#like seriously what the fuck were the writers thinking when they just swept that shit under the rug
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y'know i love idw1. it is by far my favourite continuity purely because it has the balls to actually do some weird fucked up shit with those robots but one of my forever gripes with the series was how they handled the combiners.
also spoilers for idw1 (not massive but enough that i should warn ya if you haven't read through the series)
not in the sense that i hate combiners or combination but mostly just because i think it's weird that they never tackle the horror of being a combiner. it's never really touched on that most of the combiners were forced together and that combining has a permanent effect on a cybertronian's mind.
sure you've got prowl but idw is written so that the reader is meant to hate prowl, or at the very least dislike him, so you're automatically geared to not give a fuck if he's suffering a little bit. and his relationship with the constructicons is never really given the screentime it probably should've gotten so we never get to hear their opinions on being forcibly fused with an autobot's mind. (clearly they don't seem to mind it at the very least but i have a hard time believing that they just magically were okay with suddenly being part of a gestalt)
first aid literally shows up on cybertron with five other guys that he's only vaguely familiar with and starscream just decides that they're "good enough" and forces them into a gestalt. and then we literally never get to see if first aid gave a fuck about this whole situation. hell one of his gestalt members, rook, literally gets killed in lost light and first aid just, doesn't care, and neither do any of his gestalt mates. they're just like, "eh, moving on"
fucking hell, sunstreaker, ironhide, mirage, and motherfucking optimus prime get put into a gestalt with prowl and the most they have to say is "wow prowl you're really fucked up" and that's it. do they just all have to deal with the consequences of being a combiner. optimus never seems to bring it up ever again and neither does sunstreaker, even when they're in the same place together.
the combaticons seem to be rather fucked up about the whole thing, but that's not because being in a combiner team fucked them up, it's more because they combined with a fucking corpse and sharing a mind with a brain dead swindle seriously sucked ass.
like think about the effect of combination for a quick second.
a mech is forced to share everything about themself, from memories, to thoughts and emotions with another group of mecha (up to five depending on the combiner) and they just, don't get a fucking choice in it. idw talks a lot about bodily autonomy, what with the themes of functionalism and cold constructed mechs but they don't seem to apply the same emotion to the combiners. they're just a plot tool to be throw around when the writers needed a big bad to face or a defender against some type of higher force
combiners are only scary because they're big and angry and difficult to control but the real fear should be focused on the existential horror of having a character whose mind is forcibly fused together with another group of people
#transformers#maccadam#icy writes#like seriously what the fuck were the writers thinking when they just swept that shit under the rug#that's fucking writing gold right there#oh well#i suppose that i'll have to do it myself
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chuuya for ask game
Yuki I am divorced
Just kiddin but seriously I feel like I just don't remember most of these it's been two years since I last poked at bsd with any sort of serious intention and uhhhhh motherfucking six since i was intensely into it, but lemme see
First impression
I don't fuckin remember. I don't even remember was it anime chuuya or manga chuuya i first met. I thiiiiink it might have been manga chuuya? I think bsd was either an anime i watched a little n then immediately went to read the manga or whose presence i was made aware of by anime announcement and then read the manga before the anime actually aired it was one of those two but im not sure which (six years) But I mean like, you've seen Chuuya, you've seen his first apperance, he walks in dressed like that and acts like that it was probably love at first sight. Which is funny because Dazai's character is usually more of my type but here Chuuya swept me away.
Impression now
So underutilized it HURTS. Chuuya has SO MUCH potential but it feels like all that's done with his character is constant nerfing and putting-on-bus-ing. He's one of those overpowered characters that the authors put in for cool points but then can't work around so they just end up sent away more often than not so the writer can still write the story without having to explain how this one guy isnt just obliterating shit left and right. Still, Chuuya is pure potential and I feel that's why he's so beloved (or well used if you wanna be crude) in the fandom. Kafka only relatively recently gave him any backstory at all so for a long time Chuuya was basically a cool guy you could make anything out of. We don't get much from him but to me he's like all the bsd nostalgia and potential (and subsequent disappointment) wrapped up in one character. He's one of the rare favs I don't wish to break like a glow stick I think only nice things should happen to Chuuya.
Favorite moment
Honestly...back when we thought we were really going to get Chuuya vs Ranpo vs Poe. It didn't happen, that was an utter disappointment, but like many things with Chuuya the potential of that was incredible. Those were my bsd top three, that was bsds top brain vs bsds top brawn. The fact that it didn't happen and instead ended up as just an excuse to clean up two people who could fuck with the story the most was probably one of the first nails in bsd's coffin for me. You said favorite but I'm all like bittersweet about it, but Chuuya is a bittersweet character. You'll get odd answers.
Idea for a story
The suffocating quality of your dying breaths (And the effect they had on me) was actually supposed to be a part of a series of Chuuya character fics labeled 'Fittest to Survive' (If you remember that series you may be viable for a seniors discount). The other two fics were 'All the beautiful things we are (All the dangerous things we will become)', which was supposed to be a Kouyou & Chuuya fic focused on their relationship, concepts of beauty and strength and exploration of gender identity, and 'Feral beasts (and their hearts that bleed)' which was a Chuuya & Akutagawa fic which was basically supposed to focus on them after Dazai leaving the mafia, the differing relationships they had with Dazai and differing ways they dealt with the loss.
Unpopular opinion
I would say I'm completely out of the loop on what's popular or unpopular in the bsd fandom but from talking to you it seems like things are basically the same as they were six years ago so uhhh unpopular opinion 1. I don't think Chuuya is like a super feminine guy. I do get a genderqueer vibe from him but it doesn't really lean feminine for me, he likes to dress nice but also he grew up as a lab rat and then on the street he deserves to indulge himself and explore his identity. 2. I don't think he heart achingly misses Dazai. Like I mentioned this before but I don't think they had some big romance even tho i do like soukoku. Their relationship for me has always been more akin to being tied together for a three legged race and if the idiot tied to you goes down so do you so better help him out. I do think there was loss in Dazai leaving but I don't think Chuuya was like on the floor sobbing for weeks or anything and he's probably fully over it by now. The person Dazai had a very close and personal relationship to was Oda not Chuuya. Honestly idk how well i explored this in my past fics, it took me distancing myself from bsd completely to crystalize my opinions on their relationship which is a shame cuz i have all these takes and no motivation to write them.
Favorite relationship
Who are we kidding here huh, the only relationship Chuuya has that is remotely explored is with Dazai (dont @ me with light novel content i dont know her). And his relationship with Dazai is interesting! There's a lot to explore there, as i said before, they really are something that's neither romantic nor platonic nor queerromantic. They are complicated and messy and probably not too good for each other. I just wish fandom would express them like that more instead of making Chuuya Dazai's collectible waifu. I would also REALLY like it if there was any canon content for his relationships with Kouyou, Akutagawa and Kyouka like CMON, ESPECIALLY AKUTAGAWA. DAZAI'S EX PARTNER AND PUPIL, THE SHIT WRITES ITSELF, WAKE UP KAFKA.
Favorite headcanon
Somewhere along the line I decided that the rich girl impression is an inside joke between Chuuya and Dazai and to this day this is my pet headcanon. Chuuya just had it down too good, it made Dazai genuinely laugh (in the manga at least, fuck the anime), this was a thing Chuuya did once as a joke and from the on out Dazai pestered him to do it again every five goddamn seconds I will not be dissuaded from my silly hcs.
Ask game
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oh, honey || h. styles
warnings: mentions of sex, kissing
word count: 2.3k
summary: when harry is struck with writer’s block, you come to the rescue and inspire him to write a song, which later becomes known as ‘adore you’...
You’d be lying if you said you weren’t harbouring a crush on a man you’d known for about five years. And for four and half years of that, you found he was the only thing that seemed to occupy your mind. With any crush, it was fun at first. The thrill of being around him brought a new spark to your life. But then, gradually, it became tiresome; the constant butterflies and the overthinking every tiny action began to aggravate you.
You’d had a boyfriend since you met Harry. He loved you and you tried to love him. You knew it wasn’t fair on him, and you felt an ounce of extra guilt every day that relationship went on. You knew it was selfish to paint yourself a mirage of a perfect life with a man you knew you couldn’t love.
The relationship lasted eight months. It had never meant to last that long. At first, it was all fun and games - neither of you took things too seriously. A bit of harmless sex and late nights with red wine and David Attenborough documentaries. But then things took a turn, and he began talking of moving in together and meeting each other’s parents. Your parents would have loved him, you knew that. But what good was that when you didn’t love him?
Eventually, the two of you sat down and decided that maybe it was best if you went your separate ways. It was a mutual decision. And you both agreed that it was fun whilst it lasted. So, this relationship you’d gotten yourself into to get your mind off Harry had ended because you could never love this man the way he wanted you to.
It had been a rough eight months for you. Harry had been in somewhat of a mood with, well, everybody. Mitch concluded that he was probably just stressed with writing for the album and making sure everything was perfect for his debut solo album. But, though nobody necessarily picked up on it at the time, when you announced that you’d broken up with your boyfriend, Harry seemed to be in a much better mood ever since.
So, now, as you walked into the studio, you ran your hands along your jean-clad thighs. It was a desperate attempt to rid your palms of the sweat your nervousness had caused. Sarah had called you and asked if you were free to swing by the studio. She said something about needing a new mind to help Harry. Instantly, you agreed. You would always be there for Harry.
Sat on one of the couches was Harry Styles himself, his hand over his eyes. He was alone, his guitar beside him. A notebook of his lyrics was tossed aside, clearly neglected in tiredness or frustration. “Harry?” you called out, closing the door behind you.
He looked up quickly, startled by the sudden disturbance. “Y/N,” he smiled slightly, sitting up properly. “What are you doing here?”
“Thought you could use some help,” you shrugged, slipping out of your black puffer jacket. “And clearly you need it. Where is everyone?”
“Oh, they went to get some lunch at some place down the road,” he replied.
“And what about you? Aren’t you hungry? You need to eat, Harry.”
“I know. I will, I will. I’m just trying to finish this song, is all.”
You nodded slightly, sitting down in front of him on the coffee table. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were resting on top of dark bags. “Let me see,” you said, extending your hand.
Slowly, he placed the notebook into your hands. You stared down at the scribbled lyrics. Things were crossed out; things were circled; things were accompanied by little doodles. On the very top of the page, though, was the rushed title (above a few others, which had been crossed out): ADORE YOU. “I’m just gonna put it aside and come back to it,” he sighed. “Wanna get high? It always helps me write music.”
“No, Harry. I don’t want to get high with you. If you leave it, then you’ll never come back to it and nobody will ever get to hear it,” you replied.
“Except you. I want you to hear it,” he said quietly, so quiet, in fact, that you barely heard it.
He wasn’t looking at you, thankfully. At least he wouldn’t see the mix of nerves and excitement at what he’d just muttered. You shifted slightly, placing the notebook down beside you, “Well, then you’ll have to finish it, won’t you?”
Finally, he looked up at you. You felt tiny as his eyes explored your face, drinking in every last inch of your features. A small smile worked its way up onto his face, “I suppose I will.”
So, Harry began projecting his ideas onto you. He explained what the song was about and the kind of things he wanted to write. He sang the chorus to you, and you swore you melted right there and then. Hearing his voice fill the otherwise silent room you were in, with no other intent than to please you, filled your head with all sorts of fantasies. “It’s good, Harry. It’s really good,” you nodded, smiling sweetly at him.
“Obviously not good enough if I can’t think of anything other than the first verse and the chorus,” he groaned, raking his long fingers through his unruly hair.
In a moment of fleeting confidence, you reached out and squeezed Harry’s hand. He looked up at you, his green lagoons of eyes staring directly into your own. “Harry, stop. You’re doing yourself no good thinking like that. No songs start out as the greatest thing ever written; you have to put time and care and effort into them,” you said gently. “Let me help, Harry. I don’t want you to go through this alone.”
He nodded, squeezing your hand in return. He pulled out a pen and stared expectantly at you. You smiled - you were happy he was willing to let you help. “What did you have in mind?” he asked, eager to hear a new outlook on these lyrics he had grown sick of reading over and over again.
“Well,” you began, “it obviously has a sort of ethereal vibe to it. So, summer skies? Like, maybe something about ‘you under summer skies’?”
He nodded slowly, absorbing your suggestion. Until, suddenly, his eyes lit up. You knew the look. You’d seen it many a time before. It was the look he adopted whenever he’d been struck by the perfect slice of inspiration he needed to write an incredible piece of music. “You, Y/N, are a bloody genius! ‘Your wonder under summer skies’,” he grinned.
He scribbled the lyric down desperately. You couldn’t help but admire him as ideas escaped his brain and fell onto the paper before him. He finally looked back up at you, the page now littered with prompts and snippets of lyrics. “Thanks, Y/N. You’re a lifesaver,” he said.
You chuckled, “I didn’t do anything.”
“Well, you didn’t do anything for my other songs but they exist because of you,” he rushed out, clearly not comprehending his words. “Shit. Sorry, that- that didn’t mean to come out.”
You smirked. You had the power now, after four and a half years of falling in love with Harry Styles and making a massive fool of yourself in front of him. He’d slipped up and now you were in control. “Yeah? What songs did I unknowingly contribute to?” your confidence was rare, especially when it came to things like this, and yet here it was.
Unfortunately for you, Harry’s natural confidence matched your own. A playful grin swept up his features as he said, “Wouldn’t it be more fun for you to listen to the album and figure it out for yourself?”
“Or you could just tell me the titles?” you asked, your tone hopeful.
He hesitated for a moment, his confident smirk faltering for a split second. But, before you had time to say anything else, he said, “There’s this song called Sunflower, Vol. 6. I wrote that because your favourite flowers are sunflowers. And I wrote Cherry because I know you love cherries. And then there’s Golden, because that’s what you are, Y/N. And then there’s Watermelon Sugar because I know that In Watermelon Sugar is your favourite book. And now Adore You, because, I swear to God, Y/N, that’s all I want to do.”
He was rambling and you couldn’t help but smile. Whilst you’d spent your days rambling to your friends about how you were convinced you’d remain single forever if he didn’t happen to fall hopelessly in love with you, it appeared that he’d been writing down all the tiny details about you in his songs. Because it was true: sunflowers were your favourite flowers and cherries were your favourite fruit and In Watermelon Sugar was your favourite book.
He was staring at you now, his eyes searching your face for some sort of a hint on how you were feeling. When you said nothing, your lips parted slightly, he went on, “Hell, I wrote Cherry years ago. I wrote it when you were dating that guy... what was his name?”
“Ollie,” you replied quietly.
He knew what his name was. He never forgot. It had been two years but he’d never forgotten the eight months of hell where he had to watch you cuddle up to him and take him home after your group of friends had gone out for drinks. He didn’t know why he wanted to hear you say his name again. Some sadistic form of self-torture maybe, hearing another boy’s name on your lips. “Yeah, Ollie,” he played it off as if he really had forgotten your ex boyfriend’s name. “I wrote it when you were dating him. And I’ve been sitting on it for two years because I thought if I released it then you would know I’ve been in love with you for four years. But then I just thought ‘you know what, fuck it’, so I’m putting it on the album. And Anna, that was about you. But I’ll never officially release that one. Because I wrote it one night when I was alone and I couldn’t get you out of my head and I needed to tell somebody how I felt about you. Even if that was just a bit of paper. But then I played it to you, do you remember? And you loved it, so I swore to never release it because it felt like I’d confessed to you how I felt.”
As you listened to him ramble away about all of these songs he’d written about you and how much you clearly meant to him, you couldn’t help but smile. You’d dreamed of Harry confessing how much he, well, adored you. And you’d only ever thought it would be an occurrence in your fantastical dreams, and yet here he was, staring back at you, rambling on about how much he loved you. “Wait, Harry,” you spoke up, “isn’t ‘watermelon sugar’ something to do with oral sex?”
You chuckled as he flushed, “That’s besides the point.”
“And what is the point?”
“That I’m in love with you and, I pray to God, you’re in love with me back.”
Overwhelmed with joy, you couldn’t help but throw yourself at Harry. The feeling of his hands around your waist in a way that wasn’t just a slightly prolonged hug goodbye after a night out or a slightly overly flirtatious gesture of Harry’s felt electric. Harry’s hands on you in a way that was meant to be a moment of appreciation shared between two lovers was how it was always supposed to be.
After so long of knowing one another, falling for each other and sharing life changing moments, everything was finally slipping into place. You’d been there when One Direction first began their hiatus. You’d been there when he cut his hair off. You’d been there when he went to Jamaica to write his first solo album. You’d been there, albeit your eyes were shut most of the time, when he was dangling a thousand feet in the air for the Sign of the Times music video shoot. He’d been there when you finished university. He’d been there when you lost your mum. He’d been there when your sister had her first child. He’d been your date to your brother’s wedding. All of these things, and you couldn’t help but feel they mounted to this very moment.
You pulled your head back, admiring his face for a moment. Your arms were around his neck and everything just felt... right. His smile was bright and his eyes were full of nothing but loving joy. Without another moment’s hesitation, your lips were on his. You weren’t sure who leaned forward, but all you knew was that this was what you’d been waiting for for almost five years. And, now you were here, showing Harry how much you loved him, the wait seemed worth it. “We’ve got so much time to make up for,” he whispered.
“Good thing we’ve got all the time in the world then, isn’t it?”
He grinned, embracing your body. All he’d wanted to do for four years was to praise it. And now he finally had the chance to. That was until the two of you heard a voice behind you, “We only left for lunch!”
#harry styles#harry#harrystyles#harry styles imagine#harrystylesimagine#harryimagine#harry imagine#harry styles fanfiction#harry fanfiction#harry styles fanfic#harry fanfic#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x you#harry styles x reader#harry x y/n#harry x reader#harry x you
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pairing | mason x detective sofía olmos
word count | 2.8k
warnings | smut. very nsfw. minors keep scrolling
tags | @raleiighcarrera ; @pixeljazzy ; @lyuyu ; @bellarxse ; @bceky ; @twc-thoughts-you-didnt-ask-for ; @brightpinkpeppercorn ; @pixelsandkink ; @katbee ; @admdmrtn ; @agentsunshine ; @echohauville
author’s note | well! the prompt is pretty self explanatory. and plus it’s mason. yall know its ab to get smutty. this is my first and only submission for day 14 (throat) for @31daysofwayhaven also kudos to all the writers that’ve managed to be consistent – hats off to you seriously! um i’m terrified bc this is my first mason smut piece so please be nice [kudos appreciated on ao3]
read it on ao3
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He laced his fingers through her thick hair, reveling in the way his skin looked contrasted against the midnight of her hair.
On her knees, clutching his thighs with a grip that nearly broke the skin, his cock buried in her mouth, she took him all in. Her lips pursed around his head, tongue sliding against his shaft as he eased his hips forward.
“You almost got it,” he purred, watching as her mouth opened wider, lips tightening as he pumped into her slowly. “That’s it.”
Her throat pulsed, and he felt spurts of air from her nostrils against his lower stomach, sending a chill up his spine.
He held her in place, feeling her tongue writhe against him. A groan rumbled through his chest, his grip tightening on the back of her head.
The moment she choked, coughing, he pulled himself free from her mouth, his cock twitching at her initial gasp. Her eyes fluttered, gaze fixated up at him, spit glistening on her chin, her mouth parted as she hungrily gulped the air.
“Did you like that?”
She nodded, blinking rapidly. “Yes, I did.”
She stuttered, like she couldn’t believe she was saying it herself.
“Do you trust me?”
“Of course,” she breathed.
“You’re gonna try to take it all for me, alright, sweetheart?” He smirked, one hand sliding from the back of her head to pinch her chin between his thumb and forefinger.
He leaned down, kissing her open mouth, tugging gently on her bottom lip, caught between his teeth. She groaned as he pulled himself back into standing position, belt buckle jingling at the movement.
“I know, I know, I’m hypnotizing, but I need to know you want this,” he laughed breathily, watching as she came to, nodding furiously.
“Yes, please,” she nearly whined, her hands clutching his thighs once more.
He repeated the first few steps, pumping himself in her mouth slowly, the short strokes making his eyes roll back into his head. He’d normally throw his head back and focus on the feeling, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way her lips stretched over him, her rosy lipstick rubbing off at the corners, streaking down the sides of his shaft.
God, sloppy, messy head excited him. After all these years, all the people that sucked him off, he’d never get tired of that particular disheveled look.
But if he had to pick his favorite person wearing that look, it’d be Sofía. He wasn’t even close to being finished with her and he knew she wore it best.
He pushed a little farther into her mouth, deepening his strokes, feeling her tongue flatten against him.
“Fuck…” he moaned under his breath, inciting a hum from her, and when it traveled up his body, he was the closest to heaven he’d ever get.
The typical person would think Mason preferred the act of coming, the brief euphoric peak that overtook his already heightened senses a high he chased often – but it was completely the opposite.
He loved the chase – hunting, trapping, planning on how he’d go in for the kill. That was what excited him the most.
So watching her try her hardest to hold it all in for him was nearly pushing him over the edge. He couldn’t recount a time where he was that close, that fast.
He watched her carefully, pushing himself all the way in, her lips grazing the trimmed hair above the base of his shaft. She held eyes with him, squinting as she tried to hold back a gag.
Tears formed at the corner of her eyes, and her chest flexed, like she needed air. He pulled himself out of her mouth, watching a thick string of saliva drip onto the floor.
She gasped, eyes half lidded, lipstick smeared onto her glistening chin.
“You want more, sweetheart?”
She nodded, mouth open, tongue pointed. The tip of it grazed the head of his cock, making him inhale sharply.
This time, he pushed himself in all the way, a little rougher than before, eyes still locked with hers. The broken garble that came from her as he pumped into her mouth ripped a growl from him, every sound she made triggering an animalistic response of his own.
“Fuck, Sofía –” He breathed, gripping her jaw with his left hand, his other hand tangled in her hair.
She tapped his leg lightly, a gentle warning, so he pulled out once again, revelling in the way her desperate breaths sounded, the way her chest glistened, adorned with spit, the way her lengthy locks looked against her bare skin, freckled just like his.
“I can handle more,” she breathed, leaning forward to suck gently on his head, hazel eyes transfixed on his.
He’d been looked at before by a woman on her knees, but never like that. Something about Sofia brought out his most primal instincts. He couldn’t deny that she was stunning and as adventurous as he was – and something about that made him want to stake his claim on her.
Despite her voice, which was dripping with desire, her eyes were glimmering innocently, like every word she said doubled as sexy and sincere.
“‘Do you trust me?’ ‘Of course.’” It played on loop in his brain – the way the words fell from her lips without hesitation. Like a reflex. Like it was second nature to do so.
“If you want me to stop, tap my leg just like before,” he said, barely able to choke through the words as she lazily swirled her tongue around his tip.
She nodded, squeezing his thighs in anticipation.
He cupped her face around her ears, gripping her head firmly. This time, since she was eased into the idea, he went all in.
His hips snapped into her, burying himself in her mouth, watching himself disappear behind her pretty lips. Saliva bubbled out of the corners of her lips, leaking out and down her chin. Making a mess of her was his favorite thing.
His hands snaked into her hair again, this time gathering it at the nape of her neck. She groaned, evoking a soft “shit” from his lips, followed by a sharp intake of breath. He twisted the hair around his wrist like a dark rope until he could guide her bobbing head at the pace he wanted.
He felt her tighten her lips as he pumped into her, the heat of her mouth making him shudder. She dug her fingernails into his bare thighs, eyes watering, brows furrowed. Her knuckles were white with the effort, but she didn’t tap his leg.
She just kept her eyes focused on him like he was the only thing that mattered.
God how the fuck did she manage to make throat fucking into something more with a single look?
But he didn’t mind it. Or at least he didn’t think he minded it. He’d figure it out later. She didn’t say she wanted more than whatever their arrangement was. So maybe she didn’t. Maybe the look was nothing –
A tap on the leg broke his train of thought.
When he pulled out, she gasped, swiping the back of her hand across her chin, smearing the rouge color even more.
“Trying to clean up the mess I made?”
“Maybe,” she ran a tongue over her bottom lip, a soft, sultry smile blooming.
“Well, don’t. I worked hard on that,” he laughed breathily, a smirk tugging at his mouth.
“What’re you gonna do about it?” She whispered, one hand still firmly gripping his thigh, the other slung between her bent legs, grazing her inner thigh.
Mason hadn’t seen her since she left the meeting a trembling mess, her bounty weighing heavy on her conscience – as he expected.
He realized later that walking to her car, thinking about her on and off throughout the day, and the general uneasiness he felt at her absence was unmistakable – he was concerned for her.
He didn’t hate the feeling, but it tugged at him, distracting him from his normally laid back demeanor. He was on edge.
So days later, when he volunteered to visit the station to check on her and found out she was off for the first time in months, he jumped at the chance to see her. Smoothly, of course.
“Yeah, after the, uh, ‘news’ I kinda need a weekend to relax… but I don’t even know if I’m capable of that,” she chuckled, nervousness fraying the edges of her laugh. “I should be on high alert, you know? But instead I’m looking for a distraction.”
She chewed her lip and wrung her hands, staring out at the setting sun. The wind swept her bangs around, catching a loose strand in her glossy red-toned lipstick.
He liked Sofía like this. Deep in concentration, brows furrowed, gaze set. Quiet.
“I can help with that,” he said, matter-of-factly, breaking her train of thought.
“Huh?”
“I can help with that,” he said again, unwilling to explain.
“You don’t have to distract me, Mason. I’ll be okay,” she shrugged, but it didn’t meet her eyes.
She was way too easy to read – half of the time she turned him down because she wanted to hear him ask again.
“You and I both know you’ve been waiting to get your hands on me since our meeting,” he said under his breath, stepping towards her, where she stood next to the front door of her car.
“And you haven’t?” She asked innocently, but challenging nevertheless.
She always did that and it both infuriated him and made him hard – she acted like she didn’t know that she was driving him crazy. But she knew. She had to.
“You know I have,” he grinned, taking another predatory step towards her, trapping her against her car. “I’ve been thinking about you wrapping those pretty little lips around my cock.”
Her mouth parted, but no words came. The flush that spread across her face was swift, like a wildfire of scarlet. He never really knew what would do the trick, so he found himself trying anything to get her to trip over her words.
“Do… you wanna come back to my place?”
He knew she was gonna ask but it didn’t hurt to hear it.
He knew she was gonna click the radio on, apologizing profusely when it burst through the speakers, grating at his ears.
He knew she was gonna refuse to look at him from the walk to the car to the apartment, like she was unsure it was really happening – or she was embarrassed.
He knew she was gonna lock the door behind them and immediately stride to the kitchen to offer him a drink. And he knew she knew that he would turn it down every time.
He knew she was gonna wait for him to be the first to make a move, darting across the room to wrap her in a frenzied kiss, feeling her melt in his hands.
He knew she was gonna eventually writhe beneath him, fingers knotted into his hair while his mouth worked its magic, her gentle moans of his name falling from her mouth so adoringly despite him never saying hers that way.
He knew she was gonna eagerly reciprocate since she strived for perfectionism in every aspect of her life, especially one where she knew the other person was more experienced than her.
But what he didn’t anticipate was the way it felt that time. The way he felt – the way she was acting. Something was different. Like she had something to prove… more than usual.
Wordlessly, he pulled her up from her knees, gripping her chin in one hand. He kissed her open mouth, revelling in the familiarity of her scents that enveloped him. The faint minty gum on her breath, the lingering smell of her floral shampoo, even the remnants of the lipstick on her chin smelled sweet.
“You always have something to say,” he nearly growled, backing her towards the countertop. “But you never tell me what you want.”
Normally they could manage to stumble back to her bedroom, but neither of them could wait. She barely had time to offer refreshments before his pants were at his knees.
He lifted her onto the counter, splaying her thighs out, ignoring her yelp as the cold countertop hit her skin, raising goosebumps on her legs.
“Mason…” she breathed, half-lidded gaze trained on him.
“Tell me what you want me to do,” he smirked, nipping lightly at the skin of her inner thigh, laughing softly as he heard her pulse jump. “Can’t do anything if I don’t know what you want from me.”
She chewed her lip and he half-expected her to blush again, but what happened was the complete opposite.
Her hands slid down her stomach, towards her lacy underwear – the ones she wore when she thought she’d see him (he noticed). She pulled the crotch to the side, exposing her glistening lips to him, parted, beckoning him closer.
“Make a mess of me,” she breathed, slowly swiping a finger upwards towards her clit, before circling it languidly.
Fuck.
He gripped her hips and tugged her forward, face fitting snugly between her thick thighs. The second he dragged his tongue through her folds, settling on working her clit, a strained whine escaped her lips.
“Mason – oh, fuck –” her breath quickened, her hips bucking slowly like she was trying to ride his face from her position on the counter.
He flicked his tongue against her with fervor, taking note of her short breaths.
“I’m close – please –”
Before she could chase her release, he kissed her inner thigh again, suckling her skin lightly, grinning as she let out a frustrated huff.
“You’re really gonna tease me like that?” Her voice was hoarse. They’d barely begun and she was already disheveled.
“You’re asking me if I’m teasing you? Sweetheart, you must be joking if you think I’m gonna let you get what you want so easily,” he grinned, slowly sinking one finger into her, curling it towards him, hair raising on his neck when the moan rumbled through her chest.
“And you’re asking me to beg?” She laughed through a moan, thighs flexing as he pumped in and out of her.
A growl rolled through his body, mirroring the moan that traveled through her own, like she’d passed the torch to him.
Whatever she was doing, he wanted more of it.
“No, I’m telling you.” He tried adding a second finger, but her hand was quick, grabbing his wrist and tugging him out of her.
“And I’m telling you to keep going. Make me come,” she said confidently, while her hands quivered, giving her away.
That line alone made him want to throw her leg over his shoulder and fuck her until she forgot her own name.
But her hesitation afterwards made him think twice.
“Make me forget,” she said, quiet and unsure, her demeanor nearly deflating.
Before she could take another breath, he surged forward again, flattened tongue licking precise stripes where she wanted him most, a firm hand holding her left thigh down, the other curled under her thigh, hand splayed on her hip.
“Oh my god – fuck –” She sighed as he expertly swirled against her clit, her hand shooting out to grip his hair.
He wasn’t a masochist by any means, but the way her fingers were tangled in his hair, roughly guiding his face like she wanted – he didn’t mind the pain.
Squatting so that he could get a better view, he watched her expression contort with each stroke of his tongue.
He liked her like this, too. Deep in concentration, brows furrowed, gaze set. Loud.
Her mouth was prettiest when it stretched around his name. The drawn out “m” sound when she got lost in his touch, barely able to finish her thought, drove him wild.
But none of that changed her eyes – through her climax, she looked at him like he was it for her.
The twinge in his chest told him all he needed to know.
It wasn’t just a self indulgent fuck. He was doing what he did best to help her feel better.
He still had no clue what about Sofía drew him to her. But he wasn’t gonna deny there was some pull.
As her legs shook beneath him, and he tugged her over his shoulder to lug her to the bedroom, he shoved another realization to the side.
Yeah, the chase excited him, but Sofía’d already hunted, sinking her trap into him innocently – like she didn’t even realize she was doing it, despite clearly vying for a place in his life more than he ever tried with her.
He’d let her catch him. Just this once.
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#the wayhaven chronicles#twc#twc mason#agent mason#n*fw#31daysofwayhaven#the more i read this the more i hate it so i have to post it GOD DSKFJSKDF#i know i keep asking for yall to be nice but please be nice <3#nsft#my fic
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If you could have written Kerry in 2077, how would you have done it? Characterization, quests, whatever you're willing to share. 👀💘
Okay so wanna say first I do enjoy Kerry’s quests, I just wish they were longer that’s my main gripe with things overall. I am willing to accept what they’ve done, I just want more of him because well its him. I’m also no game dev or writer, I write fics and come up with OCs, we make game campaigns based on what exists already. I can’t say I understand or know why certain things get put in and other things get cut so there’s that.
My biggest issue is the giant gap in Kerry’s timeline, went from 2023, Memphis concert in the 40s, to 2077. Some huge ass breaks in his timeline with no real reason why, and I can’t use things from the table top because 2077 doesn’t follow that timeline either. Samurai broke up in 2007, Kerry had a quite successful solo career from the get go, and in 2077 seems like none of that happened until much later on. He was writing Second Conflict with Johnny in the table top so it seems weird that its put out as this new album when he was talking about it back in 2013. I dunno its a whole thing.
What I would have done differently is much of what I already said in the previous post. My main thing is I don’t like how from get go he still seems 100% hung up on and obsessed with his image to Johnny’s. Like I understand from the outside looking in, tabloids and what not making that comparison to rip into him, but that’s not Kerry. Its not him. Without a doubt I wouldn’t put it past Ker to want to do one last gig, so all that could stay the same, but I feel like they could have done a much better job explaining where Kerry was mentally. Because when you read into it you see its not just about Johnny, that’s the surface, but it happens so quick its easy to miss when you’re caught in the stare with those blue eyes. This also in hand goes for River where they kinda got screwed out being able to naturally develop. The sauce is there, but its being eaten too quick, where as Panam and Judy have the main story quests to break things down and have things develop more naturally.
Quest wise I would have thrown another 1 or 2 quests in around the end. Maybe 1 more before the rooftop at Dark Matter, and another before Boat Drinks. They don’t have to be long quests, but something to allow more discussion, allow those feelings to kinda come in and show that there’s something more there. Because up to the rooftop scene Kerry is a flirt in some aspects, but that’s also just who he is, the romance gets packed on heavy and he’s confessing a lot really quick when its like a day ago V was just a wingman to arson and gunpoint demands. To me at least that’s a massive flip of what the hell, from both V and Kerry. So feel like shoving another quest in there to smooth things out, make the flirting a bit more obvious of hey something might be going on and allow that hesitant opening before a big confession later on would have just smoothed it out. Feel this would have also helped a shit ton with why he’s only attracted to male V. They could have built something out into that to make it more apparent instead of the shit show that was the twitter incident of “he only likes V for Johnny” and blow up that happens in his tag every month. Naturally developed romance scenarios can help a lot with preventing those kinda things. Takes the guess work out of it a bit, just saying.
Other thing, I hate the new ex-wife and kids story. I don’t know why they changed it, I was hoping Kelvy was going to be in 2077. Kerry aint out here winning any dad of the year awards, but from what I took in he was a pretty decent dad to Kelvy. The only thing I can thing of why they tossed that whole thing out was because again they fucked over his timeline. Kerry got married early 20′s and Kelvy was born awhile before the actual marriage. But she proudly used to name Eurodyne, she loved referring to herself as Kerry’s daughter. She was famous in her own right as a media, had her own show and net presence. I can only think she got scrubbed because the game she was in (v3 2020) wasn’t that popular, and again the timeline wouldn’t work for what we see. But I don’t get why they changed it to an aggressively failed marriage and him not wanting to be with his much younger children. I get why in how he is at that point in his life, but from the actual writing I don’t get why that was a better choice than just changing Kelvy’s age. Hell could of had her be a whole quest of rekindling a dying flame with her dad and finding out more of what happened. If anyone would have known some better insight, it would have been her.
Overall I think there’s good bones for Kerry’s stuff, I just wish it was more finetuned. Things did get cut, and feel like there’s a lot more missing than what we have found. As both a bias and a logical point he should have had another quest or two within his main run to allow things to develop a bit more naturally. I don’t mind him being at the end of the game but it does feel like he’s a ghost until then. My first playthrough I actually started to doubt he really was in the game until Johnny said “Hey lets go see Kerry” and I was just that motherfucker IS IN HERE OKAY. I also do feel that the stuff regarding his depression and attempted suicide could have been handled a bit better instead of getting swept away. This goes in hand with him probably needing another quest to just allow breathing room, but on the rooftop he is talking about some seriously heavy stuff and I swear to god if I have to hear that show saying “Rumors of Kerry’s depression was just noisy chatter” one more time Imma lose it. I don’t need details of what’s going on, but just something that its real. It wasn’t just a fad or a fake out. But because everything with him ends so suddenly and you get a drop of more in the endings and credits its just hard to accept that’s all we got.
I dunno, basically less about Johnny in the beginning. More quest time. Give him his daughter back you cowards.
#arguably I like a lot more than I have issue with#its not even that I dont like it I just wish it was slightly different#just its close but slightly off that it doesn't feel right#I will forever hold a grudge against Kelvy tho that I will not let go#she died in our camp but THAT IS BESIDES THE POINT#I loved her#Anonymous
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Charred Briar Roses - 4
Meet the Family
Paring: Orc!Bucky x Black!Reader, Orc!Steve x Black!OFC, Orc!Sam x Black!OFC
Rating: 18+/Explicit
Word Count: 3,500
Summary: The girls get to meet the family.
Warnings: Smut and Mentions of Death
A/N: I’m sorry that this took so long to publish. I had a major writer’s block. Also, the smut is not as good as I wanted so bear with me. Enjoy!
Back to Masterlist
It took five days to reach the group to reach the Orc Settlement. Most of the journey consisted of Fumnanya giggling at Sam’s (not so great, but whatever) jokes while sneaking in a kiss or two, Ghada acting like she’s above the romance then getting caught making out with Steve (she seriously likes it), and you giving Bucky the cold shoulder. You saw the regret in his eyes, but you were too stubborn to give him a chance.
The Orc Settlement was located in the lowlands of the Anchoria Steppes not far from the Tsurchack Forest with its center nestled between a segmented river and a good sized lake to its right. It consisted of a few hundred dwellings that seemed to be a nice cross between a yurt and a longhouse (**think Viking Longhouse**) built with reusable timber, metal, and stone. A couple of the dwellings near the edges were sectioned off into what looked to be farms of six to ten families. There were training areas and market places interspersed throughout the settlement. In the middle, there was a large arena like structure near the center next to what had to be the Elder’s Residence with more town like structures around them. Surrounding the whole settlement was a wall of stone, packed earth, and iron about 12ft high with sensors (probably a force field) sticking on top of it every five feet or so.
It looked beautiful, so different from your former home of extreme decadence.
“Welcome to our home. I know it’s not as-” Steve started.
“It’s beautiful!” Ghada exclaimed while turning her head to smile at him, “We don’t care where you live. We’re just glad you agreed to take us with you.” Steve responded with a low hum and gave her a kiss.
It would’ve been more, but Bucky cleared his throat, “We need to report to the elders as soon as possible.” It was followed by, “And not have you suck your match’s face.” Thankfully neither of the two lovebirds heard him.
Some of the children in front of the gates ran up to the group with bright eyes and smiles wondering if they brought back sweets and toys.
Steve smiled and responded with a ‘You’ll see’ and motioned to the elder’s residence.
Once you passed the front gates, you and your sisters were greeted with reactions ranging from awe to outright contempt. You wondered if they knew of your identities, but Bucky assured you that it was because his people are a bit weary of outsiders. He decided not to tell you about how some of Sophronius’ forces had the almost the exact same hair color and types of clothes, but that was for another time. Right now, he needed to get the elders to let you three stay.
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When they reached the Elder’s Residence – a large longhouse consisting of wood, stone, metal and sturdy fabrics at the top – you stopped yourself from taking another step passed the threshold. What if they didn’t accept you? What if the elders or other members ratted you out to Sophronius? Or will they just have you exiled once they get the riches you and your sisters brought?
Bucky sensed your trepidation and put an enormous hand on your right shoulder, “It’s okay. You’ve got this.” With that your group entered the building.
The elders sat on a raised rectangular dais in the middle of the room with two guards on either end. There was a chandelier and torches all around the main room. Various statues and artifacts of elders passed are placed/hung around the room.
It was intimidating to say the least.
“Welcome back, warriors! Were you successful in your mission?” One of the elders, Argusa, inquired in Orcish.
“We ran into an old woman who directed us to the lost capital of the Nephrashim.” Steve explained.
“That is nothing but myth, Rogers! If you found nothing than just say so. Honestly, one would think that the halflings would be better at excuses than this.” One of the guards, Figrel, scoffed. He later raised his hands in surrender when Bucky moved in to pummel him.
“Enough, Figrel! Please continue Steve.” Cladista, another elder, gently urged.
“We found the capital to be deserted...except for the princesses. They were at the palace. They agreed to come back with us and we were able to procure valuable medical supplies, building materials, and treasure that we might use for trade.” Steve reported as the elders fixed their gazes onto you and your sisters.
The staring went on for three minutes. No one made a sound as the elders were casting their initial judgement upon you.
With a loud sigh, Argusa spoke in Common Tongue, “We will hear their case. Tell us, why should we let you stay with us?”
Ghada took a cautious step forward, “My sisters and I can offer our services. Fumnanya is a skilled medic and scholar, Y/N is an amazing inventor and metalworker, and I am trained in trade deals and negotiations. Furthermore, all three of us are pretty well versed in combat and culinary arts.” She appealed while searching for any sign of approval from the elders.
“We can attest to their skills if it’s of any consequence.” Sam piped up when it got eerily quit again.
“Interesting. What do you think, Zadia? You’ve been awfully quiet.” Argusa inquired as she turned to the last elder.
“Hmm. They can stay with Bucky’s sisters and stepmother for now. We shall see about their services another time. Enjoy your stay, girls.” Zadia decided while motioning the group to leave.
The short excursion to Bucky’s family’s place was nice. More people warmed up to you (and by that I mean no one gave the three of you blatant glares of contempt), some even walked up and asked questions about you.
It was nice, but all that didn’t matter if Bucky’s family didn’t like you.
You kept telling yourself that you didn’t care what they thought of you, but you knew that was a lie. It angered you that you cared so much. He was the one that said no! Then why did it hurt so much?
Bucky’s sisters and stepmother lived on a farm near the outskirts of the settlement. It comprised of one large dwelling with four smaller ones surrounding it in a circular fashion. Outside of the dwelling circle were smaller cabins and huts for storing food, livestock, hunting tools and combat weapons, and stables for their dire wolves and eagle horses.
It was nice getting to know Bucky’s family. He had three younger sisters – Rebecca (Becca/Becky), Isolde, and Melisende (Meli) – along with Aspasia, his stepmother, a brother-in-law and three nieces and one nephew. They joked and laughed with you three about embarrassing hijinks the guys performed during their youth. You shared some of the your stories about Nephrashim and your former lives. They quickly accepted the three of you as family.
Furthermore, it was nice not having to worry about princess duties and royal decorum. All of you helped around the farm doing several chores for the first time; you didn’t have any hiccups besides Fumnanya freaking out over one of the eagle horses, but Sam handled it.
The only thing that could be better is the treatment you got from the rest of the settlement. Most of the inhabitants either scowled or just pretended that you three didn’t exist. Becca explained that it was because almost none of them had seen clothes and features (hair/eyes) like yours before, but you knew better. It was because they knew you were from Nephrashim. Bucky’s family never breathed a word about it outside the farm’s borders and you doubted the elders would say anything.
Well, you hoped that it would get better. And it did.
An outbreak of Sxtatzia (a cross between Smallpox and Influenza but for orcs) swept through the settlement. Most of the inhabitants who were infected got better except for Zadia.
Just about everyone had lost hope when Sam and Bucky marched in with Fumnanya and Meli in tow (Fumnanya had been teaching Meli some basic medical procedures and best practices). Fumnanya was able to work her magic after Sam threat-, ahem, insisted the guards let her look at the elder. It took the team four hours to create a viable and effective cure.
The day after Zadia was shown to be steadily getting better, the elders put the former princesses to work. Ghada assisted the traders in negotiations, trade deals and some body language/social cues that surprisingly holds up. Fumnanya taught the medics the different practices, poultices, and minor surgical procedures she knew. You taught the metal artisans what you knew about engineering and metalworking techniques.
The warriors couldn’t be happier with this new development. Well, maybe they missed having the three of you near them most of the time, especially Bucky.
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It had been three weeks and you still hadn’t talked to him besides an occasional sentence and he was getting pissed. Everyone else tip-toed around the subject of you two and it didn’t help that Steve and Sam were getting closer with their matches. Bucky had to go on hunting trips on his own if only to have a respite from the non-stop lovey-dovey chatter about their matches.
He finally got his chance when he was walking (lurking) around the blacksmiths/artisan section where you had your workshop set up. You were giving a welding demonstration when a little shit, Figrel’s younger brother, attempted to grab your ass.
Bucky strode right into the workshop, punched the little shit, threw you over his shoulder, and went on his merry way back to his dwelling on his family’s farm.
“What the fuck was that?!” you shouted as he plopped you onto a nest of cushions.
“I can’t let you go back there. All those eyes leering at you.”
“What do you care? You were the one who said no at the baths!” You countered as you stood up to take your leave.
You didn’t even make it past him because he growled in frustration and spun you around to face him.
He inwardly smirked at your whimpering, loving the way your lower lip quivered.
“Because you’re MINE!” Bucky bellowed.
You gazed up at him with coy smile, “Prove it,” and he smashed his lips against yours and pushed you onto his bed.
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Bucky may have had plenty of sexual partners, but he never kissed anyone...until you. Now he could see what all the fuss was about.
He pried open your mouth with his tongue and groaned when you accepted him while wrapping your arms around his thick neck. He loved the way your tongue danced with his and ended with your graceful but fierce submission.
Once he finally broke for air, Bucky moved to your jaw and neck gently nipping your skin with his tusks. He peppered you with kisses causing small moans to escape your desperate lips.
“Bucky please!” You pleaded as he sent waves of heat to your core.
Bucky stopped his touches, looked you right in the eye, and responded with, “Not yet,” and continued undoing you.
He ripped off your vest and worker blouse and hummed at the sight of your chest. Seeing you now, panting with a ‘giddy fucked’ face, looking at him with half-lidded eyes, made almost all the blood in his face go straight to his cock.
He dove into your chest, licking and gently sucking your breasts while you grabbed his soft dark brown (almost black) hair moaning his name. He worked your breasts so well that you came for the first time in your life within minutes.
“Bet you’ve never had one of your human boys do this to you, woman?” Bucky remarked with a smirk as he ripped off the rest of your clothing like it was tissue paper.
You could only gasp out a ‘No’ before Bucky sprinkled your midsection and hips with sloppy, desperate kisses (he used a lot of tongue) which again caused you moan. You wondered how much more you could take.
The Fae’s training never prepared you for this!
When he finally got to your thighs, Bucky hummed as he took in the sweet smell of your arousal. He faintly kissed and nipped at your inner thighs causing you to cry out in euphoria and impatience. He ignored your cries and gave your slit one long, slow lick.
You hissed at the sensation both from how amazing it felt and frustration from both Bucky and yourself for denying it from happening sooner.
Bucky’s enormous tongue attacked you pussy alternating between your clit and your folds. He soon added a thick finger to the mix causing to edge again and again until you beseeched him to let you come.
“You’re MINE princess! SAY IT!!”
You whimpered at his demand and Bucky stopped moving altogether.
“SAY IT!!”
You mewled, “I’m yours! I’m your bitch!”, you answered remembering what Becca said male Orcs loved to hear their women say.
Bucky chuckled and got up to remove his clothes and decided to make a show of it.
You were sober enough to gaze lustfully at his sleek, muscular, ruggedly handsome frame. You heard the women in the settlement gossip about how they thought the likes of Bucky is wasted on a ‘stupid trollop’ like you.
Checkmate bitches!
He removed his loincloth, his last bit of clothing, to reveal a behemoth of a cock.
You almost gulped at the size. You and your sisters have heard about cocks from gossiping maids and servants before the curse. Those ones sounded like they were a good size, but Bucky’s was on a much higher level.
Bucky, the lovable but cocky bastard, smirked, “Never seen one this big, huh?”
You bit your lip and looked down in shame, “I haven’t seen one at all.”
“And it’ll be the last one you’ll see, sweetheart.”
You let out an uncharacteristic giggle as Bucky parted your legs and lined his cock at your entrance.
He went in slowly as to not hurt you, but you still hissed at the size of him. You’ve never felt so full in your life.
“You’re doing so well for me,” Bucky grunted, “So tight!”
He filled you to the hilt and stayed there for a few minutes while he helped you get your breathing under control.
He started with slow strokes, savoring the way your pussy squeezed him, like you were made for him. He tried to keep it slow out of respect since it was for first time, but you felt so good so he picked up his pace.
The earlier feeling of discomfort at his size soon faded into euphoria. You never dreamt of pleasure like this. Now you understood what your and Bucky’s sisters were going on about. You mewled when Bucky hit your G-Post just right.
It wasn’t long before your first orgasm hit you like a tsunami and you convulsed around him a wave after wave of carnality washed over you. Soon Bucky came with a roar, shooting long thick ropes of his cum into you to the point of creating a bulge in your midsection and you passed out.
When you awoke, you felt a strong arm wrapped around you and a hand gently stroking your hair and back.
“I know you’re awake, sweetheart.”
You open your eyes and looked up to see love (actual love, not lust) and understanding etched in Bucky’’s features. You never knew you needed it, for someone to actually see you for yourself, not what you could give them.
He exhaled, “I’m sorry for the baths. It’s just that I didn’t want to have sex and then you’d leave me. I know it selfish, but-”
You stopped him with a soft kiss on the lips, “Why would I leave you? You actually see me for myself and not for my former station or as an annoyance. Okay, minus your sisters, stepmother, nieces and nephew because they are awesome.”
Bucky chuckled as his some of his long hair fell in front of his face, “I’ll be sure to tell them that, but not Becca. She has a big ego as it is.”
You giggled in response,”That’s fair,” you bit your lip and shot Bucky a coy look, “Do you want to go again?”
You didn’t need to ask him twice.
You two were at it for the rest of the day. The sounds of your lovemaking evident to the rest of the farm’s inhabitants.
“Finally!” Becca exclaimed as she and Ghada were sewing new clothes for the orclings.
Isolde chose that moment to walk into the common room, “Yes! I get my room back!”
The princesses and their matches were in bliss. Everything was right with the world...until it wasn’t.
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It was two months after you and Bucky officially got together. The whole settlement had gotten into an easy rhythm of things when one of scout’s warning horns went off.
“It’s the Horde!”
Everyone who was not fighting was running to the shelters. Bucky had asked you to stay with Becca’s children and mother. You wanted to get angry, but you knew it was because he wanted someone he trusted and loved to have his stepmother’s back. So you grabbed Waning Swan and ran to the shelters.
The battle lasted until morning and the settlement won, but at a price. Casualties came in at 80 dead and 200 wounded. The scariest thing wasn’t the gore or the corpses, it was the words, “He Knows”, scorched into the ground in front of the arena, or the Assembly Place.
Later that day, everyone who was able crowded into Assembly. Everyone’s eyes were boring into you. Fumnanya kept her head to Sam’s chest, but it wasn’t working.
“I knew those harlots were trouble the moment they strode into our settlement!” A woman who lost her mate to the battle shouted. A chorus of shouts of agreement followed.
Ghada was getting nervous as evident by her squeezing both yours and Steve’s hand. Luckily someone stood up for the group.
“I understand that you’ve suffered, Brida. I lost a son to the Horde, but we can’t blame it all on them. Sophronius has been after us for years. Be reasonable.” Agi stated while the guys gave him a nod of appreciation.
“Fuck that! You’re only saying that because you were they’re mates instructor and your nephew married one those mongrel bitches!” Baldo, another older warrior, exclaimed.
Big mistake.
It would take ten years to ascertain what really happened in the five minutes that followed. Baldo was thrown out of the Assembly, Brida was nursing a broken jaw, Becca had a wound on her left forearm from a sword, and Bucky had to be kept from attacking an idiot by Sam, Steve, Agi, and five other orcs. Everyone else was in an uproar and honestly, a full on fight was going to break out.
“SILENCE!” Argusa roared.
“We need to rebuild. Callisa, can we get a status report by the end of the day?”
Callisa was about to answer when someone demanded that they should do something about the Horde.
Steve gave everyone in your group a knowing and somewhat crestfallen look, “We’ll go to the Resistance and see if they can help.”
It took some minutes before Argusa gave the group an answer. The settlement tried to stay away from Sophronius and the war, but one could say their chickens have come home to roost.
“Alright then, you three take the girls and go first thing tomorrow.” Argusa decided.
“It’s not fair! You just got ‘ere, Auntie! Ingunn cried as she hugged Ghada. All of the orclings were crying and it was breaking your and your sister’s hearts. They’ve made such an impact in your lives that it hurt to leave them now.
“I’m sorry, love, but we have to leave. We’ll be back before you know it.” Ghada reassured her, but you had a feeling it would be a while before your group would return.
With one final hug and a pat, you said your goodbyes to the orclings. Meli, Isolde, Aspasia, Becca, and her mate, Gernot were waiting for you all at the gate.
“I know you’re sad about leaving us, but we will meet again my dears.” Aspasia uttered as she gave each of you a hug.
“Take care and keep these knuckleheads in line.” Becca joked while she gave Bucky a playful punch to the shoulder.
So with a heavy heart, you left the place that felt more like home in many ways than the place you were born.
The group headed southwest to the coordinates a trader said that he saw some Resistance Members. You were crossing a valley when an unscented flash landmine went off and everything went blinding white then black.
Next thing you knew, your group was in chains surrounded by a group protected by shadow...except for five individuals wearing necklaces and a medallion that belonged to…
“Mother!”
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#bucky barnes imagine#bucky x black!reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes#Steve Rogers x OFC#dark!mcu#dark fairytale#sam wilson x ofc#black fanfiction#black fantasy#fairy tales#MCU fanfiction#mcu imagine#mcu smut#charred briar roses#sleeping beauty#steve rogers imagine#sam wilson imagine#dark!marvel
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SALTING AROUND AT THE SPEED OF SOUND
AO3 / FFN
Summary: Introducing!!!!
The! Ultimate! Salt! Fic! Ever! IN ZA WARUDO!
Featuring Dumb Noir getting taught a lesson about boundaries, Perfectnette getting friends and love interest(s), and LILA GETTING HER ASS HANDED BACK! HOW COULD YOU RESIST SUCH A WONDERFUL FIC?
(All in all, a crack fic on salt fics to bring our spirits up~)
Disclaimer - I've actually only read like one sentence of a salt fic and fucked off afterwards so everything I'm basing off in this fic is purely from exaggerated rumours and gossip about the salt corner THEREFORE if anything here looks familiar or if it seems like I'm taking the piss out of a specific story, it's all just one big coincidence. >:D
~(x)~
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Of all locations to settle on for the beginning of this amazing, wonderful, fucking fantastic story, it's established on the Eiffel Tower. Cliched but wonderfully ironic for the phenomenal heroes of Paris.
On the beams, higher than the naked eye could see, Ladybug and Chat Noir were...
Arguing.
The feline hero had his partner's wrist clasped in an iron hold, digging those deadly claws ever so slightly into the soft flesh, piercing the supposed indestructible suit with a creepy grin-
"Wait- hold up a second. I would never, NEVER hurt My Lady! Not even unintentionally! And what's with that face I'm making!?"
Oh SHUT UP Shit Noir! Let me carry on writing my fucking story jeez! Stop breaking out of character and keep following the script!
Anyways~
The skinny, pasty assed hero-
"This script sucks..."-
-TUGGED Ladybug closer to him, grin widening like he won the lottery as his demonic looking eyes perversely drank in the sight of the clearly uncomfortable looking heroine in his grasps. His face leaned into hers, only coming closer as she tried her best to lean back with a grimace.
"Just one kiss Bugaboo~ one kiss won't hurt..." His grip tightened on the appendage, making the girl wince painfully.
"Come on Chat Noir...let go! I have already told you, I'm in love with someone else. You seriously need to back off!" Ladybug whimpered, tossing away all her badassery and ability to suckerpunch a fuckboy in the face because hell yeah it ain't relevant to this sexy fic-
"You're right Chaton, this script does suck lmao"-
IGNORING WHAT THE CANON LB JUST SAID.
Ehem.
Like a defenseless little shoujou manga protagonist, Ladybug felt tears sparkle in her eyes and pure sadness washed over her frail body before Fuck Noir dipped her into a romantic pose and smashed his lips against hers with soooooo much passion and tongue and teeth and-
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What. On. Earth.
Oi you stupid cat! Watch where you're putting your hands on the girl! Yikes! What do they teach these Europeans!? Break it up already you hormone riddled boobs!
"Oh Minou~ You're so daring~"
"Just for you, My Lady~"
STAY ON SCRIPT YOU BRATS!
Hmph!
Carrying on.
Suddenly, herculean strength riddled through Ladybug's blood, falcon punching Bitch Noir off her and off the tower, thus HenchBug™ was born. Panting and wiping her lip with her thumb in a really really badass way (YOU KNOW THAT EPIC WAY THAT ANIME CHARACTERS DO TO WIPE THE BLOOD OFF THEIR LIP, RIGHT? RIGHT? ex deeeee), MachoBug swept towards Pussy Noir's broken twiggy body at the bottom of the tower.
"You disobeyed me for the umpteenth time, Noir." BadassBug uttered cooly, keeping a blind eye to the growing crowd around her and the mangled up flesh on sticks at her feet.
The black and yellow mess didn't respond.
"Lo-oooool cos I'm dead!"
WE'LL PRETEND WE DIDN'T HEAR THAT EITHER.
Anger coursed through Ladybug's veins as all those traumatising memories and moments she had with her horrific partner flashed through her brain like an old window's movie maker AMV with Evanescence's 'Bring Me Back To Life' song blasting at full volume. The conveniently arrived Alya at the front of the crowd live streamed everything on the WadyBwog, babbling about ice cream scoops.
"Every time we met up, you'd always make unwanted advances to me. You'd always force a kiss on me. You even slapped my thicc™ ass a few times- once to the beat of fucking Nyan cat!" The hive minded crowd surrounding them 'oooed' and 'aaahed', some snapped a selfie with what's left of the black cat.
"Therefore," The sun auspiciously shone behind MariBug, giving her an ethereal, angelic look as she carried on her lecture. "I now deem you unworthy of the miraculous." BugBug fluttered her eyelashes with so much pain as if reciting those words killed her whole generation and their dogs and their hamsters.
"Hand it over to me or else I'll force it off you." All of a sudden BuffBug™ was back, bitch slapping CryBabyBug away and menacingly placed one foot on the carcass.
"Wow I think she forgot that you're dead Chat Noir,"
THE HIGH TENSIONED MOMENT REMAINED UNBROKEN AS FAKEBUG- oof-
Ladybug rolled her eyes with annoyance at the disgusting boy's silence and immediately knelt down to yank the miraculous off his bony fingers-
"Never!" The catboy sprung back to life before anyone could breathe, clutching his hand to guard his ring ferally, froth seeping out of his teeth and fangs gnashing against one another-
"Looks like I'm a vampire with rabies now, Bug."
"Since when did you have fangs?"
"Since two seconds ago-"
OH MY GOD YOU TWO!
SHUT UP AND LET ME WRITE!
Zombie Noir leapt back with a hiss, faux ears and tail twitching with indignation and summoned the ancient destruction power whilst BossBug spun her yoyo around in battle formation, ready to call for her lucky charm anytime soon. Cat and Bug kept up the intense eye contact as that cowboy music from the good, the bad and the fugly played in the background (cheers Lahiffe mah d00d!).
"You don't want to become my enemy, do you, Chat N00b?" The heroine spat, bones clicking in place as she stretched her fingers when she and the lad in black circled each other slowly.
The crowd and Alya were casually chilling in the background, the latter still narrating about an epic ice cream scoop.
"Heh, I won't need to be the enemy if you don't touch MY ring...
Milady~"-
"MON DIEU! C'EST 'MY LADY'! C'EST N'AI PAS 'MILADY'!"
THAT'S THE POINT YOU STUPID CAT! Break out of character one more time and I'll castrate you and feed your teeny tiny *censored* to the dogs!
"...My Lady? Is my *censored* small? :("
"If your *censored* was small, you'd never have been able to make me scream at night, Minou~ ;3"
":D"
Regardless!
The pussycat feinted to the left before dodging the razor sharp wire of his Lady's (not) yoyo, whipping out his baton (not the tiny one either) and swiftly used it to vault himself away like the coward he CLEARLY is.
"You'll never get me alive, THOT!" Was the last thing that small dick energy minded cuck yowled and fled with his tail between his legs. BigBug let out a yell of rage™ and slammed her fist on the ground, branding the sloppy concrete job with a crater as the shockwaves caused the audience to let out a little 'DAYUMMMMMMMM'.
"Lol I thought the geezer was dead hahaah! Yo Ladybuggy, mah homie, you and kitty cat did the shame shame already or nah?" Alya, the lil hoe, leant into the heroine's personal space with a crazed grin.
She only received a middle finger from the annoyed Asian.
(MMmm Mmmm yEAH YEAh trANSiTION so SEXYYYY)
Now, it is conveniently time for Marinette's afternoon classes.
The exhausted girl dragged her feet up those weird ass spirally steps that could break ankles JUST by looking at them and made it to her classroom, only to pause at the shouting she was hearing behind the door.
"Oh boy, time to unleash the kraken..."
Silence Adrien! You're not supposed to have appeared yet! Dumb ass blondes these days smh...
"HEY! >:0"
With a deep breath, the raven haired girl pushed the door open only to be met with what could be best described as a clusterfuck. Tears welled up in her eyes as the remains of her sketchbook (which looked like it had a trip in a paper shredder) was dumped all over the floor. She snapped her head back up only for her heart to literally shatter when she was met with a furious Alya Motherfuckin' Césaire.
"Marinetti DupainGhetti. This. Is. Your. Punishment." Alya's glasses flashed sinisterly as her lips curled up into d i s g u s t . The rest of the class mirrored a similar look, acting as if poor little Cheng vored everything they loved and cherished.
All except two people.
That witch BITCH Lie-la smirked secretly as she cowered behind Alya and the wimp, spineless little shitty Dumbdrien whimpered on his desk, pretending that nothing was happening.
"P-P-Punishment for wh-what?" Babynette sobbed, clutching her shoulders as if to hug herself and make her look smaller than she is. She darted her eyes towards the model, begging him internally to say something, anything! Alas, Bitchdrien only looked away guiltily, his thin chapped lips sealed shut.
Marinette couldn't believe her bad luck. First there was an akuma attack, then she was assaulted by her shitty partner for the millionth time and now this?
"Punishment for bullying our lord and saviour, Lila of course! How dare you make such a sweet girl like her suffer!?" Alya roared, using the power of the seven chaos emeralds and twenty dragonballs to go super satan and pinned Sweetienette against the wall with an elbow. Her hair fizzed with animosity and her eyes gleamed in a demonic red colour-
"Dieu...you just had to drag my best friend into this too, huh?"
"You'd think this writer is sane enough to know that I'd cataclysm anyone that dared to harm Ma Princesse, non?"
"The writer? Sane? Good joke."-
IGNORING STUPIDNETTE AND BLOODYDRIEN-
Alya snarled, bruising our sweet little angel's poor skin with her brute strength whilst the rest of the class watched without a question. The sausage haired wench munched on some greasy ass popcorn as she watched the show whilst Shamedrien became one with the floor, a perfect doormat for us queens to stomp on.
"You tripped her all the time when no one was watching, aggravating her shattered kneecaps. You plagerised her designs, ruining what's left of her sensitive self esteem and dammit don't even get me started on all those rumours you attempted to spread about her, smearing her celebrity status! I've never hated anyone more than you, BITCHINETTE!" Alya harrumphed and then shoved Brokenette against the wall again, possibly snapping her spine and stormed back to her new bestie.
"Mon Dieu your best friend just murdered you..."
"Mon Dieu my best friend just murdered me..."
Tosses a knife at the duo to make them shut the fuck up.
Everyone else applauded the psycho journalist for putting Poornette in her place, even Stinkdrien cos he can't handle peer pressure-
BAM!
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"HOW DARE YOU HURT MARINETTE DUPAIN CHENG!" A tall, stern looking boy slammed the door open, scooping Deadinette in his arms and blew out steam through his nostrils like a bull. Everyone le gasped as the girl suddenly turned into Alivenette and embraced the stranger like he's her long lost lover (Aiyeeeeeeeeeeee mUH O-T-FUCKING-P! K Y A A A! EVEN THOUGH WE KNOW JACKSHIT ABOUT HIM).
"BELIX BRAGRESTE! You saved me~ Don't hurt my homiesexuals please- they're all brainwashed by the sausage haired girl..." The blackberry haired angel begged, tugging on Belix's sleeves.
"I didn't do anything-" Uglydrien was quick to defend himself only to melt back down into a doormat by Belix's dark glare, ripping out what spinal tissue the model had left.
"Damn straight you didn't do SHIT." Bragreste swiftly delivered a power-kick against Assgreste, yeeting him to the moon and then turned towards the rest of the f00king class, rolling his sleeves up. "As for you nerds...I'm gonna chop you all up into mincemeat and EAT you all with my spaghetti!-"
"I'm here Marinette!!!" Another lad swooped in through the door, hips swaying to the beat as 'Luka Luka Night Fever' plays in the background and then posed! Why it's none other than the obviously best written, best character, best BOY in the world: RUKA COFFEE- sorry, I mean Luka Couffaine!
He strummed his guitar a few times, nodding and humming as if he was conversing with the beautiful instrument whilst bokeh dots and pink sparkly glitter floated around him.
"Ah~ my guitar said that everyone's being a bitch ass motherfucker to our beautiful designer! Come with my Mari~ Take my hand and I'll take you away from this school!" The lycee student didn't wait for her answer and grabbed the star struck girl oh SO romantically~
"No! She should move schools with me!" Belix Bananagreste snatched Nettie back possessively, just like a cat. It was then that the girl decided that when she managed to snatch the black cat miraculous back from the loser that currently wielded it, she was going to give it to Belix-
"Ugh don't fuck with me..."
"Shhh. You're supposed to have been yeeted to the moon, Chaton,"
"Marinette please just throttle the writer already-"
AND THEN!
SUDDENLY!
Erm...
Errr...
AHA!
Suddenly all these people from some furry superhero universe came flooding in through the door, yelling insults and real truths about LIE-LA and protecting my best girl Maribear like a boss! Heroes like Gamien and Dason Bob and that guy and err, the other guy and yeah AND THEN they all began to BEAT UP that BITCH LILA and then-
"Oh no she's losing it, Adrien I don't think this will last any longer..."
"No kidding!"
THEN JAGGED STONE CAME FLYING THROUGH THE WINDOW, JAMMING OUT HIS LATEST SONG ABOUT HOW LILA IS SUCH A LIAR AND EXPOSED EVERY SINGLE THING SHE DID TO BEST GIRL MACHONETTE!
THEN ALL THESE OTHER KIDS FROM THE SCRAPPED PV UNIVERSE CAME IN VIA A CONGO LINE AND MARINETTA DECIDED TO GIVE THEM THE OTHER MIRACULOUS COS WHY NOT!?
AND THEN CHLOE BECAME MARINETTE'S NEW BFF COS HELL YEAH I LOVE VIBING WITH PEOPLE WHO BULLIED ME AND MY PEERS FOR FOUR YEARS STRAIGHT AHAHAAHAH QUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENS-
"Adrien, I'm going to kill her. She needs to stop."
"Go on then~"
AND THEN!
AND FUCKING THEN!
SCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW!!!!!!
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[Error 404: The following writer has unfortunately met her demise through unknown means. We apologise for any inconveniences. Please keep scrolling as we clear up the mess. Have a good day.]
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"Huh...that was anticlimactic...now what?"
"You go off snogging my rejected predecessor and the guitar boy? >:("
"As if I'd go for anyone other than my silly kitty!"
":D"
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~(x)~
A/N: I am never EVER writing anything this cursed AGAIN! How can you bash anyone but the villains in this series!? Damn! I can't even say I'm sleep deprived! This is the most fucked up shit I've written and I'm super alert oof!
#my writing#my fanfiction#ml fanfiction#ml crack#miraculous Ladybug#miraculous Ladybug and chat noir#ml shitpost#marinette dupain cheng#adrien agreste#alya cesaire#chloe bourgeois#lila rossi#jagged stone#luka couffaine#adrinette#adrienette#this is the most amazing thing i've ever done for this fandom#i'm just mixing in cocaine in the salt#this isn't salt#THIS IS MY MASTERPIECE#AND YOU ALL SHALL TREAT IT AS SUCH
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👤- Favorite character?, 👗- Favorite outfit? One you’d like to see?, 🍂- Favorite scene in either film/ trailers?, 🛷- What would you like to see in the future? for the Frozen Fandom Asks :D
Thank you so much for sending these! I love you!
👤- Anna. Anna forever. Anna Anna Anna. Elsa is cool but she's not Anna. You know how all 13 years old lesbians had their gay awakening with Elsa? Yeah my gay awakening was with Anna. Idk she's just exactly what my type is like irl. I saw her and I knew she'd be my favorite character ever. I just think she's very well developed, and has this different kind of angst that Elsa doesn't posses. Elsa is all about wallowing in Angst but with Anna, it's like they're stabbing her and she doesn't even realize because her brain has broken and refuses to process it and somehow that hurts even worse. It's easy to comfort Elsa if she's sad, sure, just hug her and shit. But Anna doesn't even know she needs to be comforted even though the kid has gone through so much trauma. Idk my protective instincts go wild with Anna. She's my baby and I love her.
👗- oh boy. Ok ok so I'd love to see some traditional norwegian bunad some day. Like, actual norwegian bunads. The fantasy outfits are neat but... bunads are already so Disney princess-y it's unbelievable.
I'm just in love with how these look. Oh! And real sámi gávttit as well! The clothes the northuldra wear in the movie look pretty historically accurate I think, and I think they look really good, but they all look the same and that in itself makes them a bit boring i think Disney could have a bit more fun with them.
I think the blue and red colors are a bit more modern so I understand Disney keeping their outfits with more brown-ish colors, considering they couldn't trade for 34 years, but as the last picture shows, there's still a lot of stuff you can do while keeping brown as the main color (and white! White fur looks so pretty!).
If we're talking about my current favorite outfit, they have to he Elsa's Dark Sea dress and Anna's post-coronation dress w jacket and her hair up. I love whoever designed that dress. I like the low key military vibe it gives, and it makes me wonder if it's somehow foreshadowing the plot of some future installment 👀 ngl i love war stories and I want to see Queen Anna leading an army of giants into battle.
🍂
Oof dude i LOVE Anna leading that army of giants. I love the dam scene and I love The Next Right Thing. And I really love For The First Time in Forever (Reprise?) that scene was like ANGST. AAAAAA. Oh and that time when Anna looks up the stairs and sees her hot sister being hot and she gayly low key stutters-- or when she HIGH KEY gayly stutters during the coronation ball because her hot sister called her beautiful... yeah that's when I started shipping Elsanna. My heart felt something there. It was too sweet for me. But seriously, my favorite scene must be when Elsa watches Runeard's memory insult magic and the Northuldra, and you see her expression slowly shift into sheer horror because she realizes this man, her grandfather, hated everything she is, and he would have killed her-- his own family-- because of her ethnich background and magic (for better or worse, Northuldra identity was strongly tied to magic in F2, and they became two concepts impossible to divorce, and I'm actually writing a longer post about it). I FELT that ok? My own grandfather on my white said of the family has said some very fucked up shit to me. Ever since it was revealed Elsa and Anna were mixed I deeply identified with them, even more than before. They're the closest I have to mestize representation since fucking Balto. And then you start to observe and think about what the movie has said so far about Runeard and magic and the Northuldra and it culminates with Elsa learning the truth about her Arendellian side of the family and... God i think I needed to see a character go through that. It's the highest point of a long process that recontextualizes the whole Frozen franchise (at least to me lol) and I love it for everything it does.
🛷-
Mmmm well I'd love to see the girls physically together again, but not in a coward or bitter way. I don't want Frozen 2's ending to be meaningless. I think Frozen needed these three stories to be told, right? A) The story of Elsa and Anna finding each other again, B) the story of Elsa and Anna learning to be sisters again and work together after being reunited, C) and the story of Elsa and Anna finding themselves, on their own. Now, as I see it, Frozen 2 is either a very tragic resolution to the franchise, or an awkward way to squeeze story C) in the middle of the saga as to not turn it into the final resolution. I firmly believe the story of Frozen 2 needed to be told, and finishing the movie the way it did makes a lot of sense, but I honestly don't want this to be the final note the story of Frozen ends with. Think about it, if you had stories A, B and C in order, the logical conclussion would be.... httyd 3 😭 if you tell the story of Anna and Elsa having their solo arcs as the season finale, then they remain split up. Goodbye. Having it in the middle is weird and uncomfortable but I believe Frozen 2 could work a lot better as an in-between movie than a single sequel. I would like Frozen 2's ending to be used in an inteligent way to proppel the story of Frozen 3, to give it strenght and meaning. I don't want it to be shamefully swept under the rug, as if the writers regretted it and want to desperately backpedal on their plans. Even if they do regret it, they have to make it seem like it was part of a bigger plan all along and make it work accordingly.
Ik this sounds like I think the final episode is so bad there's a secret episode with the real ending somewhere in there, and I recognize Frozen 2 might very well be the ending of the franchise. I think both are equally plausible options. I mean, can you imagine a Frozen 3 in which Elsa and Anna are not spending time together? Can you imagine the writers giving Frozen 3 the exact same ending as Frozen 2? It's not even about the separation, you just can't end a movie in the same place it began. What? Anna and Elsa team up one afternoon to fight their monster of the week and then say goodnight and go to their respective homes? A sequel needs to somewhat challenge the status quo. The status quo of the F2 ending is the girls going on their separate ways. Good for them. I think their solo arcs will be healthy. But the separation is not an afterthought or a sidequest, like Kristoff's propposal. Frozen 3 doesn't need to challenge Kristoff's propposal because it's not central to the story, but it does have to somewhat interact with the hearts of Frozen and Frozen 2 and that means it needs to build upon them. Honestly, I don't think I'm delusional. I think my predictions for a hypothetical F3 are pretty sensible.
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Not sure if you'll answer this, but: thoughts on season 4 of Wearp thus far? On ~that~ scene?
You know... I am actually feeling pretty good about S4 so far. Which, to be honest, is a big surprise, trust me. lol
Not to say that there aren’t definitely still some issues. But I am saying this in comparison to S3, which... quite frankly... I am still super salty about. So taking that into account, I feel like this season has been an improvement? I am allowing myself to be very cautiously optimistic at this point.
I will say that pacing felt all over the place to me in the beginning. Enough so to give me whiplash in a few places. But I feel like part of that was a desperation to get the loose ends from S3 tied up so that they could finally settle into the new storyline for S4. Not the best excuse in the world, but given the shorter season format, I suppose some of that is unavoidable. The most recent episode -- 4x04 -- seemed like it was beginning to return to the clearer pattern of storytelling that was more reminiscent to the earlier seasons, so... I guess we’ll see how the pacing will progress from here.
Since you specifically asked about ~that~ scene, I guess I will start there. I think it was beautiful, and emotional, and genuine, and I feel honored that we got to be a part of something like that. It was respectful in all the ways that a scene created with the Male Gaze™ in mind is not, and that alone was incredibly important.
Other things I am rather pleased about:
- Wynonna’s emotional growth. I could cry with how happy it makes me to see her unafraid of embracing her feelings, and even going so far as to share them with others. Letting people in and learning to lean on her family is only going to make her even stronger in the end. I just want to hug her and tell her how proud of her I am.
- We are finally getting the Wynaught BROTP that we’ve been waiting for since the very beginning. They had made so much progress in S2, and then the writers came in during S3 and forced this bullshit narrative of pettiness and sniping comments that were aimed to hurt rather than their typical banter that was meant to be playful. It was the worst regression I’ve ever seen, and made me quite angry to see them constantly getting fucked over for the sole purpose of “ooo... drama...” I mean, seriously. Fuck off with that shit.
But for everything they did wrong last season, they are doing all of it right this season. Canon Best Friends! Emotional vulnerability with each other! Genuine love and relief when they were reunited! And I feel like it’s going to be Wynonna that eventually breaks through to Nicole (re: her PTSD), because Wynonna is in the unique position of having gone through similar traumas before, and will be able to understand Nicole’s struggles in a way that no one else quite can. ((More on this in my next point.))
- Nicole’s PTSD is very real, and is not being swept under the rug. That’s not to say that Nicole isn’t trying to ignore it and clearly deflects the subject any time it’s been brought up, but that doesn’t mean the show and the other characters are ignoring it. The fact that she can’t return Waverly’s “I love you” right now, and how she’s using kisses and sex to distract Waverly every time she tries to bring it up... Speaking as someone with experience, Nicole’s blatant avoidance is a very real thing that happens, regardless of how unhealthy of a coping mechanism it is.
And as for what I said about Wynonna before... By no means do I think that Waverly isn’t doing a good enough job of trying to be there for Nicole. She’s tried on several occasions to coax a conversation out of her, but at least when Nicole shuts her down, she doesn’t just give up. She recognizes her distress and tries to give her what she needs in the moment: going with her to check the traps, or telling her to go back home and check on Rachel because she can tell how distraught she is about it, or even allowing Nicole to work out her feelings through physical means.
But I think in this instance, it's going to be Wynonna that eventually gets through to her. Because sometimes -- no matter how much they love you -- it is not always your romantic partner that can help the way you need it. Sometimes a best friend is the one that has to break through and help you open up to the others that you love. And with Wynonna... All of that shit she went through when she was younger -- when people thought she was crazy -- she's able to see what's happening to Nicole in a way that no one else can.
Other things I am less than pleased about:
Basically, the primary thing here is the potential for another possession storyline. How many times do we have to watch the same goddamn trope over and over again?
And now we have two separate possibilities for it running at the same time:
1) Eve is definitely loose and will definitely show up again at some point. Currently, I think she’s posing as Amon. But who’s to say how long that will last? How long before we have her strolling down the street as Nicole again, or Waverly, or even Wynonna herself, and suddenly, every single scene we watch is just a whole bunch of “well, one of the people in that scene wasn’t who they said they were, so now nothing is real.” UGH. We’ve already done this with Mikshun and Maeve and, to an extent, with everyone being glamored by vampires and under their sway. I am intrigued to see what kind of storyline possibilities Eve could present, but if this is where they go with it? NO THANK YOU.
2) Nicole is now... what? Possessed by a Creepy Clanton? Sold her soul to further the line of the Clanton heirs? *sigh* Here we go again...
Anyway. Sorry for rambling. Apparently I’ve had a lot of feelings about this season thus far that I hadn’t really processed into coherent thoughts yet. Lucky you, I guess. lol
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Open letter to Star Wars fandom post-Tros
The insanity of the SW fandom has truly peaked. And people wonder why outsiders don't touch them with a fifty foot pole.
There are not enough expletives (btw 'kriff' doesn't exist in the GFFA but that's a topic for another day) in the English language for the disgrace, mockery, idiocy and so on that has permeated what could be an otherwise great fandom. I have been a SW fan my whole life and will continue to be forever, but there are hills I will die on.
All of this "JJ ruined SW forever and Terrio is a saint, etc!?!" bullshit combined with "oh don't pick on poor Daisy..no one told her anything about her character" makes the folks who regurgitate the drivel appear to have their hostility set in the wrong place. No one can possibly believe what they are preaching to be fact.
Everything is clearly mapped out as it happened and nothing is cryptic. It would smash you into the pavement like a bus for how blatant it is. Obviously people believe what they want but presenting lies as law does no one any favors.
JJ.didn't.write.shit. Repeat it out loud as many times as necessary. Everyone and their dog in Hollywood knows that. How he and Terrio are not blacklisted for their extensive career bombs when anyone else wouldn't get away with it remains a mystery. Everyone knows he stole writing credit from lots of people. That's just from SW without the rest of his 'filmography'. Don't ever him credit for being *anything* other than having sand for brains. If you think he's the fucking mastermind behind anything, he's got you exactly where he wants you, wrapped around his finger. That's how hacks operate. He is responsible for the shit editing job of TROS where the editing crew was threatened with their jobs if it was not done in a certain way under a certain unrealistic time crunch. That is why TROS was so choppy and nonsensical, not taking into consideration Terrio's very explicit hate for anything in the franchise not related to Luke or Rey. He is responsible for forcing Adam Driver to do ADR dialogue in his own fucking closet out of sheer vindication.
There is hypocrisy and disrespect to levels that it's impossible to recover from. DLF went out of its way, above and beyond even, with gaslighting and erasure to destroy the entire franchise in one film. In December, people said they were done with SW because DLF had crushed them and they would never recover but they would still love it.
Funny how that took a spin in the opposite direction since people hate it with a white hot passion. Only SW fandom would choose to not abandon something they hate in favor of unhealthy hatred. 'Fans' directing their anger toward boycotting the entire franchise instead of ignoring the bad film as any other franchise does. It is done with such vocal energy that it has become the popular vote and anyone who doesn't agree with the hate is an outcast. Essentially becoming the angry antis that they claim to hate in the same breath.
And don't even start on the utter bullshit of Rey's parentage. The latest conspiracy theory, advocated by DR herself, would have you believe that she has equal sand for brains and doesn't know shit about her own character, and that Rey Nobody of Jakku was nothing more than Resistance propaganda and never existed. That TFA and TLJ are figments of our imagination and the highly respected Rian Johnson is not only a slave driver but a hack who knows nothing. He knows a hell of a lot more than Terrio and JJ combined. If you seriously believe that Daisy knows nothing about her own character when every other actor knows more than the writers, you're equally conned. Daisy didn't pay attention or didn't care because that meant working, which she bitched about she shouldn't have to do. Like JB, she wants to be seen as the poor abused victim.
When TFA and TLJ were at the forefront, no one had any issues whatsoever with Rey of Jakku being related to no one. Rian even said as much. But he and George Lucas who created the franchise know nothing. Neither does Lawrence Kasdan and his cowriter Michael Arndt. Lucas explicitly said during PT filming that Palpatine had no offspring, and people who aren't even involved in the fandom know that the Dark Side tells you anything you want to hear. Why the bloody fuck anyone with functioning braincells would take anything that TROS claims to be true as gospel fact "because it's onscreen which makes it true".
It fucking cancelled 9 previous films and people choose to accept with open arms the same literal pile of shit they said destroyed them over the 9 films that have almost no flaws by comparison. Cancel out any love, family, fairytales, hope, because a shit for brains writer (Terrio) chose to annihilate them to become the tale of St Luke and the Virgin Rey.
Why? What is the logic or purpose behind the Stockholm Syndrome which DLF initiated that TROS is Gospel Law, everything else is heresy and Rey Nobody never existed?
I can tell you right now without any doubt that Carrie Fisher and Peter Mayhew are both rolling in their graves at the utter hurricane of disrespect and mockery that has swept over the franchise. George Lucas is likely regretting his choice to sell LF to Disney after the atrocity of TROS. Why are people giving the antis/fanboys whom they claim to abhor as much power as they have?
That's not even touching any widely publicized offscreen drama involving the actors. Adam made the wise decision to cut all ties. DR and Reylos were harassed by JB. They probably don't recall boycotting him as a result. Kelly Tran was harassed by fanboys and thrown under the bus by JB and JJ. In addition, neither JB nor DR can find work after their stunts (she trashed Adam and Rian at a full cast press conference for making her actually work during TLJ). Now he's hoping people will conveniently forget what an ass he was to everyone. Interesting how Adam, Kelly, and the rest of the cast are having zero issues finding work.
In a nutshell, Rey may not be my favorite character by a long shot. Kylo deserved better. The Force thought they belonged together. But NO ONE (actor or character) deserved the fucking lazy bullshit copout story that was given to them by hack 'writer' Terrio and 'I can't finish any story' director JJ. Carrie was a script doctor and would have beaten the shit out of Terrio. The extent of her revenge on JJ would be haunting him but he isn't even worth that much effort.
People have forgotten that or they don't care anymore. At which point move on. But that doesn't give someone license to trash an entire fandom with blatant lies out of spite as retribution. Don't create conspiracy theories that experts (the writers of TFA/TLJ and actors) have explicitly said are the opposite.
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Crow: Chapter One
I was just walking down the street when I saw some kid my age thrust a knife into her forehead.
Now, isn’t that a hook? Really cuts through your short attention span and gets to the point. Alright, alright, I’ll stop with all these totally cleaver puns (but considering my ultra-writer-nerd-ness, can you really blame me for making them?).
Alright, so back to the crazy girl.
She was pretty lanky and had wild, unruly auburn hair. She also had a crooked nose that looked like it’d been broken several times. She was wearing a black cloak over a black dress with fishnet sleeves. Connecting the cloak was a bright red brooch, a stark contrast to the rest of her clothing. There were also weird, wire-thin horizontal stripes on her skin that I’d originally mistaken as part of her outfit.
Other than the knife sticking out of her head, the whole image made her look hot, not gonna lie.
“Oh, hello there,” she greeted nonchalantly as she thrust the blade out, black blood gushing out. Yeah, black blood.
“And I thought my middle school fanfiction was weird.”
“Yeah. You weren’t supposed to see that.”
I walked up and stopped a foot away. “So you gonna say I’m special or something and take me to some magical world to defeat some tyrant ruler?”
“That’s awfully optimistic.” She then placed her hand onto my forehead. “Especially when it comes from a corpse.”
“Wait, what-”
Then there was a flash of white, and the next thing I knew, I was on the ground, throwing up my lunch. Aw man, the old man’s gonna be worried, I thought dazedly. Then I noticed the black combat boots in front of me. I had the irrational thought that they were mine for a second before I realized they were too big. Plus, they were a hell of a lot more worn out than mine.
“Get up.”
I wiped my mouth with my sleeve and slowly rose to my feet. The girl was staring at me with narrowed eyes, her arms crossed. Well, actually, only one black eye was narrowed. The other was hidden under messy bangs swept over the left side of her face.
“What the hell was that?” she demanded, and she sounded angry.
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
The girl let out an aggravated sigh and placed her hand on a nearby bush. I watched in horror as each individual leaf shriveled up and died, leaving nothing but a wooden skeleton. “I kill with just one touch,” she growled, sounding much more intimidating than me (and I was the one with the deadpan, gravelly voice).
I then widened my eyes as the color drained from my face. “You...you were going to kill me.”
Holy shit.
“So why didn’t you die?”
I shook my head to snap myself out of my stunned daze. “You were going to kill me! What the hell?!” I yelled, my voice shaking. “Just who the hell are you?!”
“Crow,” she said after a few moments.
“No last name?”
“No.”
“Alright, then I’m Red. Now just what in the hell is going on here?”
Crow rolled her eyes and cracked her neck. “I’m dealing with another freak, it seems.”
“Don’t call me a freak when you freakin’ stabbed yourself in the head and tried to kill me!”
“Well, I’m not going to kill you now.”
“That’s reassuring,” I muttered. I then looked around. We were standing in the middle of a desert with black sand. As if that wasn’t strange enough, there wasn’t anything around for miles. “What the actual fuck.”
And to top it all off, I probably just made this beyond PG-13. Unless I’m allowed to have one more f-word up my sleeve.
I then took a deep breath and pulled out the tiny pad of paper I always kept in my sweater pocket. I checked my right ear for a pen and found one. I began to scribble furiously, letting my frustration pour out onto the white canvas in harsh, impulsive strokes.
“What the hell are you doing?” Crow questioned as I felt her gaze over my shoulder.
“Managing my emotions in a god-damn healthy manner.” I then closed the notebook and put it away, having released my feelings. “There. Now I’m better equipped to face shit.” She placed her hand on my shoulder. “Uh, what are you doing?”
“I was hoping that was only a fluke. But no. I still can’t kill you.”
I backed away from her, uneasy. I seriously didn’t like how she talked about death with such ease. In fact, it unnerved me to my very core. It was like being in the same room with a serial killer. You know what? She probably is. I shivered.
“Uh, so where are we?”
“The desert.”
“Really? I couldn’t tell.”
“If you must know, this lies just beyond the outskirts of Jakraut. Now come.” Crow walked several steps right, but I didn’t move. Why the hell would I? She turned around. “What are you waiting for?”
“Why would I go somewhere with someone who tried to kill me?”
“Suit yourself. I figured you wouldn’t want to deal with the sand lards on your own, but I don’t care either way.”
“Sand lards?”
“Farewell. Perhaps they won’t be able to kill you either.”
I bit my lip and ran to catch up with her. “Alright, fine! You win!”
She raised her brow. “I wasn’t aware I was in a competition.”
“So, um, how long will it take to get to this Jakraut place?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t?”
“I don’t pay attention to the time. It hardly matters. Minutes and hours are all the same to me.”
“Uh, okay. What is it like? Jakraut, I mean.”
“It’s a small village. The only thing of worth there is the poison shop.”
“Poison? Are you an assassin or something?”
“No. It’s for me.”
“You...you poison yourself?”
“Enough with the questions. They’re annoying and serve no purpose.”
“Sorry if I was curious about why someone would voluntarily poison herself.”
Crow ignored me and continued onward at her brisk pace. Her long legs covered much more ground than mine, making it nearly impossible to keep up with her. Plus, I wasn’t exactly in peak condition. Several minutes later, she stopped without warning, and I bumped into her.
A few seconds passed, and then she quickly jerked me out of the way right as a giant cloud of dust and sand rose up from the ground. When both cleared, I gaped at what had been hidden.
It was a giant - and I mean giant - blob of what looked like fat. Sand lard. Definitely a sand lard.
“Make sure not to touch it,” Crow warned.
Why the hell would I voluntarily touch a thing like that?
As if she thought I was dumb enough to do such a thing, she set out to prove her point. She reached her hand into the sand lard’s side and swiftly pulled it out. Her hand had been reduced to its skeleton, dripping with acid, and I had to bite back the bile that rose in my throat.
“I think I got the point,” I replied, unnerved by both the lard’s acidic effects and Crow’s complete lack of concern.
The lard then melted before my very eyes until it had been reduced to a mere puddle. Oh, yeah, death touch.
“I believe we’re close now,” Crow announced as she began walking again.
“Now hold on!” I cried as I grabbed her arm. “Are you just going to ignore-” I then stared at her hand. It had completely healed itself. “Oh, you have healing powers?” I think I wrote a story about a girl with healing powers once.
“Obviously,” she replied before wrenching her arm free from my grip. “Otherwise the stab wound from before would still be there.” Stab wound…? Oh, yeah, the knife in the forehead.
“Are you immortal?”
“Yes.”
“So nothing can kill you?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Uh, okay.”
“I’m tired of the delays. Let’s get going already,” Crow growled impatiently.
I nodded in agreement. After all, I figured it wouldn’t be wise to stick around and wait for more of those creatures to show up.
Maybe five minutes of awkward silence passed before I simply couldn’t bear it anymore. “So...where’d you get your powers?”
“I was born with them.”
“You were?”
“Yes,” she growled impatiently after cracking her neck.
“So you’re immortal. Do you feel pain?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
So that explained why she reacted so calmly when she stabbed herself and plunged her hand into an acidic substance. “Why is that?”
“Don’t know, don’t care.”
“Before, you said I was a freak like you. Does that mean people don’t usually have powers here?”
“As far as I know.”
“Could you maybe answer with more than just five words?”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass.”
“Well, that’s six, so I guess that’s an improvement.”
“I wasn’t aware my behavior was being critiqued by an annoying-ass earthling.” She then heaved a sigh and gestured in front of us. “Look, town. Get distracted.”
I turned away from her to gaze at Jakraut. Like she’d said, it was pretty small. There were only maybe ten houses in sight. Plus there was a store with a large sign that read in big, block letters: POISON! GET YOUR POISON HERE AT KILL-ONE, KILL-ALL! Then in smaller print underneath it, there was a little caption: Cyanide and belladonna half-off this week only. Get it while supplies last.
“You’re right. The only interesting thing here is the shop.” Though I’m sure as hell not interested in buying anything. Hell freakin’ no.
Crow slammed the door open, a little bell chiming at her entrance, and she hurried in. I followed her inside and stared at the shelves upon shelves of bottles that surrounded me. Whoa. That was a lot of poison.
I watched uneasily as Crow picked up a large bottle covered with danger labels all over. She peered at it closely before grabbing another one and placing both into a basket. I followed her around the store as she snatched several more poisons of different shapes and sizes. Crow didn’t stop until the basket was nearly full. I followed her to the counter and watched her plop the basket down, and several loud clinks sounded from the countless bottles.
“How much do I owe you?” Crow asked the man there.
He stared at her for a few moments before looking over each and every item. A few seconds passed as he ran the math through. “Th-that comes up to about twelve hundred.”
Crow dumped a large sack down. From the sound of it, that thing was filled to the brim with coins or some shit. “This should cover it.”
He nodded vigorously and snatched the bag away. “H-have a nice day!”
Crow rolled her eyes before taking off a backpack I hadn’t noticed until now and dumping the bottles into one of its compartments. All but one, anyway. As we walked out, I watched with dismay as she opened it and started chugging it.
“That really won’t affect you, will it?”
“Only if I’m optimistic,” she replied before returning to guzzling the liquid.
“Where are we heading now?”
“Away from Jakraut,” she replied between drinks.
“Where, exactly?”
“Does it really matter to you?”
“Well, I do appreciate knowing where I’m going whenever I travel with immortals who guzzle poison for fun.”
Crow rolled her eyes as she downed the last few drops of the bottle and reached inside her bag for another. “I am not forcing you to accompany me. You’re making the decision to follow me.”
“Because I don’t want to be left out in the middle of nowhere alone with no idea where I am or what’s going on!” I snapped. I pinched the bridge of my nose and took several deep breaths. “Look, if you were in my shoes-”
“Then I would have a higher chance of dying and this conversation would be over in an instant,” she replied before taking a shot. She then sighed. “If you must know, we’re heading to the station.”
“As in a train station?” Crow nodded in response. “Where is it going?”
“A town down south. I have a contract there.”
“Contract? It’s not a killing one, is it?” I asked worriedly, hoping that I wasn’t stuck with an assassin or something horrible like that.
“No.”
I waited, but she never added anything. “Are you going to clarify or what?”
“Why would I feel the need to clarify myself to a stranger I couldn’t give two shits about?”
I let out a groan. The one time I was sucked into a different world, and I got stuck with an apathetic asshole with no clear goal in mind. Where was the whimsical feeling of experiencing a whole new place full of fantasy and wonder? Where were the heroes that fought for truth and justice and defended the weak with their awesome power? Where were the vibrant, fantastical creatures that either helped or hindered the heroes on their quest? Speaking of which, where was the god-damn quest?!
“Damn it! If I was going to get dragged to a different world, it could’ve at least been better than this!” I took a deep breath. “Well, maybe I just need to experience it more,” I muttered to myself. “Surely, this isn’t all there is to it.”
And it could be worse. I could be alone. And though she’s a total asshole, Crow seems willing enough to protect me from stuff like those sand lards. Hmm, maybe she’s only an asshole because she has a dark past and/or hasn’t had anyone show her compassion or love. Considering her awful power, it fits. If I was gonna write a character with her kind of personality and abilities, I’d probably go either route or even both.
“Do you have a dark and tragic backstory?” I queried. Crow ignored me, instead taking several drinks. “Would you share it if we became closer?”
“I’ve heard drinking together is an activity that can bring people closer,” Crow commented drily as she held out the bottle.
I grinned nervously. “Uh...I think I’ll pass.”
“Then shut the hell up,” she replied before taking yet another swig.
I sighed. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I’d be better off alone after all.
My stomach then grumbled. “Can we stop somewhere to eat?” I asked, ignoring the learned instinct to just not ask at all.
Crow heaved an exasperated sigh. “Right. I forgot you have mortal needs. Luckily for you, my train isn’t scheduled to leave for a few days, so I can afford the delay to the nearest town.”
“Gee, thanks,” I muttered. I then stumbled and fell. A brief feeling of fatigue washed over me before I shoved it away and got back up again. I’m alright, I’m alright. “So how far away is the nearest town?” I asked after a few minutes of walking.
“A few miles.”
“Okay.”
Since Crow wasn’t exactly a conversationalist, I was left with my thoughts. I decided to think about the story I was working on - well, one of them, anyway.
So far, it was about this elven girl who leaves her village to explore the world, as well as learn more about the human race, which kind of dominated most places. The only reason she’d never come across them before was the fact that her village was in a very secluded, hidden area. Maybe some enchantment is involved too. She also has sacred tattoos that’d been passed down from generation to generation, but what she doesn’t know is that they also contain some hidden power. And that was all I had at the moment.
Maybe elves are on the brink of extinction, and part of her quest is to discover them. Maybe humans don’t know about the elves’ existence since there’s so few of them left. Maybe...
After becoming lost in my thoughts for maybe a good half hour, I collapsed. Just like before, fatigue washed over me, except much stronger. I shook my head and shakily rose to my feet. I can handle this. Surely, it isn’t too much farther. Once again, my weakened legs collapsed from underneath me. I tried to get up but couldn’t find the strength to do it.
Aw, shit, I’m going to pass out, aren’t….I…?
END OF CHAPTER ONE
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hey!! i love what i’ve read of your pokeani fics and i want to read your fixit fic but,, i don’t know what was wrong in the episode!! enlighten me, i haven’t seen it :)
for the purpose of this ask i will be using japanese names. i will explain why later. my fixit fic is also using the japanese names/characterizations.
so musashi and kojiro (jessie and james) got a league battle. for the longtime pokeani fans, i don’t have to explain why this is a big deal, but just in case anyone following me doesn’t know the weight of that: they’re two-bit nonthreatening villains that exist almost solely for 1. comic relief 2. plot shenanigans when we need the protag to get into some wacky hijinks and 3. to give adults watching the show someone to relate to. there have been, in total, seven pokemon league championships. in all of these, team rocket mostly sit in the stands selling hot dogs and cheering on the protagonist cause he’s like their weird son.
team rocket rarely win battles. when they do, it’s usually only because they’re fighting as heroes. the SM anime took some big leaps–it let them win more, gave them food and shelter and a parental figure, and threw a z-ring in their hands to share communally. when the alola league was announced, with it was announced that you didn’t need to complete the island challenge to enter. kukui purposefully wanted to make the first alola league accessible to everyone, so everyone within a ten mile radius entered, and that included team rocket.
for musashi, this was for the fame and glory. for kojiro, this was because the prize was a battle against his favourite pro wrestler. and both of them kinda swept those desires under the rug, under the guise of ‘we’ll win the league for the glory of team rocket! nyaaaahahaheyyy~!’
the prelims were an outright battle royale and they managed to survive it, only to be pit against each other in round ONE. sm131 features their battle, and this is where i get angry.
i’m going to address my genuine concerns first, and my petty nerd concerns after. please only take the genuine ones seriously. the petty nerd concerns are just things i have no right to be mad about.
GENUINE CONCERNS:
musashi and kojiro were out of character.
i’m SURE there are people who will argue this, but i feel like they were written by folks who understand them only on the most basic level. basically, what happened was, as soon as the two of them heard they’d be battling each other, musashi shut down the conversation entirely. she told kojiro he would be throwing the match in her favour and that was final. kojiro spent the whole episode depressed, lethargic, and too hopeless to even muster the fire to really say much of anything. she literally beat him into the ground and right up until the end, he just took it.
the narrative punishes musashi for this, which is good. she loses the battle when hidoide (/mareanie) manages to inspire kojiro to fight–if not for himself, then for his pokemon, who he loves. but the fact of the matter is that musashi still made kojiro feel that way. whether or not she suffered for it doesn’t take away that she did it.
while musashi is… i mean, in her own (dub) words, mean and nasty and evil, the way she acts in this episode seems cruel even for her. there’s an insecurity in demanding kojiro throw the match–isn’t it much more logical for musashi to believe she’s indestructible? for her confidence to be her failing? while she is definitely not beyond outright denouncing kojiro’s feelings for her own personal benefit, she also loves and respects him. sometimes she gets an idea in her head and gets carried away, but there is just something about how far she takes it in this episode that really bothers me.
kojiro’s reaction to it, i think, is what hurts the most. he really loves royal mask, it’s a plot thread we follow over the course of the series. he’s the mc at several events, owns signed merch, and is frequently seen blushing & crying over the dude. we’re a lot more invested in kojiro’s feelings on this matter than we are on musashi’s. we know how much it means to him, and we have to watch her shatter it and him just… blindly accept that. people view kojiro as a doormat but just as often as he’s a doormat, he’s also prone to pretty explosive anger at times. him just… accepting musashi steamrolling his dreams seems just as ooc as her thinking to do that.
he just deflates. it’s hard to watch. and then she yells at him for that, too. like he’s disrespecting her with his absolutely justified reaction to the shitty thing she’s done to him, someone she supposedly considers a dear friend.
the episode just really plays kick the dog with kojiro from that point on, too
of all my complaints, this is the biggest one. im happy the narrative punishes musashi for all of this by making her lose, and she does apologize in her own way in the next episode (by buying him a coffee and cheering him up after his loss–gifts are how musashi says i love you and thank you and i’m sorry when she’s often too proud to say it outright.) and i think my frustration is just that i feel… cheated.
beyond that, the battle itself makes little sense. its hidoide vs. sonansu (/wobbuffet). unless you make use of a strategy, you don’t outlast a sonansu. raw power does not hold against something that will always hit you twice as hard as you hit it. i realized on a rewatch that they kinda have hidoide dodge the counters, but it’s so subtle and uninspired. she’s a poison type, poison is one of the best ways to get rid of a sonansu on the field–toxic stall it!!!! make use of your speed! use some anime bullshit and use moves in unconventional ways! but nah, none of that. hidoide is just stronger because of The Power Of Love.
PETTY CONCERNS:
musashi and kojiro are named for musashi miyamoto and kojiro sasaki, two historical japanese swordsmen who are best known for their duel against one another on the kanmon straits near moji and shimonoseki. ganryu island, where they had this duel, is named after sasaki kojiro and the style he fought in. there are statues of them erected there, locked in that battle forever.
this battle is legendary and many details of it, whether historically accurate or not, have been passed down orally until they became legend. the most commonly cited detail speaks of how musashi showed up to the duel late (a tactic he used often and cited in his book, the book of five rings, as a psychological tactic to unnerve the enemy) with a wooden, oversized bokken sword that he had whittled out of one of the fucking paddles he used to get his goddamn boat there. kojiro was like “what the fuck, is this a joke” because a motherfucker was coming at him with a wooden sword. musashi then proceeded to blind kojiro’s ass with the sun as it set behind him and killed the motherfucker. with his wooden sword.
to this day historians are debating if musashi miyamoto’s true intent in showing up that late was to ensure the sun was setting behind him. you know why cowboys have duels at high noon? probably because of musashi’s shifty ass.
pokeani hasn’t forgotten the origin of these characters and their names, because as recent as a year or so ago, musashi had a battle with satoshi that ended like this:
anyways i waited TWENTY FUCKING YEARS for musashi and kojiro pokeani to have a legit fucking battle (they have never battled with stakes before. every battle they’ve had has been over, like, the last snack in the pantry or who’s getting credit w/ sakaki (/giovanni) for the pikachu-napping plan that week) so i could see how the fuck the pokeani writers would reference THEIR GODDAMN NAMESAKES and do you want to know what the answer was???????????
they didn’t.
nothing. zilch. nada. just a regular ass battle with no cool historical nerd shit within. not even a cute little wink and nod.
whats that word i used earlier? ah, yes. “cheated.”
to rub salt in the wound, the episode is called “Musashi v. Kojiro – The Battlefield of Truth and Love” they are literally the focus of the title of the episode.
their battle lasts three minutes.
im running out of steam for how angry this episode made me but suffice to say this fixit fic is. 5k and growing by the minute.
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the long-awaited rant
(lol jk nobody was waiting for this)
i’m glad that i took the time to process the clips today + gather my thoughts + feelings before writing down my thoughts bc i’ll be honest, i was NOT a super happy camper this morning lol
but now, i am calm, cool, + collected so here goes
update: this is so fucking long holy shit like this is my warning to you right now lol
i’m just going to start off with where skamnl went “wrong” i guess you could say. i don’t know if it’s mistranslation (but at this point, i’m pretty sure it’s not) but for me, everything went to shit starting from the conversation with marie. don’t get me wrong, i was excited for liv to finally talk to her, after all, she’s the only other person liv would’ve been able to talk to in regards to the party. and i expected her to say something similar to the girl in the og (i forgot her name lol). what made me disappointed was when marie said nothing happened and liv felt relieved. i mean, her relief is understandable because she just found out she didn’t have sex with m*rris, but what happened to her is still...awful. liv has literal video proof of her getting assaulted + i think marie mentioned that she went to the bathroom so the viewers are aware that the video was probably filmed during that time. yes, m*rris was “so drunk he could barely stand on his two feet” but the video was like...fifteen seconds long and who knows how much time passed between m*rris passing out and marie going to the bathroom. anyway, m*rris’s involvement with the video is unquestionable because...it’s his hands...in the video...that he sent to liv...
but anyways,
so liv is relieved that she didn’t sleep with m*rris and everything seems like it’s going to be all good, right? wrong. liv confronts noah at school and everything goes to shit. i think this was skamnl’s attempt at the people need people clip, but it still kinda felt short? like something was missing. which i’ve been feeling like that for the past couple episodes but that’s another convo for another time. noah packs up his things, tells liv he doesn’t love her anymore, and liv let’s him go. she’s obviously upset, but i think in the next clip, it kind of seems like she’s kind of given up? she just seems tired + dejected and on top of that, she has that whole music label thing to deal with. which BY THE WAY, i’d like to mention that i loved how liv finally spoke up and told her dad what she truly felt. (woot woot) liv doesn’t know what to do anymore and it isn’t until ralph + esra kinda give her that PUSH that liv begins to think of a plan (was it a good plan? i’ll get to that in a bit lol)
i’m going to go on a little bit of a tangent that i already kinda talked about before but after the clip i just talked about, people were upset about esra telling liv to go beg for forgiveness because here’s a boy who writes you poems and you’re packing?! i don’t think she meant it that way. i think it was more like “here’s a boy that you love, that “i don’t know who i am anymore” kind of love, and you’re just letting him go?” ms. liv “i don’t have time for love” reijners giving up on the boy who finally got through that barrier she put around herself? esra knows that this isn’t what liv wants to do, and THAT’S why she said what she said.
ok so now we have today’s clips.
let me tell you, i was so frustrated because this is the last episode and we’re having THE most “ooc” clips right before the long-awaited party clip. i genuinely enjoyed the og people need people clip. i thought it was super important + when willhelm jumped out of the car, yes it was cheesy as fuck, but i kind of liked it? but i knew that with noah extra boom hitchhiking, they were going to go in a different route. did i rEALLY think that liv was going to dress up in a wedding dress and show up at his house? hell no. did that happen? yes. lol
but now that i had some time to process it, here’s my take on it.
so noah doesn’t know liv was sexually assaulted by m*rris and he most likely hasn’t seen the video. scratch that, i know for a FACT that he didn’t because i just refuse to believe that he would’ve reacted the way that he did if he watched it. so that being said, people have been giving noah shit since the whole “confrontation” clip but HE DIDN’T AND STILL DOESN’T know about the assault. whether or not liv tells him, we’ll just have to wait and see, but that’s fucking important. there’s already been a shit ton of posts talking about this so i will try to keep it short but if you see things from noah’s pov, his reaction makes sense. okay so with that in mind, liv knows noah doesn’t know. and judging from her reaction after her talk with marie, i don’t think liv is aware of how serious what she went through is? because she now believes nothing happened and everything is okay (maybe i’m wrong on that, but skamnl is portraying it that way). there was no “going to the police” or anything like that and frankly, i don’t think there will be. maybe if the season or episodes were longer we would’ve had that, because it is so important + necessary to include that. but they didn’t and so i’m just going to assume that the seriousness of what liv went through was kinda swept under the wrong (but like i said, we’ll have to wait and see because the episode still isn’t over). that is NOT me saying that it’s not important because I BELIEVE THAT WHAT SHE WENT THROUGH IS FUCKING SERIOUS. with that being said, liv is trying to figure out a way get noah back, to remind him “why they belong together” so to speak. i think she channeled her inner noah in this moment. she showed up at his place, did this ridiculous gesture of wearing a wedding dress to remind him of all the times he asked her to marry him, and told him he looked like a painting. these are all things NOAH would do, so of course it felt ooc. and the thing is, if you think about how guarded + reserved liv was in the beginning, this can be seen as growth. she is stepping out of her comfort zone, doing something that she would’ve never normally done for the boy that she loves. some might see it as a humiliating or degrading act, but i don’t think skamnl meant it to be. we see how nervous she is, we see how she doesn’t really know what to say + when noah leaves, it’s like “okay, i did this thing that i would’ve never done, gathered up all my courage to show him how much i love him, and he still left” so of course she cried in the park, hell I WOULD HAVE TOO. but when i first watched it, i was like, this is so embarrassing. i felt so fucking embarrassed for liv. i hated it. i HATED IT. and a little part of me still does, because i had this idealized version of liv in my head. BDE badass cool chick liv reijners. but the thing is, at the end of the day, she is still a teenage girl who is figuring out who she is, what she wants in life, and discovering what it’s like to be in love all at the same time. that’s a lot of shit to deal with.
so she does this grand gesture, and noah leaves, but he comes back. let’s be real, we ALL knew he was going to come back. noah “i’m out of breath running down the stairs” boom wouldn’t have survived hitchhiking with that huge-ass bag. which like, can i just ask: what the fuck was in that bag because noah wears like the five same shirts so...his art supplies? HAHA anyway, noah probably knew he was being an idiot + i’ve seen people say that he came back without any real reason to. this is what i think:
the clip cuts in and out of liv crying so we don’t actually know how long noah was gone for. we can assume that liv was alone for a while (at least 5-10 minutes or so?) i mean, you have to be crying a shit ton for your mascara to run like that. but anyway, if you assume that it took about that time for noah to decide to come back, he probably took that time to process everything. he knows that liv is sorry for not listening to him + seeing his brother. he’s one of the people who knows liv best, i mean, he was able to read her from the beginning. he knows that what she did took a lot of courage and is something that she would’ve normally never done but she did it for HIM. and i think noah realized all of this + finally went back. and then he sees liv, a sobbing mess, and he probably knew that this girl loved him back. all the insecurities he must’ve felt, the sadness + confusion, must’ve disappeared in that moment. seeing her in such a vulnerable (and embarrassing) state was enough to dispel his doubts.
and finally, after two weeks of hell, these two art dorks made up.
i think i touched on some of the main things people were upset about already but here’s some more things i’ve noticed
i’ve seen people say that the writers chose to humiliate liv + keep in scenes that were degrading or embarrassing to her character. i thought the same things okay!? i’ve felt ALL the things that most people felt the past two episodes + i still feel some of those things right now. but i’m trying to understand from the writers’ pov why they chose to keep these things in and certain things out. i don’t think keeping in the scene of liv chasing after noah was humiliating or degrading. it was important bc it showed liv finally come to terms with her feelings in PUBLIC. she didn’t care who saw her running after a boy or crying after him. she didn’t have her walls up anymore. and noah didn’t push liv (i hate when i see this argument). she fell. does it make it any better? of course not. but it’s important that we don’t villainize characters that shouldn’t be villainized. if anything everyone should direct their hate towards the real villain, fucking m*rris. and liv crying in the park, that was a problem too. why include this embarrassing moment, right? it’s so humiliating + liv would never! and you’re right, liv WOULD NEVER. but she is. because she’s in love. and love makes you do stupid things like cry in the park in the middle of the day while wearing a wedding dress. we’re seeing a different side of liv because liv being in love IS a different side of her.
i’ve seen people say noah was “victim blaming” and i can see where they’re coming from. he tells her “i told you to stay away from him” and then liv apologizes. yup, sounds like victim blaming to me IF HE KNEW WHAT HAPPENED. so here’s what i mean:
if we assume that all noah knows is that liv got super drunk + almost slept with m*rris, then yes, it’s kind of understandable why noah said what he said. is it any less shitty? OF COURSE NOT. i’m not saying that kind of behavior or response is okay. all i’m saying is that i don’t think he was trying to “victim blame” liv nor do i think that’s what the writers were intending. and i’m not even going to talk about the whole “crybaby” thing because there’s already a lot of posts on that + i’m not dutch lol
i feel like i didn’t mention a lot of things but this post is already hella long so i will wrap up with this:
do i think this season is perfect?
of course not.
it IS true that i think skamnl prioritized aesthetics over content. that’s not me saying that the clips were useless because when looking at the episodes as a whole, the clips are necessary. after all, it’s the little details that build up a character + help create the backstory. we learned so much about liv during this season and the characters are more fleshed out than the og + some remakes (i haven’t watched all so i can’t really form an actual opinion on that lol) but anyway, they changed up a lot of the characters and i love that they did that. but the thing that backfired on them is the thing that i love most. they kept the original storyline with completely different characters so sometimes, things they decided to do might’ve felt ooc.
another thing is that i still think the season was supposed to be longer, or at least the writers thought it would be. so if that was the case, then the feeling of something missing makes sense because there aRE things that are missing. TWO EPISODES WORTH OF CONTENT are missing. and it must’ve been super hard for the skamnl team to decide what to keep + what to throw out. do i think they made the best decisions with that? no. but i don’t think they’re would’ve been a perfect outcome either way.
and lastly, cancel culture. guys, this has been said many many times already but cancel culture is so fucking toxic. also, skam is a show that literally portrays imperfect characters making questionable decisions. it’s not supposed to perfect! how can you expect perfection while also expecting skam to be “realistic”. it’s just not possible. sometimes, the person you love won’t react the way you want them to. sometimes, you do crazy stupid things because in that moment you feel like there isn’t any other option. sometimes, you act fucking ooc because you can’t think straight.
that’s life! that’s the beauty of love + living!
so don’t hate or cancel the show because of some questionable decisions in the last two episodes because the first eight were (pretty close to) perfection if i say so myself.
oh! another thing i’ve seen
the girls let liv do this because when has liv ever suggested to do something like this? they all know how much she loves and misses noah. she has never asked them to do anything for her + here she is, asking them to help her with this crazy grand gesture she has planned. what did you expect? them to say no and not support her? it was obvious that they were all confused at first, but they saw how excited she was. she thought this was a good idea + they did what they do best, SUPPORTED HER. so no, i don’t think they were being ooc either.
okay wow.
i knew this was going to be long, but didn’t imagine it would ever be THIS long lol if you read the whole thing, thanks for taking the time to indulge me + my thoughts :-) i love you haha
i’m so sad this season is coming to an end, but i’m hoping that we will get a s3 renewal announcement soon! i love this show and the fandom (most of it anyway lol) and am thankful for all the highs and lows we’ve experienced together. i don’t know why the fuck i’m acting like the season is already over, we still have two more days hahahaha i’m feeling sappy now.
so in conclusion, this isn’t me saying that the two clips were perfect by any means. there were still a shit ton of issues like the lack of communication. the fact that noah still doesn’t know the truth about what happened between liv + m*rris. the fact that the sa plotline hasn’t been mentioned again. liv’s music label plotline. there are still SO MANY LOOSE ENDS. and idk how skamnl will wrap it up. i have a (bad) feeling that things will be “easily fixed” and that bit bothers me, but like i said before, it all boils down to the lack of time skamnl has. if they had longer episodes or a longer season, i just KNOW this season would’ve been (even more) amazing
maybe i’m just trying justify everything skamnl writers did + defend them because i just love the show so much haha maybe i’m just overanalyzing + overthinking (as always) but this is just MY opinion on the matter. if you disagree, that’s great! please let me know, i’d love to hear!!! that’s what i love about this fandom! we can all share our thoughts + feelings!
whew, okay now i’m really going to go now
byeeeeee :-)
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Stop! Hammer Time!
The F/O? Giovanni Potage from Epithet Erased. The S/I? Rachel Scribere - mundie, writer of much fanfiction, independent contractor supervillainous minion who has also given up on adulting. (Most of those things apply to me IRL!) This is the longest thing I’ve written for us - it’s 12 pages in MS Word - so no one’s obligated to read it; I’m just putting it out there because I’m lovestruck and need to get this out of my system. I’m only YT-current, not VRV-current, and it’s been four episodes, so I’m well aware this ship could get sunk at any time. I’m just having fun while I can. Anyway, here’s the whole big love confession thing - there’s some contextual stuff that you just gotta Roll With and also I have lots of headcanons in play here that Word of God is probably gonna disprove (trans biroace Gio anyone?). Anyway, enjoy. Or don’t.
***
I would say the part where it all went to shit was the Fog of Lost Souls.
To be fair, we were losing pretty badly before that. It had seemed like the perfect crime: overrun the mall. Jewelry stores galore! Expensive video game consoles! A Hot Topic for Rachel!
As for Miss Scribere, she had done the usual, for the usual fee. A detailed floor plan, thorough reconnaissance, surveys of the entrys and exits, locations of all visible security cameras, proximity of the Hot Topic to the ideal entry point. After all, her cut was going to be enough gems to pay off her rent and also every piece of Kingdom Hearts merch in the entire boutique. (Mostly that Kairi hoodie.)
That’s me. Miss Rachel Scribere. No, I don’t have an Epithet, least of all one to do with writing. I wish. I am a writer, however. It’s just that I’m a mundie of a writer.
So, fast forward. I, the independent contractor who is a Banzai Blaster associate by a technicality, have brought the intel to the legit Blasters (as “legit” as the Blasters can be – seriously, there’s a reason I’m an independent contractor). We’ve thought through every obstacle that could probably have happened to us (and, thanks to one certain gorgeous boss, several that could improbably have happened). I’ve already deliberately repressed several outpourings of affection toward said gorgeous boss.
Oh, yeah. That’s an important part of this story. The fact that Crusher isn’t the only person crushing on Giovanni Potage. Just that he’s the only person who got nicknamed after it.
Keep your finger on that fast-forward button. So we’re in the middle of the food court, about twelve of us trying to bring out our haul, and I’ve already had about five of those moments where Giovanni and I would have to interact directly (including him wandering into the Hot Topic as my hand was hovering over that Kairi hoodie, and then I had to pretend that I wasn’t a complete and total gamer nerd and give it up until another day when I would probably pay full MSRP for it) and I would get just too flustered to say anything in return and move on over to talk to Ben or Darkstar or anybody but Crusher, really, since he was quite steamed at me for being the Romantic Rival.
We had it all in the bag, quite literally, when the other guy showed up. With another crime syndicate. And these guys were wearing black to indicate they were really, really serious. My danger senses went off almost immediately, but Giovanni, being Giovanni, had insisted that the Banzai Blasters had first dibs on this mall, so the other guys would just have to leave.
That was how we found out the other guy’s Epithet was “Hammer.” Whose Epithet is “Hammer,” anyway? Stupid question: this guy’s. Marcus Malleus, he was called. His syndicate didn’t have a name, because apparently naming your crime syndicate is for losers (never mind that we didn’t even pick the name). And even without the gigantic hammer of solidified aether that he hoisted like a dark Mjolnir, this man was enormous. He probably could have killed us with one blow.
And we’ve now arrived at the place where it went to shit.
“Whose Epithet is ‘Hammer,’ anyway?” Giovanni asked derisively. (No, I never have had an original idea in my life; why do you ask?) “What’re you gonna do? Knock us all into the ground like nails?”
“Exactly,” Marcus said as he grinned, showing off a few broken teeth to demonstrate that he’d survived his fair share of scraps.
“Don’t be silly!” Giovanni waved him off. “We’d never…survive…that.”
It seemed he was the last one to realize we were in some deep shit.
“That’s what I’m countin’ on,” Marcus said as he advanced.
I could see that Giovanni’s knees were beginning to tremble. I wanted to run to him, to throw myself between him and the threat, but I was frozen, rooted to the spot by fear of all flavors. What a failure, failure, failure I was –
And yet he didn’t admit to his own terror. Instead, he put up a hand and demanded, “STOP!”
That was enough to at least distract Marcus into holding still. “What the – “
“I hope you’re prepared to find your way…” Giovanni had put his arms out to either side now. “THROUGH THE FOG OF LOST SOULS!”
The steam filled the food court quickly and thoroughly. We all heard Giovanni shriek “SCATTER!”.
So we did…as iffy as I felt about leaving him behind and fending for myself.
Turned out that shouldn’t have been my priority at all. Turned out I couldn’t fucking see anything in the fog-bomb, which worked in our favor insofar as it meant Marcus not chasing us but had the big downside of me being unable to find my way through an unfamiliar environment.
I ran into a fucking table.
I screamed as I went down, hitting the tile hard. At least it was only the ordinary sort of fall. Nothing broken, nothing bruised – not even my glasses.
That relief only lasted momentarily, because I’d been tripped up just long enough for the fog to clear and Marcus to find one and only one Blaster (or rather Blaster-adjacent) left on the field. And guess who that was?
The moment I’d gotten to my feet, I felt the hammer’s blow.
I was thrown all the way out of the court, hitting a wall before going down. In a panic, I made a check that I was still alive – well, duh, or I wouldn’t have been panicking. But there was pain, so much pain. Something was broken, but I couldn’t quite tell what, because my head was fucked up as well. I was pretty sure I was concussed, or on the verge of it. Consciousness became less of a black-and-white state and more like a soupy gray area where I was suspended between dreamland and knowing just how many steps away from death I was.
In the flashes, I knew what I was dreaming about. Him. Kneeling over my prone body, hands pressed to either side of me, his voice breaking as he lamented, “Composer…no…not my beautiful, amazing Composer…he…he fucked her up…!” The hitch in his breath that indicated he was crying.
Wait a minute.
That wasn’t the dream half.
I attempted to pry my eyes open to see Giovanni hovering over me, shivering with concern. Was he all blurry because I was half-dead or because my glasses had been shattered and lost? Did it matter? His cape was draping almost protectively around both of us as he wept.
My heart skipped a few beats, even though I knew damn well he did this for all of his minions. I wasn’t special. I wasn’t a favorite. He loved all of us so much…and that’s why I loved him so specially. Because he had room in his heart for so many people. Because he didn’t have to have a crush on me to do this, to cry for me when he worried I was –
I had better try to indicate I wasn’t actually dead.
I pushed out a laborious groan. Things were getting clearer…sort of. I managed the words “I’m…fffffine.”
“Then COME ON!” He seized my forearms. “We gotta get outta here! I think this guy might be having a lucky enough day to beat us today!”
“Mmh…okay…”
It seemed a Herculean feat to get to my feet. Thankfully, my vision wasn’t blurring in and out so much – more like normal lost-glasses blind than concussion-blind. We could still make a run for it.
Or so I thought until I put weight on my right foot and crumpled immediately with a yelp.
It took me a moment to realize that he’d gone down with me as I’d fallen to my knees, keeping his hands on my forearms. “Not fine,” I panted, “not fine…”
“Then I’m gonna get you out of here.”
It was that determination in his voice that always signified he was about to do something absolutely asinine.
Before I could talk him out of it, he’d swept me up like a bride, one arm behind my back and the other under my knees. It would have been like a scene from a dream had I not known that Giovanni could not lift my weight, and he was doomed to fail from the start.
We tumbled over together, screaming in two-part harmony.
“Okayokayokay – “ Giovanni muttered as I rolled off of him, now pretty much sobbing from the pain. What all had that Malleus guy broken? “Oh! I know! I know EXACTLY how I’m getting you out of here! You’ll be patched up in no time!”
I then felt the rim of a warm cup of liquid being pressed to my lips. Was he serious? “Is this – “
“Just drink it, dammit!”
I wanted to refuse, but we didn’t have time for that fight. As the health-replenishing soup coursed through me, I could feel the aches and pains disappearing, mellowing out, the throbbing and buzzing in my head subsiding.
He’d actually done it. And I immediately wished he hadn’t.
“Why did you DO that?” I screamed.
“WHAT?” he barked. “Are you grossed out because it’s from my SWEAT? I would think it’s better than being DEAD!”
“I don’t CARE about your sweat-soup, and you know it! But you can only do that once per fight! Now you can’t use it on YOU!”
“Oh, please.” He stood to full height, and I rose with him, trying to focus on his facial features through my half-blind haze. “Like I’m gonna let this jerk best me. Trust me, that fog’s gonna keep him lost for a while, and I’m gonna – “
I may have been half-blind, but even I could make out the shape of the hammer swinging through the fog.
For once, my reflexes were on-point enough to carry me out of the way.
Giovanni’s weren’t.
I saw him sideswiped, then peeled off the floor so Marcus could hold him up by the collar; “Payback, you little bitch!”
I could hear his whimpering. His screaming. I wanted so badly to fling myself at Marcus Malleus, to tackle him, to land my own critical hit, to save my boss, my friend, my Giovanni –
And I turned and ran instead.
But not without a strategy. I was half-blind, disarmed, and no good in a fight at this moment. I would just have to hope Giovanni would hold out until I’d gotten my plan in motion.
Please.
The other Blasters had taken refuge in a Claire’s we’d designated as our rendez-vous point should we need to scatter. I stumbled in, nearly knocking down a rotating display of earrings.
“Where is he?” a voice called out. Crusher, of course.
“He’s back there,” I said in a panicked rush. “The big guy has him.”
“Why the HELL did you leave – “
“I need you guys to run the Gazpacho Maneuver,” I declared.
“But we’ve never practiced that before!” Car Crash argued.
“Well, you’re gonna do it NOW,” I insisted, “or the boss is gonna get crushed.”
By the time we got back to the food court…I’ll admit I couldn’t see a lot of the details. Just a strip of yellow lying on the floor, a shadowy mass hovering above him with an instrument held high.
However, if the Gazpacho Maneuver went to plan, which I know it did, here’s what happened: first, Artful Dodger ran at Marcus to distract him, getting his attention only to duck every blow. (Contrary to what you’re thinking right now, he actually got his nickname from his love of Dickens. Go figure.) Then Crusher and Car Crash rushed him from either side to blindside him from two directions. During this time, Flamethrower and Sharpshooter arranged themselves around the food court in order to sharpshoot and flamethrow at Marcus, respectively, from an optimal distance – and no, I did not mix up that order. Meanwhile, Ben and Darkstar teamed up to spirit Giovanni away, carrying him away from the danger zone. On the way out, Ben tugged my sleeve, indicating I needed to go with.
So I did, leaving the others to carry out the other thirty-six moves of the plan that would either leave Marcus incapacitated and bound on the floor or just buy them some more time before they were also smacked halfway across the mall.
We re-convened in a JCPenney. We’d almost gone to the Claire’s, but then realized that had no bed for a patient, and had to relocate to a department store with some of those little short bed-sets that look comically small. When I was younger, I always used to think those things were perfectly kid-sized. Huh…I wondered how Molly would think about these beds, since they seemed the perfect length for her.
How was I going to tell Molly if the closest thing she had to a dad died protecting me? Hell, Sylvie didn’t have the best relationship with Giovanni, but…how could I tell him either?
Ben and Darkstar had Giovanni settled as best they could across the bed widthways, adjusting the pillow beneath his head, giving worried mutters of “Boss…boss!”
I held my breath, praying he’d answer.
“Wh…why’d you do that? I was winning…”
It was like being dunked in an ocean of relief. I practically collapsed. Very nearly started crying when I heard his voice, weak as it was.
“We know you were!” Ben replied. “But we thought it was best to leave that hammer guy with the humiliation of defeat while we made our getaway!”
“No,” I broke in. “No, I’m not playing this game. Not today.”
I could see all eyes turning upon me. All heads, anyway. Vision was still shot, but I could make out outlines and colors.
“You almost died,” I said, now feeling the tears coming. “Because I fucked up. I fucked up, and you healed me instead of yourself, and I just…I shouldn’t have come here, and I’m so, so sorry…”
“What?” Giovanni’s voice cracked. “Composer…you did great out there! You rallied the backup! I knew you were a great choice for team strategist! You probably would’ve played a really epic victory theme for that team attack if you’d had speakers! …We gotta start bringing speakers on our heists.”
“Just STOP!” I shrieked, shutting my eyes to let the tears gather up. “DON’T talk me up! I don’t need your pity! I just need you not to die! I…I…”
I couldn’t say it now. No. He didn’t need that. But there was something else I wanted to assert.
“I think…you’re wonderful…” I choked. “To all of us…and without you…we’d be fucking nowhere…you make all of us feel so special, and…and we can’t lose you.”
No. I wasn’t going to confess, but in times like these, I couldn’t keep myself completely sequestered. Not when he, too, was probably in need of somebody to be a comfort.
I approached the bed, prying my eyes open far enough to see it clearly, placing my hand on the edge of the mattress and scooting it toward him. He got the hint, catching my hand in his and squeezing it so tightly that I knew deep down, he was far more afraid than he was letting on.
“I know,” he said softly. “And you’re not gonna. But we need you too, Composer. You’re emotional support. You’re, uh…you’re really valuable emotional support. Like when a person who isn’t necessarily me is in a lot of pain and needs a really, really good friend…”
I closed my other hand around his. “I’m here,” I practically whispered. “I’m gonna be shit at doing anything but crying, but I’ll try.”
“Thanks, Composer. I knew I could count on you. You know I love you, right?”
I froze. Then it hit me all over again: he said that to all of us. I wasn’t special. But I didn’t need to be. The last thing I needed was to be throwing myself a fucking pity party while he was lying broken and beaten on a mini-bed.
“I know,” I choked. “How…how bad does it hurt?”
“It’s not bad! I think he only broke my leg. Upper body’s just fine! That’s enough to put up a fight, right?”
That got a laugh out of me. Even though I knew he was probably serious about his leg being broken. His pain tolerance was rather incredible. “Which leg is it?”
I knew he was thinking over which of his hands formed the “L.” He eventually came up with “Left.”
I was on his right side, so theoretically…no. That would be pretty damn selfish.
But maybe not. Because I knew he wouldn’t ever admit to wanting, needing more. “If it wouldn’t hurt you too much,” I said softly, “I might need a hug.”
“Sure,” he said, too enthusiastically. I had been right. “Bring it in, Composer.”
I practically fell into him, wrapping his upper body up tight in my arms. I cried over him as he’d cried over me. He leaned into me, and I could feel him shaking, trying so hard to hide it. I thrust my hand into his hair, the only thing I could think of, stroking through the pink locks to give him any extra comfort I could.
“You’re gonna be okay,” I whispered. “I…I’ve got you.” I’d always wanted to say that to someone. I hadn’t really considered the dire circumstances that would warrant it. Turned out it was absolutely as intimate of a thing as I had thought.
His hand clutched at the back of my dress. Trying to pull me tighter.
“I’m so sorry,” I sobbed.
“I’m not,” he whispered, and I knew he meant it.
“Uh…Boss? Composer?” Ben broke in.
Right. We were making a pretty big scene. We let go at that, and I turned back around, only to see the real reason that Ben had gotten our attention. The other Blasters had arrived en masse.
“Wait,” I realized. “If you’re here, and Boss isn’t healed up…that means…”
“We lost,” Car Crash sighed, and though I couldn’t see the details, I could imagine the bruises and cuts riddling them.
“Anyone down?” Giovanni asked in a panic.
“Nope,” Flamethrower stated. “We did lose the haul, though. Everything except the one bag with the Special Thing you told us to protect.”
Now I was lost. “What was the Special Thing?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Giovanni said quickly.
“Boss, what did you take?”
“I SAAAIIIIID DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT! WHAT ARE YOU, MY MOM?”
“I sure HOPE you don’t think of me as a mom,” I grumbled.
“What?”
“What?”
Giovanni sighed. “Well, the important thing is we don’t have any boys down.”
“Speaking of down,” I realized, “did anyone think to pull the grate – “
“We’re locked in,” Flamethrower assured me. “No one’s getting in…no one’s getting out.” Then the ramifications sank in. “We’re actually stuck here until the morning.”
“We shouldn’t move him, either,” I said softly. “I don’t know what to do about that, but…maybe things will look better in the morning.”
“C’moooonnnn, I can make it,” Giovanni sighed. “Just carry me out like you did here.”
“Not if your leg’s broken.”
“That is seriously not gonna mess it up.”
“Yes. It. Seriously. IS.”
“WILL YOU STOP TALKING FOR ME, COMPOSER? ARE YOU THE BOSS? NO! I’M THE BOSS! THAT’S WHY MY NAME IS ‘BOSS’!”
“I’M TRYING TO MAKE SURE YOUR LEG DOESN’T GET FUCKED UP ANY WORSE, OKAY? WILL YOU JUST SLOW DOWN FOR TWO SECONDS?”
“Oh, I’m sure it’ll heal up just fine IN JAIL WHEN THE COPS SHOW UP TO DRAG US ALL IN!”
I clenched my teeth. Then sighed. “I am not doing this. Okay. What counts as a fight?”
“Wha – “
“What. Counts. As. A. Fight.”
“Okay, I totally see where you’re going with this,” Giovanni replied, “but you should spell it out because I don’t think Spike gets it.”
“Hey!” Spike snapped. “Just because it’s true doesn’t mean you have to point it out!”
“You can make one healing soup per fight,” I reminded him. “You spent your hammer-guy soup on me. How long do you have to wait to get in another fight to spawn it again?”
“…Three hours?” he guessed. “I dunno; I’ve never timed it out before.”
“And if you got in a slap-fight with one of us, would it work?”
He shrugged. “Probably?”
“Good enough for me,” I decided. “We wait three hours, then stage a fight, and then we can probably get you out of that bed.”
“Fiiiiiiine,” Giovanni sighed, folding his arms and looking for all the world like a petulant child. “We’ll do it YOUR way. Now we gotta kill three hours! I’m gonna be so booooooored!”
“God.” I rolled my eyes. “Stop being so immature for like two seconds. There are PLENTY of ways we can be not bored in here. Like, I dunno…playing wed-bed-behead or Would You Rather.”
“Oh, I’M immature, and THAT’S how you want to pass the time?”
“Screw this.” I turned to storm off toward the eyeglass shop. “I’m getting at least SOME of my vision back.”
I felt a little bad about leaving him, but he seemed able to snark for himself at the moment, so I decided to just let him stew while I went shopping for some new glasses. Shopping without paying, that is.
“Uh…Composer?”
I turned to see a certain purple-haired minion tagging along – pretty much my one teammate who was shorter than me. “Hey, Spike.”
“So…I was just wondering,” Spike brought up. “You and Boss…you ever notice how you two kinda fight like a married couple?”
I nearly froze. Yet I kept up my stride, my one shoe (when had I lost a shoe?) clacking on the tile. “No, we don’t.”
“You kinda do.”
“We do NOT.”
“I’m just saying…”
“Do you WANT me to like him?” I snapped at her. “Last time I checked, you were the one who loved him. You and Crusher.” I then immediately regretted it. “God. No. That came out wrong. What I meant – “
“I know you wanna keep the peace and everything,” Spike replied, “but you can go for him. I mean, he won’t notice, he never DOES, but you don’t have to hold back for my sake or Crusher’s.”
“Yes, I do.” I sighed. “Spike…I already tried.”
“…Oh.”
“It flew over his head about thirty times, and then I gave up,” I sighed. “He loves all of us. And I love that about him. But I’m never gonna be more than just…another one of the boys. And that should be fine! I’d rather have a life WITH the Boss than a life WITHOUT the Boss! But…it’s just not meant to be. And I have to put up with that.”
“Well, I’m sorry,” Spike lamented. “I mean, I came over here because I thought you should know that I really am jealous. There’s a reason Crusher’s so jealous, too. A lot of us are jealous. Boss is just…always so happy with you. I guess there’s something about you that gets to him.”
“Don’t get my hopes up,” I said somberly.
“I’m not trying to,” Spike replied. “But you two are really good friends. You shouldn’t avoid him so much.”
“…Am I that obvious?”
“He WANTS to get to know you better. But you keep running away, and I was right about why, which means Flamethrower owes me five bucks!”
“Well, maybe I’ll have to think about it, then.” We’d arrived at the eyeglasses. “But no promises. Like I said…I tried. Maybe I just…have to try harder to aim for the friend zone. The friend zone isn’t bad. It’s where you make friends.”
“That’s the spirit, Composer!”
I began to cycle through a rack of glasses.
“What’s your prescription?” Spike asked.
“I have no fucking idea,” I replied.
Eventually, I found one that improved my vision enough for me to get by. Now I could see how many little bruises Spike was sporting beneath her visor. My stomach twisted; I wondered if technically, that, too, was my fault.
I wasn’t in the mood to deal with it.
I kicked off my other shoe on the way back; the asymmetry was bothering me. I did my best to listen to Spike complaining about the loot Marcus got away with, especially the rhinestone-studded smartphone case (which she seemed to be angrier about than him taking an actual smartphone from our haul). All the while, I couldn’t help but mull over all the things that were my fault. Her getting hurt, them getting hurt…
Giovanni getting hurt.
Everyone else was thronged around him, him still reclined on the mini-bed, when Spike and I returned. I tried to hang to the back of the crowd, trying not to draw attention to myself. No need to kick up that fight again.
“All right, boys,” Giovanni stated. “Like we planned.”
And then they all began to disperse.
“Wait, what?” Spike asked.
“Boss wants us to investigate all the departments,” Flamethrower explained. “We might be able to pick up some replacement loot!”
“Um…okay?”
Spike and I turned to join the mission, but I was held back by a sharp demand: “Not you, Composer.”
It took me a while to be able to turn and face him once the others had scattered. Then, once I met his eyes – even from that distance, I could see the gold flecks in them, or maybe that was just my memory filling in, since I was wearing under-prescription glasses – I gave a sigh. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“What do you MEAN for what?” I was snapping again. “For being rude, I guess.”
“You really think I’m that immature?”
He wasn’t smiling. He was actually asking. I felt like I’d just been stabbed in the heart.
“No,” I admitted. “It’s…just kind of an easy target. Well, okay, I do think you are kinda immature, but it’s…fun immature. The whole kid-at-heart thing. That’s one of the reasons I love…running missions with you and hanging around base.”
“Okay. Just checking. That’s kinda what I thought, but I had to make sure before I said anything.”
“Said anything about what?” I was baffled.
“I’m having a bit of a crisis,” Giovanni said rather casually, turning to face the ceiling. “You’re good with strategy and tactics and all that brainy stuff. Maybe you can help me.”
Gingerly, I approached the bed. Sat down beside him on the edge of it. “I’ll try.”
I thought, for a moment, I saw him tense when I sat down. I wondered if I was too close, if I should leave.
“You know I love each and every one of my minions,” he stated. “All of you bring something special to the team! Together, we are an unstoppable force of unadulterated evil AWESOMENESS! But I’m not supposed to play favorites! If I think one of my minions is better than any of the others, then what happens? Do I lose all credibility? Do I stop seeing how valuable they are? I can’t do that to my boys!”
I wasn’t sure exactly where he was going with this. I wondered if maybe he’d latched onto someone he actually did have feelings for. Oh. He wanted me to advise him how to progress with his actual crush.
Fuck.
“I…don’t think it’s bad to have a favorite,” I muttered. “Not necessarily. I mean, having a LEAST favorite would be a problem, but you’re not gonna lose sight of how great everyone is if you pick a fave. You’re you. You’re Giovanni Potage.”
“I mean, that is true.”
My fingers interlaced with each other. “Wh…who is it?”
He was silent a while before saying, “I don’t wanna tell you their minion name, but her – HIS legal name is…uh…Ray…bert…Flibere. Raybert Flibere.”
I swear I was legally dead for the next three seconds. Heart stopped and all that. Even I wasn’t spacey enough to let that one fly over my head.
“And…how does Raybert make you feel?” I asked.
“Well,” Giovanni sputtered, “it’s – it’s complicated because – she has a – I mean he has a great smile, and he always laughs at my jokes, and I’m not saying my jokes are HORRIBLE, but let’s just pretend I did make horrible jokes. He’d still laugh at them. I dunno, I guess I have fun with him all the time, and I wanna make him smile, and also he makes me kinda out of breath and my heart gets this weird fluttery thing that I’m thinking is a genetic condition and GOD…DAMMIT, IT’S YOU.”
I gave an overdramatic gasp. “I had NO IDEA that Raybert Flibere was secretly a codename for Rachel Scribere!”
“Yeah, I know. I was pretty slick with that one. But I can’t freaking keep it inside anymore! You’re my best friend on the whole team, and I was really looking forward to doing this heist with you, and I…I think…”
The expression on his face was one I had never seen before. Eyes wide as they could be, as though he were facing down some existential demon. “I think I want you to be my girlfriend,” he choked out. Then, at the speed of light: “I mean, I am pretty charming and all, so I figure I have a shot, and this is just a casual thing, like you being my girlfriend casually, not that I wanna make a big deal out of it or – “
“Boss.”
“What? Can’t you see I’m trying to explain myself so I don’t look stupid here?”
“Do you remember what I was trying to tell you a couple months ago?”
“What, that thing about the dates?” Giovanni replied. “I TOLD you, dates are delicious, but not as good as figs no matter how you slice – OH.” He looked like he’d just been whacked with a two-by-four. “You were asking me ON a date.” He raised a hand to wave it off. “Which I knew, of course. I was just playing it cool until I sorted out my own heart. You know everyone wants a piece of me. It’s not easy figuring out who I should reciprocate to.”
“So you know about Spike and Crusher wanting to date you too.”
“THEY WH – I mean, yeah.” He swallowed hard. “But even with that in play, it’s still you. I can’t really explain it. You just make me smile a lot, I guess.”
I turned away from him. “You know I’m not a happy person.”
“You seem like a lot of fun to me. Especially at the compulsory Banzai Blasters dance parties.”
“I’m pretty high-maintenance.”
“Uh, yeah, duh. I KNOW. That’s why I want to prove I can MAINTENANCE you. Challenge accepted!”
“I hate myself,” I muttered. “I act like I don’t, but I do.”
“Well, then, you need somebody to point out what’s good in you, because there’s a damn lot of it.”
His hand wrapped around mine again, and I just about jumped. It was like static electricity. A new charge between us that hadn’t been there previously.
“And…I…maybe wanna thank you for…you know…this.” I still was turned away, but I could tell how flustered he was. He didn’t have to explain what “this” was. The memory of holding him close was still fresh in my mind. “I WANTED to use that soup on you, you know! How am I gonna keep doing awesome crimes without my Composer?”
“Well, I sure as shit can’t do anything without my Boss.”
“…’Boss.’ Y’know, that sounds kinda impersonal for this.”
“Are you serious?” I asked. “You even have your kids call you ‘Boss.’”
“One: she’s not my kid. Technically. Two: if she was, she’s my ONLY kid. The glasses nerd ISN’T.”
“Lies,” I teased.
“But seriously! If you wanna be my girlfriend, and you want me to be your boyfriend, you’ll still be my minion, but you’re my FAVORITE minion, so you should get to call me whatever you want!”
“You can still call me ‘Composer,’” I told him. “I like it now.”
“Good, ‘cause it’s a good name for ya! It shows off how creative you are! That’s why I like saying it: to remind everyone who’s the smart one around here without admitting it isn’t me!” He said the next words in a hiss: “But don’t tell the boys I said that. They don’t know I’m kind of an idiot.”
“You’re a TOTAL idiot,” I affirmed. “But…I love that. It works for you. It doesn’t really hold you back.”
“So, uh…you…you wanna do this or what?”
I knew I had to face him for this. So I turned. It was the most strangely vulnerable I’d ever seen him – hanging on a thread for my answer.
“Yeah,” I told him. “Let’s do this.”
“Cool! Now we’re officially partners in crime!”
“Yeah!” I smiled. Then realized what the deal-breaker might be. “Wait. There’s…there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Is this where you give me my cute pet name?”
“No,” I sighed. “It’s where I tell you that…you don’t get to fuck me.”
“Huh?”
“Because I’m asexual. Like, REALLY sex-repulsed. Ice-cold. And that ain’t changing. So if you want somebody you can fuck, you shouldn’t waste your time – “
“You thought I wanted to do THAT?”
I flinched. That wasn’t what I’d been expecting at all.
“I keep forgetting that’s a huge thing in this dating stuff,” he grumbled.
I hardly dared to believe it. “Are…you…?”
He gave a nervous laugh. “Funny thing…I’m kinda…asexual myself.”
“NICE!” I squealed. “This is PERFECT!” I’d known he was biromantic – that was common knowledge around base – but not this.
“And, uh…” He was now the one turning away from me. “There’s…more. I kinda…don’t have…guy things? Downstairs?”
It took me a minute to figure out what he was saying. Then my jaw dropped; “I KNEW IT.”
“Yeah. That was a thing. I picked the name ‘Giovanni’ out myself, y’know. Sounds sexy, right?”
“Incredibly sexy.”
“So if that’s gonna be a turn-off, nowwouldbethetimetotellme.”
I thought it over, just in case my first instinct wasn’t right. Then I squeezed his hand gently. “It’s fine. It’s seriously fine. I wasn’t planning on using anything in the ‘downstairs’ area to begin with, so it’s not a big deal. I’m into guys. You’re a guy. There we go.”
He rolled his head back over to look me in the eye, as though questioning if I were genuine in this sentiment. I gave him a gentle smile, and he flashed me a mischievous smirk. “Don’t be mad because I get THREE pride flags and you only get ONE.”
“Well, I wasn’t until you SAID that!”
“Okay. So that’s about everything, except…oh, yeah. The big thing.”
“Your pet name, I know,” I recalled. Then, due to my general chickenshit nature, what I said next came out as a mumble.
“What was that?”
“I said I…” I could feel my face going red.
“What, is it embarrassing?” Giovanni teased. “You wanna call me ‘Shnookums’? ‘Cutie Pie’? ‘Sugar fangs’?”
“Wha – NO!” I snapped. “I was thinking…more like…” I finally managed to squeak it out: “Gio.”
“I like that!” he cried immediately. “It has panache!”
“All right. Then you’re not Boss anymore…Gio.” I couldn’t help but smile. I was finally calling him it out loud. I could’ve said it all day, over and over, Gio, Gio, Gio…
“But that wasn’t the thing that was gonna wrap it up, Composer.”
“Wait, what?”
His free hand searched beneath the blankets of the mini-bed. “The Special Thing. I was gonna say this to you tomorrow, after I got it for you. Actually, I wasn’t sure what I was going to get to make this as dramatic as possible, until I saw you looking at this in the nerd store. Don’t worry. I won’t tell anybody you’re a nerd if you don’t tell anybody I’m a dumbass.”
He passed me a plastic bag containing a folded piece of fabric. A black plastic bag. I knew it immediately.
“YOU. DIDN’T.” I pried the bag open; my jaw dropped. “Do…do you even know what this means to me?”
“I know it’s from one of your nerd games. Maybe you wanna tell me about it sometime? I like the looks of it.”
I removed the pink-and-plaid hoodie from the bag, slipping it on over my dress. (It didn’t match at all. I didn’t care.) “It’s from a character I’m not sure you’d like,” I admitted. “She’s like the sweetest hero. There is literally no evil in her. But she just seems so nice and friendly, and everyone calls her useless, and I love thinking about her potential.”
“She sounds like you. Except without a fun side.”
“That’s actually a compliment, believe it or not.”
He was biting his lip now, fangs almost piercing it, and I could tell he wanted to say more. “What?”
“…Also, she’s not useless. I’m not…a super fan or anything…but I know she gets that huge moment in the second game when she jumps off the balcony and starts beating up the monsters. And that’s also a lot like you when you get down to it.”
I lightly slapped his shoulder. “You. FUCKER. You KNEW. And you let me think I was ALONE here?”
“Look, I’m already hiding the whole dumbass thing!” Giovanni hissed. “You think I can live down being a nerd AND a dumbass AND the guy who cried when she bit it in the third?”
“Ho…ly…shit. You and I need to have a SERIOUSLY long conversation.”
“Well, we have some time now. And three hours to pass later.”
“What about the boys?”
“We’ll just send them to check out more distractions. They’re probably trying on formal wear right now.”
(I later found out that was exactly what the bulk of them were doing.)
“You can get more comfortable if you want,” Giovanni invited. “There’s room.”
Again, it took me a while to grasp his meaning. He was really trying so hard to climb out of the hole of flustered-ness he’d tripped himself into. I did get it, though. I pulled my legs up onto the mattress, lying down beside him. “Is this too close?”
“No. It can be closer, you know.”
I scooted closer to him – pressing right up beside him. His arm came up behind my back, and I shivered as he cradled me there. I pivoted, laying on my side so I could put an arm around him, as well – after all, he was still the one with a shattered leg. And so many more little bruises and marks I could see now that I had better glasses.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
“Will you cut that out?” he sighed. “It’s really better me than you.”
My arm pried off him so that I could gently stroke down the side of his face. Looking into his luminous, sparkling eyes. Smoothing down those long, unruly pink locks. He was mine, mine, mine. And my heart would damn near break if I let this happen to him again.
“I’m not the kind of badass you think I am,” I said hoarsely. Great. Now I was on the verge of crying again. “I don’t have a whole jump-off-the-balcony-and-slice-monsters thing. I just…stood there and watched him beat you up.”
“I don’t care. You’re valid in so many ways, Composer. Just…stay with me now?”
“Yes. I will.”
My arm was replaced over him, protecting him as best I could from what few threats could reach us here in this bed – loneliness, misunderstanding, betrayal.
“So tell me exactly how many ‘nerd games’ you’ve played,” I said with a playful smirk. Turning it on him for once.
“Ohhhhh boy,” he sighed. “So this is gonna turn into a pretty long explanation…”
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The Grind-Chapter 19
The newby fighters thankfully handled media horrendously, answering questions in choppy six or seven word responses. Sure, it limited the material and made the story vulnerable to the writers embellishing devices, but the speedy conclusion of the often clock-stopping, boring event was never one complained about amongst the journalistic world.
When I stepped outside in pursuit of the strangely near empty bar, I pulled the sleeves of my blazer off and draped it over my forearm, sliding my clutch between my bicep and ribcage. The crisp, white silk of the tank top swayed with the calm, cool breeze of the nighttime air, mixing with my nervously sweating skin, creating an array of chill bumps over my flesh. An exiting patron held the door open as I swept inside the dimly lit sports bar. There weren’t many tables, only 3 tv’s, and no blasting music. Hence the lack of customers, I’m sure. Colton was easy to spot, hunching at a high-top near the glass front of the building. He hadn’t ordered a drink yet, once again, trying desperately to execute that military like, gentlemanly manner his father Michael, had instilled in him, presumably. I dropped the weight of my tired body in the un-cushioned wooden seat, and huffed aloud in the relief. “That didn’t take too long,” he stated first.
“Those two were complete media virgins. They didn’t have much to say.” I confirmed as I massaged in the sanitizer I applied to my palms, and scanned over the sparse clients.
“Want me to grab you a drink or somethin’? I didn’t know if you were still a martini girl, so I held off.” Had his accent become thicker with his hair?
“Actually, I’ll just take a seltzer. Lime on the side too, please.” Tia would probably be able to sniff out the scent of alcohol in my sweat like a hungry hound dog, and have my tail for drinking while training.
She had graciously granted me a pass on my birthday, so I didn’t see it wise to push my luck any further. Come to think of it though, when in the actual hell had I become the girl to drink seltzer water and lime?
My ex now turned waiter for the moment returned with a small square tumbler filled with fizzy, clear liquid, and a long neck in his other hand. His black shirt painted over the ripples of his back, the muscles there moved like thickened water down the spread of him. I’d love to be a fly on the wall when he shops for himself. I can only imagine his decision-making unraveling something like, “yeah, black t-shirt. I can always use another black t-shirt.”
“Thank you,” I said between lengthy sips. “And thanks too for, um… the flowers. They were stunning. You really didn’t have to, but it was a sweet gesture, Colton.”
“So I did okay, huh? They’re your favorite?” He hoped with questioning eyes, taking a quick pull of his sweating beer.
“Yes, Colt. They’re my favorite. You did well. Extremely well.”
“I owe you another 50 dozen more, Liv….”
Here is comes. The conversation was about to take a dicey dive into the abyss.
“It’s not flowers I need, Colton. I think you know a million dollars’ worth of pretty bouquets won’t fix, this.” I drew an invisible line through the space from me, to him, “It’s not gonna fix us. Or, whatever us there was, I guess.”
He sat his half empty beverage on the scuffed table tap, and I noticed the glass chatter against the surface. He was shaking. This wasn’t the angry, poked bear shaking though. This was the abused, cowering, wounded bird shaking.
“Yeah, Liv. I get that, okay? I just didn’t know where to fuckin’ start, ya’ know? I didn’t wanna get too pushy..” he began, while drawing nervous figure-eights with his callused finger tips along the cracks in the table top. “But, I gotta know. I ain’t tryna put you on the spot or nothin’, but is there any fixing it, babe? I have no right to asking you this shit, I realize that. But, just give me somethin’ here, Liv. Should I just write us off?”
The million dollar question. How was I supposed to give him the answer his desperate eyes so anxiously desired, when I didn’t have it myself? I loved Colton Ritter, no matter how blindly I wanted the fact to be untrue, there was no refuting it. But, I couldn’t shake the reluctancy I felt towards him either. That apprehensive, yet yearning brew filling up my gut. The next words I spoke to him would be the defining moment of what my future held, so I hesitated. Taking as long as I needed to sort through the perfect retort.
“You act like that’s such a simple question to answer, Colt. You have no idea what you did to me for Christ sakes,” my fist gently, but effectively smacked the table, clinking the glass beverages there. I refrained from chewing his hide in nagging anger, but I wasn’t about to hold back on what I truly needed to say. “I was a literal basket case. As damn foolish and weak as that may sound, it’s a fact. I missed work, I made myself sick from the unrelenting crying. Like, seriously, there was actual vomit, Colton. I wore your fuckin clothes around the apartment like a lost mutt!” I could see him tense entirely, almost wincing aloud in shame and heartache. And I half wondered if maybe he’d done some of his own shameful grieving during our time apart. “Every day for nearly a year felt like one big, constant punch to my gut, making it almost hard to even catch a decent breath. I’ve been better for a while now, but every single day, your stupid, smug face finds its way into my head….” I allowed myself a pause to try and extinguish the burning tears I knew were about to come loose, but there was no use. Once the first fell, I just opened the watery dam. “If I’m being honest, part of my really just hates you. A big chunk of me, as a matter of fact. But I know the love is still there, as much as the hate. Probably more,” snubbing through my tearful fit. “I don’t think I’m ready right this minute, Colton. For us, I mean. I think I might be at some point, but who’s to say… I can’t name the day and time. So, if that isn’t enough for you, and you feel like I’m a waste of your time, then yes, you should just move on.”
Th brawniest, hard as stone man I’d ever known, raised a hand to wipe dry his weepy eyes. It wasn’t a hysterical, sobbing outburst, and an actual tear may not have fallen free, but they were there. The glazy sheen over his blue toned eyes tonight gave him away. He blew out the breath he’d apparently been holding in before his mustered the composure to speak back.
“I’m on your time, Livvy, alright? I’ll just stay outta your way, and if ya’ want me, you know I’m here. I fucked up. Royally, to say the least. There is so much I wanna say, and I hope you gimme the chance to piece it all together for you someday in the near future. I’m sorry seems to be the most important thing right now. And I’m gonna say it every day I have the chance. I’ll hang back as best I can, okay? And if someone else so happens to come along, for either of us, then I guess that’s that, huh?” He reached forth his hand to graze as gently as a summer breeze over my resting fingers, a current of G-force energy rattled through my every internal organ. I didn’t jerk away from his touch this time, instead allowing myself the loving awakening I had longed for the past days without him. He’d be the death of me, whether it be in happiness or misery, I wasn’t sure.
“I think that sounds like the best way to handle it, Ritter. I can work with that,” I sheepishly smiled, curling an auburn strand behind my ear. “Now, I better get home and get some sleep.” Picking my clutch up first, then swallowing the last mouthful of my drink, I stretched my petite legs searching for the ground below me. Before I could drop on my heels, he had swiftly came to my side, offering his hand out to steady my drop from the heighted stool. The man was so full of these sickeningly, syrupy sweet courtly gestures, and I might as well have been licking the plate.
“Let me walk you to the car this time. Please?” he almost begged holding my jacket open for me to slide my arms in.
“How about I walk you to your bike, and we’ll call it a night.” It wasn’t a question. I wanted to seem as independent as I could to him, while also establishing again that I’d be okay without him if things didn’t pan out with our relationship.
I went out on a wobbly whim and locked my arm through the empty crease in his elbow, while his hand was snuggled deep into his jean pockets, and out of a side eyed glance, and detected a half smile on his lips.
“My bike is right here on the corner. Is you car close?”
“Close enough. Don’t you worry about me, kid,” I winked before breaking my clutch on his arm as we reached his black bike parked by a ticking meter.
“Hey listen, Liv. I’m thinking about sticking with Temple Fitness. Y’know like, staring up a membership to train there and stuff. But if you’re not good with it, then I’m out.” He remarked strapping his helmet around his bearded, calico chin.
“I think I can handle it, Colton. Just stay outta my way, big guy..” it was clear by the playfulness of my high pitched, girl giggly that I was testing the waters with some flirty banter. The saluted “yes, boss” he tossed back told me he was aware of my joking tone. When I took a couple slow paces in exit, bidding him a goodnight, he met my steps, and leaned in for a hopeful kiss to my pert cheek. \
“Not yet, Colt. Not yet, okay?” The dangerously close presence of his lips to me could’ve shot me a million feet in the air above us. But, I had to keep the line drawn, for now anyways. He wasn’t out to the woods yet.
When I gave him my back in search of my own car down the sidewalk, he yelled my name, muffled through the visor of his helmet.
“Hey 2-1!” I turned slightly, never ceasing my footsteps, careful not to lose my balance while walking backwards in my strappy shoes. “You look better than ever, babe. And I’ll happily take my punishment for sayin’ it.” He took his bottom lip between his teeth, and I curled my lips up with brows raised in disbelief, yet satisfying pleasure, winking with no words, and went on my merry way. I heard his bike fire up with an almost lion like roar, and he sped off in the opposite direction. Revving his accelerator, no doubt in teenage like, hormonal ego.
The next morning, all too bright, and much too early I entered the office hanging my sleepy head, still reeling from the unexpected turn of events the previous evening. Through groggy rasps, I served my morning hellos to passing co-workers, determined to reach the noiseless four walls of my office and downing the contents of my Styrofoam cup. If I timed it just right, I thought maybe I could even sneak a 30-minute powernap sometime around the 10 o’clock hour. When I crossed the concierge desk, Layla, the awkward, mousy receptionist waved a hand to halt me.
“This package came to you this morning, Ms. Elliott.” The box rectangular box, wrapped in wrinkled brown paper had apparently been delivered early morning to the office.
I thanked Layla the messenger, and stepped over the threshold of the empty elevator. The package was unmarked, only adding to the quizzical allure, but I held my eager hands from slashing through the wrapping until I got into my private office. I blindly flipped on the single light switch, my purse thudding onto the neatly organized desktop calendar. I ripped the first corner of the box opened before I was even sat into the swivel seat, when a small folded sheet of paper fell into the floor.
Livvy,
Thought you may need this. The other one seemed little ratty. I think I cut it just how you like them. There’s plenty more where this came from.
Love,
Colt
I dropped the lid of the package, peeling back a translucent layer of tissue paper to find a white, slightly dingy colored Pittsburgh Pirates t-shirt. One I very much recognized as belonging to the gift giver himself. A weak smile had instantaneously crept across my face as I ran a thumb over the fading of the smooth polyester blend. I pondered, and settled on a decision in that second, that I was going to unapologetically relish the games he’d be willingly to play to win back my affection. I wasn’t wholeheartedly dreadful though, and I knew sending him thanks for the thoughtful efforts was the right thing to do, so I sent him a text to extend some reserved gratitude. Giving him the impression I was appreciative, but wasn’t eating out of his veiny hands just yet.
Tia was distant as of recent. Cold as a sparkling Pittsburgh frost before dawn. The conversation we had about my exchanges with Colt weren’t half as pleasant, and supportive as my phone call with Sara. Tia hated the man, not saying I blamed her. No matter what he said, or didn’t say, the gifts he gave, or the groveling that arose, she wasn’t forgetting the past. Colton Ritter was blacklisted indefinitely in her book. So much so, I even had to gulp down concerns that fizzled for my own friendship with her.
Climbing the steel steps of the cage with her was never too terribly intimidating before that night. I always knew no matter how repetitive she’d be with her promising that she wouldn’t take it easy on me, I could always sense the restraint of her moves. Yet again, before that night… The trifling stomps of her bare feet across the mat would’ve signaled danger, if the haughty shove passed my shoulder hadn’t already.
“Chew that rubber, Elliott,” she yelled unkindly, instructing me to hurry with my mouth piece so we could get the session underway.
She was bouncing upward, shoving her knees into her chest, stretching to shatter my thighs with one of her categorical back kicks. Willow was crouched in the floor beside the metal confines, arms crossed about her chest in curious observation, Tia’s harshness not unnoticed by her and the onlookers in the workout room. We danced the usual mirrored waltz across the octagon from each other, each waiting for someone to stretch forth searching for the first connecting jab. Before my mind had a single minute to strategize an assault, Tia lunged lowly to bearhug my legs right from beneath my own body, and my elbows nearly ricocheted off the canvas floor. The sweat of my attacker was already profusely flowing, more so from the rumbling anger, and probable resentment she was feeling for the likes of me. We wormed around on the patched ground, she grabbing a lock around my legs, me tugging on her extended forearm. Amongst our grunts, and gasps of pain, a very confused and scratchy voice sung out above all else.
“The fuck? Liv?”
My eyes beckoned toward Colton’s wide stance next to Willow, but Tia didn’t let up. The more I fidgeted for release, the tighter she wound her meager form around me. When the match between us didn’t halt, I heard his intrusions slice the room again.
“LIV!” But this time, it wasn’t a questioning tone. He was demanding acknowledgment, and more importantly an explanation.
My “friendly” opponent loosened her vice, and I lunged a swift, fumbly kick to shake her off. If my face wasn’t already reddened from the efforts of the spar, it sure would’ve been painted with a bright shade when I stood to see the concerned contortions of his always tempting mouth. With his hands raised in dumbfounding confusion awaiting his answer, I rushed towards the cage door to meet him in the corner he was heading to.
“THIS is what you’ve been doing here, Livvy? What the hell?” He was lazily scratching a hand through the brown of his beard.
“Not that it’s a single ounce of your business, Colt, but yes. Started a few months back, Tia suggested it.” My feet firm and solid under his disapproving stares.
“Oh, c’mon Liv. I don’t mean to sound like a bossy prick about it, ok? It’s your life, you can do what ya’ want with it. It just… I dunno.. scares me, I guess…” I turned to notice his restless hands, squirming in fists at his side, and his teeth visibly grinding behind closed chops. “I hate myself for hurting you. How did ya’ think I was gonna take to seeing someone smash a fist to those pretty cheeks, babe?”
My gloved fingers didn’t hesitate to seek out his own, stilling his concerns. I intertwined our digits, and I swear I felt the life creep back into me. His eyes closed under feathery lashes, and there was no denying the husky exhalation that purred from him at our connecting flesh.
“I’m not some.. some weak kitten, Colt. I know you think I’m just a lowly damsel who needs a constant eye watching over her, but, that’s not the case.”
Although maybe very “me: Tarzan, you: Jane” to the outsiders perspective, Colton was very… well, male. He considered his place as my partner to be one of the valiant knight, shielding me from any oncoming harm. My humble opinion? It was all part of his blue collar, endearing charm. But, he’d have to reel it in on the aspect of my fight training.
“It’s not that I think ya’ need it 24-hour surveillance, kid. As a matter of fact, I think it’s just a shot to my ego that you don’t need it, ya’ know. I just wanna protect ya’, alright? Damn it, you’re always makin’ me… makin’ me talk so much, 2-1.” He enfolded my small hand tighter under his grip.
“I appreciate that. My very own lethal prrotector, huh?” I winked and wet my bottom lip catching his eye. “Ask Tia though, I hold my own with these gloves, big shot. Be careful, or you may have to find out first hand.”
Cool it, hormones. You might as well just jump his bones right here.
The flirtation went crawling like a cold shutter obviously over his roasting skin, and his eyes were swirling through shades of blue. “I would happily take that beating, sweetheart!”
Walk away. Now. Go liv, you’re drooling.
“I gotta get back to her though, or I’m gonna pay the price. See ya’ around?” I was securing the gloves assuredly, ready to bid riddance to him before his animal senses detected my feminine excitement, and he held me back.
“I’ll be around, yeah. Oh, hey girl! Nice shirt, by the way..” I went for a drink of my room temperature sports drink and nearly gagged on it. No way he couldn’t notice I was sporting the package he’d delivered a few short hours ago.
TAGS: @torialeysha @eap1935 @mollybegger-blog @littleluna98
#Tom Hardy#tomhardy#tomhardyfanfic#tomhardyfanfiction#tom hardy fanfiction#tommy conlon#elizabeth olsen#thegrind
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reading for pleasure (part v)
Previous installments here: [archiveofourown.org/works/18730780/chapters/44428300]
It’s nearly an hour before the bell rings, before Tony flings open the front door to find Steve’s clothes rumpled and his face set like stone.
“Hey,” Tony says, his booze-soaked nerves suddenly back in a tizzy. “You made it.”
That gets him eye contact if not any actual words, but hey, it’s one AM. He’ll take it.
Steve steps over the threshold and closes the door with a quiet click sock and trails behind silently as Tony wanders back to the library, chewing nails and swallowing some serious fucking panic.
“So,” Steve says at last, sliding his hand into his coat, “this came in the mail on Monday.” He hands over a letter that’s slim and foreign-looking; it’s wearing the wrong kind of stamps. It’s been slit open with a knife neatly. There are two pale blue pages inside.
Tony stares at it the neat creases, the shadows of ink beneath them. “What is it?"
“Read it.”
He looks up. Steve’s not joking. That stone has turned to steel.
“Go on,” Steve says. “Read.”
Dear Steve, it starts:
I suspect that this note will be unwelcomed, and deservedly so. The nature of our parting--of my leave-taking, shall we say--was unacceptably cruel. If it gives you any comfort, please know that the life I have found her, the happy one to which I thought I was running, has proven itself to be anything but. The man I loved as a child has, it seems, chosen to remain one; despite his promises, the life he would have me lead here is not the one we agreed upon. Nor is it the one that I want.
What I want, I have discovered after these years in what feels like Purgatory, is you, my darling. It’s you. I look down at the hand on which my husband’s ring sits as I write this and what I see, what I feel in its stead is the ring that you gave me, the one I so joyfully accepted, the one I set aside so abruptly. Of all the foolish things I’ve done in my life, leaving you, Steve, and coming here is my biggest regret.
This is an unfair missive. I recognize that. I have no doubt that it will hurt you. But know that I love you, my darling; despite all my foolishness, I have never stopped. And in a fortnight’s time, on June 27th, my husband and I will be arriving in New York for a month’s stay. Should you be willing to remake our acquaintance, my arms will be open to you.
Write me back and let me know, please, unless I have offended you horribly. In that case, please burn this and forget you ever laid eyes on these words.
Yours always,
Peggy
“Jesus,” Tony says. The letter’s shaking in his hands. “Jesus christ, Steve.”
“We were just talking about her, weren’t we? I haven’t said her name in years and then I do and then--” Steve takes a deep breath, something in his shoulders deflating. “It’s like I summoned her or something. That’s what it feels like.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what? None of this is your fault.”
For reminding you of her, Tony thinks. For stealing your greatest moment of pain and painting roses around it, putting it out in the world for other people to read. For--
“I’m sorry this has happened,” he gets out. “All of it. It’s a hell of a thing.”
Steve shakes his head. “I haven’t--it’s been eating me up for days, Tone. I can’t think, I can’t eat, I can’t wrap my head around it at all, you know?”
“Well, you haven’t burned it, obviously. Does that mean you’re gonna write back?”
“I don’t know!” Steve’s voice is bright suddenly, sharp, a lightning bolt looking for ground. “I don’t fucking know! That's why I came over here! I need your help.”
His eyes are tuned into Tony’s now, pleading, and it’s like having a goddamn knife stuck in his chest because Steve does not look like this, Steve has his shit together, Steve has life by the horns and he’s let time heal his heart except he hasn’t, has he, if he’s handing Tony all this? If he was over her, well and truly, he’d have laughed at this shit, maybe gotten made about it, and then turned it to ash with his Zippo and brushed it off, Tony none the fucking wiser. But he’s kept it, hasn’t he, kept it and reread it and gotten so tangled in his head that he’s reaching out to Tony for advice--Tony, who’s never said I love you out loud, never promised anyone anything farther out than five minutes, never actually contemplated the concept of forever outside of his books. Except that he’s in love with Steve, has been for goddamn ages, and what hurts worse than seeing Steve torn up by the prospect of reuniting with the love of his life is the notion that Tony will never be man enough to say how he feels, will he, even with Pepper’s admonition--You have no other choice--biting frantically at his heels. And now, especially now, watching Steve be slowly crushed by the prospect of reignited love, the possibility of a few stolen moments with another man’s wife, he hates himself for it, Tony does, for his cowardice in talking; for a writer, he’s terrible with spoken words, and there’s not enough whiskey in the world to fix that.
“What does you gut say about all this?”
“My gut?”
“Yeah,” Tony says, leaning back a little, letting the pages float on his knees. “What was your first instinct when you read this? Your initial reaction?”
Steve’s cheeks bloom like cherry blossoms. “Honestly? To call you.”
Tony blinks. “Uh. Huh. Then why didn’t you?”
Steve shuffles his feet, leans too much of his weight on the back of the chair and it teeters, protesting. “It’s, ah. Well.”
“What?”
“It was selfish. You don’t...you’ve got bigger stuff to worry about than--”
“Than you?” Tony says. “I doubt it.”
Steve’s eyes come up from the carpet. “Seriously, Tone.”
“Seriously, Steve. You’re my best friend, ok? That’s what best friends do: treat each other like the lonely hearts column, when necessary. Though you’d probably have better luck asking Pep. I’m not really an expert in affairs of the heart.” Except the fictional kind.
“Why do you do that?”
“What?”
“Sell yourself short." The corners of his mouth curve. "You know plenty. And I trust you, you have to know that. More than anybody.”
Tony’s heart does not do a wobbly forward roll. It doesn’t. Never mind that he feels like more of an asshole than ever; god, if only he’d come clean on Saturday, when Steve was waving His Shattered Heart around. If he’d just said, Hey, funny story. Guess whose words you’re holding? If only he’d said, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have put her words in fictional words mouth and I only did it because I’m madly fucking in love with you and I’d rather have you hate me for who I am than think I’m somebody that I’m not--
Wait. He didn’t think that. He’s just heard it.
From Steve, who’s on his knees in front him; Steve, who’s swept Peggy’s letter from his lap and whose hands, big and broad and shaking, are cupping Tony’s calves nervously.
“It’s ridiculous,” Steve says, “and it’s bordering on crazy, I get that, but it’s been haunting me for months now, the way I feel about you, and when I read her letter, the first thing I thought of was how much of a jerk I’ve been to you all this time by not just putting it out there, you know, and letting you decide whether it was something you”--he swallows--“whether you’d still be ok being my friend.”
“What the hell,” Tony says, because hey, maybe he’s dreaming. “Rogers, what the hell are you talking about?”
“This,” Steve says, very softly, swooping. “Tony. Just this.”
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