorry I don’t make the rules. Or maybe I am projecting.)
Episode 3.03:
I read somewhere on tumblr that Ryan Guzman and his wife thought Eddie and Lena would be a thing and where actually on board and I was like? No?
I mean I do love the way she takes one look at him and decides he needs his ego checked (and also Eddie is like: ui, me like-y! (maybe because he misses another person that used to be an asshole to him right off the bat?)).
Also love all the references to Eddie being in the army („The 118 is huffing it“-scene comes to mind). Again, kudos to Ryan Guzman for always acting with all his body, because you can always feel the army training in his posture like the way he usually stands just a little bit straighter than everyone else (well, at least that’s what it looks like to me, someone who has not been in the Army and knows only like two people that got drafted and no one who went willingly, because my country generally doesn’t do that these days ).
As for what is happening in the episode, I think it’s a reference to Shannon that Eddie dealt with that couple that, despite loving each other a lot and getting along fairly well, decided to get divorced. Which is what 911 should have done with Shannon. (Me being salty about Shannon? It’s more likely than you think.)
I also think it’s a nice parallel the way both Lena and Buck are so desperate to search for their missing loved one with no regard for their own safety and I’m assuming Eddie saw Buck in Lena’s actions as well, which is why he trusts her so fast. (Because Eddie just like Buck is looking for connection and intimacy but Eddie is even worse at creating it than Buck, so he just tries to recreate the one working bond he truly has.) (Something actually proven in text by Eddie: becoming a firefighter because he misses the army.)
And I know everyone and their mother has already pointed out how Eddie was not worried about Chris at all because his son was with Buck and he knows Buck would never let anything bad happen to his son ever.
Which is why *that* scene is even more heartbreaking, because Eddie has so much trust in his Buck and kudos to Ryan Guzman because man, the way you see Eddie steel himself for what Buck is saying? The way you can feel him pulling himself together because Buck needs him to hear this. (Look, the scene is about a father learning from the person he trusts most in the world that his son might be dead and they could have easily forshadowed Eddie’s fighting ark by having him react negatively and violently here but instead he stays calm because it’s Buck and Buck for once needs him to be the one in control - also, on a less ship-y note because Eddie’s world is falling apart right there and he needs to keep in control because if he doesn’t, he will probably never be again.)
Which brings us to that scene in the loft, and listen, I know I said at the end of part 2 Eddie barely had any character development in the two seasons since we met him, but uhm, this scene? Proves he had some development, because right then right there he is so fucking vulnerable with Buck. It is of course part of him being a protector because just like with Shannon in 2.04 he realises that this is was Buck needs him to be right now, so vulnerable it is.
I do think however that it’s beautiful how Eddie apparently took the time during a fucking natural disaster to figure out that Evan Buckley needs him to use his actual words, so use his actual words he does.
And I do wanna point out that this is something he never had with Shannon, Eddie was never able to figure out what is wife of what? 7-8 years needed of him but he does know what his best friends needs. And wether that is just Buddie or just plain old character development, remains to be seen.
(Though we should mention that it wasn’t a permanent thing, Eddie does fail Buck a few times in Season 3 (but he also doesn’t a few other times) but we’ll get to that when we get to that!)
Also, honourable mention to Maddie Buckley-Kendall for getting that phone call and probably nearly dying of a heart attack and then having to race to the VA thinking the worst and probably imagining her very selfless brother either being already gone by the time she gets there or close to dead - only to probably arrive there and see Christopher in a bed with Eddie sitting next to him and Buck sitting vigil a few feet away because he doesn’t think he deserves to be with the Diaz’s anymore but he also can’t bear to part from them!
And another mention to the poor stranger who probably never got their phone back.
Also a teeny bit mad they forgot to give Oliver scars on his legs.
Episode 3.04
First of all I gotta say Eddie is such a boy scout goody two shoes with his whole „Well, it’s mandated!“ (also he’s been probably hanging out with Buck a buncha times in whatever many weeks passed since the Tsunami and therefore knew how hard his best friend worked on this and he’s gonna be supportive, kay?)
That being said, remember when I talked about two steps forward, one step back? Yeah, that.
As for the lawsuit, look, we could argue all day on wether it was justified or not, but I personally do think Buck had a basis. But he was also acting rash and hadn’t thought all the implications through and should have used his words instead, but quick reminder: Buck has severe abandonment issues and he has problems with emotional intimacy - so the whole talking about it? Not that easy.
Also, imagine working for months to come back to work, the one thing you think you’re good at and thinking you have everyone’s support only to find out the person you love like a father has betrayed you, probably with the knowledge of everyone else. Yeah, you’d lash out too!
Even though, I have to point out it’s not his normal MO (which is why we see him regret it almost immediately in the next episode).
As for Eddie in this episode, he has not one, not two, not three, but four whole conversations about feelings! You go buddy-boy. Embrace that character development! Don’t take a step back! … or, nevermind, we all know what happens next.
That being said I think it’s interesting that while Chimney clearly confides in him, Eddie does not confide in him in return but rather talks to female!Buck. I mean, talking about his struggles with his son and his family worked with him and Buck so why not with him and Lena (cause Lena isn’t Buck).
I do think Eddie and Chimney are close, but Eddie just doesn’t feel the same connection to him as he feels to Buck.
As for Eddie being so beautifully open and vulnerable with his son and saying like the exact opposite of what he had been taught: Eddie loves his son. He loves his son more than anything in the world. And if Eddie can’t let himself be vulnerable with him, who can he be vulnerable with? Especially when it helps Christopher.
(Also, Eddie by now recognises what is wrong with him, he just doesn’t think he can change it but he can prevent it from happening to his child.)
Episode 3.05:
This episode has a lot of shit happening and I have a lot of thoughts, most of which are relevant to the episode. But we’re gonna start slow, ease you in:
Boy do I love overprotective Dad!Eddie! How long do you think did it took Carla and Christopher to convince Eddie to let Chris sleep over at his friends? A month?
In other news Buck is just the picture of regret during the deposition and yeah, he should be. The whole thing is harsh. Never sue your friends, no matter how justified, if you want them to stay your friends! But it’s so obvious Buck didn’t know it was gonna go down this way because he did not think this through at all.
First off: Remember how in part 2 I said Buck and Eddie’s storylines were connected and how earlier I said Buck was the catalyst for Eddie like Bobby was for Buck?
Yeah, that’s the episode for all of this.
It’s not as obvious as in Season 2 because usually it happens over two episodes but it’s no coincident that after last episode Bobby triggered that shift in Buck, Eddie is now suddenly careering out of control as well - it’s because Buck is his catalyst, his *trigger*.
Please watch 3.04 and 3.05 back to back and tell me Eddie doesn’t make a 180 between those episodes. He goes from worried about his son to punching people in parking lots. What changed? Well, he could no longer talk to Buck. And Buck is his anker and his catalyst, the one person he doesn’t have to be in control with (which he really could use considering what he is going through with Christopher). And when you take that away he spirals. (Also there is the deposition where his best friend betrays him by talking about his dead for less than a year - wife, a topic Eddie has been avoiding in regards to his feelings since … well, the day it happened, probably.)
And I’m not saying the whole street fighting thing wouldn’t have happened if Eddie wasn’t such a boy scout and said, screw the chain of command and just called Buck to bail him out, but that’s what I’m implieing.
Also the scene between Eddie and Lena, I mean, I’ve already talked about it somewhere else but I do wanna point you to the way it is phrased: Eddie „wasn’t allowed“ to call Buck. Meaning he wanted to. But you know: Boy Scout.
Now, let’s talk about the grocery store fight because I have so many thoughts!
And what I love about these two episodes, as well as the next one, is that they show both the connection Buddie has as well as the contrasts between them:
One of the biggest differences in Buddie is how they deal with fear and obstacles and it is visible throughout all their lives and specifically these three episodes.
Evan Buckley is a force of nature, he is a fighter, he sets a goal and he reaches this goal with a single minded focus, steamrolling through everything in his way until he reaches said goal. Just look at the lawsuit and remember how his original plan was to get everyone to sign a letter of support for him.
When something frightens him, Buck doesn’t run away he runs right into it, tries to destroy it or be destroyed. He fights. And if that doesn’t work, he finds a way around the problem, but always going head to head with the thing because Evan Buckley is very determined and very self destructive.
Just look at the way he held onto Abby for nearly a year after she had left: Instead of dealing with his feelings of abandonment and the fact that the woman he loved left him, that boy dug his heel in and fought tooth and nail to keep what little he had left of her, of them. Refused to acknowledge being left for months. And when he finally leaves he literally compares himself to a ghost, because you know, he is just an empty shell at this point.
It’s also why he falls so hard for Ali because he is just desperately looking for something to cling to and so he transfers all those un-dealt feelings onto her and then he get’s hurt and his problems become bigger and different and Ali can’t deal - not surprising considering they had barely a foundation. They just went from 0 to 100 in 2 seconds and that just never works out, unless you’re in a very expensive sports car.
I also truly think at times Buck hides behind the loud mouthed, dumb adrenaline junkie persona he got going on as it keeps people from looking deeper, because Buck is very scared they won‘t find anything deeper - or worse, decide they don’t like what they see (and hey, he even got that confirmed by Ali leaving! and Abby! AND MOST IMPORTANTLY MADDIE!).
(Which, to push an agenda real quick, is why I ship Buddie so hard? Because they do have a foundation, they have been emotionally intimate with each other, they’ve seen the worst of each other and still went: I’m gonna have your back. And they have pulled a lot of shit on each other in the two years since meeting! Like, I’m sorry 911, I love you, but please never try and tell me they will have a deeper connection with anyone but each other because it’ll be a damn lie and you know it! If you don’t wanna do Buddie, let those boys get emotionally healthy and THEN give them an endgame but don’t try and replace Buddie with Loveinterests. I’m serious. I might stop watching!)
Eddie meanwhile is much more open with his feelings in the sense that he is less open in general so it’s far more noticeable when something is bothering him *because* he is subtle about it. Because Buck is so loud and so open and all about what you see is what you get, you don‘t assume he is hiding anything because you already see everything, right? (Always hide the real shit in plain sight, you guys, that‘s where no one remembers to look!) But Eddie, Eddie keeps his cards close. Sure he is funny and nice but he is also fucking reserved! And when something bothers him he draws into himself even more and that’s something that shows, that people will take notice of.
Eddies reaction to bad things (also known as *feelings*, because that boy is fucking repressed) happening is running away. And I am not saying he is a coward, I am saying he probably thinks he is and I am saying he runs away from his problems - that’s what 3.15 was about for Eddie: embracing his family (his vulnerabilities) and from what I‘ve seen in the last few days floating around in spoiler *now* Eddie has to learn to face his problems and not run away.
Which will be hard because Eddie deflects a lot.
It‘s funny (in a way that is not funny) that Buck, the fighter, is like the least aggressive guy around while Eddie, Mr quiet and reserved, who is all about running away from his problems, is so physically aggressive - except it is not and makes a lot of sense.
Season 3 truly shows how they deal with problems and I love it, I love them and this show so much!
Because Buck deals with the bombing by working tirelessly to come back to work, he deals with losing Christopher by nearly killing himself trying to find him and he deals with his fear of being replaced by filing the lawsuit to get his job back - which is also why I have to agree with Eddie: Buck truly has a one track mind. He sees the problem and nothing else. That makes him an amazing firefighter but an exhausting guy to be around because he does not give up.
I think in canon we only ever see Buck give up twice, maybe three times once with Abby and once with Christopher, both times he nearly killed himself first. (And one could argue that neither of these times he actually gave up, he was just out of options and time.) Tbh the only actual time he gave up was with Ali and that was probably his one track mind just not having any capacity to deal with a girlfriend on top of everything.
Eddie meanwhile deals with his wife dying and his best friend nearly dying twice and his son being traumatised and his best friend not being allowed back to work and his best friend filing that lawsuit by ... not dealing with it. He just moves on. Runs away from his feelings and his pain by fighting. He can’t deal with - can’t fight - his actual feelings so he fights something else. He lashes out. Becomes feral. That’s literally the gist of this episodes voiceover!
So tbh as much as I like that they resolved that lawsuit within one episode I am a bit bummed that we hardly saw anything of the 118 and especially Eddie without Buck there (specifically during his fighting time) mainly because I think we would have seen Hen and Chimney with Cap and Eddie maybe with Lena but generally keeping his distance, hiding away from them. (I don’t think Eddie just brushing past Buck in 3.06 was just about Buck.)
I truly meant what I said about 2.01 and Eddie taking one look at Buck being an asshole and deciding this one is gonna be his friend. Because while Hen and Chimney have been nice and friendly with him from the get go, they never give him shit the same way they give each other or Cap or Buck, and Eddie needs that. He needs someone who isn’t afraid to call him out and push back, both to get Eddie out of his own head and to make him feel comfortable enough to do the same. Which is why he bonded so fast with Buck and Lena (also, would he have bonded with her like that if Buck had been there? Probably not. Eddie is like the definition of „I only have the emotional capacity to care about three people at a time and two of them are my son“), because both held him accountable for his shit, which no one else on the show does, specifically not Hen and Chimney who treat Eddie as the guy who is good at most things so they just overlook the shitty stuff. And Cap does the same, because Eddie has a lot on his plate and Cap understands his issues better than anyone else’s.
Ya‘ll just need to watch the supermarket scene! It‘s all there!
Buck is in the store trying to create a moment so he can talk to all of them (meaning he is pushing, leaning into the problem until it gives), tries to make the problem go away by apologising (remember what I said about trying another way? Working hard didn’t work. Accepting his predicament didn‘t work. The lawsuit didn’t work. So now he tries talking it out - which he should have done to begin with, but hey, I’m not his therapist (sadly)) (It’s too bad it only worked to a certain level as we saw in the next episode but oh well, that’s actually realistic.)
Meanwhile Eddie has none of it because Eddie is currently running away from his problems so he can’t have his problem stand in front of him buying cat laxatives. So Eddie goes feral, and makes it all about Buck and his mistakes and then throws Christopher under the bus because that man is fighting for his life and he has nothing left to loose!!! I truly love this scene so much, you guys. It’s so revealing about these characters.
(I also shouldn’t have to point out that most of the stuff Eddie said to Buck was about Shannon, right? He was saying the things he was feeling about Shannon and he was throwing them at Buck because Buck was the one who brought it up, but also … look, it’s just ship-y from here all right?)
As for what I said about Hen, Bobby and Chimney in regards to Eddie? I know Chimney made some remarks but come on! Had it been any of them or Buck who yelled at someone like that they would have all interrupted and tried to diffuse the situation. But because it’s Eddie they sort of let it happen. (Also tbh because it’s Eddie and Buck and everyone is a little mad at Buck but they are something different to each other.)
Also, not to push my agenda, can we just talk about how comfortable Eddie has to be with the 118 but especially Buck, how much he has to care, to scream at him like that? Because he is reserved and he always tries to let go of his feelings and he hides so much. And I know part of it is that Eddie is coiled too tight already and about to burst but it’s also about Buck and the fact that Eddie expected better from him because Eddie has such a high opinion of him. Like sure he gives him shit sometimes but I think it’s because Eddie always expects the most of Buck (and Buck rarely lets him down). (And now I did go all ship-y)
Just compare this with his relationship with Shannon: with Shannon Eddie always is the one to make decisions, in part because he believes that’s what a man should do but also in part because he doesn’t trust her - and that was even before she left. Eddie trusts no one but himself for the most part but he does trust Buck, because to Eddie Buck can hardly do wrong. Which is why the whole law suit probably hit him so hard cause he expects everyone to let him down all the time but Evan Buckley? The guy he trust with his son more than anyone else? That guy? He expected better off! And that my friends is beautiful.
As for the voiceover it does poise one very central question for Eddie’s character: If he gives up control, will he be able to regain it? Because that is Eddie’s biggest fear and why he always holds everything so tight: he thinks if he lets the floodgates open once, he’ll never be able to close them.
In other news: Ryan took his shirt off.
Episode 3.06:
Before I write another 2400 words about our boys, I wanna remind you of that scene of Bobby, Chimney and Eddie wearing sun glasses, with Hen wearing her normal glasses, standing round, looking like an album cover! *plays „Clique“ by Kanye West, Jay-Z, Big Sean*
Do you think Athena and Hen talked about Bobby and how he would / does handle Buck? They did, didn’t they?
Also love how Hen and Chimney are super welcoming because one, they know what it’s like to be the odd one out and two, they love Buck and actually see his point of view. I believe. Now if only someone would remember to tell him.
Like, come on, they probably sit in the ambulance gossiping all the time!
I really love that we saw some bonding between Buck and Hen and Buck and Chimney in this episode because as much as I love Buddie we do not see enough of those combos (we don’t see enough of Buddie either).
Also the whole two steps forward, one step back? That is Bobby in this episode.
Now, we have to talk about the apology scene because this is Buck, expressing himself, being vulnerable. I love this episode a lot especially in regards to this Meta because here we see all the things I explained for the last episode: Buck is expressing, trying his best to make the problem go away while Eddie avoids it.
Also, you know, there is the whole illegal fighting thing that is visible on Eddie and look, if you did something like that would you willingly spent time with the one person who will call you out on it or will you avoid him like the plague? Especially if the last time you saw him you were screaming bloody murder at him in the middle of a grocery store! And the next time you see him he calls you out for your bruising. Yeah, guys, that’s just realistic.
Also bit of a reach, but the reason this is part of my discussion of 3.06 and not 3.05, which is Eddie’s relationship to Buck. Remember how 3.03 ended? That beautiful moment that made Oliver Stark cry on Instagram live? Remember how Eddie said „It’s his turn to save you now.“? Yeah, what happened to that?
Okay, Eddie is not an expressive guy. He is bad with feelings. He hates having them. And here comes Evan „Buck“ Buckley and he is just the polar opposite. Sure, he’d rather not talk about his feelings either but he has a lot of them and he *likes* having all of them and he wallows in them and that is probably a lot for a guy like Eddie to deal with. Especially when I do think Eddie understands somewhat where Buck came from and he probably feels guilty af about making Buck feel like he was being replaced. About not seeing the pain Buck was in. About not being there for him - which is why he lashes out, because guilt can make the healthiest people do horrible shit and Eddie is far from any definition of healthy at that point.
But I do have to say I am reaching with this and if I ever meet Tim Minear I will have him explain the fight scene and the apology scene to me word for word because it has to be deeper, right?
It can’t just be Eddie lashing out, and saying exactly the things he knows will hurt Buck because he is mad mad mad? Yeah, I know, whatever.
(Because even if that is the case? This is still the scene where a guy uses his best friend as a substitute to get his anger for his dead wife out in a somewhat healthy manner.)
Which is why I love both these scenes immensely, because it shows exactly how differently Eddie and Buck deal with things, because Eddie avoids them or gets mad and screams at them while Buck, actually does something fairly healthy and try to talk it out - but like only as his last option. He tries anything but talking before that, except with Eddie because they are connected and he finally *finally* lets himself be emotionally vulnerable with Eddie.
Which is also why the apology scene is so important to me, despite thinking while a bit rash, Buck wasn’t exactly wrong in his actions. I would have hated if they just brushed the grocery store over or made it about Eddie and the issues he had at the time. Instead they gave us this beautiful scene where Buck finally - FINALLY - gets to explain himself to someone, especially Eddie, the guy who he hurt the most because Buck is his anchor, and Eddie actually listens and then he gets it and he is like, oh, I wasn’t wrong! He really deserves all my trust!
So you know, that’s just beautiful, wether it’s platonic or romantic.
Episode 3.07: no relevance
Episode 3.08:
I wanna say something right of the bat that is probably controversial as hell:
Eddie did not want to share with Bobby. Eddie likes Bobby, he trusts Bobby, but he wasn’t really feeling like sharing with Bobby.
The reason Eddie talked with Bobby about all of this? Well, first of all it was bound to happen, sometimes things need to be said and then it doesn’t really matter who you’re talking to.
Also Eddie? Boy Scout. Army man. Chain of Command. If your superior officer tells you to share - you share! There. I said it. (This is not a Bobby Nash - stan account)
Also: „A friend of mine told me I needed an outlet - think I found it.“ - no, you didn’t Buddy boy, it’s why I’m currently 10.000 words into an episode by episode analysis of your character! (can you tell I am slowly going off the rails with this?)
But I do love how we finally got to see sassy!Eddie again. I missed you, babe!
As for the kitchen scene and the look, yes, I know, Maddie was looking at them like that because she just called them out about gossiping and they turned around and gossiped, buuuut … ya’ll also realise that Chimney was apparently *not* aware that anything was wrong with Eddie when Eddie had been acting weird way longer then Hen. He nearly punched Buck in a grocery store, he comes in with new bruises like 3 times a week but sure mate, he is all normal! (Or you know, Buck is just hyperfocused on Eddie)
One thing that freaks me out every time I watch this episode is how completely fucking nonchalant Eddie seems by the fact that he nearly fucking killed a guy. To quote Lena Bosko, professional plot pusher: „What the hell, Eddie?“
And then of course 3.15 happened and we saw Eddie shoot multiple people, so he probably learned how to compartmentalise and I guess I need to remember this is a TV show and no one actually died. But wow, I really need this addressed more because I have such mixed feelings about this.
And with regards to this I wanna say something even more controversial: Eddie got off easy. Yes, the guy willingly went into that ring but Eddie nearly killed him and all Bobby wanted to talk about was why Eddie was fighting? Again: What the hell?
Another thing this episode firmly proofs is that Lena is really just a poor substitute for Buck because Eddie doesn’t actually know anything about her, he just uses her as a sounding board because, well, Buck wasn’t there and he was lonely?
As for the actual conversation happening, yes, there we have it, in plain sight, Eddie needs to be in control because he thinks this is what Christopher needs him to be and as I’ve said before Eddie will always do anything for Christopher, even if he hurts himself in the process.
Also, remember when Lena told him he needed to show and tell his son how he felt so Christopher knows it’s okay to feel that way as well? Clearly didn’t stick of he would not feel this intense need to be in control. Which is realistic, you don’t just unlearn behaviour you had for like 30 years just because someone gives you some good advice once! (Man, my life could be so different!)
I’m also not a fan of Bobby’s „She died.“ because while yes, it wasn’t her fault that she left this time, grief isn’t rational. And even without the looming divorce Eddie has every right to be upset and to be angry at the world, and yes, even his dead wife. She’s dead. It doesn’t hurt her anymore. (Although that would be one feeling he should probably keep from Christopher.)
Not to mention Eddie feels guilty as hell. His anger? Mostly at himself. The sentence “I broke his mother”? Broke me as well.
But I also understand Eddie because while he may be grieving, his son is clearly traumatised by the whole situation, as seen in 3.04, and Eddie is trying his best and look, his outlet wasn’t the healthiest but um, at least he realised he needed one? He addressed that? That’s growth (sorta).
Amount of shirtless!Eddie scenes: 2, which feels a bit like overkill for one episode (pace yourself, Tim, this isn’t Game of Thrones)
Episode 3.09:
Frank! My main man Frank! Ui, I love him! When Tim calls me to come consult for Season 4 because clearly by now I am an expert on his characters and the way they should act, I will tell him to bring Frank back. I miss Frank. I hope he’s doing okay. He deserves the world. Also really wanna meet Rosemary.
And hey, as someone who has worked in the mental health sector and probably will again come October (if I manage to finish my degree by then, urgh, Corona, you are destroying my thesis!), I love that scene on the sofa so much! All of them openly sharing that they have been in therapy and talking about their therapists and just, uh, that scene makes me all tingly!
Before we get into all the emotional things I’m just gonna add the scene on the sofa to my list of scene I don’t fully understand. Like, what emotion exactly was Eddie supposed to be conveying because to me he sounds angry. And why should Eddie be angry about Buck sleeping with his therapist? What reason could he have?
Okay, yeah, maybe it’s a little exasperation and annoyance because apparently Evan Buckley is just coasting through life and doesn’t even take therapy seriously. Idk. I haven’t read the script.
But it does lead us to Buck giving Eddie shit, because, as I’ve said before, that’s what Buck does.
As for the therapy scene, yay, there is a mention of the nearly dead guy! Who is not dead. Yay!
I do love Eddie’s reasons for going to therapy and really trying, even though he is not clicking with Frank. He is such a good dad! (Also I’ve been debating for like 20 minutes whether Eddie would be more comfortable sharing with a woman or with a man and for some reason (his connection with Buck vs his relationship with Shannon) I think he’d be more comfortable with a man. Idk. I could be wrong. - Also Eddie is probably always uncomfortable talking about his feelings, so there is that!) His reasoning shows also yet again what I said about both Buck and Eddie before: they are protectors. They will make themselves vulnerable to help someone else. It’s a thing.
Also I pulled out my pocket edition of ICD-10 to check and while we don’t have enough information to give a full diagnosis, it’s safe to say that he is supposed to be going through a depressive episode. Because yes, sometimes depressed people aren’t sad, sometimes they are fucking angry.
Now, as for the Evan Buckley of it all and that scene: I read another Meta by someone clearly much better at this than me that stated Eddie uses Sarcasm as a way to deflect, which is exactly what is happening here because Eddie is not as fine with everything that happened as he pretends to be. I think he has just come to the sudden and horrible conclusion that his tipping point has been Buck no longer being in his life and so he decided it was easier to just move on then deal with his feelings (which is what got you into this mess in the first place, Edmundo, so please rethink,) if that means Buck back in his life.
I also think Eddie deflects here because he realises how much what he did and what he said actually hurt Buck in return and Eddie doesn’t fully know how to deal with that. And look, if they actually start discussing their issues then Eddie will have to admit his guilt and Eddie will have to say he’s sorry and right then he is still too pissed to do so, so he decides to move on.
Ah, the wonderful clash of Eddie thinking actions speak louder than words but Buck needing to hear the actual words.
Sidenote: I sent the kitchen scene to my roommate, stopped before they played the video game and asked her what she thinks happened next. And to quote „Love me <3 <3 <3. Please fuck me“ - because yes, she did take one look at them and decide the one with the puppy dog eyes was a bottom. That’s also a quote.
Episode 3.10:
Eddie really is trying so hard to be a good dad, isn’t he?
I also love the little head shake Eddie gives after Chris ask Buck about spending Christmas with him, because he clearly has already talked about the whole thing with Buck. And I’m not gonna talk about the framing. Other’s have done that before and I don’t actually know that much about it in first place.
Also it is cute as all hell that Chris asked Buck in the first place and also heartbreaking.
Other than that this episode doesn’t have that much of a relevance for this meta, because if I have to start discussing Buck’s other issues as well this will never be done.
Before I let you go, I wanna say something real quick:
In the past few days there have been several posts about content creators and liking vs commenting / reblogging on my dash and I just wanna say this is true for meta writers as well!
Look, I love everyone who likes this because validation, but I’m not actually writing this meta for myself, I’m writing this because I have thoughts and I wanna share them with the rest of the class and have the class discuss it with me!
So please, reblog this and comment under or in the tags or come to my ask or my messages, even if it’s only to tell me that my punctuation is shit!
Anyways, @angelcamael and @greyhello here’s part 3!
#buck meta#eddie meta#buddie meta#evan buckley#eddie diaz#buck#buddie#911 meta#911#911 fox#textpost#mine#meta#season 3#my meta
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Saturday night's alright for fighting (but Sundays are meant for rest) - Deprived
Part 13
In case y'all forgot, their entire relationship started with sleeping and cuddles. If you're sick of reading about it, I don't know how you made it this far. Last! Bit! Until the bet's end! Warning, it might take me forever to write part 14. Thoughts are always loved.
Tags!: @emjrabbitwolf @mystery-5-5 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @fandomkitty8 @dast218 @silvergold-swirl @shizukiryuu . @my-name-is-michell @kurogaya913 @elspethshadow @thecatnipmademedoit @shamefullove @ladylucina28 @crazylittlemunchkin @rayray384 @cassiejaydee @yuulxd @ladysblackcat @naclychilli @caffeinetheory @persephonebutkore @fertileleaf @hypnosharkrebeldreamer @weird-pale-blonde-person @st0rmy-w1th1n @littleblue5mcdork @dudet @naoryllis @disneyfoxuniverse @lordsmeldingtonthethird @taoiichii @resignedcatservant @iloontjeboontje @a-fan-fighting-for-equality
~---~
Missing someone starts simple enough. You raincheck a date or have to cancel a few times because life just demanded too much of you that week. Not that big of a deal, especially for a new couple. Surely the attachment and codependency hasn't settled in too heavily yet. Except maybe you're accustomed to seeing them at least four nights and two days every week at minimum even before dating. Perhaps that person helps with your bad habits and the lack of their presence disperses half your impulse control. There's even a chance that your basic human needs get tossed into a shallow grave with no marker because who really needs food and water and sleep? Those are optional right? But really, to skip all the roundabout half speak, it all accumulated into one basic thought, 'I miss Tim.'
...
"Something I should know about?" Robin spoke, not turning towards her where she landed at his side.
"Not allowed to follow my bestie every now and again?"
"Tt. I am well aware that I am not your usual choice of company, Tuemessian. Angel's? Maybe. Not yours."
She hesitated a moment, contemplating teasing only to stop herself. She came to confide in him, not annoy and he had already offered the branch. No need to have it retracted.
"Batman decided to tail Red a few days ago."
"Hmm, Red Robin hasn't been on any particularly difficult cases lately. Why would he need the extra help?"
"Because of me."
"We all know you shadow him. No reason to start getting uppity about it now," he paused for a moment before shooting her an accusatory look, "Something must have changed. And you neglected to inform me."
Heaving a long suffering sigh at Robin's tone, she fell against his side.
"Might've gotten on Batman's bad side. And let him see me. And hung off Red."
"So he's babysitting you now," he realized.
"Pretty much."
"And you came running to me in retaliation so as not to be observed," he observed with an unimpressed scowl.
"I will not be tailed by a man in a glorified onesie. It's demeaning and rude," she sniffed, nose turned up in a perfect imitation of Chloe.
"Suppose I should get used to my new patrol partner then?"
"Until Bats gets his head out of where it doesn't belong anyways," she pouted further, "I'm going to miss Red."
"If you plan to whine about it, I won't stick around to hear it," he threatened.
"Yeah right, you love me too much to just abandon me."
"Don't push it."
…
Two nights later, Jason found Marinette sitting on the roof of the manor, drawing in her sketch pad.
"You know Littlewing is out tonight, right?"
"Yeah."
"Alright sugarcube, what's up? You always follow him on patrol nights," Jason asked, settling behind her and letting her lean back into his chest, taking comfort in the contact, "Unless you're the reason Batsy bitched all of last night?"
"He confronted Tim on why Vixen wasn't following Red Robin anymore. Said that Vixen was his responsibility and he was shirking it."
"And Tim told him to stop supervising his nights out," Jason filled in the blanks, chuckling at the memory, "thought he'd blow a gasket when Tim ignored him after that."
"Red told me he'd let me know when Bruce decided to back off so I could come out again. Followed Robin the last two nights, but it got boring. Taking a night off."
"Yeah, kid's too serious in the suit to be much fun. What you working on up here anyways?"
"New outfit for Kori. Owe her one," she stifled a yawn, concentrating once more on the mechanics of making a crop top that didn't move or lift with your arms up or when turned upside down, without being skin tight.
"And the roof was the best option for this, obviously."
"No distractions up here."
"Or really?"
"Don't even think about it!"
He snagged the sketchbook and took off back through the window and down the hall, laughing when he heard a shriek and the immediate sounds of Mari giving chase.
"Jason get back here with that!"
…
Stephanie dropped into the apartment on a Thursday, taking in the fabric bound chaos of the living area, particularly thick around a work desk that seemingly exploded. Scattered bits of boning, lacing, eyelets, three seam rippers and notably a few chains, sticking out of the disaster. In the center of it all sat a tiny designer with a vicious snarl curling the edge of her lip.
Skipping over, Steph wrapped her hands around and squeezed at the tense shoulders, noticing the concerning lack of reaction.
"Mari, I'm hungry."
"I'll make you something later."
"Hmm, don't think so. I'm calling for pizza. You're joining me and no, work is not allowed during pizza time."
With that, she dragged Marinette off the chair and into the bedroom, both dropping onto the bed as Stephanie made the call, not needing to ask what the other wanted. Marinette didn't bother arguing, which was only more concerning. Steph wondered for a moment if she should call in reinforcement, but ultimately opted out. 'Nah, I got this.'
"Okay, should be here soon," she stated, relaxing into the comforter for a while, letting the other recover from being abruptly yanked out of work mode; read ten minutes of silence before curiosity won out.
"So what are you killing yourself over this time? Oh! Your suit for the next show? You have to let me see it!"
"No no, that was finished a week ago. You can stop by the studio tomorrow to check it out. You're still coming with me, right? I have a dress set aside for you."
"Obviously. I'm your date. However, that doesn't answer what you were getting so pissy with out there?" She teased, peaking at the other from the corner of her eye.
"It's a corset. Like, an actual, structured, hand embroidered, perfectly laced up corset. My hands feel like a crime scene with how much I've torn into them trying to get this right."
"Oh god, those things are so intricate. You're going to be screaming bloody murder by the end, why would you even do that to yourself?"
"... Haven't been sleeping much, figured it'd help get the frustration out."
"You never sleep much. Hence the sleep cuddle club," she pondered the thought a moment before snickering, "you two could make a business out of that if you weren't already swamping yourselves. Cuddle sessions for the sleep deprived and lonely. Oh! I'll go grab the door. I'm stealing your wallet by the way."
Stephanie launched out of the room to the sound of a knocking door and a Mari grumbling about it hardly being stealing when you announce it and the owner doesn't care. Walking back in, she dropped the box between them, yanked the top off and grabbed for the garlic butter sauce they ordered to dip the crusts in.
"You're disgusting."
"And you lack respect for sauce. What else is new?"
"... I've been skipping nap time too," Mari muttered, hoping the other wouldn't hear.
"What do you mean you've been skipping naps? That's like, the only time you two ever sleep! Marinette, you cannot be awake 24/7."
"Pshh, more like 23/6. I crash hard on day 7."
"... That's a whole mood. Might I ask as to why you hate yourself so suddenly?"
"My commissions have gone through the roof with award season coming up, and spring weddings start up immediately after that. I might be clientele only, but my client basis is massive at this point! I don't have time and the few moments I've been free, Tim's been out for the night. And lord knows I don't sleep well alone."
"Uh-huh. And how long has this been going on?" Steph focused on the cheese stringing from her mouth that just would not let go, to give the other a chance to build up to tell the truth without having a guilty stare off.
"Um. About two weeks?" Mari flinched, wishing she were Tuemessian so she could disappear right there.
"So what you're telling me is that you haven't slept more than 12 collective hours, you're overworking yourself to the point of compliance to my antics, and your boyfriend, who's just as much of a sleepless wreck as you are, hasn't dragged you off for your regularly scheduled nap dates. Is that correct?"
"Well yeah. Wait, my boyfriend?"
"Don't even try me, I know you and Tim are a thing. No denying it. It's so damn blatant, it's ridiculous the others seem so oblivious to it," Steph rolled her eyes, daintily wiping her fingers off and grabbing a half empty water bottle off the nightstand to drain. A perfect contradiction of uppity and uncaring that only she seemed to pull off.
Marinette could only blink in surprise for a moment before nodding along, "We didn't plan for this," she murmured, half distracted.
"For what?"
"Nothing," she shook her head to clear the thought, "point is.Yes? I mean, we're just really busy and haven't found time and he knows how important this all is to me and even if he doesn't approve, it's not like he can get away to prevent it. Which would make him a total hypocrite if he called me out on it. Honestly, it's not even that bad, I'm catching up on so much now and I'll get to see him soon I'm sure, just as soon as I get through this season and!"
"That's it! I'm staging an intervention! We're finishing this pizza, cleaning you up and then I'm dropping you off at his apartment where you will sleep. Tomorrow the two of you are not leaving the bed until noon at the earliest. No work, only rest. Understood?"
"Noooo, Stephanniiieee, I'm busy!"
"Are you telling me you don't want snuggles?"
"... No."
"Then quit your bitchin, your arguments are lost on me. Now help me with this before I eat it all, itty bitty."
…
It took maybe fifteen minutes to finish the food and get some water down, another twenty to shower and get coerced into wearing cozy black fleece leggings, lavender tank top, and a soft, deep royal purple cardigan, and finally an extra ten minutes to lock up and make it out of the complex.
While Marinette was locked away in the bathroom, Stephanie called up Tim.
"Tell me you're at home. Or can be back in the next fifteen minutes."
"I just walked in?"
"Perfect, I'm dropping Mari off soon. She's like the walking dead right now and that's coming from the Dead Robins Club VP."
"VP…"
"Duh, Jason's the President. Damian's a recruit. Mari's not allowed to become the newbie. She's not even a Robin, it'd make no sense."
"What about Dick and I?"
"You two never actually died, doesn't count."
"Fair… wait, what's going on with ma loutine?"
"When's the last time you slept properly? Or even napped?"
"..."
"So when do you think she last slept or napped?"
"..."
"We'll be there soon."
…
Marinette found herself dragged up to his apartment, the door opening as she was pushed forward into a warm, familiar chest.
Since being dragged from her work, the lack of self care was slowly catching up to her. She hadn't even bothered to pull her hair out of her face, just letting the freshly blow dried fluff fall were it may. She had a vague idea of how they got here, but either way was grateful to find herself warm and held, even if it was in a doorway with the two talking over her head. She caught only snippets: something about not skipping out on each other anymore and a suggestion about living situations that made the body pressed to hers flush. Eventually the two stopped and Stephanie left. A hand pressed to the side of her face and she looked up to Tim who tilted to rest his forehead on hers.
"Hello sweetheart."
"Mon Somnambule," she smiled, eyes closing automatically.
"Think you're beating me there. When have you last slept?"
"Hypocrite."
"That's not an answer."
Mari pouted, not looking like she wanted to answer.
"Have you slept beyond an hour at a time?"
"I can't remember," she admitted.
"Why haven't you slept? You're usually better at self regulation than I am."
"Missed you."
"It's more than that though, isn't it?"
She pulled back and burrowed back into his chest, concentrating on the sound of his heartbeat.
"Couldn't sleep alone. Dark figure stalking me. Brought back bad memories. Became a nonentity for a reason. I do the following now. I make others uncomfortable, observe and toy with them. Not the other way round."
"I took care of that. He won't follow me anymore. You can come back out. But sweetheart, why didn't you call me?"
"Too risky at night with him following you. Too busy during the day. Didn't seem like there was a good time," she admitted.
He frowned, but let it go, gently tugging her arms over his shoulders to clasp behind his neck and placed his hands on the back of her thighs in a prompt to jump up. With her firmly wrapped around him, he made way to his bedroom, sitting down on the edge and pulling back a touch.
"Maybe Steph was right about living situations," he muttered to himself, hushing her when she hummed in confusion.
"Are you comfortable sleeping in that?"
She tugged at the cardigan, accidently getting tangled until he helped her out of it, folding it off to the side. She tucked her face down into the side of his neck and slumped into him completely. Turning them about, he settled her down, curling around her.
"Sleep well, love."
#timari#timinette#part 13#ml x dc#maribat#I also need to be dragged to sleep#hints at dark past#doesnt get into it#use your imagination
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Ridikulus Pt 31
With Regulus claiming the week for Em’s care in a sort of acclimation period for him and Lindir to see how their jobs would handle a child between them you were more than able to catch up on some sleep. Free periods at school before lunch you spent in your office focusing on the supplements you were sending off to Rohan to help with the condition so many seemed to suffer from including their Queen. Between shipments your eager owl carried off in enchanted pouches for each afflicted your eyes kept turning to the potion nearly ready for Thorin’s change.
Humming to yourself you were off to stop in at Erebor. Using the door attaching the mountain to Dale you entered and were on the verge of skipping lost in the tune mid snack on a chocolate orange resting in your palm. Weaving through the curious Dwarves you caught sight of Ori who grinned and hurried over halting momentarily from his path to state, “Thorin is in the meeting room just off the Throne Room.”
“Thank you,” you said offering him a slice he grinned in taking and hurried off with a soft thanks of his own while you turned towards the Throne Room. Peering all around at the marvel of a hall you crossed the rail-less bridge following the echoes of low voices to another walkway, at the end of which the guards outside the door opened them and your lips parted. “Oh, you-..”
Peering inside with a tinge of yellow at your roots you eyed the table with Thengel, the Durin men who all glanced up at you catching your brief wave when Thorin stated, “Miss Black, this is a surprise. Is anything wrong?”
Shaking your head you stepped inside stating, “No, um, I didn’t mean to intrude.”
Thorin shook his head, “Not at all. You are always welcome here.”
“Well, I won’t take long, just wanted to say your potion should be ready tomorrow. Around six after classes should do it if that’s good for you?”
His lips parted in a relieved chuckle, “That, would be perfect. Thank you again.”
You shook your head, “Not a problem at all.”
Thengel smirked asking, “Queen Jaqi is assisting you with potions as well? Surely I’d have lost my Queen and our little ones had she not offered us aid.”
Thorin chuckled again unable to keep from grinning, “The potion is to turn me into a Dam so I may carry heirs of my own.”
Thengel’s lips parted, “You are forgoing your throne?”
Dain answered for Thorin, “Our kin would never abandon him in his path to having bairns of his own.”
Thengel grinned at you stating, “Impressive feat discovering such a potion.” He turned his eyes back to Thorin, “Whenever you find the change successful we would be grateful to show our respects to your future heirs.”
Thorin nodded and looked to you, “I do hope this will not interfere with the planning for your celebration, if it would interfere-,”
You shook your head, “Thranduil is the one who settled on throwing the celebration all on his own and insists he has it all covered. This will not interfere with anything, just prepare yourself, it will be quite painful.”
Thorin rumbled back, “A tolerable pain for bairns. I will manage.”
You nodded and said, “I’ll leave you to it, I’ve been charged with taking Tuo out and then told to nap again,” When you looked to Thengel you said, “I hope your people take to the medicine quickly and find some relief.”
Thengel chuckled, “It has aided us greatly already. We thank you heartily and cannot wait to see our gift outshine that of Gondor’s.”
“I haven’t met anyone from Gondor yet,” making his brow arch up, “Tonks mentioned traveling there and Thranduil said something about a coat they might make me.”
Thengel, “Nothing compared to our gift.”
Making you smirk and say, “Well, if their men are as troublesome as Tonks described I may end up returning their gift for a few black eyes.” You nodded your head in his loud laugh echoed by his Men around him including his cousin Halmar greatly relieved taking your momentary grin his way as a sign you were off on a better footing from the first meeting when you had punched him. “Don’t go warning them. I want them honest.” Out again you strolled allowing the now antsy Dwarves just bursting to explode the news all through the mountain to conclude the meeting with the Dwarves to lay the groundwork for a rebirth of their former trade agreements by establishing a friendship and trust.
Back in the heart of the Throne Room you zapped back to the archway in Pumpernickel you used to head straight for Northern Greenwood. Ginny was on a late lunch with Haldir to hear about his day. While Taule claimed another evening with the boys, and Legolas through your duo focusing on your party plans leaving you to go and find Tuo. A long ride found you next eating as filling a dinner as you could muster before heading off to bed early hoping to have some time to get up early to prep some things for the big change the following day.
.
Giggles however woke you in the crawling of the silvery white curly haired twins crossing from the foot of your bed to your side with Estel behind you already leaned over your shoulder. His wavy brown hair pooling into your face in a peck on your cheek, “We picked berries, Naneth.”
Inhaling deeply your arms circled the trio you kissed the heads on and hummed out, “Berries are nice.” Behind them Legolas came into the doorway and you flashed him a sleepy grin, “Leg, did you pick berries too?” Over his shoulder you saw Thranduil and Glorfindel.
Legolas replied, “I just returned from my rounds and they were gone.”
Glancing at Estel you sighed out, “They are very tall you know,” he nodded, “I do hope you remember what it felt like to be this small when you reach their size.”
Elurin giggled saying, “We will.”
His brother nodded and you combed your fingers through his hair removing a brewing knot there, “We didn’t mean to scare them.”
You shook your head, “They’re still used to only having one little one around. It’ll calm down, they’ll adjust.” Up you slid and sat up in Estel’s path to Legolas who picked him up.
Glorfindel came closer to grab the twins asking, “Did you sleep well?”
You nodded brushing your hair out of your face changing its shade from a burnt orange to silvery blue again, “Have to check on my rainbow spear viper though, I think she laid her eggs.” Curling your legs up your shorts were revealed under your baggy quidditch jersey from your father’s school days.
When your doorway popped up Thranduil asked, “Is that a bad thing?”
Turning around still walking backwards you replied, “No, just have to make sure she’s got enough coal or she likes to spark up and that agitates the Lemurtelba in the habitat next to hers.” Smirking at the men you nodded your head to the side, “Come and see. They love to brag on their nests.”
Elured, “Are they birds?”
“No, snakes.” In his momentary flinch of fear in his eyes you stopped and moved closer to him stroking his cheek with a curled finger, “Snakes are not evil creatures, they speak a different language and are afraid of those who can’t understand them. All they have is their teeth and their bodies. I’ll show you if you like when you’re older, they are friendly and docile when treated with respect, like horses or Tuo and his herd. Their venom could kill or cure, if you know how to use them. My snakes won’t hurt you. They wouldn’t dare.” He nodded and you turned to show them through the Chamber of Secrets snake room parting their lips at the various habitats holding your snakes who all peered out at you hissing greetings to the children you translated for them.
A large pitch black habitat revealed to be a cave with a stepping stone path across a dark river was what the group stared into watching you reach the tree on the other side with a silver slithering snake that parted their lips. The head nearly two feet around on a body that filled the tree seemingly holding this cave up with its endless woven branches looked you over and melted into your palms as you greeted her. At the roots of the tree you pulled back a pile of black leaves revealing golden eggs lighting up you and the tree in your counting the eggs she had laid. Covering the eggs again you summoned a basket of mangoes for her accepting her thanks in her move to eat while you trotted across the river again.
Legolas asked, “How large was she when you found her?”
“Few feet shorter. Found her on one of the last missions I had before landing here. Some idiot from R thought they could use her venom as a weapon.”
Thranduil, “Is that not possible?”
“They are constrictors.” His brow inched up, “There are snakes that poison their prey and those that squeeze them with their bodies. She feeds on mountain goats twice a year and mangoes the rest of it.”
Glorfindel, “Snakes eat fruit?”
You nodded, “A great many things varying with each breed. The meat is for her clutches of eggs, the mangoes help her grow and helps her coat shimmer.”
Estel asked about while pointing at the rainbow colored snake slithering out of its habitat towards you that rose to rest on your shoulders to allow you to show the boys, “This is Dilby, he loves to meet people.” Moving closer you allowed them to reach out and stroke his sides making his coat shift colors stirring giggles from them that triggered his webbed ridges down his back rise. “Only thing you have to worry about with this guy is when he gets cranky in their mating season, they like to bite. Non venomous, but,” he opened his jaws at the stroke of your finger under his head parting their lips seeing the five rows of teeth and four large fold out fangs that extended dripping with blue droplets. “It is not comfortable, but their venom helps re-grow bones. Used it plenty of times myself.”
Glorfindel, “What reason would there possibly be to need to re-grow a bone?”
“You can only break a bone so many times. If it’s bad enough of a break it’s healthier to vanish the bone and grow another.”
Estel, “Does it hurt?”
“Yes, and the potion tastes, well, let’s hope you won’t need it. Certainly not pumpkin juice.” Making them giggle as he slithered down to head for the open pantry for a snack, “Don’t mind him, just off to find a cantaloupe.”
Thranduil, “Does Tulip eat melons?”
“She prefers vegetables. Can go through a whole cart of cabbages a week if you let her.”
Elured, “Who is Tulip?”
You smirked guiding them into her chamber saying, “That is my ancestor’s head,” answering their unspoken question of whose head they next saw Tulip slithering out of the mouth of.
Estel gasped, “I’ve seen her.”
“Yes you have, she is a Basilisk.” The boys awed at her large fangs nearly the size of their bodies and stole strokes on her scales. In her path out to head out to the gardens outside your home you walked into your office to peek in at the simmering cauldron, the boys stayed to inspect more while Glorfindel and Thranduil came up behind you curious what you were doing.
Wetting their lips they eyed your fingers trailing along an open page on a manual beside the small cauldron in the center of a counter Glorfindel peered into beside Thranduil as he asked, “Is that, fur?”
You nodded, “Yes, a lovely shade of puce, should be done in a couple hours now.”
Thranduil, “This is Thorin’s potion?”
“Yup.” A glance at the clock had their eyes follow yours.
Glorfindel, “We should feed you.”
“That would be lovely.” He smirked and leaned in claiming a kiss and turned to gather the twins while Thranduil’s arm circled your back and you leaned into his chest accepting his kiss.
Thranduil, “You did sleep well?”
You nodded, “Feeling better.”
Lowly he asked, “When is the change?”
“Told them six.”
He nodded, “I will clear my meetings for later.”
“You-,”
He shook his head leaning in to claim a second kiss, humming against your lips, “This is an incredible gift, we will be there to witness it, because you do understand our people would wish to use it as well. It would be easier to explain the process to possible couples.”
“It’s painful, not much of a process.” You said leading the way to join the others off to the breakfast prepared with the jam from the berries the boys had picked for you through the night.
.
Soft clicks and dings sounded in your typing up the copy of your practice OWL and NEWT exams while your students sat going through their monthly exams. You weren’t known for pulling punches, it was a more hands on and entertaining process for your students but the sheer volume of what you covered gave each of them ample topics and history in each lesson for them to fully absorb each. Countless extra tidbits were added to keep things interesting and fill in all the gaps in what the main textbooks covered.
200 pages would be witted down later to edit but sat in the box you had locked it into before the final class before your lunch. Back down in the Chamber you checked on the potion and turned to the selection of books you had pulled together listed for the usual pack given to patients. With Hedwig came a note from Hermione confirming the six o’clock meeting time with a warning that you would have an audience making you groan. “Of course..”
The rest of your classes also had tests leaving your classroom mostly silent, while you readied some more pregnancy supplements for Mrs Granger drawing the eyes of the class when the liquid turned to gel and each scoop you settled on the tray hardening into circles you added to a jar. When all the tests were completed you had finished filling a second jar and a girl asked, “Medicine for your store?”
“No, prenatal supplements. A few relatives are expecting.” A few moments later the clock chimed another hour and you said, “Alright, off to freedom.” Off they did go and turning to your desk you tied a bow around the top of the jar you slipped into a pouch you passed to your owl that flew off hearing who he was flying off to.
It was all planned a brief snack before the trip to Erebor, in the main garden where you found your cushioned stool open between Fred and George who raised their glasses, “Heard from Hermi, we’ve got an audience.”
Chuckling to yourself you took a sip of your tea and looked to Legolas in his asking, “Would an audience not aid in the process?”
Grinning at him you said, “Not much of a process. Just painful. Most don’t want one.”
Beside you Fred spoke as you eyed the trio of boys greeting you in their climb onto their seats claiming their helpings of the snacks, the puzzling gaze wondering how much of their lives they remembered past the burned in day they lost it all including their lives. “Usually it’s just the couple and the one administering the potion.”
George, “Some times the one taking it prefers to be alone with the one administering the potion. All personal preference really.”
A pulsing crystal appeared in front of you as you and the boys were snacking on more of the fruit slices you mumbled, “Mmm, Thorin.”
Glorfindel chuckled as Taule stated, “You go, I will watch the Princes.”
You nodded once on your feet, strolling around the table and crouched down kissing their stuffed cheeks that rose in creeping grins, then you rose and turned to lead your group through your doorway after sending the crystal to Hermione.
Around you the Chamber of Secrets grew and you led the pair back to your office where you collected a small stack of books and levitated the cauldron with the bright pink fur over the top waving as the mixture gurgled underneath. Along the way to the now changed doorway Fred collected a pack of tools from the desk and made for the door that closed and opened revealing the rushing Durins flooding into Thorin and Bilbo’s apartment.
Smiles grew on their faces as they all peered into the odd mixture in the cauldron in your path into Thorin’s bedroom. Anxiously Thorin was rubbing his palms together then met your eyes as you said, “You’ll want to remove your belt and boots if possible.”
He nodded and followed your suggestion as Fred and George popped up into their view helping to unroll the set of tools while you set the books on the table beside Thorin’s bed. Dis eyed the books asking, “You require manuals for this”
You shook your head, “No. These are for Thorin.” Your eyes locked with his, “One for basic anatomy, tips on proper hygiene and the final one is mainly for reproduction and sexual responses.”
Thorin timidly repeated, “Sexual, responses?”
You grinned at him claiming the first tool, a hook with a slotted spoon in your other hand. You peeled the top layer of fur back Fred eased with another hook into a jar then capped it before it started giving off a pink gas leaving the fur melting into a layer of shimmering slime as you raised an avocado looking ball and swapped the hook for a scalpel George handed you to slice around the middle of it. “Our anatomies are vastly different. I am not certain if you have manuals on sexual responses in your culture or if yours match ours, but if they do then that book would help you get better acquainted with your new body and its responses.” He wet his lips, “You being intimate with Bilbo in this body will be vastly different as a Dam, the way we feel things the way or bodies respond are different. Even when you’re alone, self pleasure is a bit different than your current grip and tug situation.”
A blush grew on his cheeks and Dis opened the final manual, “Thank you. It was getting a bit difficult to explain that subject to them.”
“Oh, I will warn you, they are Wizard books, so the illustrations might move.” As you said that Dis gasped at one of them and closed the book tilting it out of Fili and Kili’s sight. “I assure you it is all scientific, not lewd.” Her eyes moved to the cup George slid the top half of the kiwi appearing assumed fruit giving off a scent of pears into a small bowl as you took a small spoon to scoop out the apparent skinless grape then offered it to Thorin, “This will taste bitter, try to chew it ten times then swallow.”
He nodded following the order only to pucker almost instantly at the taste, chewing painfully slowly he got to ten then swallowed watching as you held out the lower half to add to the bowl from George that shifted to a liquid as well you offered to him, “Swish it around in your mouth then swallow.” He nodded and drew in a deep breath and raised the bowl to his lips and clamped his eyes shut emptying the bowl to begrudgingly swish the mixture around then swallow it in as large gulps as he could manage.
Wetting your lips you set the bowl in George’s palm then led Thorin to bed where you sat down and acted as his pillow folding your arms across his chest saying softly, “Just remember, deep breaths as often as you can manage and squeeze my hands and arms as hard as you need to.”
Around you Fred and George summoned the chairs from the other room to set on either side of the bed simply stating, “You’ll need them.”
Everyone settled into them as Bilbo sat beside the bed in the closest ones while Thorin mumbled, “My skin is tingling.”
You nodded, “That’s the first sign it’s working properly.”
He nodded and closed his eyes for a deep breath as he felt his chest tightening only to have his eyes shoot open with a groan at the loud crack of his breastbone cracking that made Bilbo flinch while the others couldn’t help but glance away. Instantly his hands gripped your forearms tightly as the cracks spread over his shoulders visibly contorting them under his shirt as you mentally whispered, “Muffliato,” silencing his pained sounds from the group with only the Twins, Thranduil and Glorfindel looking on still bearing pained expressions.
Each bone seemed to be breaking while his muscles tore then melded back together into their new shapes as Fred eyed Dain at his asking, “Does she feel that much pain when she shifts?”
Fred shook his head, “No. Morpher’s bones, well they shift to a near jelly and then harden into their new shapes.”
George, “For the rest of us there are a few options, all temporary but no less painful. The bones have to be broken, muscles reformed into the new shapes.” His hand settled on Bilbo’s shoulder to crouch down beside him peering up at you softly whispering to Thorin, “It only lasts a couple minutes. Well worth it.”
Bilbo’s teary eyes fell on his, “I, can’t-..”
George grinned at him patting his hands wringing on his lap, “Honestly first time Fred and I made a polyjuice potion we took it in turns. I nearly passed out seeing him shift and he threw up seeing me change. But we got used to it after the fifth time or so.” Bilbo sniffled as he smiled saying, “It hurts watching our loved ones in pain. Even more so when it could easily have been avoided.”
Fred joined him adding his hand to theirs, “You are going to have a baby. Possibly dozens. Trust me, this pain will fade the moment it’s confirmed he’s expecting.”
They turned again to see Thorin breathing steadily in your arms far more relaxed as the shift ended, and you whispered, “Another deep breath.” He inhaled, “Through the worst of it now.”
His hands released your arms now bearing red patches freeing you to ease them over his shoulders in testing squeezes down his arms while Thorin inspected his hands seeming a bit less meaty. Lowering your cone of silence you shifted out from behind him freeing Bilbo to sit behind him to cuddle with and kiss him and you to move between Thorin’s legs you raised up one at a time inspecting each of his joints noting his sturdier hips, knees and ankles. In a peek under the neck of his shirt he grinned then peered up at you as you felt the realignment of his hips bringing his attention to the shift below his waist, “Hmm.”
You giggled grinning up at him, “It’ll feel different for a while.” He nodded, “I think we’ll give you a week to relax to it before we start on the fertility potions, if you still want them.”
He nodded, “Yes.”
You wet your lips accepting his hands to test his movement in those as well, “Oh, I wanted to tell you. Those potions with our people do tend to drastically cut pregnancies down.”
His brow rose, “I don’t understand.”
“We normally carry nine months but with the potions the longest we’ve had was five months.”
Thorin let out a stunned breath as Bilbo said, “Well Dwarves are pregnant for up to four years, so if it cuts it in half then we’ll still have two years to prep.”
“I just wanted you to know. We aren’t certain with our own people so we prep quickly, usually before taking the potion, and with the differences in our races it would be best to do the same possibly.”
Thorin nodded then grinned again claiming your hand, “I can never thank you enough. We, never can. First our home, now this.” Wetting his lips he shifted his legs to the end of the bed where Dis, Diaa and Niro grinned nearing him claiming hugs stealing a feel of his hidden figure.
Diaa, “Now, we have to get you into better fitting clothes to show off the shift.” Thorin nodded then turned to claim a kiss from Bilbo then turned excitedly to redress with the females of his line in his closet as Thranduil chuckled offering Bilbo a wrapped packet matching the one Glorfindel handed him, bringing a curious grin to his face accepting and opening it.
Thranduil, “It is tradition with our people to give seeds in hopes of a fruitful union.”
Bilbo’s grin grew and he nodded his head eyeing the paintings of the flowers on each of the inner packets holding rare flowers, “Thank you. Our kin share that tradition.”
A few moments later as you sent your cauldron back to your office and within a few minutes all turned to see Thorin proudly exiting his closet. Fully crowned in better fitting pants and a deep blue golden edged shirt under a hugging vest with a sash around his waist accentuating his pronounced bust and wider hips then added his boots again offering his hand to Bilbo. “My Love, now we show off the results.”
Bilbo couldn’t help but grin at the seeming glistening dark hair and beard on his Love’s face that seemed a bit more slender but not that much changed. He hopped up accepting help into his fur vest from Frerin then folded his hand in Thorin’s as you eased off their bed to Thranduil and Glorfindel’s sides where they eyed the bruises starting to form on your arms in your walk after the Durins.
Atop an overlooking balcony you watched the Durins pass through the crowding Dwarves with an easy smile at the excited compliments on his successful change between eager glances up at you from couples wishing for the same aid. Blindly Fred opened the cylinder he pulled from his pocket he held in front of you, with two fingers you claimed a swipe and smoothed it over the bruises before he pocketed it again then joined George in popping off to check in on Dudley on the end his first shift with Ginny.
Glorfindel muttered, “That was-,”
“Painful. But he is going to have some very handsome babies.”
Thranduil grinned asking, “Durins have always been fruitful, that is not an unfair assumption.”
“Not an assumption.” The pair glanced at you and you said, “I can feel it, people’s family trees sort of, I can feel them expanding. He’ll be quick to carry, even without the fertility potions.”
Glorfindel, “That is good to hear your gift is quite extraordinary.”
“It has its moments.”
Thranduil’s hand smoothed across your back, “Come, back to the food then we can have our Healers ready a session for you. Your arms must be in pain with those bruises.”
Pt 32
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Keep You Friends Close and Your Enemies Ten Feet from the Pack: Chapter 5
Here we are again, my friends. I apologize for not releasing this one on Friday, but things are so weird now with my new work schedule that I can’t keep track of what day it is. I hope all of you are well and staying safe. Again, my fondest wish is for this tale I weave to bring you some solace and distraction. All I’ll say is, the plot thickens...
And remind you of some terms from chapter 1 so no one gets lost in the bout.
Pack - the largest group of blockers from both teams skating within ten feet of each other.
Blocker - a skater who tries to prevent the jammer from skating around the track and scoring points.
Jammer - the skater who skates around the track and aims to pass all of the blockers on the opposite team. A point is scored for each opposing team blocker the jammer passes.
Lead jammer - the jammer who breaks through the pack first (no points are scored on the initial break through. The lead jammer controls the jam and can call it off at any time, unless in the penalty box.
Jam - or round. Each jam lasts a maximum of two minutes, if the lead jammer does not call it off. Blockers and jammers may be swapped out in between each jam.
-----
That girl is poison. Never trust a big butt and smile. Poison. She's dangerous. -- Biv Devoe, Poison
John blows out a nervous breath as fans deliver a never-ending and utterly deafening cheer around the stadium. KISS’s Detroit Rock City blares from all the speakers while skaters line up on the track for another jam. The music stops and noise dies down a bit only when the timer calls ten seconds, and then a bit more when the whistle is blown and jammers begin working through the pack. John has been with the Rock City Rollers exactly 46 days and tonight is the first bout of the season, his first one ever. He was taken aback by the force of the hits delivered during practice and is completely gobsmacked now. The ladies have taken their play to a whole new level. It does not help that the season opener is always a battle royale between Rock City and the Detroit Demons, the one team Rock City most reviles. Tempers are flaring and hits border on illegal, but no one has been hurt and there have been amazingly few penalties. Even Sherlock does not seem immune to the tension and dislike. Every muscle in his body is tight as ripcord and his voice pinched when the other team’s coach spoke with him before the bout began. The man had taunted him and his team, and Sherlock responded in kind. The funny thing about it was how highbrow the whole thing was. The insults were far more witty than any John had heard on the ice, even among the doctors he had worked with. He wondered if it was normal for derby or just these two men. Most likely, the latter. In any case, John had determined from that one interaction that James Moriarty is a Grade A bastard.
John tightens his fists as Witch Hazel goes down and rolls off the track. The player who hit her penalized and heading for the box as she gets back to her feet. She is back on the track in seconds and John lets his fingers loosen a little. Most hits have been legal, but ruthless. John cannot believe how quickly each of the ladies pops back up after falling. The level of violence from both teams is staggering. Knee and elbow pads, wrist guards just don’t seem like enough to protect the skaters, but none have needed medical attention thus far. John checked them all over during halftime while Sherlock talked strategy. None of it made any sense to John, but what he did notice was the absence of acknowledgement when it came to the physicality of the bout. The coach’s only remarks on it were keep it clean and stay out of the box. There is clearly no love lost between these two teams or coaches and John does not begrudge them. The way Moriarty spoke to Sherlock and the way his eyes traveled down Sherlock’s body made John instantly dislike him. The man’s demeanor during the bout has done nothing to alter John’s opinion. Moriarty seems to quietly congratulate hard-hitting skaters coming off a jam and John is positive the man signals his players. Not the way Sherlock does, but to tell them who to target and where to hit. John might worry more, but he knows none of it is lost on Sherlock. In fact, Sherlock probably has a plan for it since Rock City has played this team so many times before.
The whistle blows again. The Woman has called the jam and everyone but Bone Crusher and Ginger Smacks skates out. Trixie Belt’em and HardOn Skates go in with Mollyscious Intent as their jammer. Sherlock calls out to stay low and Molly gives him a nod. Rock City may have more bruises, but they are also ahead by 25 points.
“Ten seconds!” shouts the official timer.
All skaters are in position, poised to stuff both jammers and keep them behind the pack. The whistle blows and the action begins. The ten women push and shove viciously, the pack moving forward slowly as they do. Suddenly, Molly finds a hole and bursts through to a cheer from the crowd. Meanwhile, Crusher lingers around the trio of blockers from the other team as they wait for Molly to come around the track. Their names are Ring’er Belle, Death StartUp and Smack Krackle Pop. Together they are a wall and have been on the track every time Molly has been in as jammer. Mary, still sidelined, told John that Moriarty has always handpicked blockers for Molly and John can’t help but feel ill at ease whenever these three skaters are on the track.
As Molly flies around to the pack, John glances at Sherlock to see if he feels the same. If he does, he does not show it. John looks back to the track just in time to see Molly screaming toward the pack. She signals Crusher and kicks out for more speed, coming in hotter than ever. John clenches his jaw and can feel his teeth grinding away. Crusher moves to go after Belle and StartUp as Krackle shifts her position to better take the hit Molly is about to deliver. John sees it coming just after Sherlock does.
“Molly!” they both yell, nearly in the same voice.
Just before Molly arrives to the pack, StartUp pulls back and Crusher lurches forward, putting her and Belle right in Molly’s path. It all happens so quickly. Molly slams into the other two women, her face careening into Belle’s elbow and StartUp tightening her fingers around the back of Molly’s neck to try and keep from falling with them. Or forcing Molly’s nose into a harder impact?
All four women go down in a heap. Molly’s hands are on her own face instantly, trying to catch the blood flowing from her nose. John and Sherlock are there in seconds, the doctor falling to his knees next to Molly. To his credit, Sherlock stays back and out of John’s way. He knows he must give the doctor space, in spite of his worry and John is thankful for it.
“Are you all right?” the coach asks Crusher, helping her to her feet. The other skaters on the track drop to one knee, that jam blown dead just after the collision.
“Yeah, yeah,” Crusher catches her breath. “I’m fine.”
“You girls all right?” Moriarty’s cool voice sounds above the crowd noise. The Rock City fans are booing loudly, but quiet down soon enough for the injury time out. The two Demons nod as they rise. “What about yours, Sherrrrlock? Star player okay? I’d hate to see her leave the track for good.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Sherlock growls at the gleam in his eye.
John hears the exchange vaguely, but his focus lies elsewhere. He has a white cloth over Molly’s nose and mouth that quickly stains crimson. He prevents her from rising while asking about dizziness and pain. His finger is moving from side to side in front of Molly’s face while her eyes follow by the time Sherlock looks their way again.
“How is she?” he asks, keeping the concern John knows is there from his voice.
“Help me get her off the track,” John responds. Each man takes an arm and lifts as she pushes to her feet. Upon rising, the silent crowd explodes into cheers and cries of ‘We love you, Mollyscious!’ She gives a thumbs up in response. “Easy, Molly. Easy now.”
John swaps out the bloody cloth for a fresh one and continues his examination once the trio is on the Rock City bench. Sherlock sends Witch Hazel in as jammer and a new jam begins. He only turns away from the action at the sound of John’s voice saying his name.
“I’m taking her to the locker room. It could be a concussion,” he says. He rests a hand on the coach’s arm at his look of alarm. “It’s unlikely, but I want to be sure. She’s okay, Sherlock.”
Sherlock’s grey eyes are steely again and he nods before turning away. The bout continues and Sherlock puts all of his focus on it, carefully closing Molly into a quiet room in his mind palace. He has no doubt she is in good hands with John Watson and the Rock City Rollers need a coach with his mind on the track.
As the minutes tick away, Rock City punishes the Demons with points scored and hard hits. The match-ups between these two teams are always ruthless, but the anger bubbling up within every one of the ladies after the loss of their captain makes this bout look like one from the 1960s and 1970s when rules were not clearly defined and sometimes not even observed. Rock City treads the line between legal and not for the remainder of the second half. Only two penalties are served by either team, but a lot of bruises are doled out.
When the whistle blows, Rock City wins by a crushing 160 to 101. A hoot that starts the crowd cheering bursts from HardOn’s lips. The Demons skate off the track to their bench as all of the ladies meet on the track, hugging and raising fists in the air. Sherlock joins in the celebration and they all cheer for their coach. As he turns in a circle within the center of the team, Moriarty catches his eye to give him a mock salute. Sherlock ignores him and returns his attention to Rock City. He calls them all together, leading them in the team chant.
“Ladies! One, two, three…”
“D R C Woo!” the entire stadium screams in victory and the sound is deafening. Sherlock smiles to himself, knowing Molly can hear it from the locker room and knows her teammates carried the day. However, the smile fades when he catches another glimpse of Moriarty stepping onto the track. Sherlock furrows his brow and does his duty, although he hates extending any pleasantries to the Demons.
“Ladies, line up!” his deep baritone booms into the crowd of skaters. Somehow they all hear him over noise and ready themselves to shake hands with the other team. The two coaches linger at the end of the lines until they finally meet.
“Pleasure to beat you, Jim,” Sherlock smirks.
“You forget, we meet again, Sherlock,” he growls. “And we will crush you.”
He pulls Sherlock’s hand where they are cordially shaking them and draws close, looking straight into his grey eyes.
“I will burn the heart out of you,” he whispers urgently, deadly.
Sherlock pulls away and puts some space in between himself and the shorter man. He meets the intense dark brown eyes with his own frown, brows furrowed and continues to watch Moriarty as they both follow their teams to the locker rooms. Once all of the ladies are safely away, Sherlock makes his way through the skaters as they whoop and congratulate one another. Harry grabs him around the waist and lifts him off his feet, in spite of her shorter stature.
“Harry! For god sake, put me down!” he squirms.
“Not on your life!” she cries and the whole room cheers. “It’s your own fault for being such a lanky bastard! You make it too easy.”
Harry swings him around, his feet sometimes barely clearing benches and lockers. She loudly declares him the best coach in the whole derby racket. Everyone cheers and laughs and she finally puts him down. It is a gross exaggeration, of course, but he can appreciate the sentiment.
Back on his feet, Sherlock jumps up onto one of the benches to congratulate the team and spur them on for the rest of the season. As he speaks, the energy in the room rises in spite of the fatigue a bout creates. He looks out into the sea of faces and sees determination and strength, dedication and spirit, and he knows they can take this all the way to the championships.
“This is what a team is,” he tells them. “It is trust and camaraderie, depending on a teammate as much as she depends on you. We can do this. And this is the best, the perfect way to start the season. You all exemplify the dedication and passion of champions. This team, every one of you, never ceases to amaze me. Well done.”
Cheers and shouts of hooray fill the room.
“We are gonna take the whole goddamn championship!” Hella yells above the din and makes it louder.
Harry reaches for him again, but Sherlock ducks away and is only skimmed by her fingertips. He weaves his way through the ladies again and finally reaches the door that leads to the medic room, but he finds it empty. Frowning, Sherlock pulls his phone from the pocket of his suit coat and dials John’s number. It rings and rings. The sound of the door opening behind catches his attention as his call goes to voicemail. Sherlock turns to see Greg standing before him with a grave expression on his face.
“Greg?” he says, slowly lowering the phone from his ear. “Something’s happened.”
“It’s Molly,” he answers.
“Tell me,” Sherlock straightens his spine, every muscle hard as steel.
“Sherlock…” he pauses and shakes his head. “She passed out and stopped breathing.”
“What?” Sherlock’s eyes fill with disbelief and shock.
“It all happened so fast. We called an ambulance from Ford. John went with her.”
***
Sherlock is out of the elevator as soon as the doors open. He walks briskly down the third floor hall of Ford Hospital. His penetrating grey eyes stare straight ahead at the nurse’s station. He had entered the hospital through the ER and was told Miss Hooper and her doctor were on the third floor in the east wing. She had been admitted, obviously, but they would not give him her room number and said he had to check in at the nurse’s station on the floor. Irritated by unwilling to waste time arguing, Sherlock made for the east wing. It is not the wing injured skaters typically stay in, being for far more serious cases and that has Sherlock scared. There is no other word for it and his mind is racing with the possibilities.
Sherlock’s black dress shoes click angrily as he strides through the hall. A nurse at the station watches him with interest as he approaches.
“Can I help you?” she asks skeptically when he stops before her.
“Yes, I need the room number for Molly Hooper,” he answers sharply. “She was injured at the roller derby and I am her coach.”
“Ah, yes,” she says in a friendlier tone. “We were told to expect you. The doctor wants to speak with you before you see her.”
“Her doctor is with her,” Sherlock replies with an edge to his tone.
“Mm-hm,” the woman hums dismissively, shuffling papers on the desk. Sherlock is about to argue his point when a short, rotund man hurries toward him with his arms extended.
“Sherlock,” he says in an urgent voice that is laced with worry, “Greg said you were on your way.”
“Mike,” the coach’s entire demeanor changes. He breathes a sigh of relief and lets the man’s presence take the edge off the tension. “I didn’t think you would be here this late.”
“Shouldn’t be, but I have a case right now that’s got me here 24/7. I’m glad my wife is in New Jersey helping her sister move. She’d have my head,” he grins, but it does not reach his eyes and the strain around them does not lessen. Sherlock studies his friend as he explains the night’s events, observing all the signs of stress and fatigue. Dark circles under the eyes, bloodshot sclera, a pale pallor to constantly pink cheeks.
“But John knows I always look after the ladies when they’re here. Good man. Had lunch with him earlier this week, in fact,” Mike wipes a hand across his forehead. “I would’ve come in for this regardless.”
“Come in for what? What is going on?” Sherlock freezes, every muscle tightening again. His brain seizes and grows cold in an instant. Mike cannot mean that the way it sounds. He absolutely can not.
“No, no, no!” Mike sees the change in Sherlock immediately and puts his hands on the taller man’s shoulders. “She’s okay. She’s going to be fine. John kept her breathing at the stadium and on the way here. We stabilized her after they arrived.”
Sherlock shakes his head in disbelief and confusion. Greg had said Molly was not breathing, but it doesn’t make any sense. Even a concussion would not do that, unless brain damage occurs and that is very unlikely. Sherlock tries to sift through all possible scenarios as Mike speaks, stopping only when he hears Mike say…
“...never would have known the cause if he hadn’t wanted that blood test and when it came back positive for…”
“Doctor Stamford,” a nurse says suddenly. They both see her grim expression and Mike turns to Sherlock again, face heavy with worry.
“I’m sorry, Sherlock, I have to go,” he and the nurse hurry away, but he looks back before turning the corner. “345. John will fill you in . Sorry.”
And he is gone. Sherlock blinks, staring after him, fury boiling in his blood. What. The fuck. Is John Watson thinking. Ordering a blood test? And for what, exactly? Suspecting Molly would use drugs to enhance her performance, or for any other reason, is reprehensible. The idea that any of the ladies would do it, or that Sherlock would be stupid enough not notice instantly and deal with it is absurd and incredibly insulting, but suspecting Molly is beyond comprehension. Surely John knows that by now.
Sherlock sees red as he marches through the hall, every fiber of his being aflame as he follows the numbers to 345. He nearly kicks the door open when he arrives and bursts in, fury burning the blood that pulses through his veins.
Molly sleeps peacefully in the bed, tubing on all sides and resting under her nose. John jumps up from his seat at the side of the bed at Sherlock’s dramatic entrance. He steps forward, but stops after getting a good look at the coach’s face. Seeing the fury plain on his features, the doctor frowns and squares his shoulders to the taller man’s.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sherlock booms. “You have no call to suspect Molly of drug use! Have you learned nothing? You have been here over a month and this is what you assume? If this is what you think of her…”
“What? No, Sherlock, that’s not…”
“Stay the fuck away from my team.”
“...why I wanted the blood test.”
“I will kick your ass if you ever try to set foot in the stadium again.”
“I was looking for arsenicosis.”
Sherlock, who had been rapidly advancing on John, now stands directly in front of him, looming down at him. He grabs him by the lapels, lifting him slightly and forcing him to his toes. The taller man leans forward, their noses mere inches apart. Sherlock blinks, his grey eyes furious and gleaming. He stares John down as he tries to process the words. His head is spinning and he tries to concentrate. Arsenicosis. It doesn’t make any sense.
He blinks again and furrows his brow. To his credit, John does not look frightened or even angry. There is, however, great concern in those stormy, deep blue eyes.
“Arsenic poisoning.”
“I know what it is!” Sherlock snaps. “I’m not an idiot.”
“Then you know how quickly it works,” John replies, paying no mind to the coach’s behavior or their relative positions. Sherlock’s eyes are on John, but they are distant as if seeing something else entirely as the doctor continues. “She exhibited symptoms within fifteen minutes of coming off the track, cardiac arrest at twenty. A bit faster than usual, given that her heart rate was up. It was introduced right into her bloodstream. Had to be.”
“Her bloodstream?” Sherlock’s eyes focus again and the crease in his brow deepens. His hands release John’s collar and he shuffles back to put a little space between them, rolling John’s words in his mind. “Have you found puncture marks?”
“Not yet, but it’s there somewhere and I’ll find it,” John tells him firmly.
“What made you suspect arsenic?” Sherlock cannot stop himself from asking. He is incredibly intrigued, in spite of the gravity of the situation. He does not simply want to know what happened to Molly, but also how the doctor arrived to that conclusion. One could easily mistake and dismiss the symptoms for the results of physical exertion only. Redness of the skin, and tingling fingers and toes would have seemed like adrenaline left over from the collision and nosebleed. It might even produce nausea and muscle cramps. But even once Molly had gone into cardiac arrest, what would make John even consider arsenic?
“Molly’s a very healthy woman. I thought it was all part of the adrenaline, slamming into people and the like, but when she stopped breathing,” John shakes his head. “I started CPR and thought over everything that happened from track to arrest. Given the reaction and the time frame, all the signs were there. It had to be arsenic.”
Sherlock is not sure what to say. The woman who is like a sister to him, his best friend, his whole life, came as close to death as he has ever seen. His soft eyes have not left John’s face and are filled with more emotion than Sherlock could ever express in a lifetime. John seems to understand and acknowledges it silently with a slow nod.
“I had them test for other poisons too,” he says gently. “Just in case.”
“But you knew you wouldn’t be wrong,” Sherlock responds in a low tone. John nods once.
“And it was introduced on the track,” John states matter of factly. “Or just after she came off.”
Sherlock narrows his eyes, pressing his lips together in a thin line. He studies John. Studies him so thoroughly that he can hide nothing. Deduces. Why would poisoning even be on the table? Another second and the deduction hits. Sherlock’s eyes go wide and his face slackens. His mouth drops open in disbelief.
“She told you,” he whispers, his eyes falling shut.
“Damn right she did,” John replies in a tone so certain he could be heading into battle. Sherlock’s eyes snap open again to see John standing tall, shoulders back, meeting Sherlock’s gaze with sharp eyes. He looks every bit a doctor ready to give orders and save the day. “She was concerned, but she wouldn’t have imagined this in her wildest dreams.”
Sherlock sighs sadly and lowers his eyes to the woman sleeping peacefully beside them. Stepping away from John and closer to the bed, he takes Molly’s hand in his and holds it as he would the most delicate thing on the planet. He tilts his head and takes in every feature of her face, the paleness of her skin and the dark circles under her eyes. He brushes a lock of hair from her forehead gently.
“She told me of her suspicions,” he begins in a hushed voice. “I thought the ladies she mentioned had been careless. They aren’t the most careful of the bunch.” He sighs. ”It had only happened two or three times at that point. I dismissed it, but then it happened twice more. I just didn’t have enough data and told her as much.”
“She mentioned that,” the doctor nods.
“John,” Sherlock’s eyes are suddenly filled with desperation, “I’m not in the locker rooms when they’re getting ready for a bout. I come in to talk and lead them out once skates are on. I don’t monitor equipment. I leave it to them as part of their jobs. I was only just beginning to get more of that information from Molly. She was my eyes and ears.”
His eyes fall to her countenance once more, glistening with tears. John’s expression softens and he moves closer to the bed, to the coach.
“Sherlock, I’m not trying to blame you and you shouldn’t blame yourself either,” he tells the man firmly. “Molly certainly won’t. You listened. You were trying. The two of you were working together.”
Sherlock looks up and gazes at him for a long time. It feels like forever. But he finally lifts his chin and swallows hard, his eyes full of determination instead of sadness and worry.
“She is going to be okay.”
It is not a question and yet, something in Sherlock’s face is asking. John lets his shoulders ease, the corners of his mouth curling the slightest bit.
“Yes, we caught it in time,” he says solemnly. “She won’t wake until tomorrow night and she’ll need to stay here for a week or two, maybe more. It depends on her recovery. She will not be skating. It’s quite a shock to the system.”
Sherlock remains silent and nods. A tear slips from his eye when he blinks and trickles slowly down his cheek. He bends down and presses his lips to Molly’s forehead, uttering ‘I’m sorry’ in a deep voice that is not even a whisper.
“Sherlock,” John touches his shoulder and those all-seeing grey eyes meet his own, “she’ll be okay.”
“Thank you,” Sherlock whispers, another tear gliding down his pale skin. John shifts and removes his hand.
“I’ll give you two a minute.”
Sherlock’s lips turn up in a small smile as he thanks John again.
***
Nearly two hours later, John sits at a small table in the cafeteria. Reading a book on his phone, he pays no mind to any of the people walking around him until a tall figure steps right up to the opposite chair and stops. John raises his gaze to see Sherlock Holmes. He straightens in his seat and greets his colleague, gesturing to the other chair.
“Thank you,” Sherlock says again as he sits and pushes a coffee cup toward John, holding his own in the other hand. “Milk, no sugar.”
“Thanks,” John looks at him in surprise. ”How did you…”
“John,” he interrupts with an almost pitying look, “surely you know the answer to that question.”
“Right,” John watches him take a sip from his own cup. Sherlock’s eyes are a bit red, but not too puffy. No one would even notice if they hadn’t seen him in Molly’s room. John leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “You okay?”
“Yes. Better.”
John waits. Sherlock returns his gaze, but remains unreadable. John wishes he had the man’s power of observation. Sure, he does all right. He learned how to watch and see things others would not, but not the way Sherlock does. What the man does is uncanny. God, John would love to know how Sherlock really feels about all of this. Maybe then he could approach this next subject with more confidence. John is hesitant to admit that he was already helping Molly and had taken her advice in visiting the team’s former physician, but it is information that Sherlock needs to know to have the full picture. He can only hope the coach does not take it as an intrusion.
“Shortly after I started here, Molly suggested I speak to a William Wiggins,” John says carefully.
“Billy?” Sherlock asks evenly. Only a slight widening of his eyes betrays his surprise. “And did you?”
“A few weeks ago, yeah.”
“How is he? I haven’t seen him for some time. But that is by design, of course,” Sherlock mutters wryly.
“Good,” John’s voice rises in tone as he studies Sherlock. Will he see his obvious exclusion as a slight? John spent a great deal of time after his visit with Billy wondering if Sherlock could be the ally Billy suggested. John wets his lower lip and then bites it. “He confirmed Molly’s suspicions.”
The coach raises a brow, the coffee cup hiding his mouth.
“Well, only in the sense that he agrees someone was trying to sabotage the team,” he corrects and pauses. Anticipating Sherlock’s questions, he adds, “and still is. He didn’t have real proof, no.”
Sherlock places the cup on the table and remains silent. He wears a different expression though. The look in his eye, it’s… He almost looks impressed. The corners of John’s lips quirk up into a smile that he quickly tamps down because humor has no place in what he is about to say.
“He also confirmed that he was poisoned.”
Sherlock’s eyes go very wide this time. John leans forward more and licks his lips again as he continues quietly.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“He doesn’t think you do.”
“He wanted to keep it a secret so I let him think he was.”
“Molly knows too.”
“Obvious.”
John’s mouth twists in annoyance and he juts his chin out a bit as he turns his head abruptly, looking away from the snarky coach. Sherlock presses his lips together in a thin line and lets out a long, slow sigh. He leans back in his chair and runs a hand through his curls. They fall over his forehead artfully once free from his fingers. He glances away and then back at John contritely, a silent apology.
“I should have told Molly I knew. I’ve never kept anything from her before,” he leans forward, elbows on the table. “I couldn’t find any useful information from the alleged accidents before Billy left and then there weren’t anymore. Two months left in the season and not a single mishap.”
“Like someone knew you were onto them.”
“Or wanted me to believe Billy was responsible,” Sherlock snears.
“Was Anderson hired before or after the season ended?”
“Just after. Greg asked Mike to stand in for the remainder of the season. We have a month-long break after and start in again on an easier schedule for another month or so.”
“And nothing happened while Anderson was here?”
“No,” Sherlock scowls. “Nothing he didn’t do himself.”
“And now this on the first bout of the season,” John thinks aloud. “My first bout.”
They stare at one another without blinking. Sherlock breaks into a grin, his grey eyes sparkling and John sees green flecks scattered in the irises. He has never noticed them before, probably because he never paid much attention. Why is he now? They are beautiful. In fact, Sherlock’s eyes are absolutely stunning.
“Someone doesn’t like Mrs. Hudson’s choice of doctors.”
“What? Oh, yeah. Yeah, right,” John puts more weight on his forearms leaning further forward. “Since I spoke with Billy, I’ve been trying to learn more about everything that’s happened, picking Molly’s brain for facts. I’ve read all of Billy’s notes and asked questions of the ladies who were injured. I’ve watched practices for anything suspicious, and footage of bouts where skaters were injured.”
“Practices?” Sherlock interrupts him, narrowing his eyes. The sparkle instantly replaced with dark clouds of simmering anger. “Are you saying you suspect one of the ladies?”
“No, not at all,” John answers truthfully. “I wanted to be there if something happened or someone who shouldn’t be around was.”
“I did much the same after Billy left,” Sherlock confesses as the clouds fade away. “I watched every bout as closely as I could and scrutinized stadium staff. Uh, don’t mention that to Greg. It might have involved breaking into his office.”
“You didn’t,” John smiles mischievously. When Sherlock merely shrugs, a puff of laughter bursts from John’s lips. He continues to laugh quietly and the coach soon joins him. “Billy was right. You’ll face the devil himself for the ladies.”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?” Sherlock laughs.
“Yeah, it is,” John grins and is suddenly more serious, “but it isn’t.”
“Indeed,” Sherlock’s eyes fall to his own arms, which are crossed on the table in front of him. A certain sadness has returned to his features. John reaches for the man’s hand and covers it with his own. Sherlock’s head rises quickly at the touch.
“You couldn’t have known Molly would be a target,” John tells him solemnly. “There was no reason to think anyone would be poisoned again.”
“I know, John,” he smiles sadly, “but that doesn’t make it easier.”
John nods and drops his gaze to their hands. He tilts his head to the left as he begins to realize how easily his fits over Sherlock’s, in spite of the different sizes. They fit so well together. The coach’s skin is soft and warm. It feels alive and welcoming under John’s fingers.
“I will find out who did this,” Sherlock says suddenly, deadly serious.
The doctor nods once.
“We’ll do it together.”
---
Holy shit, Jane! What’s going to happen next?? At least both of them are on the case now, am I right? Tune in next weekend. Same bat time. Same bat channel.
@zentris @toooldforthissh-stuff @shana-movershaker @melmey-fanfics @louise175dk @221b-carefulwhatyouwishfor @technicallywiseoncns @underestimatemethatwillbefun @jhamishw @weirdlittlegoofball @superwholockpotterincamelot @superwholocklmt @ladidragonuniverse @kittenmadnessandtea @srebrnafh @welcometomyharddrive @annecumberbatch @kingdomofbrokenhearts @philliphooper @whodwantmeasaflatmate @gloriascott93 @vvaticancameoss @cow-mow @echosilverwolf @spazzz32 @absentmindedstuff @swissmissing @shuukichan @maeliandmyself @wtgilsa @thetranslucentwallaby @red-pen-revolution @britishaccentfan @dischorde @plasticstrawsmuggler @youknowyougrow
Sorry, youknowyougrow! I forgot to add you to the list, but you are on now. A thousand apologies and welcome!
#Sherlock Holmes#Sherlock#sherlockholmes#sherlock fanfic#john watson#johnwatson#Johnlock fanfic#johnlock#sherlock roller derby#sherlock au
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HMH Teen Teaser: CALCULUS OF CHANGE by Jessie Hilb!
‘Tis the season for romance, right? We are so excited that CALCULUS OF CHANGE by Jessie Hilb, an incredible debut about first love, identity, religion, and grief, will be in bookstores on 2/27/19. But there’s no time like the present to introduce you to these quirky, heartfelt characters. Without further ado, you can read the first three chapters of this YA below.
ME
Immediately I want him. Not because he has pierced ears. Not because he has unruly brown hair and gray-blue eyes. I want Tate Newman because he is wearing a two-toned blue handwoven yarmulke atop his head. It’s like he’s wearing a piece of his soul outside himself. I’ve been watching him for a few weeks now. We have math together, which is where I noticed the yarmulke. He’s just returned from a summer trip to Israel with a big group of Jewish kids from Bentley. He’s the only one in the group still wearing his yarmulke, and when I look at him, I see audacity and spirit, and I want those things in my life. I decide I want him in my life.
“Aden.”
He says my name like we’ve talked a million times before.
“Tate.”
I wonder if he can hear the nervous laughter behind my voice.
“Calculus,” he says.
And I know exactly what he means.
“Calculus,” I say.
So this is how we meet. We meet after school in the hallway of Bentley High over happenstance and a calculus problem.
He couldn’t know that I have a secret passion for all things calculus. Calculus, as it has been described by our math teacher, “is the study of change.” I like the idea of infinitesimal change. Small change in several steps makes sense to me because it feels like somehow I can control it. I am in charge of getting the numbers and symbols where they need to go. And though from start to finish it looks different on paper, I am really showing the tiniest shift. What I can’t control in real life is the sudden, catastrophic change that often comes without steps or warning and makes life insufferably different. Like a dead mom. Calculus? Calculus is change I can wrap my head around.
“Aden.”
He says it again. My name.
“Yes,” I say, answering the question he hasn’t asked yet. “I can help you with the calculus problem.”
“Thank you,” he says.
I’m smiling again, and I notice when he looks at me he cocks his head a little like he’s trying to figure me out.
“What?” I say.
“Fast friends.”
“Fast friends?”
I let myself laugh because I might explode if I don’t.
“Yes,” he says. “It’s weird we’ve never met before. I think we’re supposed to be friends.”
Supposed to be.
“Okay,” I say. “Then let’s be friends.”
“Fast friends.”
“Whatever that means, Tate. Fast friends.”
Talking to Tate is like swimming underwater. Everything silences, and it’s just him and me. But I can’t breathe.
“Talk after class tomorrow and we’ll sort something out?”
I can’t breathe but somehow I speak. “Looking forward to it.”
He smiles.
I’m toast.
MARISSA
Marissa lies on my bed reading a magazine, her feet resting on my pillow, her long brown-auburn hair hanging off the side in its usual mess of waves. A half-eaten candy bar sits next to her. How can she do that? Eat only half.
I’m at my desk working on a four-part calculus problem. I have part one and half of part two completed, but I’m not in the zone.
“Oh my God,” she says. “Turn it up. I love his song.”
She’s right. The music is good. Really good. Deep, gospel-like singing, severe drums, a choral background. It’s rock and soul, emotional. I lose myself. First, it’s the singer’s voice pulling me into the music and out of my calculus homework. Then, the drums have me tapping my pencil on the desk, bobbing my head with the beat. Finally, the choral background kicks in with the crescendo. Colors, lights, feelings burst and swirl in me. I close my eyes and let the music swallow me. And then the song is over and I look at my half-finished calc problem.
“Because I can concentrate so much better with the music blaring?” I say. I look past Marissa where my guitar leans against the nightstand. I wonder if I could trim the song down and cover it with just the guitar. I’d have to change the key. Lower.
Marissa tracks my gaze and props her head in her hands. “Write anything good lately?”
“I’m almost finished with the song I played for you the other day. It’s not right, though.”
She sighs, and with a smile she says, “Ade. Always the perfectionist. I thought it was amazing.”
“It’s not amazing yet.”
“It will be.” Just like that, Marissa believes in me, unfailingly, ferociously.
I put my pencil down, hating that my calculus problem is half finished and I’ll have to start from scratch when I get back to it. But I should have known I wouldn’t get much done with Marissa here. She flips the page in her magazine, a history book lying untouched on the floor next to her.
“Make contact with Josh today?” I ask her.
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“And he’s so . . . uninteresting.”
“Uninteresting?”
“I’m bored. We have to stop doing our thing. It’s so old.”
I think about Josh and his piercings and his attitude and the way he’s always just there for Marissa, and I say, “Yeah. I get it.” I feel bad for the guy. Josh pales in comparison to Marissa, with her light and love and charisma. He’s a stoner who fails classes and plays video games every spare second. But he’s been home base for Marissa all through high school. He’s the guy she’ll keep returning to because he’s a warm body, and he always wants her. The same cannot be said of her deadbeat dad who left when she was a little girl.
“So who now?”
She raises an eyebrow and glances back at her magazine.
“Missy! Who?” She hates it when people call her Missy, but I do it because we’ve been best friends since forever ago.
“Lance,” she says, still looking down.
“Lance? Lance who?”
“Lance Danson.”
“Wait, what? I’m confused.” Mr. Danson is an English teacher at our high school. A shaggy-haired, white-button-up-shirt-wearing English teacher with muscular forearms. He incites passion in his students because he cares so much. I had him for English last year.
“His name is Lance Danson,” she says slowly, enunciating every syllable.
“As in Mr. Danson?”
She looks up without raising her chin, her eyes hooded so I can’t read her expression.
“Huh. Mr. Lance Danson. Seriously? You have a thing for a teacher?”
She rolls onto her back, looking at me upside down. “I don’t know. It’s complicated.”
“I’ll bet it’s complicated. He’s, like, a thousand years old.”
“You know he’s not.” It’s true. I know he’s only twenty-six or twenty-seven.
“He said I have the eyes of an angel.”
I choke a little on the soda I’ve been sipping. “He didn’t.”
Marissa smiles and pulls the hair tie out of her hair.
“When did Danson talk to you about your eyes?” I say.
“When I stayed after school yesterday to work on my essay.”
“Huh. Weird.”
“Why is that weird? You don’t think I have beautiful eyes?” She flutters her eyelashes at me and puckers her lips. I roll my eyes. In fact, I do think she has beautiful eyes.
I throw my pencil at her.
“Dude. Don’t throw shit at me.” She tosses the pencil back and it hits the wall, bouncing off so that I have to duck.
I toss my hands up in surrender.
“So you were just, like, what? Leaning over the desk under the guise of working on your essay, and he looks up into those bad boys of yours and says ‘Oh, Marissa, you have the eyes of an angel’?”
Marissa laughs. “Something like that, cheese ball.”
“Wow.”
I think about Danson and his arms and smile and the way he paces the room when he’s onto an idea. And I understand the attraction there. I do. It seems weird that Danson would tell Marissa she has angel eyes. I wonder if she took it out of context. Either way, Marissa changes love interests daily. I’m sure this will pass.
“Dude,” I say because something niggles at the back of my mind anyway, “be careful there.”
She laughs. “Careful is my middle name.” Careful is far from how I’d describe my best friend.
She goes back to her magazine, perusing the story with the title “I Was in a Relationship with (insert celeb-of-the-week name here)!” She’s not vapid. I’ve heard some of the girls in my AP English class talking about her. I’m sure they were speaking out of jealousy, or if Marissa got to one of their boyfriends. I believe the word they used was vacuous. As though a single one of them has any clue about Marissa. I know her. She’s a mess. She’s wild. She spontaneous. She’s funny. She’s desperate for male attention, and she knows exactly what to do to get it. She’s directionless. But she’s my best friend, and I love her not in spite of all that, but in part because of it.
“Your turn,” Marissa says. “Spill.”
I guess we’re done talking about Danson and angel eyes. Which is okay because it weirds me out to think about Danson like that. He’s one of my favorite teachers.
“Spill what?”
“There’s something we’re not talking about. I haven’t heard a word about what’s-his-name.”
“Cody. His name is Cody.”
“Are we still crushing or have we moved on?”
“I believe we’ve moved on.” I can’t think of Tate without that stupid smile. A dead giveaway.
Cody is the senior class’s best-looking lacrosse player. He’s also been in my brother’s circle of friends for the last three years. He’s completely unattainable. He’s nice enough, but I know he doesn’t see me in that way. I’ve been crushing on him for a long time, but somewhere in me I must know it’s not going to happen. Plus, besides his wonderful looks and the fact that he’s sweet, Cody doesn’t seem . . . thoughtful. Like Tate. Or electric, like Tate.
Marissa turns her attention back to the magazine. She takes another agonizingly slow and small bite of the candy bar. Now she’s on the “Spotted at the Beach!” section of the magazine, one skinny movie star after another clad in nothing but strings. I have the sudden urge to rip the candy bar away from her and scarf the rest in one huge, satisfying bite because, my God, I will never be skinny and I’m so sick of wanting it.
She’s impassive when she says, “Who is he? Do I know him?”
“I’m not sure.” I sigh. Out with it. “Tate Newman?”
She pauses, scanning her brain. “Nope. I don’t think I do. Senior?”
“Yeah. Yarmulke.”
“What?”
“He wears that yarmulke around. You know, the little hat that Jewish guys wear.”
“Oh yeah. That.” She looks up. “He wears one to school? Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I guess it means something to him.”
“Huh. And you like him?”
“Kinda.” Understatement of the week. “It’s cool he wears the yarmulke. Different. He has earrings, too. I like it.”
“Huh,” she says again. “So do you think he’s into you?”
I guess I hadn’t fathomed the possibility.
“Don’t know.” I’m trying to sound casual when it’s so far from what I feel. Giddy, awkward, sparkly. But casual and cool? Not me right now, or ever, really.
TATE
I lean against a locker on the other side of the hall, opposite Tate, watching him. He’s talking to a group of kids. I’m etching in my mind the way he throws his head back and laughs when someone says something funny. I want to make him laugh like that. He’s completely unselfconscious. No one wants to miss a beat of what Tate says because he’s fluorescent in an otherwise dull, lightless room. He thinks no one is watching, or maybe he doesn’t care. But I’m watching. I think everyone in his general proximity is watching—at least out of the corner of an eye. He’s a glow stick.
He looks up from the conversation and smiles. At me. I guess he knows I’ve just been stalking him. I lift my hand in a half wave, and I think a full-on bird just flew out of my mouth because butterflies-in-my-stomach doesn’t begin to describe what happened to my body when Tate smiled.
“Problem number three,” he says.
We’re both smiling stupidly. As if problem number three is some inside joke between the two of us, when really it’s just a math problem that at least forty other kids were tasked to solve.
“I know,” I say. “Did you figure it out?”
“I needed you.”
I can’t get my mouth out of this smile.
“Everyone needs me.” Still smiling.
I might be trying too hard. Am I trying too hard? I wish I hadn’t said that of all things.
He laughs. I just made Tate laugh.
Then neither of us says anything for a beat. Laughing gray-blue eyes are my new drug of choice.
“My dad doesn’t know I have a C,” Tate says.
“In math?”
“Yeah. He wants me to be a doctor or an engineer. Like him.”
“Your dad’s a doctor?”
“Yeah. Neurosurgeon.”
“Jeez. No pressure.”
“Ha. I know, right?”
He looks so weary. I feel like hugging him because I can’t seem to stand close enough. But we’re in the hallway of Bentley High between classes and this is only the second time we’ve talked. I concentrate on breathing for a half second because I could swear I’ve forgotten how.
Instead I reach out and touch his arm.
“I’m sure you don’t suck at it.”
He doesn’t seem to notice that my hand was on his arm for far too long.
“Would you be willing to help me? Like forever?”
I want Tate to say the word forever to me again and again and again.
He laughs a little, the sound bouncing off the walls in my head, a low, clear brass instrument—a tenor sax.
“Obviously, yes.”
I just said that out loud when I meant to say yes.
“Okay, then. After school?”
“Sure. I’ll meet you at the benches.”
The benches are an area where only seniors are allowed at Bentley. One of those unspoken rules. I rarely go there because I think people who feel particularly cool hang out there and I’ve never felt particularly cool. But today I throw caution to the wind. Today I crash the dreaded benches.
Tate raises an eyebrow.
I laugh. He caught me. Am I see-through?
“We meet there. We walk to Ike’s,” I say.
“Okay. I’ll buy the coffee.”
“Deal, but I only drink coffee if it’s a mocha,” I say.
He laughs. I just made Tate laugh again, and I could listen to that sound on repeat. If I had a pen and paper, I could write a song to the sound. It’s a tenor laugh. Not high-pitched, but not low or booming. He laughs in D-minor.
“A mocha is not coffee. It’s a hot milkshake.”
“Great, then you can buy me a hot milkshake.”
“See you at the benches,” he says.
I have to remind myself that today I’m a senior and I’m meeting Tate Newman at the place where everyone at Bentley who matters hangs out, and this is all okay because talking to Tate about nothing makes me feel like something. And no one cares where I happen to meet new friends.
I stand next to a group of kids I’ve probably never talked to in all of our school years together. As I watch the girls around me, I’m conscious that I’m not wearing a chic pair of knee-high leather boots. Likely because I can’t get a pair of leather boots to zip over my calves. They’re the cool kids. I’ve never been a cool kid. What was I thinking, meeting him here?
I breathe and sit down. I question my decision to sit down as soon as I do it. Cross a leg. Uncross the leg. Look down at my thighs and cross a leg again. Repeat. Try not to think about my thighs or my calves or some other part of my body that would disqualify me from wearing what I want. Where the hell is he? It’s been fifteen minutes since the bell rang, and on the day I finally decide to the brave the benches, Tate would forget. Or worse, decide he had something better to do than hang out with me and a calculus problem. I scan the crowd for someone I know, but then a girl with long blond hair—Stacey?—moves, and I see Tate.
He’s surrounded by another group, again with the energy and the lit-up face and the attention of everyone in this general area. I forget what I was thinking because thinking isn’t something I can do when Tate makes everything in me vibrate. And that’s before he looks at me.
He’s midsentence when he spots me sitting on the bench, watching him, legs crossed. His smile suspends time. He waves me over, and I am not my calves or my thighs or my awkward legs crossed, because Tate sees me.
“Guys, this is Aden, the girl I was telling you about. Calculus wiz, and she’s awesome, too.”
I laugh.
With Tate stands a freckled, redheaded girl I’ve never seen and Paul and Alana, friends of mine. I smile at the redheaded girl and immediately forget what Tate said her name was. I didn’t realize Tate and I had mutual friends. This fuzzy, fluffy, bird-in-my-stomach thing is happening and the stupid smile, and I wonder if everyone can see it. I feel transparent.
“We know Aden.” Paul elbows my arm with familiarity. I smile and nudge back, glancing at Tate. He raises an eyebrow in surprise, those gray blues vibrant, interested. Surprising Tate just became my favorite thing.
“You all know each other?” Tate says.
“We do.” I amaze myself with the ability to speak because my body and mind are saying everything should be to the contrary.
“Yeah,” says Alana. “It’s the choir thing. We’re tight.” Alana winks at me.
“Awesome,” Tate says. We look from each other to Tate. “I love it when cool people know each other.”
I can’t focus on anything other than Tate and the space he consumes, a universe.
“We have a bitch of a calculus problem to solve,” he says. He puts a hand on my shoulder, pointing me in the direction of Ike’s.
I disintegrate.
I concentrate on the sounds our feet make as we walk side by side to Ike’s—it makes me feel sane. Otherwise I’d lose myself when Tate is next to me, and I’d end up saying something embarrassing and not sane. Four feet walking forward. The sound is soft on grass, and then there’s the crunch of the first autumn leaves underfoot. Louder on concrete. Like the sound of bongos and then the clash of symbols. We make eye contact. Tate’s eyes are filled with a kind of wonder, and suddenly there’s this word on the tip of my tongue . . . hope.
He holds the door open for me, motioning for me to go ahead. I squint up at him.
“I’m perfectly capable of opening a door,” I say.
“Prove it.” He steps aside and the door slams shut while the two of us stand there staring at it.
I push him to the side with my hip and grab the door handle.
A man behind us clears his throat before Tate makes a big deal out of walking through the doorway.
“Thank you,” Tate says. “This is so kind.”
I roll my eyes and continue holding the door for the man behind us.
“Yes,” says the man. “Thank you.” I can’t tell if he’s annoyed or joking.
Then Tate reaches around the stranger and grabs my hand, pulling me into line with him, into him. I glance at the man, hoping he sees the apology on my face.
As we stand in line together, Tate puts a hand on my back, between my shoulder blades, inching me forward. My skin burns in the best way underneath his hand.
The barista looks from me to Tate.
“A small mocha, please.” I take the lead.
“Whip?” He writes some kind of symbol on the cup.
“Obviously,” I say to the barista with a smile.
Tate elbows me. “Thatta girl.”
“Glad you approve.”
“Approve? Nah. I totally worship you.”
“Wow. All it takes is whipped cream? You must be easy.”
“You have no idea,” he says with a wink.
This feels like flirting, and I’m on fire, and how do people do this—flirt—when everything inside feels ablaze?
I want to say something witty, but I can’t speak or breathe or function. His hand is still there, a torch between my shoulder blades, a slow, sweet burn.
Tate pays for both of our drinks. “You better make this mocha worth my while,” he says as he removes his hand from my back.
“I’m sure I already have.”
We sit in the corner next to the window.
“So you’re a genius, right?” Tate is pulling his math book out of his backpack.
“Yes, but I’m not doing this for you.”
“I’d never ask you to,” he says without irony. “But I can’t get a C in this class.”
“Because of college?”
“That and my dad.”
“Pressure?”
“Well, I’ve spent the last eighteen years tricking him into thinking I’m smart, like him.”
“But you’re not?”
When he smiles at me, it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Not in the way he thinks.”
“What does that mean?”
He runs a hand through his curly brown hair. “I don’t know. I’m a lost cause.”
“I don’t get it. Why?”
“I hate math,” he says.
“So? You don’t have to love math, or even be good at it, to be smart.”
“Yeah.”
“So why is math so important to your dad?”
“Math and science. All of my grades, really. I think it’s the whole neurosurgeon thing.”
“Oh.”
“It’s not like he expects me to be a doctor, but he thinks I’m an idiot because of what I want to be.”
“Well, what do you want to be?”
“A musician.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool.”
I have this vision of Tate and me playing music together, and it’s so powerful I look at Tate and wonder if he can see my thoughts.
Tate stares down at his coffee cup, turning it in circles, his mind lost in his dad’s unfulfilled expectations.
“Your dad wants you to have more security in life.”
“I guess. But it’s like he’s asking me to be someone I’m not.”
“Yeah, it sucks to feel like you’re letting him down.”
“Yeah.” He looks up for just a minute, and when our eyes meet, something I can’t name passes between us. It’s more than understanding; it’s recognition. We both know what it means to live up to impossible standards. Even if no one says it out loud, I carry so much weight for my family—the weight of my dad’s unresolved grief and the weight of my brother’s everything. And Tate, having to be someone he’s not to make his dad proud. I get it.
“So what do you play?” I say.
“What?”
“You want to be a musician: what instrument do you play?”
“Piano. I play the piano.”
“Really? Classical?”
“Jazz, mostly. But I can play bits of anything.”
I can’t shake the image of us playing music together. Tate on the piano, me on the guitar, singing.
“Do you sing, too?” I ask. We could play an epic duet.
“Hell, no. I can’t carry a tune to save my life.”
“I can.”
“Oh yeah?”
I answer him with a smile, too hypnotized by the fantasy of us onstage together to say anything else. Tate on piano, me singing with my guitar, bright stage lights, the two of us imbued with our music.
“I’d love to hear you sing sometime.”
Love.
“Sure.” My answer is sure out loud, when, really, the answer is something more like I’ll sing to you and in you and with you and about you.
“So what about you?” he says. “What do you want to be?”
“Like, when I grow up?”
He laughs.
“Because, isn’t that pretty much tomorrow?” I say.
“Or a few months. Or years.”
“I don’t know. I want to be a math major.”
“Figures.”
I stick my tongue out at him.
“I might double in music composition. But only if I can find a program that will support the kind of song writing I love.”
“Which is what?”
“Mostly folk and rock.”
“Where are you applying?” He takes a drink of his latte. A piece of curly hair falls into his eyes. I wish I could lean forward and brush it away.
“NYU, Brandeis, and CU.”
“Top choice?”
“I think it’s Brandeis.”
“Really? You know that’s a Jewish school, right?”
“In fact, I do, Mr. Jewish.” I wink at him.
“So what’s the draw?”
“Um.” I pause. “My mom went there. She’s Jewish, and she—” I don’t know why I just talked about my mom in the present tense. It feels easier than dropping the casual she-died bomb on him right now.
“Really? You know, officially, that makes you Jewish, too?”
“I know,” I say. “But I wasn’t raised that way or anything. So I don’t feel Jewish.”
“Well, maybe you just need to find a way to connect with it.”
“How?”
“Take a trip to Israel.”
“Ha. Yeah right.”
“Seriously, you should look into it. It’s called Birthright. You can get a fully funded trip. Find out who you are, Aden.”
“I know who I am, Tate.”
Tate leans back in his chair, and I swear I could jump into his smile and stay in its warmth forever.
***
The swoons are just beginning for Aden and Tate, so pre-order this incredible debut at any of the links below:
Amazon
Barnes & Noble
Books-a-MillionHudson
IndieBound
Powell’s
#excerpt#hmhteen#hmh teen#excerpts#book#books#reading#YAlit#YA lit#amreading#am reading#romance#YA romance#YAromance#booklr#book quote#quotes
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Damian Lillard is the Chessmaster
Damian Lillard has been on a tear recently.
Dame Lillard has essentially mastered every aspect of the game.
Damian Lillard’s best stretches all look and feel the same. Picture the 37-foot dagger from last year’s playoffs, a shot impossible for most, but one he practices. Fixate on the aggressive poker face he flashed to the camera, an instant meme that will never be forgotten. One stone-faced man floating above the fray, surrounded by the pandemonium he created.
The length of Lillard Time changes, but the character remains the same. The hotter he gets, the more cold-blooded he seems.
The most recent run of Lillard Time is stretching over multiple weeks. His last six games: a 61-point night to save the Blazers against the lowly Warriors; a 47-point effort to nearly rally late over Dallas; a 50 spot to spearhead a wire-to-wire win over Indiana; a 36-point triple double to beat a full-strength Rockets team, a 48-10-8 line in LA during the most emotional regular-season game in years, and a 51-point, 12-assist breeze against Utah that prompted his head coach to admit that he’d run out of superlatives to describe his play. Most importantly, five of those six ended with Blazers victories, propelling them back into the playoff chase despite a star-crossed season that’d ruin almost any other team.
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Lillard’s shot-making may seem magical, and to some extent, it is. I feel confident saying he won’t average 49 points a game the rest of the season (right?). But Lillard’s calm, unflappable nature is not just an effect of his red-hot play. It’s also a manifestation of his highly strategic and analytical decision-making that causes these types of runs in the first place.
No matter the defensive coverage, Lillard has the answer
When Lillard is at his best, he makes defensive coverages look remarkably inconsistent. He beats soft coverage just as easily as tight coverage, and it’s often hard to tell the difference from the naked eye. Teams are starting to double-team him beyond halfcourt, and he’s still able to score.
Lillard’s approach resembles IBM’s Deep Blue against a league of Garry Kasparoves. He’s built an inventory of counters to every strategy, all while disguising his intentions with the same stone face and low-to-ground dribble. It takes him a millisecond to read the body weight of a dropping big man before he’s either pulling up for three or surging past them off the dribble. Either way, they’re toast. It’s just a matter of how he roasts them.
Lillard’s shoot-or-drive decisions against big men that lay back happen so quickly and decisively that it retroactively looks like the defense has badly screwed up. You might ask yourself why the big allowed Lillard to take this shot when he’s playing this well. Yet it constantly happens because Lillard actually made the decision several frames earlier. The instant he saw Rudy Gobert right foot lean backward, he began rising into his textbook jumper. By the time Gobert can even think about being back on balance to jump, Lillard’s already released the ball. That’s how a long three that looks well-defended is actually an open shot for Lillard.
The same point-of-attack decisiveness explains how Lillard gets to the cup so easily even when given a cushion. Everything about this play looks exactly the same as the one above, except Domantas Sabonis is instead leaning forward with his left foot instead of backward. That’s all Lillard needs to see to turn on the jets.
Lillard isn’t just baiting the help defender in these situations, though. He often toys with his own man, tempting them back into the play before leaving them in the dust on the second move. This false sense of security clears the big man away from the play, and then Lillard simply waits until his own man leans one way or another. If he stays behind, Lillard puts them in jail, waits until they come up in their stance, and then explodes to the cup.
If he tries to instead lunge back in front of Lillard, it’s stepback time.
The obvious defensive counter is to send a hard trap at Lillard, but that’s playing with even more fire. Lillard has downloaded so many different forms of defensive pressure over the years that he spots traps in waiting before they catch him. If he senses a double-team is coming, he’ll fake like he’s heading into it before quickly driving back the other way. It rarely matters which way he drives.
Lillard also loves to attack the cup before his own screener is in position, especially when the trapping big man is out of position in some way.
But Lillard doesn’t just attack away from traps. He’s also willing to take himself right into the belly of the beast to create four-on-three situations for his teammates and even himself. The key is that Lillard never gives the ball up until he’s sure his teammates are spaced optimally to use their numbers advantage. Sometimes, that means delivering the pass out right away, especially when the trap is poorly timed.
More often, that means taking hard dribbles backwards to buy his team space and his teammates time to get in position. Defenses are understandably petrified of him turning the corner and going around both trappers, so they’re often reluctant to pursue him if he’s already dribbling away from the hoop. But that additional space only makes it easier for Lillard to make the pressure release pass to a teammate on his terms, when his team is actually ready to pounce.
No matter the defensive coverage, Lillard has the answer. Like a great chess player that has spent countless hours studying every possible board alignment, Lillard has internalized the counter to every counter. None of his moves are his signature one, because they all are. The public sees his long-range shooting and believes that’s the key to his offensive success. In reality, it’s his computational decision-making, combined with a well-rounded game that has no bugs.
Mind and body work in sync, of course, and thus we cannot overstate Lillard’s physical gifts that have been forged through years of tireless work in the gym. He understood earlier than most that perfecting his core, and not bulking up or slimming down, was the key to basketball success in today’s perimeter-heavy age. As he told ESPN’s Kirk Goldsberry:
“If you keep your core tight and your body strong, then the ball flies out stronger,” he said. “If your body is weak, you come up not as strong and the ball will waver when you’re that far out.”
Lillard was explaining how he is able to shoot so accurately on “logo threes,” named so because they are deep enough to touch the artwork you see just across the timeline on most NBA courts. But the same core strength that allows Lillard to pull up effortlessly from 30 feet away also powers his most devastating tool: his explosive hesitation dribble.
Lillard isn’t particularly fast, but it doesn’t matter because he changes speeds so quickly. He goes 0-to-60 in the blink of an eye, leaving even the quickest defenders in the dust.
He also needs very little space to give himself an advantage. His shoulders are so burly, it’s almost impossible to angle him off if he gets even one-tenth of a step on his man. It’s common to see a defender looking like they have him pinned on the baseline, only for him to explode through their chest at the last minute to exploit the tightest of windows to finish, either on the same side of the rim or by reversing underneath.
Look how low he gets on this drive around P.J. Tucker, arguably the strongest perimeter defender in the game. What is any defender supposed to do when he can bend his legs at that angle and lower his center of gravity? The best they can do is foul him in James Harden-esque fashion.
That’s why it’s a misnomer to suggest logo threes are Lillard’s offensive building block. They may make up the most famous Lillard highlights, but unlike Stephen Curry — a player to whom Lillard is often compared — they’re set up by the drives, not vice versa. Attacking the cup like a powerful running back is Lillard’s cake. The shooting is the icing.
The same body control that switches Lillard from 0 to 60 also gets him from 60 to 0. His long shots looks so picture-perfect off the dribble because the threat of the drive sets them up. He goes from full speed to straight up-and-down, which requires ridiculous body control that one only gets with a tight core.
In recent years, Lillard’s also added a deadly stepback jumper going either direction from any distance. As with his pull-up jumper, the threat of the drive sets these shots up. Having them in his arsenal allows him to transfer the same rapid processing he uses read the feet of big men in pick-and-roll over to one-on-one situations.
Lillard’s mind and body are molded in perfect harmony. His core strength gives him access to every tool possible to generate buckets for himself and his teammates, while his analytical brain ensures he uses those tools at the ideal moment. Defending him is like riding in a car that has a manual transmission. He jerks defenders from zero to 60 and back to zero as many times as necessary, all depending on the coverage he sees.
No player is perfect, of course. Lillard will hit a cold spell where those long threes he so easily sets up fall less frequently. The teammates he so easily trusts won’t always repay it with smart decisions of their own. He is but one person, after all, and even he gets tired. He’s expended so much energy in recent years lifting Portland to higher-than-expected seeds that he’s occasionally run out of gas deep in the playoffs.
But those failures are due to the random nature of outcomes in a complicated game, not faulty processes. Lillard is so calm and calculating that he’s mastered the game itself. His demeanor is both the cause and effect of Lillard Time. The hotter he gets, the more cold-blooded he really is.
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There are few things in life which are quite so satisfying as when you see a self-aggrandising, arrogant, talentless prick get their comeuppance.
It is the beauty of reality TV after all, the only thing that makes it worth watching. It’s that moment in the X Factor auditions when someone who’s spent a lifetime hearing how great they are shits the bed in front of the only people who can objectively make that call.
Some cry. Others explode in apoplexy. All cling, briefly, to their delusion. It’s hard to let that go. There are few vicarious pleasures like it. It is never less than joyous to watch.
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Football is the ultimate reality show, and that seedy feeling of savage delight is why it’s so satisfying to watch YouTube clips of Filip Sebo, or the Van Vossen miss, over and over again. There are people whose egotism is so ghastly that you cannot wait to see their bubble burst. There are people whose conduct makes it inevitable that such a denouement will come, and hit them like a freight train, exposing every weakness, showing them up for the world.
I had one of those moments last night, watching John Guidetti’s abject performance against Manchester United in the semi-final second leg of the Europa League. It was the perfect rejoinder to his career of self-serving behaviour. His performance was dire. His dive to the ground in the incident for which two players were sent off was cringe-inducing. His miss with the last kick of the ball, in front of an open goal, in a moment that would have put his team in the final, was simultaneously awesome and awful. I was delighted.
Here’s the thing; John Guidetti is talented.
That’s half the problem.
He’s one of those guys who realised early that he was good, and has never gotten over the taste of himself. He was signed by Manchester City at sixteen, and was scoring goals in Holland’s top flight a year later. His skill was never in doubt. It’s his attitude we were ever concerned about. As good as he was, he was never the godlike power he thought.
If his skills were on the level of his ego, he’d have Messi’s records in his sights, but then he’d have been even more unbearable as a human being, a Kim Jong-un in a football shirt that somehow would never have been big enough for his sense of self-importance.
Is this about his time at Celtic? Sort of. He scored some goals at the start, some of them even important ones, like the one against Inter. Then he stopped and from therein turned in sulky, stroppy performances which suggested the whole thing was something of a bore to him. I believed, then and now, that he’s one of those players who’s got no heart. He doesn’t love the game. He doesn’t wake up every morning dreaming of being on the pitch and when he is out there he often looks disinterested, and lazy.
That was a huge game he played in last night, the sort which top players are right up for. You need laser focus in those matches. He played like someone who was going through the motions. He missed several big chances of which that final minute screw-up was the worst. For the rest of the time he misplaced passes, ran into opposition players and generally meandered around like someone who’s stumbled onto the pitch by mistake.
It’s easy to forget that he actually won things with us; he left Celtic a double winner. He scored fifteen goals in all that season, but ruined any good feelings the fans might have had about him when he walked up the tunnel at the end of the League Cup final instead of celebrating with the rest of the players on the pitch, some of whom had to go and find him. That caught the eye, and from that point on a lot of us were annoyed with him.
He thought he was better than Celtic, and better than Scottish football. His cheap parting shot at us, and of how his national coach wouldn’t select him because “goals in Scotland don’t count as much as goals elsewhere” was ridiculous. Playing in Scotland was no barrier to Lustig, Larsson or Mjallby playing in the Swedish national team; but they were more determined, worked harder, and produced more than Guidetti could be bothered to.
He scored four times for Celtic in his last 20 odd games. What does that tell you? At Celta he has a goals to game average of around one in five, which is in line with that. He has scored once in twelve international appearances. Opportunities have come his way over the course of his career, and he has squandered each and every one of them.
Guidetti has enough about him that he’s managed a career, and he will continue to have a lucrative one. He’s not an Islam Feruz type, who’s attitude has ruined any chance he had. But he’s still a young guy, and you have to wonder where he’ll be playing in five years.
I would guess it will not be for a top team.
Last night was satisfying, but it can do him good. He’s a guy who needed brought down a peg or two, and perhaps the game will act as a short-sharp-shock and bring him back down to earth. He knows he made a mess of it; if he doesn’t find a way to blame that on someone else it might be just the spur he needs to get his career back to the place he wants it.
Or maybe not.
It’s very much in his own hands, but for 90 minutes last night I took great delight in watching it slip through his sweaty fingers. He told the press recently that he “didn’t fancy Ross County away.” Well, watching him last night you couldn’t have helped but notice that he’s simply not at the right level for Manchester United away.
“I live for ‘We did the impossible”, he said at the end of that interview.
Last night he missed an open goal.
Perhaps he’d have found the impossible easier.
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The Curse of the Vampire: My thoughts on MUA3′s first DLC
Today I wanna talk about the first DLC expansion pack for MUA3: The Curse of The Vampire! Because I can’t contain my hype for this any longer, I have to ramble about it and you can’t stop me.
This post will probably be stupid long, so its all under the cut!
The Curse of the Vampire is MUA3’s biggest update so far, and its first paid DLC update. It released just in time for spooky month, so naturally the entire thing is Halloween themed. Every player will be able to sink their teeth into a new story mode difficulty, ‘Nightmare’, where enemies affected by a vampiric curse will appear, as well as accessing the SHIELD Depot, where you can purchase various costumes and items for SHIELD Tokens. The update raised the level cap from 100 to 150 and added extra sections to the Alliance Enhancement Grid, both of which can be used to further strengthen your heroes. For Season Pass holders, you can also unlock four new characters: Blade, Punisher, Moon Knight and Morbius, through the new ‘Gauntlet Mode’, where you take on challenges in a loop of ever increasing difficulty to get rewards.
There was radio silence from the devs leading up to the release of the DLC, so my hopes weren’t high. But I was really happy to wake up on the 30th September to see the massive amount of content we received! Because there’s so much to unpack here, I want to talk about each new feature one at a time, starting with the most hyped up part of the update!
The Characters
I’ve never been a big fan of The Marvel Knights, but I was really pleased to see most of them had something unique to distinguish them from other heroes and I had fun trying them all out!
Punisher is, of course, based around using his huge arsenal of guns. His stats are horrible, like all ranged characters, but he makes up for it with his surprisingly good evasive abilities, as he can shoot his guns or throw grenades whilst strafing left, right or backwards to avoid attacks. Punisher’s sniper rifle is also incredibly deadly, and feels so satisfying to land, especially on those AIM snipers in Wakanda. Punisher feels like the kind of character where you have to play very tactically to win with, which makes him the one I enjoyed playing as the most out of the four.
Morbius gets KO’d fast because of his poor defensive stats, but he absolutely rips apart enemy health bars. Not only does he have high strength and can increase his damage output with Fangs and Claws but he can also lower his foes’ defence with Hypnotic Gaze. The combination is absolutely terrifying. He can also heal himself by biting his enemies, as a vampire should. Playing as him is very fun because you deal so much damage its’ just obnoxious. He’s like Hulk on steroids.
Moon Knight is the most unoriginal character of the four in terms of playstyle, which is a shame. All of his abilities are identical in use to those from other characters, with the only unique feature of Moon Knight is his ability to glide, which is a more situational version of flight. His crescent kick and EX are also visually impressive. I think Moon Knight is the definition of ‘basic but practical’. He has the least impressive moveset of the four new characters but he’s also the only one who didn’t get KO’d when I ran through Nightmare Mode with them all, so he’s a solid unit.
Blade has the unique ability to charge all of his abilities to make them stronger. While charging he can move around (albeit slowly) and you can even switch to a different attack mid-charge. At first I found Blade the least enjoyable to play because of how slow he felt and how often he’d get interrupted by the enemy before he had a chance to do anything. But with the right items equipped, I found Blade significantly more fun, and seeing him stalk around the stage, charging up and waiting for a chance to strike was undeniably awesome.
Something I also noticed is that currently the characters’ traits are incorrect. It doesn’t say Blade can use elements, but he can. It doesn’t say Punisher has the super strength trait, but he does. And it says Morbius has a passive healing factor, but he doesn’t. I hope this gets addressed next patch.
The Story & The Enemies
I don’t think I was the only one who felt disappointed when the ‘new story content’ we were promised turned out to just be another difficulty option. After clearing the campaign four times already I wasn’t too motivated to do it a fifth time, but I did it anyway, and I have mixed feelings on it overall.
Disappointingly, Nightmare Mode has no treasure chests or infinity trials to discover and you get no reward for completing it. Its purpose is ultimately just to be a place for players who haven’t purchased the season pass to fight the new vampire enemies and collect SHIELD tokens. Despite that, I did have fun playing through Nightmare. The enemy’s stats rapidly increase in this difficulty more than the rest, starting at level 40 and rising all the way to level 90 by the last stage! Not only that, the new vampiric enemies (Reborn, Infected and Cursed) add an extra layer of strategy to combat, forcing you to adapt your tactics and your team pretty often.
The Reborn come in many different types, each with unique buffs that make them harder to defeat than standard enemies. They might slow you down or poison you if you get too close, heal nearby enemies, magnetically pull you towards them, inflict the damage they take back onto you, explode after being defeated etc. There are also Infected, which may return as Reborn after being defeated (and can Infect you, which will make you rapidly lose HP until cured), and Cursed, which will cure all Infected of their disease when taken down. Its hard to remember all of this at first, but once you’ve memorized what each of the enemy types do it makes Nightmare Mode much more enjoyable in a uniquely challenging way, especially in boss battles.
I do wish we’d gotten a brand new story mode chapter instead though.
The Gauntlets
I expected Gauntlet Mode to be a never-ending wave of enemies, but I was pleasantly surprised to find it was a lot more innovative and enjoyable. Gauntlet Mode is split into three phases, each with 4-6 Gauntlets. In each Gauntlet, a series of trials must be completed one after another, with the added caveat being that you cannot change your characters or items mid-Gauntlet, and (aside from after completing certain trials) your HP will not recover. After completing a Gauntlet once, you can challenge it again, and this time it will become an Endless Gauntlet where the trials will loop continuously and get harder each time, only ending when you give up or your team is defeated.
Like Nightmare Mode, Gauntlet Mode starts easy and gets progressively more difficult. The first Gauntlet is only level 5 and includes 3 trials, whereas the last Gauntlet is level 120 and includes 10 trials! I must be sounding like a broken record by now but this is the hardest challenge in the game. Gauntlet Mode really puts your endurance to the test, pitting you against continuous waves and bosses, many of which are Reborn, Infected or Cursed, all while under difficult conditions. Many of the optional challenges are also deliberately designed so that they are only achievable on an Endless run, meaning if you want those sweet rewards you have to clear the Gauntlet two, three or even four times in a row without quitting or losing.
I haven’t fully completed Gauntlet Mode just yet. I managed to get 4-stars on all Gauntlets in phase 1 and 2 without much effort due to my over-levelled characters, but on phase 3 the difficulty rose quite considerably. I had to start thinking very carefully about what characters and items I took into the Gauntlet, and I can’t exaggerate enough how incredibly hard Endless can get on these high level Gauntlets after a few loops. There’s a reason they give you 99 revives on Condition: Terminal. They expect you to die. A lot.
Overall, Gauntlet is pretty great! It offers a lot more variety than Infinity Trials, which is perfect if you’re using it to grind or farm items, and phase 3’s Gauntlets are the ideal test of skill and patience for players who enjoy a challenge. That being said, the load times between the trials can be tedious, and the difficulty isn’t for everyone. But I really enjoy Gauntlet Mode, and it’s my favorite part of the expansion!
The Store
The most unexpected part of the update for me was the new SHIELD Depot. Here, you can spend the SHIELD Tokens you collect in Nightmare and Gauntlet Modes for goodies, including new costumes for Black Panther, Captain America, Iron Man and Thor for 400 tokens each. You can also buy voice lines (which I believe may accidentally hint to future DLC characters) and items, some of which are very expensive at 10,000 tokens but look powerful. My favorite part of the Depot is that you can use Credits to buy XP cubes. Up until this point, Credits have been a useless currency. You can spend them to upgrade your items or enhance your alliance, but the sheer rate that you acquire credits means you end up sitting on a pile of 80,000,000 with nothing to spend it on, and that’s not a exaggeration. With this update, my mountain of Credits can finally be put to good use! I bought over 2,000 XP cubes and used them to level up my lesser used characters, so that felt pretty good.
I think the SHIELD Depot is a nice addition to the game, but I am slightly concerned how it will be affected by future updates. Will all future costumes be available for purchase there? If so, does that mean we have to play Gauntlet and Nightmare over and over to get the SHIELD Tokens needed to buy them, since that currency can’t be found anywhere else? I really hope not...
Other Changes
The expansion also made big changes to the level cap and the Alliance Enhancement Grid. Heroes can now reach the lofty heights of level 150, which is absolutely insane. Previously difficult trials like the New Brotherhood and Ultimate Alliance of Evil become a total cakewalk when you’re that overpowered, so anyone willing to put the grinding hours in will be well rewarded. My teams are currently around level 115-125, so I still have a way to go before I hit the new level cap, but I want to reach that stage before I try to 4-star the last phase of Gauntlet Mode because I think I’m gonna need it.
The Alliance Enhancement Grid has also been extended with new upgrades now available. They cost a lot of AEP, but the ones that allow you to heal by attacking stunned enemies are very helpful for Gauntlet Mode. I was close to finishing the original AEG (literally just 7 nodes away from obtaining every upgrade in the game) so my first reaction was: ‘’Damn, I should’ve saved my AEP for this’’. But luckily, the update also added the option to spend void spheres to reset the AEG and refund all AEP spent on it, so you can edit your upgrades. No more buyers remorse! This is one of the features I’ve had on my wishlist for a while so I’m happy they implemented this feature!
Finishing Thoughts
The Curse of the Vampire is a great first expansion for MUA3 overall. It has its let-downs, but it really surpassed my expectations with the amount of new content it contained, and sets the standard for the future expansions pretty high. One thing I am confused by, however, is that they mentioned in a tweet that ‘’players will be able to discover a new Infinity Rift’’. Despite all the new stuff included in the update, an Infinity Rift wasn’t one of them, which gets me thinking: Is this particular expansion really finished? I think we may receive another update on the 31st October, which includes that Rift as well as some spooky costumes. Maybe some free characters as well? Although that might be too optimistic.
Taking my tinfoil hat off for a moment, we know for a fact the next expansion will drop in late 2019 and include characters and features from the X-Men. This is the one I’ve been looking forward to. This is X-23’s (extremely slim) chance to make it in. More than anything else, that’s what I’m wishing for out of the next expansion. Although even if she doesn’t get included, I think if the next update includes as much content as this one, I’ll be more than happy with it.
#MUA3 shitposting#I've been writing this review for like two weeks.#Its 2k words longer than necessary#But I really wanted to talk about this!!#And I really hope the next expansion is as good as this one. Or better!
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Murky Copeland: dancing into biography
She was caught between her impoverished mother and the ballet mistress who offered her a way out. Aaron Hicklin gratifies Misty Copeland, the first black principal at the American Ballet Theatre
We cannot know whether Misty Copeland would have become Americas most celebrated ballet dancer if she had not met Cindy Bradley, the flame-haired teacher who first recognised and then sharpened her aptitudes, but it seems unlikely. Then again, its dubiou that Copeland would have met Bradley if not for Elizabeth Cantine, the coach-and-four of her institution drill team who counselled her to check out the free ballet class at the Boys& Girls Club of San Pedro. Nor is it clear that Copeland would have joined Cantines squad without the encouragement of her adored older sister, Erica, a drill squad hotshot. It was Erica who helped Copeland choreograph an audition piece to George Michaels I Want Your Copulation. And who, knowing her tale, can omit the Russian gymnast Nadia Comaneci from this roll call? As a seven-year-old, trying to imitate Comanecis pyrotechnics, Copeland instinctively was known that rhythmic flow came as naturally to me as breathing, to mention from her memoir, Life in Motion .
This is life, a cascading sequence of opportunity encounters and arbitrary options that influence our fates, but for a young black daughter in a working-class Los Angeles suburb, who characterises her childhood as packing, clambering, leaving often barely living, catching the right interrupts are nigh on hopeless. Yet through whatever alchemy of grit, resilience and dures, Misty Copeland, a 65 lb ragamuffin when she arrived at Bradleys class, hit the peculiars. In August 2015 she was promoted to principal dancer for the American Ballet Theatre( ABT ), the first pitch-black lady to achieve the difference in the theaters 75 -year history.
For millions of Americans, Copelands travels to the spire of her profession is an archetypal floor of triumph over misery. At the Boys& Girls Club where she practised her first ballet gradations, todays visitor is confronted with a cover demo Copeland in a forlorn hunker, forehead resting on her knees. Around her swirl texts like agony, hurt, unhappines, rigor and abandonment. Next to it is another covering in which Copeland pirouettes like a music box ballerina, music notes spiralling over her top. Nearby, a clue extol Great Future Start Here. Copeland is the girl from the wrong side of the trails who got to stand tall on pointe shoes. Im often asked if Im OK being referred to as the black ballerina, she enunciates. And I announce: I dont were of the view that something I want to change. Were still at a point where it needs to be acknowledged all the time.
Timing the course: the ballet celebrity who beat all the curious. Image: Danielle Levitt for the Observer
It is early afternoon, and in a small waiting time inside Steps on Broadway, one of New Yorks best-known dance studios, Copeland sits scrunched up on a terrace trying to talk above the blare of shrieking toddlers as they wait for a class to embark. Although they might not know it, Copeland is the acme of what those little girls dream to be, and a riposte to classical ballets long record of exclusion. Its partly her Cinderella story that has realise her a household name in a marginalised skill, but its likewise a reflection of the savvy acces she has parlayed her visibility beyond “the worlds” of ballet. She has danced for Prince( in his 2010 Welcome 2 America tour ), appeared in a 2014 commercial-grade for Under Armour that soon exited viral, interviewed President Obama and became the blanket of Time publication in 2015 the first dancer to do so since Bill T Jones in 1994. Her memoir is to be turned into a movie.
Predictably , none of that has stopped the resentful from changing her success into a question. Beings ask: Is she get this opportunity merely because shes had such a spokesperson, and because shes pitch-black, or is she good enough to get this part? reads Copeland. All of these things can mess with you psychologically and emotionally. Youd think it would get easier over meter, but for me it gets harder.
Copeland did not always realize the prejudice she was up against as patently as she does today. As an adolescent, dance was a safe conceal where she felt exclusively at home. Starting to a school in south California that was very diverse I never felt like I fitted in, she alleges. But stick me in a ballet studio surrounded by white daughters, and I was, like: Oh, I belong here. I wasnt even thinking about the color of my skin.
A cripplingly shy brat, at her happiest hiding in the wardrobe playing Solitaire or locked in the shower listening to Mariah Carey, Copeland was 13 when she discovered dance, a belated epiphany. Ballet was always an escape, she adds. It was a plaza where I felt safe, and I didnt have that in different aspects of my life growing up. I was so introverted because I felt that something could hurt me. There wasnt ever a human in our house who I trusted, or we werent always living in a lieu where I felt procure, and ballet was this one constant in my life that I could rely on.
Perpetual motion: does her life validate the idea that flair is innate? Picture: Danielle Levitt for the Observer
In many routes Copelands life is a strong validation of the notion that talent is innate. When I considered her in the gym, a tiny malnourished daughter who stood with such position and proximity, I couldnt think it is, responds Cantine. I just said: Ill take that one. Copeland is not simply became the squad, she was cleared skipper. But when Cantine recommended Bradleys ballet class, Copeland was sceptical. I was, like, Perfectly not this is as far as I go outside my convenience zone. She went to watch, simply to satisfy Cantine, dutifully reverting every day for two weeks until Bradley urged her invited to join. Copeland quickly realised shed found her residence. It was the first time I ever find beautiful, she articulates. Just to look in the reflect and to be told: Youre what a ballerina looks like.
Bradley, a former punk rocker who had enjoyed moderate success in the 1980 s with a ensemble “ve called the” Wigs, took to her new pupil instantaneously. The tendernes was mutual. Within eight weeks, Copeland had learned to dance en pointe, a skill that most young ballerinas take times to ruler. The instant of exultation is recorded in a photo that Bradley had the foresight to click: Copeland is ramrod straight on the point of her right hoof, a smile suffusing her face. Cindy was clearly a big part of my proliferation , not just as a dancer but as person or persons, tells Copeland. I had never experienced someone pressuring me to singer my views, and to contact. I started to develop skills that were so underdeveloped in me.
Copelands growing intimacy with Bradley arose at a time when life at home was getting harder. Her mom, Sylvia DeLaCerna, left one temperamental husband for another, and their own families located itself living in a motel, sharing two rooms and pooling loose change to buy food. Copeland noted her escape in ballet, but DeLaCerna annoyed the commute to class was extremely onerous, and told her daughter to discontinue. That was when Bradley influenced DeLaCerna to let Copeland move in with her, sharing a area with her two-year-old son, Wolf. Id merely been married for two years, and abruptly we had a teenage girl, and she stole our hearts, immediately, does Bradley. On Fridays, Copeland would become matzo pellet soup and ignited the Sabbath candles. It merely felt like this beautiful stuff that they shared, and I think thats what I was drawn to, Copeland supposes. When the Bradleys had a professional clas painting taken, Copeland was part of it.
Girl prodigy: in 1998, as a child dancer. Picture: Kevin Karzin/ AP
Its not difficult to see how this would begin to grate on Copelands mother and siblings, who began describing their sister as indoctrinated. When those distress lastly exploded, shortly after Copeland prevailed a prestigious gift for playing Kitri in her favourite ballet Don Quixote , the fallout was distressing and highly public. DeLaCerna decided her daughter no longer requirement the Bradleys; with a view to responding they helped Copeland to application special courts for emancipation from her parents. DeLaCerna campaigned back, assuring the famous civil rights lawyer, Gloria Allred. Eventually, Copeland plummeted her application, but the damage was persist. It was very traumatic having so much of my life disclosed for everyone to see, she alleges. It took 10 years before I could talk about it without weeping. It was no easier for Bradley. It was a huge void that never healed, she alleges. I had so many things to say to her. The two has not been able to speak for 15 years.
In May, Copeland will play Kitri again, but this time in a make for the ABT. Its the responsibilities of a lifetime, one she has dreamed about since seeing her idol, Paloma Herrera, play it in 1996. But Copeland is 34 now, and her outing has been arduous. In 2012, eras after her critically lauded debut in the title role of Stravinskys Firebird , she detected six stress fractures in her tibia. It would take seven months of physical care before she could return to the stage. Last year, she ultimately got to reprise her Firebird act, one of various lead roles she took on within the framework of the ABTs springtime/ summertime season, including Odette in Swan Lake . She also married her long-time beau Olu Evans. Her promotion to principal dancer may be a vindication of her hard work, but she knows a dancers busines is suddenly. A couple of weeks after I was promoted to principal dancer was the first time I seemed: This is the beginning of the end, she pronounces. I was promoted at a very late age for a dancer, so my vocation as a principal will definitely be shorter than most. She imagines for a moment. The frightening occasion is what will fill that vacant. She titters. My poverty-stricken husband.
We live in an epoch, to repeat dance critic Madison Mainwaring in The Atlantic , when Kim Kardashians selfies get even more serious coverage than dancers who have dedicated their lives to their figure. Copeland might be the exception that substantiates the rule, but the vitality of classical dance in America travels on the footpath shes firing. At a era of raised consciousness around black identity, her narration has pulled new audiences to classical dance. Is it enough? The ballet world-wide is perpetually speak about how we need more revelation, to deliver more beings in, but they dont want to change anything about it, Copeland alleges, with aggravation. It doesnt piece that behavior, something has to change and evolve.
Ruffling featherings: as Odette in Swan Lake in 2015 for the Washington Ballet. Image: Theo Kossenas Photography
Its a bright blue morning in San Pedro, and the city brightens after weeks of abnormally high rainfall. In her pitch-black Volkswagen Beetle, Bradley is pointing out the landmarks of Copelands youth. Did you experience the mansion? she expects, pointing to a plaque that speaks Misty Copeland Square at an intersection contiguous to the San Pedro Ballet School, a former bakery that Bradley and her husband, Patrick, bought in 1998. The plaque was unveiled just before Christmas in 2015, and if you Google footage of the opening ceremony, you will see a visibly moved Copeland thanking the Bradleys for “re giving me” a footpath and programme to change not only “peoples lives”, but so many little brown girlfriends lives.
Bradley drives me to her former condo, near a bank overlooking the ocean. In her memoir, Copeland recollects it reeking of cinnamon and the high seas. We sit in the car for a while, and Bradley tells legends of Copeland helping to potty-train Wolf, dancing with him, has become a sister. It seems like yesterday, she exhales. I knew it wasnt going to end well from the beginning. It was marvelous, but very scary, feeling that every minute was going to be our last. She delays. But it worked out OK.
Our tour goals where the storey “re starting” the Boys& Girls Club of San Pedro. Inside the gymnasium, Bradley expresses the lines of benches. She wasnt just watching casually she was absorbing while she was sitting there, she announces, summon the likenes. She didnt move, she watched intently for a few weeks and prevented mentioning No , no , no, until eventually she stepped on to the storey. She was a skinny, scrawny brown girl with pretty hair.
Joyous duet: with long-time beau Olu Evans, who she wedded last year. Image: Evan Agostini/ Invision
Ever since Bradley could dance, she has is intended to school. I precisely thoughts: Everybody needs to know this, she does. In Copeland she found her first geniu. I stroked her foot and thats when the supernatural happened, she suggests, lost in a private daydreaming. Ive never been able to describe it before, but I knew she was special. Blinking back rends, she shakes her manager in surprise. She hadnt danced! she does. It was an angels singing time. That very same day, Bradley offered Copeland a scholarship, sending a document residence to her mother.
We walk back through the organization, past the twinned posters of Misty Copeland in despair and jubilation, the reserve table, the vending machine giving frozen return forbids, the spray-painted representation of the supremacy fist. And as we emerge into the sunlight, Bradley regains her calmnes. I have actually exactly noted my second prodigy Enrique. She pulls out her telephone. Ill prove you a illustration. Like Copeland, Enrique started late( at 16 ), and like Copeland, he is beset by challenges, most having to do with being a Latino man in a macrocosm still defined as white-hot and female. Its the first Ive talked about him, because I learned the first time you should not talk about them too much, does Bradley. She laughs, before including: Until youre ready to lose them. We both peer at the photo. This is a while ago, so hes most spectacular now, she supposes, lighting. Hes got it all.
Hair and Make-up by Bank exploiting Pacifica at Factory Downtown; Producer Stephanie Porto; Digital Tech Jordan Zuppa; Igniting perry foyer and JP Herrera; Set design Chris Stone; place Steps on Broadway, NYC
Life in Motio n by Misty Copeland issued by Sphere, 9.99. Prescribe it for 8.49 at bookshop.theguardian.com
Read more: www.theguardian.com
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Top daily fantasy football plays for Week 9 of the NFL season
With Week 9 of the NFL season upon us, we take a look at some of the best values to be found on Draftkings and FanDuel, and some players worth fading.
SB Nation will be bringing you the top daily fantasy options each week through the regular season and into the playoffs. We have a small sample size of which offenses look good to target and others we should avoid until further notice. As for who should be in your lineups, here are the top value plays of the week, with an eye toward low ownership and high upside.
Quarterback
Drew Brees, New Orleans Saints vs. Tampa Bay Buccaneers ($7,000 DK, $8,300 FD)
Interestingly, Brees has not been smashing at home the way he has during his career. Only once in his three home games this season has he topped 20 DraftKings points. That trend should end in spectacular fashion this week. The Buccaneers rank last in DVOA against the pass and Brent Grimes is in danger of missing his second straight game. Brees should get his home groove on in a big way.
Dak Prescott, Dallas Cowboys vs. Kansas City Chiefs ($6,700 DK, $8,200 FD)
It will be fascinating to see if Friday’s decision to allow Ezekiel Elliott to play will crater Prescott’s ownership level, as players who were counting on Prescott having to shoulder all the offensive load abandon him. That would be great news for those who stay on the Prescott ship, as he put up huge numbers in the three weeks before playing in a monsoon last week. Hopefully that poor number will also depress his ownership, because Kansas City has been blown up by quarterbacks on the regular this season.
Alex Smith, Chiefs at Cowboys ($6,500 DK, $7,900 FD)
With the Cowboys offense back to full strength, this game has shootout written all over it. Even before Elliott was reinstated, the game had the highest point total of the weekend. When forced into shootouts this season, Smith has consistently risen to the occasion, topping 25 DK points in four of eight games. Figure it will be five of nine by Sunday night.
Jameis Winston, Buccaneers at Saints ($5,800 DK, $7,700 FD)
Another quarterback who should benefit from his opponent putting up points, Winston has shown he can flourish in a shootout. Two weeks ago, in a back-and-forth game against the Bills, Winston threw three touchdowns, despite playing with an injured shoulder. Playing in the offense-friendly Superdome should lead to another big number.
Discount Darling: Jacoby Brissett, Indianapolis Colts at Houston Texans ($5,200 DK, $6,500 FD)
With the Texans reeling after the DeShaun Watson injury, the script for this game has flipped, and the Colts are primed for a key divisional upset. If, as expected, the Texans cannot move the ball on offense, Brissett could get a ton of possessions in which to pile up passing stats. His price no longer reflects his opportunity.
Avoid: Tom Savage, Texans vs. Colts ($4,600 DK, $6,000 FD)
I know he’s cheap. Don’t do it. The man has never thrown a TD pass in his NFL career. Really, just don’t.
Also consider: Russell Wilson, Seattle Seahawks; Jared Goff, Los Angeles Rams; Cam Newton, Carolina Panthers
Running back
Alvin Kamara, Saints vs. Buccaneers ($6,300 DK, $6,600 FD)
The Buccaneers are not only dreadful at stopping the pass in general, they are among the worst defenses in the league at stopping pass-catching running backs. Opposing backs get at least five catches a game against Tampa, and Kamara has at least three receptions in every game this year. On DK, where receptions are a full point, Kamara is in a dream spot.
Lamar Miller, Texans vs. Colts ($6,200 DK, $7,500 FD)
The Texans’ passing game is dead in the water with Savage replacing DeShaun Watson, and that actually raises the profile of Miller, who should be looking at upward of 25 carries against a dreadful Colts run defense. The Texans have to abandon much of the offensive game plan that utilized their mobile quarterback, so expect a simplified, run-oriented attack, with Miller leading the way.
Chris Thompson, Washington at Seattle Seahawks ($6,100 DK, $6,700 FD)
With Jordan Reed and Jamison Crowder likely out and the rest of the wide receivers having to face the lockdown Seahawks secondary, Thompson suddenly becomes the focal point of the offense. Even Rob Kelley is in danger of missing the game, which would put Thompson’s usage through the roof. The volume might be Thompson’s highest of the season, and he has made the most of his chances so far.
Adrian Peterson, Arizona Cardinals at San Francisco 49ers ($5,600 DK, $6,800 FD)
Like Miller, Peterson is going to be called upon to help hide a quarterback out of his depth. The Cardinals have publicly acknowledged they plan to feed Peterson early and often to take the pressure off Drew Stanton. When Peterson was the bell cow two weeks ago, he smashed. Facing the winless 49ers provides another great chance for Peterson to go off.
Discount Darling: Marlon Mack, Colts at Texans ($4,100 DK, $5,700 FD)
If, as expected, Savage cannot get the Texans’ offense moving, the Colts could spend a great deal of time in the Houston end of the field. Those opportunities are going to eventually translate into scores, and Mack is a much better bet than Frank Gore to capitalize.
Avoid: Devonta Freeman, Atlanta Falcons at Carolina Panthers ($6,600 DK, $7,100 FD)
Like the offense around him, Freeman is just not getting it done this season, topping 10 DK points just once in the past three games. The Panthers have been stout against the run all season, lowering Freeman’s upside even further.
Also consider: Christian McCaffrey, Carolina Panthers; Joe Mixon, Cincinnati Bengals; Alex Collins, Baltimore Ravens.
Wide receiver
Michael Thomas, Saints vs. Buccaneers ($7,200 DK, $7,600 FD)
With the Saints’ passing game drawing the best matchup in the league, and with Brent Grimes expected to miss another game, Thomas is in position to post his best game of the season, and maybe his young career. There’s simply no one to cover him. Thomas has only topped 20 DK points once this season, but he’ll never find a better spot than this one to explode.
Tyreek Hill, Chiefs at Cowboys ($6,700 DK, $7,700 FD)
Hill is far and away the top receiver option for the Chiefs, and with the Cowboys among the better defenses in the league at stopping the tight end, Hill becomes an even better target for Alex Smith. This game is expected to be a closely contested shootout, which virtually guarantees a massive output from Hill, who went off for 28 DK points just two weeks ago in another road shootout with Oakland.
Devin Funchess, Panthers vs. Falcons ($5,400 DK, $6,100 FD)
Thank you, trade week! Salaries were set before the Panthers traded Kelvin Benjamin to Buffalo, so the No. 1 receiver in a pass-oriented offense is priced like a No. 2. Now, whether Funchess rises to the occasion here is another matter — he’s been fairly volatile since Greg Olsen went down. But at this price, and with his target share about to rise, he’s a good bet to crush value.
T.Y. Hilton, Colts at Texans ($4,900 DK, $6,600 FD)
We generally only like Hilton at home on the fast track in Indy. But he has a tremendous chance to burn a shell-shocked defense that has allowed 40-plus points twice in the past three weeks. Again, this is where the new game script works into Hilton’s hands, as the Colts should have extra possessions to try and pile up points.
Discount Darling: Paul Richardson, Seahawks vs. Washington ($4,700 DK, $5,800 FD)
Josh Norman is not expected to defend Richardson, which only raises the profile of a receiver who went bananas last week against the Texans. Richardson now has three touchdowns over his past two weeks and matched his season-high with seven targets last week. He is way too cheap for his current level of production.
Avoid: Will Fuller, Texans vs. Colts ($7,000 DK, $7,800 FD)
Fuller is the most touchdown-dependent receiver in the league and his new quarterback literally does not have a touchdown pass in his career. Without his scores, Fuller is a WR3 priced as an elite WR1. Wait for his price to come back down, and wait to see if he still has a viable role in the Tom Savage offense.
Also consider: Dez Bryant, Dallas Cowboys; Larry Fitzgerald, Arizona Cardinals; Corey Davis, Tennessee Titans
Tight end
Jimmy Graham, Seahawks vs. Washington ($5,000 DK, $6,100 FD)
Graham comes into this game absolutely on fire with four touchdowns over his past three games and five straight games with double-digit DK points. This week he gets a matchup with a defense that has been destroyed by tight ends all season, allowing the most yards to the position. His price still feels too low for the production.
Cameron Brate, Buccaneers at Saints ($4,500 DK, $6,000 FD)
Brate may have lost a little of his touchdown upside with the emergence of O.J. Howard, but he is still a vital cog in this offense and will be called upon against the Saints, who will look to take Mike Evans away in a potential shootout. Brate has been seeing 8-9 targets a week on the regular, and his dip in production last week should hold his ownership down.
Jack Doyle, Colts at Texans ($4,300 DK, $5,700 FD)
Doyle’s price skyrocketed after his dream game last week, and that might have the effect of lowering his ownership. But at $4,300, he’s about where he should be, given the massive number of targets he’s receiving. He’s still a great bet to 3X or 4X his salary, and there could be extra red-zone opportunities here if the Texans’ offense struggles as expected.
Vernon Davis, Washington at Seahawks ($4,100 DK, $5,400 FD)
Jordan Reed is expected out and Earl Thomas is confirmed out. Those are two tremendous pieces of news for Davis, who has been racking up yards all season and should see a major uptick in targets with Reed and Jamison Crowder not expected to play.
Discount Darling: Jonnu Smith, Tennessee Titans vs. Baltimore Ravens ($3,400 DK, $4,500 FD)
Delanie Walker is going to be a game-time decision and even if he plays, he’s likely to share time with Smith to keep himself from aggravating his bone bruise. Smith has shown a knack for finding the end zone and the Ravens give up a ton of production to tight ends. If Walker is ruled out, Smith is a tremendous value play.
Avoid: Travis Kelce, Chiefs at Cowboys ($6,700 DK, $7,000 FD)
The Cowboys are among the better teams in the league at limiting the tight end position. There is simply way too much value at the position to commit this kind of salary in a bad matchup.
Also consider: Zach Ertz, Philadelphia Eagles; Jason Witten, Dallas Cowboys; Tyler Kroft, Cincinnati Bengals
Defense
Arizona Cardinals at San Francisco 49ers ($3,500 DK, $4,900 FD)
Seattle Seahawks vs. Washington ($3,500 DK, $5,000 FD)
Philadelphia Eagles vs. Denver Broncos ($3,300 DK, $5,200 FD)
Los Angeles Rams at New York Giants ($3,100 DK, $4,800 FD)
Discount Darling: Colts at Texans ($2,000 DK, $4,000 FD)
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