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makeste · 3 years

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I like Bakuguo but his attitude is starting to really piss me off. He's talking about Daku as if he's just ~crazy~ and as if he isn't partly to blame for Deku's toxic self-worth issues. It's infuriating to watch. If Bakuguo doesn’t admit out loud and in front of his friends that his bullying of Deku played a part in Deku's current destructive state and if he doesn’t verbally apologize and reaffirm Deku's worth then I can no longer like Bakuguo's character or Hori's writing.

tbh I don't really know why this is the discourse of choice for people all of a sudden, but this is already the second ask I've gotten about it, so I might as well address it lol.

I think fandom is conflating fanon!Deku and canon!Deku here again. fanon Deku is of course much more sensitive and woobified and has much shakier self-esteem. fanon Deku is the one that turns evil in so many AUs because of Kacchan's bullying. fanon Deku is the one that actually jumps off the roof in so many fics, as opposed to fishing his notebook back out of the pond a few minutes later grumbling about how Kacchan needs to think before he speaks or else he could land himself in serious shit one day if god forbid anyone actually does take his cruel words to heart.

and just to clarify before I get any further, I am not saying this to excuse Kacchan's actions in any way, because what he did was still completely terrible and unacceptable and WAY over the line, and what's more he knew it, too. the bullying was still shitty and horrible and awful, and definitely impacted Deku and made him miserable. I fully acknowledge that, and that Kacchan has a lot of atoning to do for it. this is not a "Kacchan did nothing wrong" post.

but that being said, I don't think canon Deku's reckless self-sacrificing nature actually has anything to do with the bullying. I think they're two completely separate things. canon Deku actually has pretty decent self-esteem in spite of everything Kacchan did to him. canon Deku doesn't think he is useless. canon Deku had a wholeass fight with Kacchan less than 10 chapters into the series in which he explicitly spelled it out for Kacchan that he had a lot of worth, and was going to prove it to him. canon Deku was persistent in wanting to become a hero and hoping and believing that he could find some way in spite of being quirkless. canon Deku never let go of that dream even when no one else supported it. I don't think he would have even given up on it after being told no by All Might, tbh -- we just never got to see how it would have played out because of everything that happened with the sludge monster shortly afterward. but he's not the type to ever give up on something that easily, and we've seen that. canon Deku never thought he was useless, but rather wanted to prove to everyone else that he wasn't.

the drive that Deku has to save and protect others even at the expense of his own safety is something entirely separate from that. he doesn't break his body for others simply because he has no self-esteem and thinks that his own life isn't important. he does it because he can't stand the thought of someone else getting hurt, and knowing that he could have done something to prevent it. it's as simple as that. like, Spider-Man has the whole "with great power comes great responsibility" thing, right? and he doesn't have low self-esteem; he simply believes that if he has the ability to help someone else, then he has a responsibility to help them. it's a personal creed. and Deku is based on Spider-Man. his philosophy is based on that philosophy, which was one of Horikoshi's core influences and is one of the core creeds in superhero fiction.

Deku is self-destructive not because he doesn't value himself, but because he is literally physically incapable of standing back and doing nothing if he knows that he can do something. he's the type of person who sees a car speeding towards someone and leaps in to push them out of the way. NOT because he wants to get himself fucking pancaked by a speeding car, but simply because he can't sit back and watch the other person get hurt without taking action. his body moves before he can think. and that's where the whole "doesn't take himself into account" thing comes in -- the fact that his thought process simply stops at "get them out of the way of the car", and never extends beyond that to "hey, and maybe I should try to find a way to do this that doesn't involve me getting hit in their place." to him, that's simply less important than the first priority, which is getting the other person out of the way.

and regarding that last part, while that may seem like a self-worth issue if he's prioritizing everyone else above himself, I think what it actually is just selflessness taken to extremes. like for instance, when a parent sacrifices themselves to save their child, them placing the child's life above their own isn't necessarily because they don't see themselves as having value. rather, it's that they love the child so much that they place their well-being even above their own. and that's what Deku is like as well. except that in his case he cares about EVERYONE, and so is willing to sacrifice himself for anyone. and that selflessness is his defining character trait, and simultaneously the most admirable and the most terrifying thing about him. it's both his greatest strength and his greatest weakness, which I think is fascinating to explore.

but anyway, so that's also why we never really see anyone thoroughly chewing him out for this behavior either. because the thing is, it is admirable how selfless he is. it's just that there's also a reason why most people are at least a little bit selfish. and that's because too much selflessness will ultimately and inevitably wind up getting you killed. at some point you either have to learn when to put the oxygen mask on yourself first, or else find yourself a loyal group of friends (or classmates) to watch your back, and make sure that mask gets on you when you need it. and maybe help you land the plane too while they're at it.

anyway so that was a lot of rambling, but basically it all boils down to three things:

when Deku berates himself for being useless (for instance at the end of the War arc), he's doing it out of frustration for not being able to push the others out of the way of the metaphorical car. that's the kind of uselessness he can't stand. the sitting-back-and-doing-nothing uselessness.

Kacchan's bullying was terrible, and it might have indeed played a part in Deku's choice of the word "useless" as a way of berating himself in these instances, but he is not the one who gave Deku this mindset of taking himself out of the equation. that's something that was already inherent to Deku from day one. (but that said, Kacchan has a lot of things to apologize to Deku for anyway, so if he wants to add this to the list I certainly won't stop him. he gets mad about Deku's suicidal attitude because it worries him, but that doesn't necessarily mean that he doesn't feel responsible for it. people underestimated his feelings of atonement before 284/285, and I think they're still underestimating him now.)

and lastly, one last important note, which is that Deku's current "saving" mindset isn't wrong, just as Kacchan's "winning" mindset was not wrong either. the lesson to be learned here is NOT that being selfless and wanting to save other people is bad. rather, it's the fact that he's trying to do it alone that's got him all fucked up right now. basically when you think about it, selflessness is really just selfishness on someone else's behalf. which means that in order for Deku to be saved, it isn't necessary for him to change his outlook or his selfless attitude, even if it is pretty crazy lol. rather, all he really needs is a good group of friends who are willing to act selfishly on his behalf in return. protecting each other through mutual selflessness lol. teamwork as self-preservation. hence why the U.A. kids are here now.

anyway so yeah, I think that's everything. sorry this got so long and out of control lol. this is just a very specific nuanced thing that's hard for me to express, but which I feel is very important when it comes to Deku's character. Kacchan didn't unleash Depressed Nomad Deku on the world (or at least not in this respect). but that being said, he and the others will hopefully be the ones to nudge him back on the right course again.

#bnha 319 #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #bnha meta #deku meta #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #asks #anon asks #long post

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willowbleedsonpaper · 3 years

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Winter In The Shade XIV

Part XIV

Sirius Black x Ravenclaw Reader

W.C. : 2866

Requested by @pogueslandia : It is Sirius’ fifth year at Hogwarts, the same year he ran away from home and to the Potter’s. Soon, he discovers the unfamiliar sight of his brother Regulus smiling and looking truly happy, next to him a Ravenclaw girl who immediately captures his interest. What will happen when the Black family gets involved in their sons lives and the ones they hold close to their hearts?

Warnings: None (Let me know if there's any, though)

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You were distracted. Regulus had noticed that much. Two weeks had passed by since his game against Gryffindor and he had taken to himself to watch you closely. At first he was worried, now he was curious. He could feel you were distant, sometimes he would find your eyes lost in the crowd of students or a smile growing on your lips at something only you could figure out from all the voices. You spent more time out after dinner, Regulus finding you walking back to your common room late at night when you had supposedly already gone there. He didn’t question you but he wanted to know who this person was who had captured your attention.

Unfortunately, he was certain it had to be a Gryffindor. The presence of the house is always there whenever he notices these changes in your behaviour. He had so many questions and no reason to ask you about it. But he knew he could dig a little with the right words.

“...and I need this one and that one.” you said, walking through the shelves of the library with Regulus following you “Can you reach the red one for me?” you asked him, his arm easily going over your head and taking the book you pointed “Thank you.” you told him, adding the book to the pile in your arms.

Regulus just observed you, noticing a sweet smell coming from you. Your favorite perfume. You looked the same as always, Ravenclaw uniform neatly worn with a few details of your own design, leather bag hanging from your left shoulder as your body inevitably leaned towards that side due to the weight of all you carried. Your face, your hair, your voice it was all the same but it was all in the details. The perfume, the skip on your step, your more cheerful mood.

“You seem happier.” he said, earning a chuckle from you as you returned the book in your hand to the shelf.

“Thank you?” you answered doubtfully. There, no retort to fight him, no sarcastic comment to notice his own gloomy or serious mood.

“I mean it.” he told you, trying to look casual about it. He didn’t have it in him but he had to try, he’s used to being direct but going around things was not his thing. “What’s gotten you in such a happy mood lately?”

You made a face at him, leading him towards your table at the library. He took the seat right across from you, facing the entrance of the library as he had always liked to observe the people going in and out of the room. You moved your own chair out and took a seat, dropping the pile of books on the tables’ surface.

“Would you believe it's because of you?” you asked with a smile, taking your things out of your bag and placing one by one on the table.

Regulus shook his head, following your movements as he did the same “The fact that you asked me if I would believe you tells me it’s not because of me.” he stated, resting his back against the chair as he watched you. “And there is a reason because you are making up excuses.”

You frowned, hitting the table a little too hard with the spine of your book “I hate that you’re so clever sometimes.” you muttered bitterly, unknown to Regulus that you were starting to panic. Your leg a jumping mess under the table.

“Why won’t you tell me?” he asked. Going around things wasn’t working for him, it actually never worked for anyone but he knew that and trying it anyway got on his nerves a little too much. He needed answers.

“Because there is nothing to tell.” you said, voice high as you avoided his gaze. You were lying.

“Look at me.” he said.

You closed your eyes shut, letting out a single breath as you pressed your lips in a line. Finally you lifted your face, meeting his eyes. He had a relaxed posture, as relaxed as Regulus could get, but he still tilted his head. Oh, he knew what he was doing. He looked approachable and kind, more than usual in your eyes.

“You’re seeing someone.”

Your heart almost jumped out of your chest, the drop of your stomach as you felt like someone had punched you on the gut enough to make all the happiness he was asking you about wash out of your face.

He wasn’t asking. It wasn’t a question. He was telling you because he knew.

Your thoughts started to go over everything you had done, everything you had said, how you acted, anything that could have given it away to him. Everything and nothing came to mind as you just stared at him, your body completely still.

Then it dawned on you that you weren’t seeing anyone. Not really. You and Sirius were friends who liked to spend time together. Behind your best friend and Sirius brother’s back. You thought bitterly, guilt starting to rise inside you. We’re just friends. Then why did your mind go immediately to Sirius at the question of you seeing anyone?

“What?” you asked in a whisper, taking a shaky breath after as the fear of your secret being discovered became more real.

He looked for your eyes, a small smile on his face “I know you’re seeing someone.”

“You know?” you repeated.

“Yes.”

But did he knew?

“And you’re not upset?” you asked, taking careful steps in the conversation.

“I don’t know why you felt like you couldn’t tell me.” he said “I’m more upset over the fact that they’re a Gryffindor, but I guess I’ll get…”

“You know!” you yelled. The shushing sounds from the students around you made you shrink in your place as you muttered a quiet apology, the flush in your cheeks nothing as you turned with wide eyes at Regulus, mouthing the words You Know.

“I had my suspicions.” he said, looking around before he settled back on you “You stare at the people of their house a lot and I still have to figure out who they are…”

His words were muffled by the relief washing over you. He didn’t know.

*******

Sirius had looked for you a couple of days after the Quidditch game. He had managed a couple of minutes away from all the eyes at Hogwarts to ask you to meet him later that day. Of course you had agreed.

You moved through the castle with light steps. It was late but not enough to get you in trouble, just to get a warning look from the professors. Sirius had asked you to meet him inside the castle but you couldn’t risk another surprise visit from Regulus, his extra classes had gotten all over his schedule and you no longer knew when he would be out and what days he wouldn’t. So you asked Sirius to meet you at the castle entrance. Doubtful, he had accepted.

So that’s where you were headed, playing with your fingers as you moved. The corridors were empty and the day getting colder, a chill running down your spine as more nerves got to you. Somehow, although you wanted this, you were also dreading it.

The doors were wide open, your figure a dot in the distance of what the entire castle represented. You glanced at either side of the door before you decided Sirius wasn’t there yet. You rested your weight on the wall outside the castle, closing your eyes as the air blew on your face. You found the feeling relaxing and refreshing, almost taking your worries with it.

Then something changed in the air, a different smell caught in the air as you started to feel different. Not alone. Your eyes fluttered open to see Sirius standing right beside you, a different look on his face as he watched you.

“You looked peaceful.” he said, offering his hand for you to take.

You glanced hesitantly at him, grabbing his hand “You look different.”

“And we’ve never looked better.” he said, his usual grin back on his lips as he gave a soft squeeze to your hand “Lead the way, since a castle is not enough for the lady.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you pulled him with you, missing his triumphant smile at teasing you.

You walked for a couple of minutes, going down the stairs to the black lake in silence. Once you got over the hills and past the shore of the black lake Sirius started asking questions but you didn’t give in, ignoring his every word until you got closer to your destiny, your secret space.

“Would you relax?” you asked him, his mouth never stopping until you talked “We’re almost there.”

“You could have told me where we are going.” he said, looking around you and seeing nothing familiar “You could be leading me to my death.”

“Oh, yes.” you smiled back at him before narrowing your eyes at him “I’m not really a student at Hogwarts. You see, I’m this serial killer who lures her victims by being a sweet girl, this is the place where all my victims have died and you are next.”

Your grasp on his hand got tighter, smiling at him before you focused on the way you were walking. Sirius raised an eyebrow but said nothing, letting you drag him with his arm now stretched to create space between you two.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking.” he said, his voice a little worried “You sound very convincing and your scenario sounds entirely possible now.”

You laughed out loud, throwing your head back lightly. Sirius' fake worry all washed away as a genuine smile replaced everything in his features, thinking that maybe, if you were actually a serial killer, this wouldn’t be such an awful way to die.

“I’m very capable of a lot of things, so you shouldn’t underestimate me.” you said, raising your eyebrows at him before you turn back front “We’re here.” you announced, letting go of his hand as you advanced some steps on your own.

You moved through the grass, grass tall enough to reach your ankles and wildflowers who filled the ground with beautiful dots of color. And to your right an enormous tree, vines hanging from its branches that you moved as if it was a curtain, letting you and Sirius through to a small meadow. The place was comfortable enough to have a picnic with a few friends and still have room to move around, the makeshift walls made of more trees and vines that covered the space to make the shape of what almost resembled a circle.

“Welcome to a small haven just outside Hogwarts.” you said to Sirius, spinning once in your spot as you focused back on his face. He looked amazed, his eyes finding the sky once before he moved to the green grass and small patches of flowers.

“Just outside is putting it lightly.” he whispered, but you could see he didn’t care about the distance or about walking all the way there with you. He softly ran his fingers over the vines that fell like heavy silks once again, covering the spot where you two had walked in. “You found this place?”

You hummed in response, nodding your head “I was trying to escape some friends while we played. It was my first year so I didn’t know the grounds of the school very well. I ran and ran until I could no longer hear them and then I hid here. They never found me.”

He laughed, his smile reaching his eyes as he continued to look around “You probably shouldn’t have shown me this place.” he told you, knowing perfectly that he would use it as a way to avoid professors and detention.

“I didn’t show you anything.” you said, patting a spot in the ground to then sit there with a huff “You followed me here.”

Sirius did the same thing and sat down next to you “You dragged me here.” he stated, giving you a knowing look.

“You offered your hand.” you argued back, throwing some of your hair over your shoulder “You could have let go at any time.” Your confidence didn’t last much as you burst out laughing, shaking your head as you tried to speak, the words coming out of your mouth unintelligible.

It took you a couple of minutes to catch your breath but in the end your chest started to rise and fall evenly, the air calm as you could only hear the breeze moving the tree tops. The silence fell heavily between you two, not in an uncomfortable way but enough to let you know the laughter was over.

You swallowed in anticipation, not knowing how to begin. In the end you didn’t have to, Sirius taking the chance first.

“I’m sure you have many questions and believe me, so do I,” he started, looking at his hands as he spoke “But you have to know whatever he is doing it’s not good.”

“You don’t know that.” you said in a low tone, still a hint of hope in your voice.

He shook his head, turning to look at you with that same desperation he had in his eyes the day you found Regulus. “You’re too good.” he whispered, raising his hand hesitantly to your face, his finger moving a piece of hair behind your ear.

His skin felt warm against yours, the back of his hand grazing your cheek as you moved your face away “I’m not naive.” you exclaimed “I know him. He is my friend, my family, he would never say that.”

“We both heard him, Y/N.” Sirius reminded you, his voice sounding deeper now “How can you explain what we both heard?” he asked, looking at you expectantly.

“I don’t know what I heard.” you said stubbornly, refusing to look at Sirius.

“You do know. I saw you there and you were hurt, we both know what he called you.”

You grunted, pushing yourself to your feet as you stood with your back at him “There must be an explanation.”

Sirius followed you, standing just behind you “For calling someone Pure enough…”

“Dont’!” you hissed, turning to Sirius with a glare in your face.

“I think it’s self explanatory, Y/N.” his voice had raised in volume, the two of you facing one another with glares in your eyes, not moving but holding each others’ eyes.

“Then why is he still my friend?” you asked in a whisper, faces inches away from one another, he heard you just right. “Why is he still by my side, why has nothing changed?”

“Because you’re everything he has left.” he whispered angrily, not being able to hold your gaze any longer as he turned from you. “I was once in your place. Then, he could afford to lose me, so he did. He had the chance to change, to prove everyone wrong but he chose status and the glory of being the only son of the Black family.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked him, confusion growing inside of you as you digested his words.

“Why do you think I left my home?” he asked quietly, “Why do you think my family and your best friend hate me so much? A shame to the Black family.”

A frown was set deep in your face, eyes wild as you started to put all the pieces together inside your head. The perfect son who hates his traitor brother. Traitor. Blood traitor.

Your gaze stilled for a moment, your eyes on the ground as you breathed in deeply. You raised your face slowly, eyes meeting Sirius’ as you stood straight. You opened your mouth but nothing came out, the small gap letting out air as you tried to even your breathing. Your entire face fell, sadness overtaking your eyes as you finally understood.

“You don’t believe in blood purity.” you whispered, voice rough as all the emotion you held inside tried to pour itself on your words. “But he does.”

“Yes.” A simple word, a full sentence. One that changed everything now that the truth was out.

Words got tangled on your tongue, you tried to speak but felt like all it would come out would be your screams.

Your body moved back on its own, rubbing the side of your arm with your hand as every word repeated itself in your head.

“He stayed?” you asked him.

Still that hint of hope. Sirius thought.

“He didn’t ask to come.” he said truthfully.

You nodded your head continuously, not stopping until you covered your face with the palms of your hands, pressing the cold feeling against your skin.

Seconds after you felt a pair of arms around your shoulders, his whispered words on the side of your head filled you with comfort as you moved your hands around his chest.

He held you for a long time, I could have been minutes or hours, it felt like a lifetime. Despite everything you had just learned, there, you felt safe.

TAGS

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Winter in the Shade

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Marauders

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#winter in the shade #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x ravenclaw!reader #regulus black #marauders era fanfiction

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09kags · 4 years

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Happy Haikyuu Day!

Sorry for the bad quality first off T^T I keep having to resize these so that they’re smaller for Tumblr and it ruins the quality. But more importantly, happy Haikyuu day! (at least it is Japan already!) This edit embodies some of my favorite moments within the series and below, I’ve written some of the thoughts that went into this piece/my feelings on these moments! Manga spoilers ahead (I'm pretty sure I’ve kept them to a minimum but just to be sure, please proceed with caution!), and I hope you enjoy this edit! (Overlays: accio-glow, aulia-chan on dA; PSDs: hurtears, hallyumi, yangyanggg on dA) 1. “Today might finally be the day we get the chance to let our talents bloom… it could be tomorrow. Or maybe next year. Or maybe it’ll finally come when we’re 30. I’m not sure if physique has anything to do with it but I do know for sure that if you don’t believe that day will come, it never will.” This quote is a testament to Oikawa’s growth and is a symbolic representation of Oikawa freeing himself from the shackles of “geniuses” and “prodigies.” So what if your opponent is a genius? So what if they possess more innate talent? As his mentor and inspiration Jose Blanco states, “Are you saying you know what the limits of your abilities are already? Even though you aren’t yet finished growing physically or mentally? Even though you haven’t mastered all the skills you can master? If you’re going to complain that someone with more talent than you will always be better than you… no matter how hard you work, how many tricks you learn and how many great teammates you have… do that only after you’ve given everything the very best effort you have.” There will always be someone better in the world. But to claim that you cannot hope to compare to the likes of them is to resign yourself to a predetermined defeat as well as dismiss both your own efforts and theirs. There’s no guarantee when your efforts will pay off. As Oikawa declares, it may be today, tomorrow, or even when we’re 30. But if you don’t believe in yourself first, if you don’t believe that you will bloom in your own time, “that day will never come.” The flower in the background is the iris. It is known to represent trust, faith, and hope amongst many other ideals. I chose this particular flower because of the manga cap used in this panel. I cannot emphasize how much I love the bond between Oikawa and Iwaizumi, especially this particular moment when Oikawa points at Iwaizumi with such authority and determination as if saying, “This ball, this moment, is meant for you.” Not to mention the pairing with the iconic “Talent is something you make bloom, instinct is something you hone” quote. An absolutely masterful sequence of scenes that always gets my blood rushing.

2. “Don’t look down! Volleyball is a sport where you’re always looking up!” This moment gives me chills every time. It’s something so fundamental and simple and yet, when Ukai yells this, it instills that feeling of “You can do it.” It makes my heart flutter and I feel so excited because it’s such a beautiful way of saying “Don’t give up, it’s not over yet.” And even if the ball has dropped for the last time or you have lost this match, there’s always tomorrow. There’s always the next match where you’ll have to look up. This quote gives me the same feeling as when Takeda-sensei says, “For the rest of your lives, you can do anything you set your mind to!” You only truly lose when you stop trying or you give up. 3. “It hurts. I’m tired. This is painful. I don’t want this to ever end.” / “The ball hasn’t dropped yet!” Whenever Haikyuu characters say “Just one more!” or “The ball hasn’t dropped yet!”, the tension and desperation is almost palpable. It’s so incredibly moving to see them strive to save that ball just one more time, to focus purely on what is in front of them. Even if they don’t all pursue volleyball as a professional career, the passion they all have for the sport is real. That sort of passion is beautiful to watch and admire, and I wish I could have that kind of passion for something in my life. 4. “The underhand only uses two hands. The overhand uses 10 fingers. That’s all the more to support your spikers with, which is what it means to be a setter.” / “To cut through the wall that looms before your spikers, that is the purpose of a setter.” This particular panel depicts the two ideologies of Atsumu and Kageyama respectively, two of my favorite setters and characters in general. Atsumu “may be pretty cocky at times, and overwhelm his teammates with his thirst for victory, but he treats his spikers with more sincerity and selflessness than anyone else.” He may be overbearing and an asshole at times, but his love for the sport and the art of being a setter is second to none. On the other hand, there’s Kageyama who’s so damn cool with his one-liners. Kageyama’s passion and drive to win may blind him to his surroundings and teammates but he truly believes that the setter is the one who clears the path for their spikers. When their spikers feel cornered and the walls are closing in, it is the setter who “cuts through the wall that looms” ahead. The old Kageyama who was a prisoner to speed is no longer, and his growth as a player brings me to tears every time. 5. “Someone once asked me, ‘Do you ever feel bitter over the fact that you’re not a regular on the team, and amongst your juniors there’s a genius to boot?’ I never understood the exact definition of what it was to be a genius to begin with, but upon hearing the question, I understood the general gist of what they were getting at. Every so often there will be someone who thinks that ‘people like Atsumu’ were ‘good’ from the get-go. But the thing is, if I practiced something from 1-10 every day, then people like Atsumu would have done it from 1-20. Or, they would have done the same 10 but in a more efficient or concentrated manner. They might also ask ‘Instead of doing it 1-10, how about I tried it from A-Z, what would happen then? Now doesn’t that sound interesting?’ They’re the kind of people who think about stuff like that. Even if they fail, even if they are hated and get ostracised by others, no matter whether they’re right or they’re wrong, even if they subvert something the rest of us hold in high regard, they’re the kind of people who can’t sit still without giving it a go. Even if they start coughing up blood from their lungs, they’re the kind of people who want to keep on running, no matter what. There’s going to be a lot of people in this world who make you go ‘Wow, I’ll never be able to defeat them,’ and it’s only natural that you think they’re amazing people. I think that to be able to keep charging ahead is a talent in and of itself. You can call people like them whatever you like, the term ‘genius’ isn’t exactly an insult. That said, to think they were ‘good from the get go’ is to condemn yourself to a predetermined defeat without even playing a match against them, and I also think it’s very rude.” This quote, hands down, is one of my favorite quotes of all time. It is not genius or natural talent that makes individuals truly great, but it is grit. Without a doubt, people are not born equal. There will always be someone with more innate talent or latent capabilities. We all begin at different starting lines. But those who truly stand out are those who go the extra mile, like those dubbed to be the Monster Generation (Kageyama, Atsumu, Hinata, Bokuto, Ushijima, Oikawa, etc.). To others they may seem like natural prodigies but behind their flawless technique and precise ball control lies countless hours of training. They trained harder than anyone else, sacrificed in order to hone their abilities, and ran farther than the rest of the pack. They’re the type to fixate on what lies before them without much regard to anything else.They eat, sleep, breathe, and live volleyball with every waking second. They’re always trying new things (Atsumu pulling off the freak duo quick in the middle of the Inarizaki match) and continually looking for ways to improve (“But the thing is, if I practiced something from 1-10 every day, then people like Atsumu would have done it from 1-20. Or, they would have done the same 10 but in a more efficient or concentrated manner. They might also ask ‘Instead of doing it 1-10, how about I tried it from A-Z, what would happen then? Now doesn’t that sound interesting?’ They’re the kind of people who think about stuff like that”; Kageyama keeping a volleyball journal). It is not what they were born with that makes them great; it is their overwhelming desire to win. 6. “‘Yesterday’ has already disappeared behind us. Many, many yesterdays have become a part of our muscles. What shall we do, today?” This quote, chills. There’s no point ruminating about the past or what has already passed; you can’t change it. (In retrospect, I wish I included another quote from Inarizaki in this panel: “One time is enough. We rise to the challenges of today.”) You learn from the mistakes of yesterday and use them as stepping stones for tomorrow. I wish I could eloquently phrase how much I love this quote or my interpretation of it but alas, my writing is fancy Garbage. 7. “But if… just if… that moment comes for you, that will be the moment you really get hooked on volleyball.” If you didn’t get chills when Tsukishima blocks Ushijima, I have no words for you. Tsukishima-it’s-just-a-club Kei, Tsukishima-I’m-the-normal-guy Kei — Tsukishima Kei, who always underestimates his own capabilities and relies on what he can see in front of him, blocking the Ushijima Wakatoshi, one of the top three high school aces nationally. The character development from someone who did the bare minimum (as noted by other players/coaches at one of the training camps) to someone who finally had their moment to get hooked on volleyball is one of my favorite progressions of all time. Seeing him fall in love with volleyball gradually and then all at once is truly heartwarming and beautiful to witness. 8. “No matter what other people may say, we are the protagonists of the world.” This quote is incredibly empowering to me. Even if your days consist of mundane activities, you are the protagonist of your own story every day. You may not be the main character in a shounen manga or an adolescent seeking to usurp the government in a dystopian novel, but this is your story. No one can tell it like you do and no one can replicate your story. It is yours and yours only. And that concludes my Haikyuu word vomit! I really do wish I could have properly conveyed my pure adoration and love for this series better. I truly do love Haikyuu so very, very much. It will always have a special place in my heart and I will never forget the memories and lessons it has taught me! Thank you, Furudate-sensei, for such a beautiful story. And thank you Haikyuu, for everything. For all the losses and victories we shared. For all the smiles and laughter, and for all the tears we shed. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

would u write about the night of remus’s first goal and sirius just WORSHIPPING remus

Did someone say 3200 words of Coops being comfortable around each other even while ~spicy times~ are happening and the start of a 3-part smut series? No? Oops :)

Credit for Coops/ Sweater Weather goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for smut, a rampant praise kink, and both people laughing during sex

The Lions were everything to Sirius. They were his brothers, his family, his whole life. With Remus on the team, that feeling had only grown, and celebrating a win with them brought a sense of euphoria that was unmatched by pretty much everything.

And yet he wanted to be anywhere but the locker room right then.

Talker and Remus were laughing on the other side of the room while the cubs chanted “Loops, Loops, Loops!” at the top of their lungs; Remus’ two goals had given them the edge they needed to crush the Badgers 6-2 in the first game of the season; Sirius was bursting with pride, but the wait was killing him.

His leg bounced up and down as he zipped and unzipped his duffel for the millionth time. Remus was flushed with victory and alight with latent adrenaline—Sirius felt a little guilty for wanting to pull him away from the celebration that he rightfully deserved. You’re beautiful, he shouted internally. You’re so beautiful and how am I supposed to wait a decent amount of time before dragging you home?

“The fuck are you scowling at?” James laughed as he leaned over his stall and smacked Sirius on the shoulder with his glove. “Hey, earth to Cap. We won the game, man.”

“I know, I know.”

“We won by a lot.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Your fiancé scored two perfect goals, I don’t see the prob—oh. Ohhhh.” His eyes widened and he bit his lip mischievously. “I get it now. Hey, Loops!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sirius hissed as Remus looked over at them. His smile softened when he saw Sirius. Pretty, was all his brain supplied.

“Sup, Pots?” he asked, wandering over and running a hand through his hair.

“You two should head home early,” James said faux-casually.

Remus frowned. “I thought we were going to get dinner with the team?”

Sirius died a little inside at that, but it was fine. You’re the captain, he reminded himself. You have to be part of team events.

But I don’t want to, the hyped-up, besotted, and incredibly horny part of him whined.

“Nah, I’ve got to plan for…Lils and I’s anniversary. Also, nobody really made final decisions on where we were going anyway.” It was clearly a lie, but Sirius appreciated his effort.

“Okay,” Remus said suspiciously, drawing out the word. “Is this some sort of prank? Are you trying to get me to leave so you can fuck with my stall or something? If I find anymore shaving cream, I swear—”

“Oh, my god,” James groaned, grabbing Remus by the shoulders and giving him a little shake. Thinnest patience in the world, Sirius thought wryly. “Go home. Celebrate. Please get railed by your fiancé before his grumpy vibes seep into the walls.”

Remus’ eyes went wide and he looked down at Sirius, who was desperately trying to suppress a blush. “Wha—you—oh. Okay. Um, yeah, that’s cool.” His eyes narrowed when he turned back at James. “Bold of you to assume he’s doing the railing. Stereotypes, much?”

“That’s your issue?” Sirius asked incredulously.

James rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry. Please go home and get laid or do whatever it is you do to banish the cranky captain aura. Better?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Remus glanced back to Sirius. “Are you ready to head out?”

“He’s been packed for ten full minutes,” James said, turning him around and pushing him toward his stall. “Go.”

“Was that really necessary?” Sirius sighed as Remus packed his bag in a rush.

“I could have yelled it across the room,” James pointed out. “Also, you should be thanking me.”

“Thank you for not being as much of an asshole as you could have been.” Sirius stood up and knocked their foreheads together. “You played really well tonight, by the way.”

“Thanks, Captain,” James teased, giving him a little push. “Not a bad start to the season, eh?”

“Not bad at all.”

“Baby, you ready?” Remus asked, his voice a little tight as he slung his bag over his shoulder. Heat flashed through Sirius’ body and he gripped the edge of the stall; next to him, James started snickering. “Shut it, Pots.”

“Have fun, you two!” James called as they headed for the door.

“I’m telling Lily you forgot your anniversary!” Remus shouted back over his shoulder while Sirius dragged him along by the hand.

By the time they made it to the parking lot, Sirius could feel his heartbeat in his ears. He crowded Remus against the passenger door and pressed a hard kiss to his lips, gripping his waist and grinding slowly until their breaths came in short gasps.

“Fuck, you’re so hard,” Remus panted as he pulled on Sirius’ lower lip. “Any particular reason?”

“You. Just—you.” Sirius moved to his neck and Remus keened as he nibbled along his jawline and throat. “You have no idea how good you look on the ice. That first goal was perfect, and then you got another one—”

Remus laughed, combing his fingers through the curls that fell into Sirius’ eyes. “Now you know how I felt for months. We should definitely get in the car or else I’m getting on my knees right fucking now and that’s going to be embarrassing for us both.”

Ten incredibly tense minutes later, Sirius was fumbling with the house key as Remus kissed his neck and slid his chilly hands under the back of his shirt. As soon as the door swung open, he spun around and dragged him inside, kicking the door closed behind them and all but slamming Remus against the wall.

“Have I told you recently how much I—hnnn—love that you’re a switch?” Remus’ breath caught as Sirius pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor next to their shoes.

“Ditto.” Sirius felt him wobble a little and grinned. “Sweetheart?”

“Mhm?”

“We should go upstairs.”

Remus sighed and let his head fall forward onto Sirius’ shoulder. “Since when are you reasonable?”

“Since we need a bed as soon as possible.”

“We do?”

“We really do.” Remus grabbed Sirius’ hand and they practically ran to the stairs, pausing every few moments to kiss or bump against whatever they left laying around earlier that afternoon. Hattie cocked an ear when they passed her, but she settled back down—it was far past her bedtime. They made it halfway up the staircase before Remus pressed Sirius’ back into the wall, kissed the living hell out of him, and pulled his shirt over his head. “Twenty more feet.”

“Right here.”

“Twenty more feet and I’ll get you off twice.”

Remus’ breath audibly rushed out of his lungs and a full-body shiver ran through him; Sirius took advantage of the pause to take his hands and guide him backwards up the remaining stairs and into their bedroom. “Is this how you always felt after games?”

“Winning ones, yeah,” Sirius managed as he pulled Remus’ belt off with a sharp snap. Remus’ pupils dilated at the sound, and he raised his eyebrows. “Are you okay?”

“Totally okay, but I’m going to be laying awake having a very interesting inner monologue later,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Whew.”

“You’re going to be too tired to do anything once I’m through with you.”

Remus bit down gently on the side of his neck. “Promise?”

“You’re so fucking kinky, holy shit.” Sirius’ stomach filled with butterflies and he picked Remus up—the bed bounced as he dropped him on it, hovering over his heaving chest. “I love watching you skate, you know.”

“Clearly.”

“You were incredible out there.” Their jeans and socks came off quickly until only boxers were in the way. He carefully lowered himself and Remus’ leg jerked up on reflex as he ground down in a hard roll. “So fast, so graceful. They always underestimate you.”

“I am not going to last if you keep that up.”

“Yes, you will. You know why?”

A spark of interest lit in Remus’ eye. “Why?”

Sirius leaned down next to his ear. “Because you’re good.”

“Oh, fuck,” Remus breathed, canting his hips upward until Sirius shifted so the heels of his palms pressed against those sharp bones and held him down. “My heart is beating so hard right now.”

“I know, I can feel it,” Sirius laughed as he moved to kiss Remus’ throat and collarbone, which caught the moonlight through the bedroom window perfectly and cast shadows on the left side of his chest. “Mon coeur. Do you have the lube?”

Both of them winced as Remus’ hand smacked against the nightstand in his rush and Sirius kissed his knuckles, rubbing away the redness with one hand while uncapping the lube with the other. He scooted down the bed until his shoulders fit between Remus’ thighs—his thighs, holy fuck, Sirius had almost forgotten about those—and ran a light finger down the front of his boxers.

Remus twitched as Sirius leaned in to mouth at the hard line of him and ran one of his hands down the soft skin on his inner thigh, but he couldn’t move much and that only turned him on more. He squeezed tightly once with a desperate, half-gasped plea, then relaxed as Sirius kissed the inside of his knee. “Deep breaths, sweetheart. You’re doing so good.”

“I am?”

“You are, I promise.” Sirius slid back up until they were face-to-face and began pulling Remus’ boxers down as he kissed each of his cheeks. “Hey. You scored two goals tonight.”

“I did,” Remus said with a foxlike smile.

“I think that calls for a certain degree of celebration.” Sirius pushed his finger in at last and Remus arched his back, practically begging him to push him down again with a silent challenge. “I promised to get you off twice, right?”

“You did.”

“Except you also won the face-off.” Sirius couldn’t keep a smile down as Remus’ eyes widened. “Think you can do three?”

He swallowed thickly and nodded, his eyes glazing over as Sirius added another finger. “I’m going to win every single game we play if this is what ha-happens do that again baby please.”

“Really? You’ll win every game?” Sirius crooked his fingers again and drew a low groan from him.

“Yes. Yes, every time.”

“I believe you’ll win, but I think you’d miss topping. I’d miss it.” Remus’ hands returned to his hair and tugged lightly until he kissed him. “You always feel so good, sweetheart, and I know you like being in control sometimes.”

“Are you calling me bossy?”

“Yeah. I love it. I love you.” The words were sweet on Sirius’ lips as the sharp edges of Remus’ smile smoothed out and he practically purred beneath him. The third finger slid in without an issue; as Sirius internally lost his mind, Remus rolled his shoulders back happily. “Ready?”

“So ready, c’mon.”

The first glide was immaculate, and it only built from there. Remus wrapped his arms around Sirius’ chest as he moved—the frantic fuck-me-now adrenaline rush they had arrived with had begun melting away sometime during the last ten minutes, but Sirius still buzzed with energy and he felt the slight tremble of Remus’ anticipation everywhere their skin touched.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, running his hands down Remus’ ribs. His eyes were closed and his cheeks were flushed rosy red, mussed curls tumbling over his forehead and splayed in a halo against the pillows. “Look at me, mon coeur. You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen, like liquid gold.”

“Hopeless romantic.” Remus shuddered a sigh as their gazes locked and a well-placed thrust rippled through him. “Good?”

“Good.” Sirius ducked his head and laughed quickly. “I’m so fucking glad you have a praise kink, by the way.”

“Oh, really?”

“It’s the best. All I have to say is you’re taking me so well—” he lowered his voice to a satiny rumble and the tendons in Remus’ neck seized. “—and you’re a puddle.”

“I am, I am, just—just a little higher, please.”

“Look at you, using your manners,” Sirius teased. He obliged, though, and he felt Remus’ skin heat up beneath his palms as his knee pressed into Sirius’ waist.

“Oh, fuck off.” Remus shook his head with a smile and drew him back in for a long kiss.

Kissing Remus was something special. His lips were soft and demanding at the same time, growing progressively more urgent as Sirius picked up the pace and small sounds punched from his lungs.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Remus managed, tugging on his shoulder. Sirius stopped immediately, but when he went to pull out Remus placed a hand on his hip. “No. Stay.”

A tingling sensation washed over Sirius when he registered Remus’ change in tone. His voice was lower, smoother, brooking no room for argument. “Are you alright?” he ventured.

The corners of Remus’ lips quirked up and in a smooth motion, he flipped them over so he was straddling Sirius’ hips and kneading his chest with the heels of his hands. “There we go,” he said, tilting his head to the side and jutting his chin at the angle Sirius knew as hold on tight.

And then he just kind of…stayed there.

Sirius relaxed into it, settling his hands on Remus’ hips as he ground down a bit. “You can move if you want,” he said after a moment.

Remus’ jaw ticked. “I’m trying.”

Oh, shit, is it me? Sirius took his hands away, but he hadn’t been gripping hard enough for there to be light marks, let alone stop Remus from moving. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, I can’t actually…” Remus’ nose scrunched up and his thighs clenched, then quaked and gave out. “I’m okay, but I think my legs are tired.”

“From the game? Are you kidding?” Sirius leaned back on the pillows and laughed, long and loud. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“Shut up!” Remus swatted his chest, though he was laughing as well. “I can do it, just give me a sec.”

Sirius wheezed as the pressure on his chest increased and batted at his wrists. “Nope, nope, you’re going to break me. We can go back to what we were doing before.”

“I can do this.”

“No, you can’t,” Sirius snickered.

Remus readjusted himself and tried again—he rose less than an inch before the trembling in his thigh muscles took hold and sank him back down. It felt fine and Sirius was glad for the closeness, but he knew it would feel better if Remus let him turn them over.

After a moment of hesitation, Remus stared up at the ceiling and burst out laughing again. “You’re right, I’m so sore right now, this is ridiculous.”

“Come here.” He slid off him with a slight wince and Sirius sat up against the headboard, holding his arms out. He closed his eyes with a contented hum as Remus kissed his forehead and snuggled into him. “I’m sorry you’re sore.”

“It was worth it.”

“Do you want to take a break?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love cuddling with you, but I was promised three orgasms tonight and I’m still so horny.”

“Oh, thank god, me too.” Sirius guided him back to the mattress by his shoulders and grabbed the lube from where it had been abandoned at the foot of the bed. He slicked up his dick again and stroked Remus a few times as well before pushing back in with steady pressure. “Still okay?”

“Hell yeah,” Remus sighed, reaching out to trail his thumb under Sirius’ eye. “It’s always good with you.”

Sirius turned to kiss the inside of his wrist. “You’re always good for me.”

“That was smooth.” Slender fingers traveled up and tucked a stray curl back into place. Sirius hadn’t even realized it was in the way until Remus moved it.

“You’re obsessed with my hair, aren’t you,” he said, sliding his hands down to scratch lightly at the sides of his thighs.

Remus shrugged, though his hold tightened minutely. “It’s soft and it’s pretty.”

Sirius dragged his lips down Remus’ forearm, kissed the crook of his elbow, and then continued along his bicep and shoulder. His summer freckles were tragically faded, but the salty tang of sweat and Remus was more than enough incentive for him to leave small love bites in his wake. “You’re soft and pretty.”

“Hmmm, okay.” He didn’t have to look up to know what Remus’ face would look like—eyes closed, sated smile, light lines of tension through his neck and upper chest. “I love the sound of your voice when you’re turned on.”

Sirius paused. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of like thu—huh.” Remus shifted his position at the same time Sirius leaned up to look at him; whatever he did, it must have been good, because his mouth fell open in surprise. “Thunder. Um. Hmm. Can you…?” Rather than telling Sirius what he wanted, he squirmed for a second, tilting his hips up and making small, frustrated noises.

“Hold on—hold on, Re, what are you trying to do?”

“You did something really good right then and I don’t remember what it was but I’m so fucking close.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Sirius blinked away some of his own sex-induced haziness and registered the slight tremor in his hands, as well as the glassy look in his eyes.

“Oh, okay. Hey, lay back and let me take care of it. Tonight is all about you.” He pulled Remus’ hands up to his back and pulled his leg up around his waist, tracing the muscle divots lightly.

What did I do before? Sirius thrusted in with slow, deep rolls while he thought. He had been leaning to the side a bit, and then Remus lifted up slightly…oh. Smug pride filled his veins as he kept one forearm firmly across Remus’ navel and brushed the other hand over the top of his dick.

“Yeah, that,” Remus said weakly as he stretched his arms over his head.

“This is it?” Sirius added a little extra pressure to his arm and his dick throbbed in response. “Good job, using your words.”

“Mmm.”

“How close are you now?” he asked, running his palm around the head until Remus’ legs jolted around him.

“So close,” he whispered. “C’mon, just a little more, pleasepleaseplease.”

“I love you, sweetheart,” Sirius said, sliding his hands beneath Remus’ lower back and propping him up an extra inch for the best angle. “Come for me.”

His harsh grip on the sheets relaxed as he came, eyelashes fluttering and mumbling under his breath. Remus didn’t fall apart or seize up, just melted into Sirius’ arms with a low moan. Sirius didn’t even realize his own orgasm was approaching until he heard his name on Remus’ kiss-swollen lips and the world vanished for a moment.

When he came back into himself, gentle fingers were running through his hair. “Sweetheart,” he said fondly. He pulled out nice and slow, but remained a boneless weight on top of Remus.

“Hey, handsome.” Remus’ voice was scratchy.

“Congratulations on your first goal.”

“I thought that was just for the face-off?”

186 notes · View notes

skekheck · 3 years

Text

Theory: UrVa’s Arrows Were Originally Meant To Incapacitate, Not Kill, skekMal

Maybe this is common consensus, but it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while. On the surface, it seemed like urVa had wanted to put an end to skekMal at the Circle of the Suns and the Hunter escaped before he could finish the job. But then there was this line in episode 10 that always felt odd to me:

urVa: I had a dream that I was one that became two that became one again. I looked through my dark half’s eyes and knew Aughra was right. [...] ...The Hunt must end.

It’s just “but urVa, weren’t you doing just that a day or so prior?”. But then after rewatching their standoff again it hit me: maybe urVa’s intentions were not to kill skekMal but to incapacitate him.

Let’s look at the scene again

SkekMal was shot a total of three times: the first one through his upper arm, the second around the bottom right of his torso, and the last through his upper leg (possibly thigh?).

(Sorry couldn’t find a better pic of his leg shot)

Weird places to aim for if urVa had wanted to kill him, right? Wouldn’t he have gone for targets that would more likely result in death, like the throat or through the eye sockets? It’s not like he would miss: urVa’s a master marksman. Instead, all three shots prevented (or at least was an attempt to stop) skekMal without taking his life.

The first shot prevented skekMal from harming Rian. The second was retaliation for ignoring the Archer’s warning. UrVa flat out told him to not approach the Gelfling but you see the Hunter take a step forward anyway, prompting him to release the second arrow. The final one was an attempt to stop skekMal from escaping with Brea. Seeing as how urVa immediately collapsed after firing that arrow, it would have worked. However, he underestimated how committed skekMal was to the Hunt, considering he pushed through the pain to get what he needed done.

Those arm and leg wounds aren’t inherently life-threatening. The arrow in his torso, though, is more concerning. It’s possible it could have had or at least be at risk of damaging his organs. Now, the Skeksis have weird-as-fuck anatomy (that goes without saying) so we have no real way of knowing if it was endangering him or not. But considering the nature of his other two wounds, I don’t think it was a kill shot. A more serious wound, but not deadly if tended to. And that’s probably what urVa intended: he aimed for that spot in the hopes skekMal would stop to take care of his wounds.

But Weren’t Both skekMal and urVa In Critical Condition?

Oh yeah, they still were and skekMal’s partially to blame for it. It’s not a great idea to move around too much with arrows lodged in you. The arrow heads and shaft could move around and cause more internal damage. SkekMal moving made what would have been minor to moderate wounds way more serious. Not to mention, he never stopped to pull them out and heal himself: he kept those things in.

And let’s not forget how far of a distance between the Circle of the Suns and the Castle is. There are multiple versions of maps of Thra that have some siginifcant differences, but the main point is those two locations are pretty far from each other. Even if he used Bennu to fly all the way over to the Castle, skekMal would still have to deal with Brea thrashing around on his back. And it looks like he took a detour to grab a cage for her, which he then dragged through the Castle’s corridors. Baiting Rian and his friends just so he can fulfill his Hunt was apparently more important to him than his well-being (which is ironic if you believe skekMal’s philosophy surrounding the Hunt is his own way of self-preservation).

EDIT: Wanted to add that skekMal was in a difficult position in terms of what he wanted. He would know that if he’d pull those arrows out he would have to treat them right away otherwise he’d bleed to death. At the same time, he would also had to keep Brea from escaping. I think he weighed his options and found that he’d had more success just pushing through it and keeping them in then treat them later. SkekMal might had also thought the other Skeksis would be able to treat him if it was serious enough?

And SkekTek Made It Worse

SkekTek is no doctor. He can cut up and research on animals all he wants, but that doesn’t count as medical knowledge. It’s painfully obvious he has no idea what he’s doing: his diagnosis and treatment of skekMal’s condition is enough proof of that. And speaking of which, skekTek’s diagnosis is full of nonsense:

Skektek: Subject suffers severe exsanguination. Extreme distress to the humus. [...] Imbalance of intrinsic fluids. Manifold ruptures in corporeal morphology. [Checks for a heart beat] Ah. Ah... . Expiration... is... [dramatic pause] inevitable.

Literally he’s saying skekMal has multiple holes in his body and he’s bleeding out. You know, pointing out the obvious. Also, I tried finding out if “humus” related to anything biologically, but all I could find was it’s a term for... soil made of organic matter. I’m not sure what he was trying to refer to, I think he was just misusing it to make himself sound smart.

EDIT: I have been told by a few people that skekTek might be referring the humerus, which is a bone found in the upperarm that’s forms joints at the elbow and shoulder. This would make more sense and would mean skekTek made a proper diagnosis. However, at least to me, it still sounds like he’s saying humus. Another skeksis repeats him and they also say humus, not humerus. Turning on the captions also has it as humus. This could either be a typo or skekTek did mean humerus, but said humus instead.

And how he actually treats skekMal is atrocious.

He pulls the arrows out without making any attempts to stop the bleeding, clean the wounds, or apply stitches. He’s letting him bleed out and he should at least know they need blood to live. Do you know what happens when someone loses too much blood? Among other side effects, organ failure and falling into a coma. SkekTek did eventually made an effort to heal skekMal by giving him essence, but it was too little too late. SkekMal’s condition was so far gone at that point he really needed Aughra’s essence to survive.

UrVa’s Intentions

And now we’re going right back to urVa. While thinking over on urVa’s actions, I started wondering if he anticipated skekMal wouldn’t stay put and that the Hunter would do his own self in by moving around with the arrows lodged in him. I mean, urVa is a mystic, an indirect kill would make sense. But giving it more thought, I don’t think that’s the case. A lot of his actions during the series suggests otherwise.

UrVa was very contemplative, even saddened, about having to end the Hunt for skekMal. He is not like his other half: he respected and appreciated all life on Thra. He also sees the cycle of life as well as the wilderness as something untamable. This is implied while he was talking with Aughra in episode 4:

urVa: We do not get to decide when our part in the song is finished.

While urVa is one of the more proactive Mystics, he still is... a Mystic. He doesn’t believe he should manipulate or control what goes on around him and let things be. The Bestiary book points to the fact that while urVa did keep tabs on skekMal, he never interfered with his hunts. So it was a big deal when Aughra quested him with the task of stopping skekMal.

Also I’d like to point out urVa and Aughra’s final conversation because it’s also important for this discussion:

urVa; And where does my path lead? Aughra: Into the sands to face the Hunter. urVa: [sighing and looks away from Aughra for a moment] I cannot defeat my dark half. Aughra: You will find a way. But not without sacrifice. urVa: And if I fail? Aughra: The heroes of Thra will be lost. urVa: Mm... [pauses and takes a deep breath] I will end the hunt. Aughra: Good. Get a move on. You Mystics are not known for your swift speed. We have much to do. [...] urVa: [pauses and looks at Aughra] Will we meet again, Aughra? Aughra: [stops walking, saddened] Hm... [faces him] Some things... even Aughra cannot see, old friend. [urVa pauses and then groans, walks away from Aughra as they both parted ways for the final time]

He shows a lot of hesitance in completing this task. I’m sure he knew what Aughra was implying: that he may have to take skekMal’s life away but he still went and asked if they would meet each other again anyway. I think he was hoping for a positive answer, that it wouldn’t have to come to that, and seemed disheartened by her answer. But he still tried. He tried to stop skekMal in a way that, while not exactly peaceful, was not meant to be life-threatening. UrVa even pleads for him to stop... twice! The first time as skekMal was making his get-away and the second time while urVa helplessly watched him go after Rian again through the Hunter’s eyes.

These two only had one scene together so we don’t really know the extent of their relationship. But if there’s one thing that’s clear was the conflict between them. I mean, during their whole duel, the characters were purposely placed on opposite sides of the room while making sure to show that skekGra and urGoh, a pair who were able to find harmony, were always side by side. It’s also in the way they address each other: while urVa does refer to him as his dark half, he also called him by his name. SkekMal, meanwhile, only ever referred to urVa as his title and nothing more.

But I don’t think urVa had any ill-will towards his Skeksis. He seemed understanding of him and valued his life as much as he valued all living beings on Thra. I think if they both didn’t end up in a near-death situation, he’d try incapacitating skekMal again. However he understood and accepted his situation towards the end: with skekMal on an essence high, incapacitation method was no longer possible. If he allowed it to go on, all of Thra would be at risk. It was a desperate situation, but he knew Aughra was right. She gave up her life for the preservation of the world and urVa knew he had to do the same: for her and for Thra. The Hunt had to end and in order to protect the world he cherished he had to make the ultimate sacrifice.

#the dark crystal #skekmal #urva #I might go back into this and edit/add things but HERE YOU GO

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nanamikeento · 4 years

Text

serendipity

pairing: Marcus Pike x female!reader

summary: You’ve never been one to believe in luck, but when you get to know your handsome neighbor, something makes you change your beliefs.

warnings: tw blood, gunshot wounds, medical inaccuracies, mentions of sex (or lack thereof), one (1) line from Ratched (i couldn’t help it), also fluff and a sm**ch

word count: 3.7k

series masterlist | general masterlist

You’ve never believed things happened for a certain reason. Several failed relationships taught you that things happen because simply they happen. There’s not always a meaning hidden behind, or a lesson to be learned. Sometimes, they do. Most times, they don’t. And that’s okay with you.

Lady Luck isn’t always by your side and you’ve gotten used to it, even now as you try to push a loveseat through the door of your new apartment. It’s early in the morning and you didn’t want to waste time moving your things to the new place, given that you have a shift in the hospital this afternoon. You’re exhausted already, and it’s not even nine in the morning. Maybe you’ve underestimated the weight of a loveseat. During your struggle, you don't notice you're blocking the way in the hallway until you hear someone clear their throat. The sound makes you jump and you quickly look up to find a very handsome man staring at you. Heat creeps on your neck and cheeks immediately.

“Do you need help with that?” He asks, gesturing to the loveseat.

You usually don't accept help from strangers, – no matter how handsome they are – but right now, you don't even think about refusing, the sweat down your back reminding you that this is only the start of a very busy day with moving.

"Please," you answer and watch him place his travel mug on the floor and move to help you push the loveseat into your new apartment.

"Where do you want it to be?" He asks, his raspy voice sending shivers on your skin. You give him the directions, pointing to a corner in the living room and tell him you plan to leave it there.

"Thank you." You sigh, already worn out by the physical labor.

He laughs softly and lets out a breath. "No problem. I’m Marcus."

You give him your name with a nod. The smile he gives you is breathtaking and you have to look away or he’d catch you staring.

"You need help with anything else?" He puts his hands on his hips, letting out a small sigh.

"Oh, no, that's okay!" you quickly answer, shaking your head. "I see you're off to work. I won't hold you any longer."

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” He smiles at you. Your cheeks warm under his gaze and you smile shyly at him. “If you need anything, I’ll be in the 44.”

“Thank you.”

You watch him leave with a smile on your face and your heart hammering inside your ribcage.

…

Your hands still shake as you wash them, watching the diluted blood go down the drain of the sink. His eyes are still plastered in your mind, those chocolate colored orbits full of fear that almost made you hesitate.

“Marcus stay with me, okay? Don’t close your eyes.” Your own voice echoes inside your head over and over and the image of him covered in his own blood won’t leave you alone as you wash his blood from your hands.

“Hey.” A soft voice startles you and you jump, looking at your coworker, Anne, through the mirror. “You’re gonna hurt yourself if you wash your hands harder.”

You look at your now clean hands and blink, turning the faucet off. You could swear they were still covered in blood. Letting out a shaky breath, you move to dry your hands with paper towels.

“You know him, don’t you?” She asks when you don’t say anything. “The guy who got shot?”

“Yeah.” You breathe out. “He’s my neighbor.”

It’s not every day that chaos happens in the emergency room, despite what people think, so you’re not really used to it yet. When the time comes, you do your best as a nurse to help people and do your job.

But when you saw Marcus being wheeled in, something inside almost made you stop. You almost didn’t know what to do, almost stopped in your tracks, and panicked as soon as you realized it was him, with a gunshot wound and bleeding badly. Then, your instincts kicked in and you acted fast, trying to stop the bleeding before a doctor came. He kept looking at you with those eyes, panic and fear in them, and kept talking to him, trying to make him stay awake. You managed to stop the bleeding and he tried to speak, reaching for you, as they rushed him to the OR.

You barely registered the brush of his hand to yours as they wheeled him away, his eyes fixated on you until he was out of sight.

“Oh,” Anne pulls you out of your own thoughts and gives you a malicious look. “You and him…?”

“What?” You frown at her as you leave the bathroom. “I just met him, what kind of person do you think I am?”

“A sexually frustrated one, who needs to get laid.” She starts walking by your side.

You stop walking and look at her, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Wow.” You shake your head and head to the ER again. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”

Anne is the first friend you’ve made when you were hired to work at the hospital and you made the mistake to tell her the last time you’ve been with someone was over three years ago. Now she won’t stop bugging you about it.

“No, wait, sorry!” She tried to fix it, running after you. “I just thought– I’m sorry, I–” She sighs. “It’s just the way you looked at him…”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “It was just a look. He looked at you the same way and I thought… You also knew his name and he said yours…”

“He said my name?” You widen your eyes.

“Yeah, didn’t you hear?”

Shaking your head, the line between your brows deepens. There’s something about Marcus, something you can’t put a name on it, that keeps tugging on you. You decide to ignore it and go on with your day, but he never leaves your mind.

Anne is the one who informs you that Marcus is stable, hours after he came in. Alive. You visibly relax at the words, earning a knowing look from her. You don’t talk to her for the rest of the day, not because you’re upset, but because you were busy during your shift. When she’s about to leave, she touches your shoulder and whispers:

“Room 117.”

You don’t need to ask what she’s talking about. But maybe she knows you better than you thought.

It’s not until your shift is over that you decide to follow her unspoken advice. Gathering your things, you shoulder your purse and walk to the room in question before you can change your mind. The nurses in the ward are quite nice and they let you in the room, saying Marcus has been in and out of sleep all day. Some friends had come to visit and left him things, but now he was alone. So they let you sneak in for a few minutes.

When you enter the room, he’s asleep. He looks peaceful, rested. Different from when you saw him earlier. You’re tempted to touch his face or hold his hand, but you refrain from doing that and check the IV instead.

“I knew I wasn’t hallucinating.” His voice is rough, tired, and laced with sleep. You look at him to see his tired eyes, his gaze soft on you. “Knew it was you…”

Sighing, you offer him a smile. “Just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“I didn’t know you were a nurse.” He smiles at you. It must be the drugs, but the smile is honest, wide. It makes your stomach churn in pleasure.

“You sound disappointed,” You answer, sitting on the chair beside the bed.

“I’m not.” Marcus huffs a laugh and then grimaces, hugging his torso with one arm. You grimace too, touching his arm and pulling it gently from the wound.

“Try not to… touch it.” Your voice is gentle as you place his arm by his side, your fingers brush against his warm skin.

He looks at you and there’s something different in his eyes. A light in them. A flash of the memory of him covered in blood appears in your mind and you have to look away, letting out a deep sigh.

“They told me…” He starts when the silence stretches out. “They told me if a nurse hadn’t stopped the bleeding, I wouldn’t…”

When Marcus trails off, you look back at him and your eyes meet his, holding his gaze surprised.

“Was it you?” He whispers, his fingers twitching, wanting to touch your hand. You nod in silence but don't speak, deciding to leave the details out. “Thank you.”

“Just doing my job,” You say quietly.

“You saved my life.” He insists.

You pause for a moment, holding his gaze before tearing it away from him as you speak.

“You save a life, you’re a hero. You save a hundred, you’re a nurse.”

“Who told you that?” He laughs again.

“It’s just common sense.” You shrug at him, smiling too.

“Well, common sense can go fuck itself.” He watches as you snort a laugh. “You saved my fucking life, and I am grateful.”

The smile you give him is genuine and honest, and it makes you feel like a teenager looking at her school crush. You stare at each other for a moment before you clear your throat and stand up.

“I should go.”

“Will you come by tomorrow?” He asks before you could say anything else. You pause to look at him, feeling your heart skip a beat. You wonder, once again, if it’s because of the drugs and if he’ll change his mind once they’re not in his system anymore. But you nod anyway and tell him you’ll try.

…

Marcus ended up staying at the hospital one more night. You went to visit him after your shift again and told him about your day and he revealed he was an FBI Agent and got shot during a task force. He was as happy to see you as he was the night before. After that, when you arrived at the ward to visit him again, the nurses said he was sent home that morning. You couldn’t stop thinking about him the entire day and the feeling of butterflies in your stomach wouldn’t leave you alone. That night, you knocked on his door to see if he needed anything.

“If I knew, I could have brought you home,” You told him, fidgeting with your keys nervously.

“Don’t worry.” He smiled. “I had my partner pick me up.”

“Oh.” The smile falls from your face and embarrassment takes over you. “I-I didn’t know you had a partner.”

Marcus huffed a laugh and shook his head. “My work partner, I mean.”

“Oh,” You laughed at yourself, feeling your cheeks heating up. “Sorry, I forgot you were a federal agent.”

He laughed with you, but never at you. Eyeing the blush on your cheeks, he thought you were adorable, getting all flustered because of him.

“I wanted to tell you I was home, but I didn’t have your number,” He said, nonchalantly, after a small pause.

“Don’t worry about it, I never use my phone at work anyway.” You shook your head and he raised his brows, nodding at you. Marcus waited for the penny to drop. “D-do you want it? My number…” Before he could answer, you tripped over your words, stuttering to explain. “For-for emergencies, o-of course.”

“I’d love it.” He gave you one of those wide smiles you liked so much.

It’s funny to think about how a gunshot wound made you two get closer. You’ve been checking on him every night for the past three weeks, helping him change the bandage and cleaning the wound. He recovered quickly and was past the point where he needed help, but you didn’t mention it and neither did he. You kept showing up even after he was healed and fine.

You can't deny the tension and the feelings that come to light when you're with him. It's like you're eager to see him everyday, and every minute you're not with him is like torture. You get all happy and excited when your shift ends because you know you'll get to see him. You don't know if he feels the same, that's why you don't dare to breathe a word of it to him.

“I’d like to take you out some time,” He says, pulling you out of your thoughts. You look up from where you’re washing your hands at his kitchen sink and feel your cheeks warm. He smiles at you as he leans on the door frame of his kitchen. “You know,” He says quickly. “To thank you for the help. I happen to know a nice restaurant around the corner…”

Biting a smile down, you reach to turn the faucet off, drying your hands on a dishtowel. “Is it fancy?”

“A little.” He frowns his lips and then shrugs. “Not too much. Don’t wanna go overboard on the first date.”

“Ah, so it’s a date?” You smile at him, watching as he blushes.

“If-if you want to…”

You approach him until you're close enough to feel the warmth of his body. “I’d love to.”

Marcus smiles at you and then clears his throat, looking away from you. He lets out a deep sigh and smiles down at you.

“Are you free tomorrow?” He asks. For a moment his eyes stare at your lips and you suppress a smile.

“Tomorrow?!” You exclaim, raising your eyebrows.

“Or is that too soon?” His eyes shift from soft to worried. “We can go on the weekend–”

“Tomorrow is perfect.” You interrupt him, nodding.

Marcus sighs again and you both stare at each in silence for a moment. Your heart skips a beat when you realize he’s looking at your lips again.

“Is it weird that I want to skip dinner and kiss you right now?” He says, voice low and quiet like you’re not the only person in the room. You feel like your heart is going to burst, hammering inside your chest, your cheeks burning intensely... Marcus realizes he maybe was out of line and starts apologizing. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean– I mean, I did mean, but– fuck, I–”

“It’s not weird.” You laugh. “But… Pay me dinner first, and then maybe you can kiss me.”

Marcus laughs and then nods.

“Deal.”

…

“Hey,” Marcus breathes when you open the door. He takes your form and you feel shy under his gaze. You’re wearing a black glittery bodycon dress that compliments your curves and black heels. “Wow.”

“Too much for a first date?” You playfully grimace at his reaction.

“No, no, no,” He’s quick to respond. “You look… Amazing.”

Biting your lower lips, you nod. “You too.”

Marcus frowns and looks down at his own clothes, a simple black suit. “Really?”

“Yeah,” You say softly, closing the door and locking it.

“But you see me in a suit almost everyday.”

“I know.” Turning your body to face him again, you see the redness on his cheeks and smile widely.

Both of you walk side by side in the streets, since the restaurant is around the corner, just like Marcus said. Your hand brushes occasionally against his and you feel the urge to touch him all of a sudden. Your stomach bubbles with anxiety, the good kind of anxiety that makes you eager for something. There’s a bit of nervousness in your chest as you sit down in front of him, and try to concentrate on the menu.

“So, do you bring all your neighbors here?” You ask, sipping your wine.

“Just the ones that save my life.” He shrugs, a teasing smile on his face. A soft laugh leaves your lips. “Did you always want to be a nurse?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “Since I was a kid. I broke my arm once and ended up in the hospital.” A smile spreads on your face. “There was this nurse in the ER and… She was really kind to me. Ever since I just knew I– wanted to be like her.”

“So, you like helping people?”

“I do.” You pause and smile at him as he looks at you with adoring eyes. Your heart skips a beat. “And you? Did you always want to be a federal agent?”

Marcus lets out a laugh and shakes his head. “It was never in my plans. I actually went to art school.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I was going to be a teacher, but…” He sighs. “Other things got in the way.”

“Other things?” You look at him, curious.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t explain and you don’t press him. “But I’m glad I chose this career.”

“Oh, so you like catching art thieves, huh?”

“Nah, it can get boring pretty quick.” Marcus shrugs, tilting his head. “But it led me to you, so…”

Rolling your eyes, you scoff at him and shake your head.

“Sorry.” He laughs. “Was that too corny?”

“Yes, it was!” You laugh, smiling at him. He laughs with you, taking his glass of wine and bringing it to his lips.

“I haven’t done the date thing in a while, please go easy on me.”

The confession makes you pause and look at him for a moment. “You’re kidding me.”

Marcus lets out a laugh and nods. “Two years.”

“I don’t believe you,” you say, smiling.

“Why not?” His voice is laced with laughter and happiness and it makes you smile even more.

“I mean, you’re so nice and… handsome and,” you try to ignore the heat creeping on your neck. “I’m just surprised you’re not married yet.”

And just like that, Marcus’s smile falls from his face and your heart drops. His demeanor changes and, suddenly, he’s not very receptive anymore. He tries to hide the change of mood but you pick it up fast and sigh quietly.

“Oh, shit.” You mumble, grimacing at him.

“Don’t worry about it.” Marcus laughs softly, giving you a tight smile. “It’s okay.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t worry.” He assures with a soft voice and then hesitates. “Yeah, I, uh– I was married once.” A pause hangs in the air as you nod at him, encouraging him to continue. “A-and then, there was someone, but… She chose someone else.”

You can see the insecurity in his eyes when he looks away, feeling your heart clench at the thought. Marcus is an amazing man, caring and kind, why would someone ever think of leaving him?

“I’m sorry about that,” you tell him, reaching for his hand over the table. His skin is warm and rough under your fingers and you try to ignore the pleasant butterflies in your stomach. “For what’s worth, I think they were fools. No one in their sane mind would–”

Marcus raises his eyebrows when you interrupt yourself, your face on fire. You clear your throat as you start to pull away from him, but he squeezes your hand, stopping you. The rough pads of his fingertips press against your skin and you swear you feel a wave of electricity running through your veins.

“What were you going to say?” He asks softly.

Laughing softly, you hesitate. “I, uh– I just don’t see why s-someone in their sane mind would–” You exhale shakily. “Leave you. You-you just seem like a nice guy, that’s all…”

He gives you a half-smile, mesmerized by you.

“You’re adorable.” He lets it escape and squeezes his eyes shut, mentally cursing himself. You laugh softly, looking away from him and feeling your cheeks warm.

“I’m so–”

“Don’t apologize.” You interrupt, smiling at him. “I kinda like it.”

A smile splits his features and you sigh. When the food arrives, you both eat and talk like you’re old friends. With Marcus, it’s easy to talk and get to know each other. He makes you strangely comfortable, which is something you’ve never felt on a first date. You feel peaceful, despite the initial jitters you felt earlier.

“Not bad for a first date, huh?” He says, once you both are back at your doorstep.

“The best first date, actually,” you tell him, smiling. “I had a great time, Marcus. Thank you.”

"You're welcome," he says softly. He's close to you, his body almost touching yours. His eyes are looking deeply into yours like he knows all of your secrets and you fight the urge to look away. You don't feel shy anymore, growing used to his loving gaze on you.

"Are you gonna kiss me, or what?" You whisper quietly, and Marcus laughs, the sound of it echoing in the hallway.

"Is that okay?" He asks as he leans in, brushing his nose to yours.

"Yeah."

Marcus closes the gap between you two, pressing his lips gently on yours. Butterflies flip in your stomach and your breath gets caught in your throat. Your heart speeds up as you cup his cheek, his beard tickling the palm of your hand. It's soft and sweet and gentle, and it's nothing like you've felt before.

When he pulls away, his lips mere centimeters from yours, he lets out a shaky breath, smiling.

"I want to take you out again," he whispers softly, eyes still closed. "I'd really like to get to know you better."

A soft breath leaves your lips as you let your hand fall to your side. He waits patiently, ready to tell you it's okay to say no, but your answer surprises him.

"I know a nice drive-in theater we could go." You smile when you see the look on his face. "Let me take you."

He nods, brushing his knuckles on your cheeks. "Next Friday?"

You nod. "It's a date, then."

Marcus laughs and shakes his head as you turn around to unlock your door. The butterflies in your stomach give you a pleasant sensation as you enter your apartment, smiling like an idiot.

Maybe Lady Luck is by your side after all.

@goldafterglow @forever-rogue @bestintheparsec @murdermewithbooks @hiscyarika @haildoodles-writing @aerynwrites @yespolkadotkitty @adikaofmandalore @theocatkov

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #pedro pascal x you #the mentalist #myfic #scheduled

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uniarycode · 3 years

Text

Dawn and Dusk

Series: Xros wars/Hunters

Written as part of @digiweek. Day 4, prompt: dark/light

Set shortly after the hunters go to Hong Kong.

Wordcount 2966- a bit heftier than the rest of what I've been posting

Trigger Warning: Suicidal thoughts.

Yuu did not bring many friends home to the Amano penthouse, but whenever he did the reaction was the same: pure, unabashed jealousy.

His parents were obscenely rich, he was wise enough to recognize it was more than just well off. His home was a middle school student's dream: indoor hot tubs, rooms one could reasonably play basketball in, and no parental supervision. Now, out on the balcony, he could look down and see trees the size of Legos, and a view that stretched out to the ocean. Most kids his age could not help but be envious. To Yuu however, only one feature stood out prominently.

Just how empty it was.

That void grew greater in its sheer size. Ceilings twenty feet high only served to underline just how little there was left to fill the silence. The distance between himself and those he could see on the ground, more metaphor than physical.

His recent trip to Hong Kong had only made this emptiness grow. He loved his sister, and while he’d thought himself used to her absence, it now rushed back to him in full force. They had spent years together in this home, and no matter how many corners it had, each and every one of them hid a precious memory between the pair.

His parents were away; his parents had always been away. Working, logging thirty hours every day to ensure that both he and his children’s children would be able to maintain this life of luxury with no effort on their own part.

So devoted were his parents that the very idea of indulging in such opulence like creature comforts or family were beyond them.

It had taken years for Yuu to associate the concept of ‘father’ with the man who bore the title. And in turn, possessed by Harpymon as he was, his father had not recognized him at all. Next to the protective love for his daughter, the son apparently did not matter at all.

Of all things, Yuu had been mistaken for a prospective suitor, which was certainly not something he wanted to unpack.

And that had been the first time he’d seen his father or his sister in months. Only once before in the year since returning from the digital world had he seen them together. He didn’t hate Nene, he couldn’t hate Nene, but even still, having her leave him like this…. Resentment wasn’t the right word. Bitterness was closer but didn’t quite fit. Envy was the most accurate of the bunch.

Yes, he was envious of Nene, for being able to go out there alone and fulfill her dream, while leaving him behind staring into memories of the past.

“You’re just like Nene.” He’d been told many times, from those who thought it a compliment. They were wrong, he’d initially believed they were wrong on both counts.

Yuu was smart, he knew it, even if he tried to be modest. Concepts just fit together to him in ways as naturally as walking. He even struggled to tutor others. The very idea of not understanding something was one of the few things he himself struggled to understand.

Nene was also intelligent, but it was far from natural. Whatever she did, she threw all her effort behind. With her being the eldest and thus the designated heir, failure was not an option, and she took advantage of every resource necessary to outcompete and outlast the others.

There was only one word he could think of to describe Nene at her most focused: Ruthless. There was no doubt about the success of the Amano corporation under her leadership, she would crush everyone she needed to crush and think little of the consequences. Even in her current profession: becoming an idol was merely a test of how far she could push herself, and Yuu sympathized with any who made the error of underestimating her.

But then, Yuu sympathized with everyone. That had been the other difference he’d believed existed between the siblings. From the lowliest ant to the grandest emperor to the most heinous criminals, he couldn’t stand to harm any of them.

Even the girl who would break the rules to try to steal his friends and swore to turn him into her prisoner, he just couldn’t bring himself to do any lasting harm to. He simply told himself if he was kind enough, if he showed how outmatched she was then Airu would eventually come around, or at least get the help she needed.

His parents had learned his bountiful generosity early. They only sent gifts these days, any allowance would immediately and indiscriminately be forwarded to various charities. He had never seen the problem with it; there were millions who needed money more than him.

He had, in childlike fantasy, seen that as the main distinction between himself and his sister. She had been named for dusk, and he for dawn. She had thrived in cut-throat competition, he had blossomed in a world without scarcity. She was the harbinger of darkness and despair, and he would be the one to lead others to the light.

And yet, he had, with these hands, “So easily…”

And she, in all her ruthless determination, had halted him, saved him.

Even if he didn’t deserve to be saved, maybe it had been out of her own selfishness. Why was his life worth any more than those he’d ended, those he’d tortured? Simply because she knew him and had an emotional attachment? But even that was a blemish on her, sticking her neck out for the likes of him. And he’d done it so easily before, with so little prompting. Who was to say he couldn’t do it again? “Wouldn’t it have been better if I wasn’t saved at all?”

He discovered a surprising bonus to just how long the drop off the balcony was.

“No good, No good.” A voice called out from his pocket. “Thoughts like that are no good at all.”

He stilled his breathing and took a step back. Damemon was right of course. There would be no penance found in death. He couldn’t die now, with the hunt on and needing to help with the digiquartz; his death would be only one more burden he was imparting on those around him.

But he needed to be careful. Damemon was no longer the only Digimon in his Xros loader. He had hunted Superstarmon. That was the point of the hunt, to capture all the Digimon, lost in the Digiquartz.

But the simple idea made his stomach turn. Digimon were living beings, with hopes and dreams, they didn’t deserve to be hunted for sport any more than Taiki or Nene did.

He didn’t feel bad about hunting Superstarmon, the Digimon had himself been hunting Taiki. What worried him, what scared him, was how much he had enjoyed the act of hunting. Of manipulating Tagiru and Ryouma into a situation where he could steal all the glory. Of joint-crossing with Taiki, something that he had been the only one of the original Xros Heart generals to never actually do. Of sneaking Tuwarmon in at the end to steal the capture out from the other hunters.

If he found himself enjoying fighting a bit too much, if he found himself taking joy in the pure act of hunting like Tagiru did, or sacrificing morals for his goals like Airu did? Could he? Would he go back to those times? If he would, shouldn’t he do anything it took to prevent it from happening again? Even if….

He shook his head. If nothing else this last year had proven just how wrong he had been; being compared to Nene was a compliment he didn’t deserve.

His empathy prevented him from truly stopping deranged criminals before they hurt more people. His aptitude was a gift born of biology and circumstance, not an accomplishment to be paraded around.

Even now, he was paralyzed by his own darkness, wallowing in it. While she was on stage, inspiring thousands, becoming the light that kept them moving.

Damemon popped out of his Xros loader. “You need to talk these things through, you can’t just keep it all bottled up.” His partner said.

Talk to whom? This was one subject that he couldn’t even breach with Damemon. ‘Sorry I’m so terrible you had to fight for evil and die’ was even more destined for disaster than his current train wreck of thoughts. “It’s no worse than normal.” He said.

“This is normal?” Damemon asked, seeing through him in an instant. “You need a better normal.”

“It’s just.” He exhaled. “I don’t know.”

And he didn’t. This wasn’t the answer on some test, and he was too wise to search his own knowledge of psychology for an answer. There weren’t any therapists that he could confess to without being either dismissed or thrown in the looney bin. “I got spirited away to another world and became a villain.” is the plot of some anime, not real life.

Tagiru wouldn’t understand. Taiki...might, he was at least physically present and could understand the magnitude of it all. And Taiki was the one who had originally broken through his wishful thinking. But Taiki also tended to attempt to shoulder all burdens by himself, even if there was nothing he could do. There was no reason for Taiki to exhaust himself just for Yuu’s sake.

And somehow, he was too embarrassed to share this weakness with his leader.

“I’m telling you it’s no good.”

It took a few seconds for Yuu to realize his partner wasn’t talking to him and had instead taken advantage of his introspection to swipe his phone.

“Hey.” He objected, reaching down to reclaim it. “You can’t just go calling people.”

“Yuu, are you okay?” His sister’s voice called from the other end of the phone “I’m heading over.” She declared.

“No. I mean, yes. I mean, you don’t have to, you can’t-” The line was already dead, he didn’t know how many of his feeble protestations she heard.

The average flight from Hong Kong to Tokyo took over four hours. How Nene left her apartment, procured one, and arrived at his door in less than 2 he didn’t bother to ask. It would have at least required breaking the sound barrier.

But then, barriers had never stopped her before.

“What’s up.” She asked simply

He did his best to muster a scowl. “You didn’t have to come all the way out here; I can take care of myself.”

As was his custom, Damemon destroyed whatever farce Yuu presented. “It’s no good, Yuu’s been having no good thoughts.”

“No good thoughts.” She said quietly, looking between them. “Yuu, you have to understand that wasn’t your fault.”

He quaked but did not respond, her hand reached out to rest on his fist as she repeated herself. “It was not your fault.”

“But it was.” he drew back, “It was my fault. If it hadn’t been for me, then hundreds, thousands, who even knows how many! They all wouldn’t have had to suffer! None of them would have had to die!” he threw his arm out, knocking over some cabinet, a priceless vase colliding to the floor.

Nene seemed unfazed by his outburst, “Bugramon was the one who chose the path of war. You had nothing to do with that, he chose to make them suffer, not you.”

“I chose! I saw them suffering, I saw their pain and I ignored it. No, it’s worse: I enjoyed it! I felt like a god, being able to choose who won and who lost. Using some as pawns to die and keeping others alive for my win.” His voice dropped. “Bugramon didn’t do that. I was the one who did it.”

“That wasn’t your fault either. Darknightmon tricked you. Even I -”

“-Because of me!” he shouted “He used me to enslave, he used me to manipulate you. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have had to stain your perfect hands. -”

“-Perfect?”

“- God I’m such a screwup. You’re the heir, you’re the eldest. Literally no expectations on me except ‘don’t mess things up’ and I turn both of us into mass murders.”

He felt her arms wrap around him, pulling him close. He couldn’t find the strength to break free, so he stayed there, staining her shirt with his tears.

“I am not perfect.” She said “You are not a screwup. And neither of us are mass murders.”

“We, we.” He couldn’t bear to say it. “It doesn’t matter if they came back. I still…” he unleashed another bought of sobs.

“No good, that thinking is no good.” Damemon insisted. “Death is different to us Digimon. It is unpleasant yes, and best to be avoided. But it’s not like humans do. Digimon never completely die.”

“We are not mass murders.” Nene insisted. “That doesn’t make what either of us did okay, but neither of us are truly murders.”

He wasn’t sure he agreed. His fingers curled into fists. “Even if Digimon come back, humans wouldn’t, right? Taiki had to trick the rose to be set free, you couldn’t just kill him and revive him. And he, I almost.” he couldn’t even bear to say it. “…It was so close.”

Yuu felt a bile burn in his throat, remembering just how little effort more he would have needed to snuff a life out completely. “You too Nene. If Minervamon hadn’t hidden in your Xros loader. In that case I would have, and you would have….”

“But you didn’t,” she said, “and you didn’t intend to. There’s no point worrying about what could have happened if it didn’t happen and you never intended for it to happen. I know you would never want to hurt me.”

He shook his head. It was easy enough to say no harm done, but his nightmares disagreed. Whether or not he was intending to kill her, he was certainly intending on putting a blade through her heart. And he almost did.

She took advantage of his silence to score one more point. “And I am far from perfect. I’m not like you, I stumble more than anyone. Grandma did use to say, it took me a year to learn how to walk, you did it on your first try.”

What did that matter? It wasn’t the first attempt anyone remembered, it was the last one.

“But you always stand back up, and right now, I, I don't.” he swallowed. Everything came to him as easily as walking, and yet, “I don’t always know if I should?”

His sister didn’t respond at first. Perhaps even she was caught off guard by his confession. But then, stumping Nene was a feat he dare not have the audacity to claim.

She held him, bringing them to the ground. One hand rubbed his back, up and down, up and down. “You know, if something were to happen to you, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

“You would survive.” He muttered, “You always seem to.”

“In name, maybe, but I wouldn’t enjoy any of it. I can’t see life without you.”

He continued to sniffle. God, he was so pathetic, crying here like a baby. “I’m not worth it-”

“You are!” she insisted. “You are worth it all. If anything, your biggest issue is you don’t know your worth; you’re too selfless, you value everything else above yourself.”

“I-I-I” she pulled him into her shirt more fully, muffling his resistance.

“One of these days I’ll teach you to be selfish like me. Until then, we’ll have to weaponize that selflessness of yours.” She pulled him away and stared him dead in the eye. “I want you to promise me, whenever you feel like you can’t keep going, whenever it feels like too much, you’ll find a way to pull through. For me.”

He took a few deep breaths. “That’s awful selfish of you.”

“I said I’d teach you to be selfish like me. You’re learning from the best.” She said “Promise.”

“I could never break a promise with you.”

They stared at each other for a few more seconds.

She took a deep breath. “I told you I stumble more than anyone. I’ve faced failure after failure. Going to Hong Kong, Father cut me off. I had no money, no connections, I had to start from zero. I thought there was no way I could keep going more times than I could count.

“And when those times come, I think of you. I think about how you’d stop everything, just to give a funeral to a butterfly. I think about how you’d always try to help everyone, even when too young or too small to be of any real use. You are my light, the thing that keeps me going even when immersed in darkness.”

Her hands were now on the side of his face, forcing him to look at her. “Now promise. Promise me that wasn’t all in vain. Promise me that I won’t lose my reason for continuing to push myself. Promise me you’ll keep going, if only for my sake. That’s all it has to be for now.”

Yuu took a deep breath, body shaking as the request percolated through him.

“I promise.”

She smiled, and pulled him close again, suffocating him in her embrace. “And now your first lesson in selfishness: Just let it all out. Don’t worry about me or Damemon or anyone else.”

That night Yuu released a year’s worth of tears.

Note: one etymology for Yuu is twilight, which doesn’t have to mean dawn, but it kind of fits here.

#digimon #digiweek2021 #digimon xros wars #digimon hunters #yuu amano #nene amano #tw: suicidal thoughts #Aka the fic that took over my life for a bit #Yuu needs more hugs

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clanoffetts · 3 years

Text

Like Real People Do, Chapter 2

series summary: Kyra Esson, a pilot trying to forget her past, takes Jango Fett up on an offer. It's supposed to be her last hurrah before she settles down, but she can't seem to leave the bounty hunter, no matter how hard they both try.

word count: 2.2k

warnings/tags: swearing; yearning; slow burn; fluff; uh oh jango catches feelings; eventual smut (but not for awhile); severe misunderstanding of Slave I’s layout

series masterlist (coming soon)

“Good morning, Mandalorian.”

The Mandalorian sits silent and still at the bar in the cantina, and if Kyra didn’t know better she’d think he’d been sat there all night. “Good morning. I trust you’ve made your decision.”

“I have,” Kyra says. “I’ll go.”

The Mandalorian’s helmet turns slightly to look at her. “Very well.” He stands, turning to leave the cantina, trusting Kyra to follow.

“My name is Jango Fett,” he says as soon as the two of them are clear of the early morning (or, more likely, overnight) patrons of the cantina. “Yours?”

“Kyra Esson,” she replies, holding her hand out for him to shake. Jango takes her hand, the leather of his gloves rough and his grip tight. “Good to meet you, Jango Fett.”

All the man does is hum in agreement. “Are you fine with taking my ship?”

Kyra is slightly confused- wouldn’t it make more sense to take hers? But a Mandalorian would know more about bounty hunting than her, and she knows from the stories not to question one. “Yeah, I guess that’s fine.”

“We will leave as soon as you’re ready,” Jango says. “You won’t need food, I have plenty.”

Kyra’s face contorts slightly, her brain littered with questions once again. Which will probably be a normal occurrence with this Jango Fett, she thinks. Kyra grips the straps of her backpack again, mentally checking over what she knows is inside. “I’m ready.”

Jango’s head tilts slightly, but he nods. “You fine walking to my ship?”

“I think you both over and underestimate me, Jango,” she replies. “I can walk to your ship.”

As they make their way through the town, the twin suns still rising, Kyra tries to figure out why she trusts this man. She didn’t the night before, that’s for sure. Her gut wasn’t screaming ‘run!’, and that’s enough for her to follow this armored man to his ship in the middle of nowhere.

You can handle yourself, Kyra reassures herself. You’ve got your blaster and your blade, and you can outsmart him if you need to. Kyra doesn’t believe that, not really, not when she looks at the broad man ahead of her. And, Maker, is he broad, the armor adding to his muscles, but armor can only do so much. Kyra tries to scold herself, she knows not to think of co-workers that way, but this man…

No, she tells herself, averting her gaze down into the sand. He’s just a mirage in my desert, nothing more. Kyra laughs a little at herself, Maker, I’ve got to get laid.

Jango’s ship was far from the outskirts of the settlement, and Kyra can’t quite figure out why. The ship is nothing special, no one would want to steal it, not even in these parts, and he obviously had enough credits to utilize the hangar in town. The passenger compartment was small compared to that of Kyra’s ship, and the cockpit was even smaller. She lugged herself and her pack up into the cockpit after Jango.

“Bunk’s back there,” he says, taking a seat at the controls. “That’s where you’ll sleep.”

“And you?”

“Here,” he says with nonchalance, flipping switches and pushing buttons until lights flash and the ship groans.

Kyra shakes her head. “I’m not taking your bed from you, I’ll be comfortable in a chair.”

“No, you will take the cot,” he insists. “It isn't about your comfort.”

“Fine,” Kyra huffs. She pushes past Jango in the pilot’s seat, leading herself up to the “bedroom”.

The bed is much like the rest of the ship- torn-up, creaky, and not much to look at. The quilt that sits atop the thin mattress is almost in tatters, the fabric strained and the batting pushing out at the seams; the pillow isn’t much better. A far cry from Kyra’s room on her own ship, but it’s not the worst place she’s slept, and certainly not the worst ship she’s spent her time on.

“To your liking, princess?” Jango’s voice over her shoulder makes her jump, but he just chuckles. It’s a deep, rumbling sound, slightly distorted by the mechanics of his helmet. “Is it?”

“Fit for a queen,” she replies. Kyra drops her pack onto the bed, and pushes back past Jango. Her shoulder collides with his armored one, and the man doesn’t budge. And, kriff, it kind of hurts. She’d heard stories of beskar but, goddamn, it can’t be that strong.

Kyra sits in the copilot’s seat with her arms crossed over her chest, eyes flicking to Jango who takes his place in the pilot’s chair. She wants to get comfortable, take off her boots, take out her braids, and drag that sad quilt from the bunk into the cockpit to watch the stars. It’s the only thing that’ll take her mind off not being the pilot, off of not being in control, but she can’t , she’s stuck sitting stiff in the seat in her uncomfortable, sand and sweat covered clothes from the trek this weird man dragged her on. How Jango sat there, looking somewhat comfortable in thick canvas and armor after walking across a Tatooinian town, Kyra couldn’t figure out.

“Taking off in three, two…” Jango’s voice is monotone as he fiddles with switches and presses at buttons until the ship groans and lifts off the sand.

The swirl of sand is beautiful, kicking against the windows of the ship until it rises out of reach, but Kyra’s heart quickens when she can’t see out of the windows. Kyra’s hands have to keep themselves busy on the armrests throughout the take off, as if she was sitting in the pilot’s chair of her ship, in control of everything. Of course Jango has it under control, you can’t fly a ship like this and survive if you don’t, but with every shutter throughout the take-off process, Kyra’s skin turns impossibly whiter as she grips at the metal of the chair.

“Nervous, girl?”

How the fuck did he notice? Kyra swears that visor hasn’t done anything but face dead forward since the takeoff sequence was initiated. “I don’t know you, Fett,” she says. “For all I know, you could fly like a Coruscanti.”

“That an insult?”

“One of the worst on Pamarthe.” Jango just hums.

The ship leaves the atmosphere as smooth as it can and Jango readies for the jump to hyperspace. “You strapped in, girl?”

“Yeah.”

“Jumping in three, two, one.” The stars that surround the ship shift into brilliant streaks of light, before churning together into the throws of hyperspace.

“It’ll be two standard days,” he tells her, checking over the systems a final time before finally sitting back in his seat.. “I know,” Kyra responds, it’s her homeworld, after all. “You have a shower? The sand’s a bitch.”

“Through there,” he points down a passageway. “But I’m using it first.” Kyra rolls her eyes, and Jango catches it. “This is my ship, girl, don’t forget that.”

“Never,” Kyra responds. “Then I’ll be in the alcove you call a room.”

“You’re not too great at the whole insult thing,” he calls as he climbs down the ladder. “I thought they were ruthless on Pamarthe.”

Kyra stands there, the gears in her brain desperately trying to conjure something that wouldn’t be heard on a primary school playground, and failing miserably. “Shut up,” she mutters, making her way back to the bunk.

A shower shouldn’t take that long. But here she was, surrounded by her cleaned and polished weapons and her pack that had been reorganized on the bed she’d fixed to her liking. And that man was still in the kriffing shower.

“All yours, girl,” he calls up the ladder, finally. “Not much hot water left, though. Sorry about that.”

“I’m sure you are,” Kyra groans, lowering herself and her comfortable clothes down the ladder from the cockpit. Sitting in the space below is Jango Fett, in almost all his glory. He’s missing the armor now, clad only in a pair of sweatpants. Here she was thinking Mandalorians were conservative.

It’s dim in this part of the ship, but as Jango sits at a workbench, hunched over a rifle, she can make out a few large scars set into the tan skin of his back, one in a perfect line parallel to his spine. His damp curly hair decorates his head and a little down his thick neck, and probably even further down his chest, she thinks, and he’s obviously quite toned from the fighting that landed him in his scars. Kyra’s eyes snap away from him quickly, and she continues into the ‘fresher. I’ve got to get laid, she tells herself again. Bad.

The fresher is as small and dingy as the rest of the compartments of the ship. There’s a towel and cloth folded nicely on the counter in what she hopes was a gesture for her because, if not, then too bad.

The water isn’t hot, not in the slightest, as Kyra quickly runs some of the scentless soap through her hair and down her body. The least this rich man parading as a poor man could do is let her borrow some soap for her freezing cold shower.

Kyra steps into the legs of her sweatpants, securing the drawstring at her hips and then pulls her shirt over her head.

“Pamarthe didn’t do so well,” Jango comments, as she walks out of the ‘fresher. He’s wearing a plain black long sleeve shirt now, and reclining against his workbench.

“Huh?”

He nods at her shirt. “Oh,” Kyra says, realizing the shirt is that of the Pamarthen limmie team, the promo shirts from last year’s Galactic Cup. “Yeah, I don’t care much for limmie.”

“Limmie? You mean bolo-ball?”

“No,” she laughs. “I mean limmie. Mandalorian boy is secretly a Core-worlder?”

He shakes his head, finally cracking a smile. “Just what my father called it. People back home made fun of me, too.”

He’s handsome when he smiles, a far cry from the stern features of his resting face, Kyra notices. She smiles back, just happy to have established some kind of rapport. “I don’t really keep up with the game. The shirts are nice, though, and when your team sucks, the shirts are cheap.”

Jango gives a hearty laugh at that, and nods. “I can imagine.”

“Really? I thought Mandalore was pretty good at limmie.”

His smile dims a little at the mention of the planet Kyra thought to be his home. “Yeah, I guess. I’m not from Mandalore, though.”

“No? I thought, well, the armor kind of screams ‘I'm from Mandalore’. ”

He smiles a little. “I’m from the sector. But not from Mandalore, no,” he explains. “They don’t teach Mandalorian history on Pamarthe?” he jokes.

“Wouldn’t be of any use,” Kyra responds. “We’d have slept through that class, too.”

Kyra leans against the wall near the ‘fresher door and immediately wishes she hadn’t. It was an uncomfortable position, but she didn’t want to shift, she wanted to look smooth for some reason. It really wasn’t working.

“Not a bunch of scholars on Pamarthe?” His tone is jovial, but his features aren’t, he’s back to serious.

Kyra chuckles a bit, trying to draw out the joking man she’d only just met a few minutes ago. “Only when it comes to ships.”

“Should’ve figured,” he replies, and it seems as though the joker is no longer, he’s back to just Jango. He then turns on his heel to face the bench, back to work on his rifle before Kyra could even process what he said.

Just when I thought we were getting along, she thinks. No matter, she climbs up the ladder and walks through the cockpit, stopping to focus on the blue of space for just a moment.

Back by her bunk, she hangs her clothes up to air out from earlier, and flops down onto the bed. Her body, now that it has a break, seems to cry out from the strain of wading through sand and then carrying her up and down that Maker-forsaken ladder on the ship.

The front-side pocket of her pack holds painkillers, and Kyra opens the container, popping the little pill into her mouth and swallowing it dry. The pillow she lays her head back down on is thin, Jango must have to fold it in half every night to even feel it underneath him. The cot isn’t much better, if she lay on her side she could feel springs dig into the meat of her hip, but if she lay on her back she was forced to stare at the cobwebs that didn’t seem to bother Jango Fett.

Not a lot seemed to bother Jango, but a lot about Jango bothered Kyra. She didn’t want to be rude, but damn she was nosy. Why strike up conversation to just turn around and act like nothing happened? Why insist she sleep on this stupid cot if not for her comfort? Just why, period?

Kyra sits up now, digging her datapad from her backpack and setting it up on her stomach, and presses play on a holovid romance about a Jedi and a shopkeeper to drown out the sounds of Jango sanding something down in the hold below.

#jango fett x oc

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yarart4ever · 3 years

Text

y'all I just watch LoA: A Thousand and Twenty Questions and... I actually... like it??

like for once, Tigress isn't being shit on and is actually being respected. she wasn't being a pushover like in other episodes, she actually single-handedly defeated Dao Dai, and we are given a whole new prospective on her. the episode is actually funny and a really great character study on one of the most complex characters. I'll admit, when I saw that she was being her usual bitchy-noncanon self, I was immediately worried that this was going to be another flop.

but then... something caught me off guard...

my favorite scene is definitely with Master Yow and Tigress, and how they played with the "curiousity killed the cat" quote. it was a very interesting interaction that I did not expect. but it was what Master Yow says about Tigress that surprised me...

T:"I keep telling everyone I don't have any questions!"

Y:"of course you do! 'is Master Shifu proud of me?' 'am I performing the dipping pheonix twist kick correctly?' 'why am I so angry so often?'... perhaps you will answer me a question. why do you refuse to ask what you wish to know?"

yeah no, I'm not joking. these were actual lines! and what surprised me the most is that all of us fans have been suspecting that for so long, yet until now we have never heard it come from any of the characters mouths. I can count on one hand the amount of times the series has discussed Master Shifu and Tigress' father-daughter relationship, and I'm guessing even the creators are wondering why Tigress seems to be the way she is in the show, but that has never been talked about. and judging by Tigress' questions spoken by Master Yow, you can only imagine the kind of verbal (and maybe even physical) abuse Tigress must've put herself through to be the best for her master.

another thing that caught me off guard was her flashback to when she was at the orphanage, and she's actually asking pretty decent questions for a literal child, yet she's barraded by her peers and caregivers at the orphanage, and it's so sad! I thought, knowing LoA Tigress, she's going to snap and yell out this personal reason, but instead, the pain in her expression as she keeps it to herself, was enough to tell us how she really feels. Master Yow even said, "the stoic Master Tigress displaying total and utter vulnerability. a rare and precious wonder indeed!" (well it won't be after kfp2-) and that was such great thing to hear coming from the actual character's mouth other than us pandom folks.

like it is literally canon! Tigress has trauma and anxiety! and the creators finally have balls to not shit on her and actually give her that arc in the episode! we stan!

also, here's little things I've noticed that I also loved in the episode:

~the way Tigress puts others needs before her own, as she does in the canon movies. she's constantly worrying about her friends while she's trying to find a new wonder for Master Yow so she could ask how to save her friends. and even when Yow caught her at her vulnerable point, she doesn't let that stop her from doing her job, as she immediately asks "how do I stop Dao Dai's machine?" not only that, but from the very moment she realised the villagers wanted to harm Master Yow, despite not being much of a fan, she immediately defended him and protected him the whole time like she's a body guard and it's actually sweet.

~okay moving besides from Tigress, there's this one line where Mantis describes Master Yow as Shifu's 'man crush' and it is literally the funniest thing! anyone want a bi-sexual Shifu? XD

~I'm sorry, my TiPo heart seems to not have an off button in a scene with Yow and Tigress, after Yow asks "why do you refuse to ask what you wish to know" we all know Tigress was going to say something, but immediately shushes herself and goes into defence mode after hearing Po's scream. the worry in her voice as she calls his name and the way her tail swishes while she tries to find him is so cute- agh! girlfriend goals! we stan again! (also idk if Tigress just said "stay out of sight, I'll be back after I rescue HIM" or "THEM".... either way imma go with 'him' lol)

~the final scene after Tigress defeats Dao Dai, everyone gathers around the box and opens the door, and Tigress is immediately met with a "well done, Tigress!" and a proud smile from Master Shifu, Po completely fanboying over how awesome her 'box-fu' or 'kung-tainer' was, and the rest of the furious five smiling at her with pride too. I like this a lot because though Tigress has her own doubts about herself, she finally sees that the people she cares about are proud of her and are always going to stand right by her side. it's just, so amazing, and I love it so much! true family goals right here.

there was no point to this post, I just wanted to share my thoughts lol. I totally recommend A Thousand and Twenty Questions. maybe I'm hyping it more than I have, or maybe the LoA fans think I've underestimated the show's potential, idk, but these were just points I have noticed.

#kung fu panda #kfp #tigress x po #tigress #master yow #legends of awesomeness #kfp: loa #kung fu panda: legends of awesomeness

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sanktnikolais · 3 years

Text

Weather The Storm

A/N: Second piece from the three-year gap series (my house of stone, your ivy grows) of the trilogy and King of Scars lashkljhas another argument bc they have the trope of reluctant allies to lovers pining idiots and I want to explore that more ohoho

have this mess

Word count: 1996

Zoya's boots crunched in the snow as she tore through the crowd of bustling soldiers in the camp. She ignored the curious stares she got from the First Army men, her mind focused on one thing that was driving her feet faster.

The King is an utter fool.

She grit her teeth as another wave of annoyance hit her, threatening to make her lash out at anyone around. If it weren't for the hushed chatter of a few Grisha from the other side of camp, she wouldn't have known that he was here.

Didn't you hear? The King came along with the First Army to lead the attack in the left flank.

We would have lost the bigger part of the boundary if it weren’t for their surprise attack.

He wouldn't have been recognized if his disguise hadn't faded.

It was actually a good cover, but I would have recognized the redheads among our men.

Her jaw twitched, the wind picking up around her. She breathed deeply and calmed her powers. But the coldness only became worse. Annoyance had already clouded her reason. The wound in her right arm stung, and she was sure it had opened again, but she didn’t bother checking on it.

Zoya should have known he would pull off something like this. If she had, she would have chained him up in his chambers and locked him in there. She figured she had underestimated his stubbornness.

Ahead, the biggest tent that she recognized as the makeshift infirmary loomed, with people coming in and out restlessly. A small part of her worried that the King could be one of the wounded inside, but her irritation told her there was no way he would be there if he just hadn't come. That idiot.

She was almost by the tent flap when a familiar figure emerged from the inside.

"Well, isn't it the Commander?" Tamar was smiling brightly as she approached Zoya, completely unaware of her inner turmoil. Behind her, Tolya came out from the tent as well. They were unharmed, at least, and Zoya felt relieved at that. But unlike his sister, Tolya’s face looked grim at the sight of Zoya.

She appreciated the tall man's ability to read facial expressions.

"I still can't believe—"

"Where is he?" Zoya cut her off, voice low.

Tamar went silent for a moment. Then she sighed, her smile fading. "He insisted," she said, shaking her head. “I would have locked him up if he hadn’t become all too authoritative.”

“Then you should’ve tried harder!” Zoya’s voice rose. Some of the soldiers stopped to listen, and she fought the urge to berate them about being nosy and to mind their own damned business. “Do you realize the danger you let him walk into?”

“Woah, Commander.” Tamar straightened, her sharp eyes narrowing as if she had been challenged to a duel. “Just because you go against him doesn’t mean I would too.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Unlike you, I am loyal to the throne. You could—”

Tamar stopped abruptly, and Zoya’s anger flared. The winds howled atto her will. “Go on. I dare you,” she said. Thunder cracked in the sky despite the snow, making Tamar flinch slightly though she immediately regained composure and set a hand on one of her axes. Zoya knew she would regret this later, so she tried to calm herself down. But something inside her had been ticked, and the rage just overwhelmed everything. “Go on. I could what?”

It was then Tolya stepped forward and got in between them, his towering form almost intimidating Zoya. Almost. “Alright, that’s enough, you two,” he said, his deep voice more gentle than she had expected. He looked at her, then turned to his sister. “Let’s not do this now, or ever, if you may. We’ve all had a rough fortnight, and besides, we have a victory to celebrate.”

A tense silence washed over them, neither of them wanting to back down just yet. But Tolya's words seemed to get to them because their stances slacked, Tamar letting go of her axes and Zoya willed the wind to calm down around them.

The people around them were still watching, so she sent a glare to their way that had them scurrying back to whatever it was they were doing. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Not the time to lose control.

"Where is he?" she asked again. Her voice was much gentler this time, though it took all she could to make it sound like that.

Tolya inclined his head to the side. "There, by the edge of camp near the cliff," he replied. “He went there just now.”

Zoya turned to the direction he was pertaining to. True enough, she could make out a small figure through the still falling snow.

"Let me guess, he wanted to be alone this time?" she said, tone a bit mocking. The King was out in the open, and he didn't even care about the worst case scenario. "Out there in the open? Good saints."

She didn’t let them say anything else as she stomped over her king. The title sounded funny to her, with the way he was acting. He definitely had to live up to his name if he wanted the people to trust him. Or if he wanted her to trust him.

Lantsov was in a First Army soldier’s uniform, the olive drab looking black against the weather. The golden double eagle on his shoulder indicated an officer’s—a Major—rank, and Zoya was left wondering how he had gotten such a high place in the military despite being young.

He was near now, and if he noticed her, he didn’t acknowledge her presence. Zoya was already ready to call him out had he not moved and buried his rifle in the snow in front of him, its stock pointed upwards. She stopped in her tracks. Her eyebrows furrowed as she watched him take off his helmet and put in on the gun, along with a bunch of tags he was holding. There was a long silence, nothing but the sound of the wind could be heard. His head bowed, letting his hand linger on his helmet, and then he was standing straight again, the poise and stance of a well-respected leader.

She eyed him for another moment, noticing the slump on his shoulders as he clutched at the tags on the helmet, and she was left wondering who owned them. Were they his friends? Mere soldiers he wanted to grieve for? The questions lingered in her mind, but she didn’t voice them out.

Another beat passed, and then he trained his eyes forward. “Come to give me an earful, haven’t you, Nazyalensky?” he said, a rueful smile on his lips. If it were some other time, Zoya would have sympathized with him. But now she was just angry. “Worry not, I think I deserve it, anyway.”

Zoya almost laughed. “I am indeed glad you know your mistake, Your Highness,” she said. She considered her next words, but she couldn’t find a way to make it lighter. “You should not have been here.”

Lantsov huffed incredulously, as if he were insulted. “And what, my dear Squaller? Sit back pretty on my throne and watch as my men give their life to the country I have sworn to protect?”

“As much as I hate to break it to you and your ego,” she said, “it is the only way for you to be able to protect Ravka.” She stepped closer to him to emphasize her point. “You have to live.”

“I don’t think watching your people do things for you could be called living.”

“You fool,” Zoya said through gritted teeth. “You’re missing the entire point. You’re the king. If you died in battle, who would have replaced you? Some distant relative who had no care to the throne? A pretender? The Triumvirate?” She shook her head in disbelief. “You’ve chosen us to steer this forsaken country alongside you, so don’t try to make any more reckless decisions that would lead to the nation’s and your own demise.”

Lantsov became silent, a flash of hurt passing over to his face. It was gone in a blink, and Zoya questioned herself if she had just imagined it. His expression became stoic, the usual one he gave when he was wearing the mask of the monarch again, instead of a boy that had too much on his shoulders.

“Sometimes I wonder if you knew how it felt like losing people close to you to this country,” he said. His eyes were hard, grief-stricken, and she realized that he had been through wars too, just like her and countless others. “Maybe then you would realize why I am willing to put my life on the line.”

“We all lost people. And don’t you dare tell me that I do not know how it felt like,” she said. Her aunt’s kind smile flashed before her eyes. She blinked the image away. It wasn’t the right time to grieve, but the pain of losing her rekindled in her chest. “Because I do.” She paused, mustering up her strength to speak. “The only difference is that I don’t let grief consume the logical part of my mind.”

She expected Lantsov to get angry, or leave, or even remove her from her post. But he just smiled ruefully. “No,” he said. “The only difference is that I am a royal and I am not permitted to die. Even if I wanted to save them, I couldn’t. But you could.”

Zoya stilled. The words hit like knives to her heart, and suddenly she was fifteen again, crossing the Fold on her own in hopes to see her aunt again. But she never got to her in time.

She tried to shove the memories away, but it kept flooding. Her aunt and her niece weren’t just the ones who perished in the war barely a year ago. Sergei, mutilated by the Darkling’s nichevo’ya. Harshaw, struck by a bullet to the chest. Fedyor, thrown from the roof of the Little Palace and down to the waiting monsters. Marie. Paja. And countless others. Friends and companions, lying dead in the pool of blood in the hall they had been staying before the attack happened.

She had seen the Second Army on the brink of annihilation. He was aware she had been through the same war, and yet he still asked her if she knew how it felt losing people?

Her eyes stung, fists clenched. Her hands twitched at her sides, ready to summon the winds and even lightning to her will if it meant making her point to the king. But she chose not to. It would only make things worse.

Zoya breathed deeply, letting her anger pass before she spoke again. She hated this. She hated herself. But above all, she hated him because he was right.

She knew to herself she wouldn't have sat back too, waiting until her people made a difference. No, she would be with them and fight alongside them, and try to see the change with her own eyes.

But she wasn't the leader of Ravka, and she never would be. So she would do everything she could to protect its king, even from him himself and his own foolishness.

She straightened then, slipping her own stoical mask on her face. “That may have been the difference, Your Highness, but I am not the one who chose your fate. It was you alone, and you would stand up to it.” She started to turn, wanting nothing more than to get away from him. “And your fate is to live. For Ravka.”

With that, Zoya left the king standing on his own in the cold, the weight of her own words heavy on her shoulders. But she locked them away and continued on. She only did what she knew was right.

For Ravka.

#zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #tamar kir bataar #tolya yul bataar #king of scars #my writing #hMMM #zoya being quite temperamental in the start aslfj;la #MORE TENSION #bc i love reluctant allies to lovers ohohoho #zoya canonically said she didn't trust him at first #let's take advantage of that #no softs until the seventh piece i think #HJALSFH #it's just them being insufferable and rough with each other #stay tuned #will write the next one asap ;-;

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teenwolffanclub-me · 4 years

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Season 1, Episode 7: Night School (Part Two)

Hey there beautiful reader! If you’re new here, this is a series I’m writing where each chapter is an episode from the first season of Teen Wolf. If you’ve been here before, hey! I missed you! Previous and future chapters are linked at the end of each part if you want to catch up.

Pairing: Stiles x Psychic! Reader (eventually)

Notes: Okay, this one is a lot too. I may have gotten a bit carried away, but so much happens in this episode! And it’s my favorite!

P.S. Jackson manages to be more suspect than the alpha, Allison needs a chill pill ASAP, and Derek is wanted for murder

———————

“Why did you come? What are you doing here?”

Scott rushed the words out the second he laid eyes on Allison. She looked between the three of us, her gaze pausing over my underdressed state, before staring at him in bewilderment.

“Because you asked me to...” She held up her phone as proof, pointing to a text that was very much from him telling her to come here.

Scott’s eyes widened in shock and he snatched the phone out of her hands. She reeled back, surprised.

“I didn’t send this.” His voice was hard as he scrolled through their messages.

“What? What’s going on? Who sent it then?” Her eyes continued flickering between us, searching for answers.

The phone stated ringing in Scott’s hands and she took it back quickly. She glanced at the caller I.D, huffed out a breath of relief, and put it up to her ear.

“Where are you?” She immediately demanded.

Just then, Lydia and Jackson came striding through the lobby doors. They both seemed annoyed to be here, but at least Jackson didn’t look like he was actively dying anymore.

“Finally.” Lydia sighed, raising her eyebrows at us expectantly. “Can we go now?”

Before any of us could respond, there was a loud thud in the ceiling above us. The tiles started creaking as slow footsteps stomped around. We all froze. My heart instantly began racing again at the thought of the alpha so close.

“Run!” Scott yelled at the same moment it came crashing to the floor beside us.

He grabbed Allison’s hand and they took off, the rest of us not far behind. The alpha growled and barked as it chased us down the hall, which was honestly surprising. I never imagined werewolves barking.

I struggled to steady my breathing as we made our way down the hall and into the cafeteria. Scott slammed the doors before locking the deadbolts into the floor. Instantly, everyone started freaking out.

“Help me get these in front of the doors!” Scott was trying to use a table to baracade us inside.

“What was that? Scott? What was that?” Allison shrieked, tugging her hands through her hair.

“Was it in the ceiling?” Lydia added, throwing her arms up in confusion.

“Wait. Not in here.” I heard Stiles mutter, and I wasn’t sure if he was even talking to us or just himself.

“The chairs! Stack the chairs!” Scott was rushing around frantically, not even bothering to check if anyone was actually listening to him.

“Guys, can we just wait a second? You guys, listen to me!” Stiles raised his voice, annoyed that he was being ignored.

Jackson, Lydia, and Allison sprang forward and started grabbing anything they could to add weight to the table. I just wrapped my arms around myself and watched, worried about the level of noise they were all making.

“Guys? Stiles talking. Can we hang on one second please? Hello!” I jumped in surprise at his unexpected shout, and turned my attention his way.

Everyone else whipped around to face him expectantly, ditching their effort at the doors.

“Okay. Nice work. Really beautiful job, everyone. Now...what should we do about the twenty foot wall of windows?” He gestured toward the aforementioned windows with a jerk of his arms.

I cringed, knowing he had a point. The alpha was in the school with us now, but that didn’t mean it would stay that way. It had already proven its intelligence by trapping us with the dumpsters. I wasn’t about to make the mistake of underestimating it again.

“Can somebody please explain to me what’s going on here? Because I am totally freaking out and I would like to know why.” Allison’s voice shook as she tried desperately to fight back tears. She tugged at Scott’s arm and called his name when he avoided her pleading eyes.

Alright. Come on. This is when you tell her.

He pulled himself free and stalked over to a nearby table before letting his elbows rest on it and pinching the bridge of his nose. Allison threw her hands up in exasperation and her gaze moved to me in question. I gave her a one shouldered shrug, not knowing what else to do.

How the hell would we get out of this without telling them everything? A few moments of tense silence passed and I huffed in frustration. If he wasn’t going to do it, I would. I was beyond done with the secrets and the lies. I opened my mouth, about to spill the beans, when Stiles interrupted me.

“Somebody killed the janitor.” He sent me a pointed look and took a few steps toward where Allison, Lydia, and Jackson stood in a line.

I clenched my jaw and tightened the sides of his jacket around my torso. They were going to find out eventually. It would be much better if it came directly from the source.

“What?” Lydia looked terrified by that news, her emerald eyes widening in horror.

“Yeah. He’s dead.” He confirmed with a surprising lack of emotion, glancing around the room to gauge everyone’s reaction. I blame his weird fascination with his dad’s line of work. He’d seen way too much even before the supernatural was involved.

I’d somehow almost forgotten that had happened, and the reminder brought the seriousness of our situation crashing back down onto me. Someone was dead because of the alpha. And now we were stuck, bound to be next any minute.

“What’s he talking about?” Allison forced out a pained laugh and looked to Scott. “Is this a joke?”

“Wha—who killed him?” Jackson spoke up for the first time, not sounding completely convinced.

“No, no, no, no.” Lydia’s eyes welled with tears as she started breathing erratically. “This was supposed to be over. The—the mountain lion...”

“Don’t you get it?” Jackson interrupted harshly. “There was no mountain lion.”

“Who was it? What does he want? What’s happening?” Allison demanded, her voice hard.

I chewed on my bottom lip nervously, feeling like we were quickly losing control of this situation. Keeping them in the dark was making things so much worse right now.

“Scott!” She snapped when he didn’t respond, and he finally spun around to face us.

“I-I don’t know. I just—if we go out there, he’s gonna kill us.” His voice wavered on the lie and he barely raised his eyes from the floor.

“Kill us?” Lydia asked pointedly, crossing her arms over her chest with a pop of her hip.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Leave it to her to think she’d be exempt from a psychotic murderer.

“Who? Who is it?” Allison was nearing a complete panic attack at this point.

I was ready to end this whole thing and face the stupid consequences later, when he finally spoke up. He shook his head and pinched his eyes shut tightly with a sigh.

“It’s Derek.” He muttered, avoiding both mine and Stiles’ stunned expressions. “Derek Hale.”

What the hell was he doing? Derek is dead. And, not to meantion, pretty much the only person we know for sure isn’t the alpha. He must’ve lost his damn mind.

“Derek killed the janitor...?” Jackson narrowed his eyes at Scott skeptically.

Yeah, you’re onto something buddy. Maybe for the first time ever.

“Yes. He killed them. All of them.” He rushed the words out, still refusing to look at anyone.

My jaw clenched tightly. Why couldn’t we just tell them the truth? Would it really be that bad? They were already majorly freaked out. Might as well hit them with the supernatural shit too.

“But the mountain lion...” Lydia tried to reason.

“No. It’s been Derek the whole time. Starting with his own sister—”

“And the bus driver?” Allison was visibily calmer now that she had an answer, but her voice still shook with fear.

“And the guy at the video store. He’s in here with us, and—and if we don’t get out now...”

He finally raised his gaze to look around the room. His eyes were shining with several intense emotions including fear, anxiety, and guilt. He should feel bad. He just threw a dead man under the bus, and lied to his girlfriend in the process. It wasn’t going to end well on either account.

He let out a heavy sigh and carefully considered his next words before speaking. “He’s gonna kill us too.”

A moment of silence passed before Jackson scoffed in annoyance. “Call the cops.”

I had to agree that it seemed like the most logical choice at this point. I’m not sure what they’d be able to do, but they at least had more resources than any of us.

“No.” Stiles said immediately, shaking his head for good measure.

“What do you mean, no?” Jackson furrowed his eyebrows in disbelief.

“I mean no. What, do you wanna hear it in Spanish? No.” Stiles threw his hands down to his sides in frustration. “Look, Derek killed three people. We don’t know what he’s armed with.”

For some reason, his willingness to go along with Scott’s lie really bothered me. He was by far the most loyal person I’d ever met, so it wasn’t surprising, but it still didn’t sit well with me. Sometimes it was hard to distinguish the truth with them, and that made me nervous.

“Your dad is armed with an entire sheriff’s department. Call him!” Jackson raised his voice, his anger spiking at Stiles’ apparent hesitation to do anything helpful.

He had a point. I knew the last thing Stiles wanted to do was involve his dad in any of this stuff, but there came a time when we needed adults to step in. I’d say this was one of those moments.

“I’m calling.” Lydia pulled out her phone and began pacing away from their bickering.

“No! Lydia. Would you just hold on a second?” Stiles moved toward her, one arm outstretched, until Jackson stepped between them and shoved him away harshly.

“Hey!” Scott rushed to Stiles side, who just narrowed his eyes angrily.

Oh, God. The last thing we needed right now was a fight. They shouldn’t even be arguing about this, either. I didn’t care what it was, we just needed to do something—anything—to try and get out of here safely.

“Yes, we’re at Beacon Hills High School. We’re trapped and we need you to—but...” Lydia lowered her phone from her ear slowly in disbelief. “She hung up on me.”

“The police hung up on you?” Confusion seeped through my voice as I stepped toward her. Why would they do that?

Her eyes snapped up to mine, her bottom lip quivering. “She said they got a tip saying that there would be prank calls about the high school. She said if I called again, she’d trace the call and have me arrested.”

“Okay, so call again!” Allison cried from behind her, growing frantic again.

“No, they won’t trace a cell.” Stiles mumbled. “They’ll send a car to your house before anyone comes here.”

Once again, I was surprised at his level of knowledge about police procedures. Just how much had his dad let him in on?

“What the—what is this? Why does Derek want to kill us? Why is he killing anyone?” A stray tear escaped Allison’s eyes as they jumped around the room, hoping anyone could answer her questions.

They were all valid, and I felt terrible that she was so freaked out. Although, I had a feeling that knowing a werewolf was actually the one chasing us wouldn’t help to put her mind at ease. I wanted nothing more than to tell her the truth. What’s the worst that could happen, anyway?

“Why is everyone looking at me like that?” Scott asked upon noticing that all the attention was on him.

“Is he the one that sent her the text?” Lydia rushed the words out quickly, her eyes wide with fear.

“I don’t know.” Scott muttered through clenched teeth.

I wasn’t sure why they thought he’d have all the answers. I mean, he did have some kind of connection to the alpha, but they didn’t know that. To them, he should be as clueless as the rest of us.

“Was he the one that called the police?” Allison threw her hands up in exasperation as she desperately tried to piece any of this together.

“I don’t know!” Scott snapped, the sudden anger in his face immediately disappearing as he saw the way Allison recoiled from him.

Okay, this conversation was going nowhere, and fast. I grabbed ahold of Scott’s elbow and dragged him across the room as Lydia wrapped a comforting arm around Allison. Tensions were incredibly high right now, and everyone needed to chill the fuck out and stop fighting if we wanted to survive this.

“Okay, first of all.” I whispered with a raise of my eyebrows as Stiles quickly joined us. “Throwing Derek under the bus? Nice one.”

“I-I didn’t know what to say. I had to say something!” He tugged a hand through his hair as he tried to calm his breathing. “And if he’s dead, it doesn’t matter, right? Except if he’s not. Oh, God. I totally just bit her head off.”

He tried to sneak a glance at Allison over my shoulder but stopped when Stiles clasped a hand on his bicep. “And she’ll totally get over it. Bigger issues at hand right now. Like how do we get out of here alive?”

“But we are alive.” I cut in, voicing something that had been bothering me this whole time. “It could’ve killed us already. It’s like it’s...cornering us or something.”

“So, what? It wants to eat us all at the same time?” I glowered at Stiles for suggesting that ridiculous theory and he shrugged.

“No!” Scott whispered harshly. “Derek said it wants revenge.”

“Against who?” I couldn’t help but wonder which one of us could’ve somehow wronged the thing this badly.

“Okay, assheads!” I jumped as Jackson suddenly yelled and strode toward us with a scowl. “New plan. Stiles calls his useless dad and tells him to send someone with a gun and decent aim. We good with that?”

God, what was his problem with Sheriff Stilinski? He’d made so many comments about him recently. At this point, it was getting weird. Everyone looked to be in agreement, though, which wasn’t good for Stiles.

“He’s right.” Scott said, surprising both of us. “Tell him the truth if you have to. Just...call him.”

“I’m not watching my dad get eaten alive.” He insisted harshly with a twitch of his eyes.

“At this point, the alternative is that we get eaten alive.” I hissed, annoyed with all of this back and forth. We just needed to do something.

“Alright, give me the phone—” Jackson lunged forward, ready to call the sheriff himself.

I let out a yelp as Stiles reared back before landing a punch square on his jaw. Allison immediately rushed to his side as he fell to the floor, clutching his face. Scott put a hand on Stiles’ chest to hold him back, but he looked pretty satisfied with the damage he’d done.

I didn’t miss the way Jackson smirked to himself, seemingly getting exactly what he wanted. I realized at that moment that he’d been trying to provoke Stiles to this breaking point the whole night, and he’d finally succeeded. But why?

I’d never seen Stiles so much as kill a bug, let alone punch someone in the face. His dad was a really sore subject, apparently. He huffed out an irritated breath and begrudgingly yanked his phone from his pocket. Our gazes locked as the call went to his dad’s voicemail, his honey eyes shining with fear as he left a hasty message.

We all jumped as the cafeteria doors started rattling violently. Allison and Lydia ran over to where we stood, hiding behind Scott and Jackson. My eyes grew wide as I watched the large bolts bending in the floor from the force the alpha was using to try and get in.

“The kitchen.” Stiles pocketed his phone and strode over to my side. “The door in the kitchen leads to the stairwell.”

“Which only goes up.” I reminded him, my attention still locked on the doors. They wouldn't be able to hold back for much longer.

“Up is better than here.”

With that, we all took off running again. We stumbled up the stairs and into a random unlocked classroom, falling silent as we waited to see if the alpha had followed. Allison stood with her back against the wall just beside the door, Lydia and Jackson huddled close in front of her. Me and the guys stood on the other side of the doorway.

I tried to steady my breathing as I watched the hallway closely through the small window in the door. Scott leaned toward it, trying to listen for footsteps, until Stiles fisted his jacket and jerked him back. A shadow moved across the glass, everyone visibly relaxing once it was gone.

“Jackson.” Scott whispered. “How many can you fit in your car?”

“Five, if someone squeezes on someone’s lap.” He breathed, bracing his hands against the table behind him.

“Five?” Allison snapped incredulously. “I barely fit in the back.”

“It doesn't matter.” I shook my head solemnly. “There’s no way we’re getting out without drawing attention.”

Now that we were on the second floor, our chances of escape had dwindled to almost none. There were no exits up here. We couldn't jump from any windows without getting seriously hurt. There really weren't many options.

“What about this?” Scott suddenly jogged toward a door in the corner of the room, and we all followed. “This leads to the roof. We can go down the fire escape to the parking lot in, like, seconds.”

“That’s a deadbolt.” Stiles snarked and pointed to the spot that held the door firmly locked.

I rolled my eyes at his attitude. Scott was only trying to help. Now was not the time for his signature sarcasm.

“The janitor has a key.” Scott looked hopeful at the realization.

“You mean his body has it.” I corrected, my stomach twisting painfully at the memory that someone had died right in front of us tonight.

So much had happened since then. I hadn't even begun to process it.

“I can get it. I can find him by scent, from the blood.” He leaned toward us as his voice dropped on the last sentence.

“Well, gee. That sounds like an incredibly terrible idea. What else ya got?” Stiles quipped.

I had to agree. While using the fire escape was probably our only hope at this point, going out there with the alpha was not a smart move. According to Derek, Scott is the one it wants. What’s to say it wouldn't just kill or take him on sight?

“I’m getting the key.” He insisted, his face tightening with determination.

He pushed past us, heading straight for the door, until Allison stepped in his way. “Are you serious?” Her eyes welled with fresh tears and she looked up at him desperately.

“It’s the best plan.” He tried to reassure her, but she just shook her head in disbelief.

I mean, it was a dumb plan. But Scott could handle himself. He’s a werewolf. Someone had to do something already. I was about to go out there myself if we didn’t get a move on.

“You can’t go out there unarmed.” She tried to reason with him, but his mind was already made up.

He looked around before pulling out a flimsy pointer finger on a stick. I tried my best to hold in a snort at the thought of him defending himself with that. Everyone just stared at him, and he shrugged.

“It’s better than nothing.”

“There’s gotta be something else.” Stiles said hopefully.

It was obvious that he didn’t want Scott going out there, either. I wouldn't say I was thrilled about it, but I knew that someone was going to have to make a sacrifice to get us out. He was the most obvious choice, plus he was willing. Who were we to stop him?

“There is.” Lydia glanced toward a cabinet filled with chemicals in various sized beakers behind me. I hadn't even realized we were in one of the chemistry labs. “In there is everything you need to make a self-igniting Molotov cocktail.”

“Well, we don't have a key for that either.” I pointed out, turning around to inspect it. It didn’t exactly solve our problem.

Jackson rolled his eyes with a huff and reluctantly stepped toward the glass case. With a scowl, he used his elbow to easily smash it to pieces.

Well, there’s one way to do it.

————————

It had been nearly ten minutes, and there were no signs of Scott or the alpha. The five of us had barely spoken, simultaneously processing this insane situation and being too afraid to make any noise. The air between us was thick with tension.

Allison had gone into full freak out mode when Scott left. She’d tearfully begged him not to leave, but he obviously didn’t listen. I understood her fear for his safety, but she had to know that it was our only hope. I had every bit of confidence in him. He would be able to get us out of this.

Suddenly, an earthshattering growl echoed through the school. The floors beneath our feet shook with the sheer volume of it. Lydia winced and covered her ears as if the sound pained her. I glanced at Stiles, silently asking whether Scott could make that kind of sound. I’d heard him howl earlier, and it had been impressive, but it was nowhere near whatever the hell that was.

I staggered back a step as Jackson unexpectedly fell onto his knees in front of me with a groan. He scratched at the back of his neck and began breathing heavily. Lydia and I grabbed each of his arms and hauled him back onto his feet as he continued wincing and moaning. He shoved us away, and I stumbled over my own feet.

“Don’t. I’m fine.” He turned to face us, still rubbing at the spot where I knew Derek’s claws had dug into his skin not long ago. “Seriously, I’m okay.”

“That didn’t even look remotely okay.” I huffed, concerned.

I mean, what the hell was that?

“Hey, what’s on the back of your neck?” Stiles peered over Jackson’s shoulder and stretched an arm out toward him.

He swatted it away and avoided all of our eyes. There was no way that was normal. Why would he react that way to the alpha’s growl? It didn’t make any sense.

“Well? It’s been there for days and you won’t tell me what happened.” Lydia crossed her arms skeptically. Clearly, it had been bothering her.

“As if you actually care.” He barked harshly, and she looked away, tears glistening in her eyes.

I was just about to lay into him for how not cool talking to her like that was, when police sirens sounded from outside. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief and ran toward the windows, before looking down to confirm that help was actually here.

For the first time tonight, I felt myself relax. We were going to be okay.

————————

I pulled the sides of Stiles’ jacket tighter around myself, shivering against the frigid night air. My eyes were locked on him and Scott as they talked to the Sheriff. He was called away, and they continued whispering nervously. I would’ve preferred to be right there, listening, but Stiles said he’d drive me home. So here I stood, leaning against his Jeep. Waiting. Freezing to death.

I let my eyes follow them as they walked over toward an ambulance that Scott’s boss was sitting inside of. I had to admit, his mysterious disappearance—and subsequent revival—was insanely suspicious. I wasn't entirely convinced that he was the alpha, but he wasn't exactly in the clear, either.

After briefly talking to him, Scott and Stiles went their separate ways. Scott joined Allison, who had already told Lydia and I that she was going to break up with him. She was doubting pretty much everything about him after tonight, and I couldn't really blame her. He was keeping a huge part of himself secret, and it was pretty obvious at this point. I didn’t envy him having to figure a way out of that one.

“You could've gotten in.” I jumped at the sound of Stiles’ voice next to me, but forced myself to relax as he popped open the passenger door for me.

I climbed inside, buckling my seatbelt just as he slid into the seat beside me. My house was only a few minutes away, and I already felt my anxiety rising at the thought of sleeping there by myself after everything that had just happened. Mom was working the night shift again.

My fingers began trembling in my lap as the weight of tonight’s events came crashing down onto my shoulders.

I felt Stiles’ eyes on me, but kept my head down. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I sighed. It wasn't technically a lie. I was still breathing, and that counted for something. “I’m just not really looking forward to being home alone tonight.”

I felt heat crawl up my neck as I continued to avoid his curious gaze. I don't know what had compelled me to admit that. There was no reason for me to share that with him. I’d be fine.

I finally looked at him as the car jerked to the left so quickly I nearly fell out of my seat.

“What are you doing?” I balanced myself on the dashboard as we made a full 180 degree turn.

“You’re staying over.” He’d said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I gaped at him, shocked that he would even suggest it. The last time we did that... “Stiles—”

“It’s okay.” He interrupted hastily, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “My dad won’t care.”

“Stiles...” I let myself trail off that time, not sure what I wanted to say.

I didn’t want to be alone, and the last time we slept in the same bed, I’d had the best night of sleep since moving. It wasn't a bad idea per se, but...I don't even know. It was Stiles. And he made me nervous.

“Look. It’s really for my benefit. I mean, that was terrifying.” He let out a sigh, trying to make that sound believable.

“Nice try.” I scoffed, shifting back in my seat now that we were driving straight again. “You’re so not afraid of anything.”

He glanced at me briefly. “What makes you say that?”

“It’s true?” I finally looked at him again, studying the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed. I took a moment to admire the view I had of his profile. The yellow lighting of the street lamps outside beautifully highlighted the freckles that dotted his skin, and pulled out the natural orangey tint of his eyes.

“You’ve had all this supernatural stuff thrown on you, and you’ve just accepted it like it’s no big deal. You’re always jumping at the chance to help, even though you’re human, and you’re usually the one who figures things out first. None of that strikes me as someone who’s easily scared.”

He looked at me with a small smile, his eyes trailing over my face appreciatively, and I felt my own lips tugging upward in return.

About ten minutes later, I was following him into his bedroom. It was much cleaner than I expected. It was small, nothing more than a bed with a plaid comforter—of course—a couple of bedside tables with a small lamp, and a desk. He shut the door behind us, and we stood there for a moment awkwardly.

I wasn't sure if I should sit on his bed or the plush chair in front of the desk. He was still by the entrance, one hand on the doorknob while the other rubbed at the back of his head. I made my choice and walked over to the bed.

I plopped down, tucking one of my legs beneath myself while the other dangled off the edge of his mattress. I let my toes brush against the cool hardwood floors as I watched him consider his options.

After some hesitation, he moved to join me on the bed. He sat about a foot away, and I was simultaneously disappointed and grateful for that little bit of distance between us. He played with his fingers in his lap and avoided my eyes.

“We could’ve died tonight.” I breathed, mostly wanting to break the silence but also just beginning to process everything.

He looked up at me tenderly and reached a tentative hand forward to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “But we didn’t.”

“Don’t you find that weird?” My skin erupted with heat as he let the tips of his fingers linger on my neck. “I mean, the alpha had so many opportunities to kill us and it just...didn’t. It was almost like it was playing with us or something.”

I could practically see the gears turning behind his eyes as he studied me for a moment. He parted his lips, and it looked like he was going to say something before thinking better of it. “We should get some sleep.”

“Or...we could do something else.” I rushed the words out before I could let any doubt creep in. His gaze quickly flickered to my mouth as I chewed on my bottom lip nervously.

“Something else?” His voice was barely above a whisper as his eyes moved back to mine.

“It’s just...” I swallowed, trying to gain the courage to say what had been swirling around in the back of my mind all night. “Our first kiss was at school. While being chased by a psychotic werewolf...”

“Yeah.” He breathed, chuckling quietly. “That’s not really how I imagined it.”

I blinked a few times, only just then noticing that we’d been moving closer together this whole time. “We could try again?”

There were only a few inches separating us now. Stiles’ eyelashes fluttered as he leaned forward and connected our lips gently. He tilted his head, slanting his mouth against mine, and I couldn’t help but arch into him as my eyes slid shut. The kiss was timid, just a bunch of barely there caresses as we slowly got more comfortable with each other.

We both pulled away fractionally, our noses still barely touching. I let out a shuddering breath as my anxiety slowly melted away. This was really happening.

“Was that better?” He murmured against me, his warm breath fanning my skin.

“Much.” My hands found the sides of his face and I pulled him back to me, locking our lips together again.

My mouth parted against his as one of his arms snuck around my back to bring me into his chest. His hands trembled against me and I felt my lips tug upward into a small smile, reassured that he was nervous too. I let my fingers trail toward the back of his head and tugged him impossibly closer.

A soft gasp escaped me as one of his hands squeezed at my hip before dragging me on top of him. With my legs on either side of his, I suddenly realized how quickly this was moving and pulled away. My eyes fluttered open just in time to see Stiles pout with a hum of disapproval. He leaned forward to capture my lips again, but froze at the sound of his door being thrown open.

“Oh, dear God. Son, really?”

I scrambled off of him as my eyes landed on his father. He was still wearing his uniform, so he must’ve just gotten back. I smoothed down my clothes and crossed my legs, trying to make myself look more presentable.

“Um. It’s not—uh...what it looks like?” I cringed at that sorry attempt at defusing the situation, and cleared my throat.

“Mr. Stilinski.” I greeted, hoping the twitch of my lips looked more like a smile than a pained grimace.

His eyes narrowed at me before moving to Stiles, who was stiff as a board beside me. “Call me Sheriff. And get to bed.”

With that, he was gone just as suddenly as he’d appeared. I let out a sigh, deflating with exhaustion. I had been through way too much for one day. We shared a quick glance before Stiles turned off the lights.

We crawled beneath his comforter and followed his dad—I mean, the Sheriff’s—advice. Once again, I quickly fell into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

Episode 7, Part One Episode 8

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timextoxhajima · 4 years

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HOSTIS, Chapter XX: Epilogue (FINAL)

BONUS TRACK - BRYAN ADAMS AND SARAH MCLACHLAN, DON’T LET GO

Previous Chapter (XIX: Rosa)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz)

Genre (by chapter): drama, fluff

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

“i won’t let go.”

the first day you met lee hyunjae, he was dubbed one of the cutest boys in school.

dark hair that draped over his forehead, fringe slightly in the way of his eyes which were bright, intelligent, scheming.

girls in the school would swoon over his smile, the way he was so laid back with his friends, not to mention that brain he’s got stored up in his skull.

if you calculated the duration of ten years, counting from the day you first met him, it would’ve been 3650 days.

then the day came that both of you tied for highest score in class in a quiz, and lee hyunjae thought that you, a girl, wouldn’t kick up a fuss when he scribbles all over your worksheet with zero remorse.

but lee hyunjae underestimates you and he watches in seething anger while you throw his stationery out the window and yank on his hair.

it was from that day forth, the both of you were known as ‘ares and ares’.

standing on stage with him barely five feet away was both degrading and prideful. scoring the highest possible scores in the national exam was a feat not many has achieved, yet having lee hyunjae accomplishing this alongside you leaves a bitter taste on your tongue.

they don’t release marks for national exams, so maybe, just maybe, had you gotten a few more marks higher than him, you’d beat him out.

at this point of time, four years of fighting was enough to drill the desire to defeat lee hyunjae right through you. a large, gaping hole in your chest where your heart was supposed to be, replaced by a block that dispenses irresistible hatred for him.

then the prince you never knew you needed entered your life. he was tall, gorgeous, kind, though soft-spoken and sometimes a little dense, a little unwilling, but he cares, and it was enough for you.

younghoon was your route for escape on days you wanted to stop fighting with lee hyunjae. you lost count the number of times you felt like you were drinking the words off your textbooks and notes like alcohol for the sole sake of winning. winning a game nearly impossible to win.

who were you and who were you doing this for? maybe it was your parents, the fact that you came from a long line of medical practitioners.

you didn’t want to disappoint anybody, no.

but would you have gone so far if lee hyunjae was lazy? if he was unmotivated? if he didn’t contain the same fiery need to beat you at this game that had no end?

you will come to realise that his undying need to destroy you is as vehement as yours, maybe even stronger, you may never find out. and this realisation comes in the form of your chemicals sputtering out across the lab table, garnering you the one and only F grade you will ever have in your life.

but in the days that you enjoy seeing him smile, and having his hands on your cheeks with his lips on yours to tell you he loves you, you will find out that there was more mistake in your own hands than he put in place for you.

he didn’t make many changes to your experiment set up besides dilute just one of your chemicals.

if you did the math correctly, you were the one who poured twice as much sodium chloride into the experiment than needed, causing the rampant spitting of gut-wrenching scented chemicals all over the desk.

he was happy to see that he has pissed you off, but you remember the photo someone took of him when he was in a club, pressing his lips onto another girl despite the whole school knowing he was dating minhee.

but in the seconds you wished could last longer when he was making love to you, there will always be that pang of guilt in the back of your head eating you away, no matter how many times he said he has forgiven you.

the girl in the picture was a friend he met in the club while with his friends from another school. lee juyeon, was it?

she had been dumped mercilessly by her jackass boyfriend and hyunjae was simply being a kind soul so as to chat her up, make sure she was sober enough to go home.

of course, granted he was speaking the truth when he said this to you.

the alcohol must’ve taken control of her nerves, her thoughts, her muscles, and the girl’s want for affection drove her forwards, crashing her lips onto hyunjae.

he was stunned, he was in shock, and he doesn’t recover fast enough for him to remove himself from her, giving your friend adequate seconds to snap a picture and send it to you.

“lee hyunjae is cheating on choi minhee.”

hatred becomes infinite, and he hates you even more when you show minhee the picture after he barely ruined your experiment.

losing minhee was comparable to ares stealing his sun, his moon, his stars.

he decided he would steal yours too.

but in the eyes that he uses to steal your love and your affection for him, you will find out that he feels terrible for investing time and effort into editing and posting that picture online.

the four years abroad gives you time to think, gives you space to be your own winner, gives you enough to feel like yourself again.

that you were studying medicine because you wanted to help people. you wanted to save lives.

you wanted to be someone’s light, for you’ve spent the last seven years being someone’s death match.

so it would never be enough for when you were dumped back into the same space as hyunjae again after ten years.

you’ve run one gigantic round, only to end up in the same spot.

he is taller now, physically larger. his hair is dark brown compared to his black hair when you first met him at thirteen. he is cockier, more arrogant, more confident.

he has that signature smirk on his face you’ve spent days plotting some kind of strategic idea to remove.

but he is as beautiful as a rival could ever come, you will just never admit it until he confesses his love for you first.

for the first time in four years, you speak to him without driving your forearm into his neck and shoving him into a locker somewhere. the urge to stick a pen up his nose was jumping around inside you like a ping pong ball on a table, but you hold yourself together, bracing yourself for another painful, torturous period of your life.

but time will tell you that despite spending so much time hating him and staying a safe distance away from him, you will grow to need him in your life. he is your driving force; he is your push to excel in life.

then that kiss happened. all because he couldn’t shut his mouth. he snaps you into two like a twig after you remove his report. he makes you beg and apologise about something you don’t regret doing, because you know he would do the same.

he makes you watch how much your body was enjoying it, against your will. in all your years, there has not been a single soul who could break you.

but he did, and he will remain the only person who can break you.

then that intern came along despite the markings on your neck, despite the lack of balance your legs could offer you.

eric was the sun after an eclipse. he was the rainbow after a storm, and he was the water you drink after a run.

eric is who you wanted.

eric lips taste like a strange mixture of beer and blueberries, and he smells like the beach.

how nice would it be to dig your toes into the sand, let the sun kiss your skin into a shade of honey, and listen to eric talk about why he loved doing what he’s doing?

but phtonos, the god of jealousy, will puppeteer hyunjae like a wooden doll, to remind you that he is the only one who can make you suffer a crack in your hardened, protective skin, where your hatred and intense emotions will spew out like blood from a cut.

you should’ve known that there has been a shift in your dynamics, a shift that was immeasurable.

not just because it was huge, but because it no longer involved who wanted to win. because it now involved the matters of the heart, the mind and the soul.

you were feeling it when he has his hand on your thighs infront of eric.

‘kitten’ becomes his spell for you. he who has you wrapped around his finger like a ring, not because he made you one, but because you chose to let him claim you.

it should’ve been more obvious, given that the both of you were qualified, supposedly intelligent people.

but it’s not.

not until you fall for all his little moves and gestures. the way he knows how attracted you are to his physique, the way his muscles shift under his skin and the way you love to feast your eyes on his build.

it becomes dangerously glaring to you that your relationship with hyunjae was getting more complicated by the second. when you have him buried inside you and you use eric to push him over his edge. when he rams into you the way you will never know how eric would.

when you wake up in his bed the next morning and he’s right there next to you.

but it was like the universe was telling you to wake up and see your reality, and they send a reminder in the form of an old flame your way.

younghoon reminds you that the person you want isn’t the person you need, and you refuse to accept that they aren’t the same person.

younghoon also tells you he still loves you, but that doesn’t leave a mark on your heart, not the same way it would when you would ditch eric and run off into someone else’s arms.

but you would have to endure days of loss. it’s the feeling in your bones when you lose a loved one, it’s the feeling in your gut when you remember how younghoon broke up with you. he was not yours, and you were not his, so why did it hurt so much? why did it hurt to watch him hurt, and you didn’t know why?

there wasn’t enough gratitude in the world you could hold in your hands and pour it all over eric when you chose to leave him, your sun, for hyunjae, your toxic motivation.

that hug eric provides you reminds you that people cannot function without other people. it reminds you that you have a tumor in your heart you couldn’t diagnose. it reminds you that you can have the cure, and it was a choice of whether you wanted to embrace it, or save your pride and let it grow.

“i love you” was the last thing you’d ever expect to say to lee hyunjae, much less say it while he is kissing you, while he has his arms wrapped around you, while he is saying the exact same thing with tears rolling over his lower lids.

choi minhee becomes a reminder that you don’t want anybody else involved between the two of you. mrs kang becomes a reminder that he loves you in ways he hates it, and the best part of it was that you knew exactly how he felt.

seeing his mother for the first time in ten years puts a look of pleasant surprise on her face.

but her kind soul will impart the knowledge to the both of you that both families were just waiting for this to happen. it was just a matter of time.

eric’s last day has ended, and the friendship you have forged with him becomes so important, you could not be anymore grateful that the kiss at the party happened.

had you not found out how eric would’ve tasted like, every other block of domino wouldn’t have tipped over the same way it eventually did.

hyunjae has eric wrapped in his arms and eric’s cheeks turn red at the lack of oxygen in his system.

“uh-- hyung-- i can’t--”

“oh, sorry!”

eric clears his throat and adjusts his collar. you just had dinner with hyunjae and eric, and now you were standing before the building eric was residing in, with hyunjae’s car parked right opposite the road.

“if i didn’t know better, i’d think you’re still mad at me for almost taking y/n from you.”

a light giggle runs across your lips and you raise a brow at eric.

“ten points for wit, eric.”

hyunjae rolls his eyes and wraps his arm around your shoulder.

“i would say i am... but it doesn’t matter. she’s here now, and she’s mine, not yours.”

eric raises both his palms up into the air, surrendering. he breaks out into small chuckles when hyunjae gives him a gentle punch to his shoulder.

then hyunjae releases you and holds out his hand, inviting eric to take it and they do one of those bro-hugs or shoulder bumps only guys would do.

“thank you, eric.”

but the strength of your friendship with eric will be proven unbreakable when he calls you up every month, inviting both you and hyunjae to a meal where you were supposed to eat with him on your date with him.

it is one year later that time comes hand in hand with your profession to teach you the value of life, for one of your patients flatlines in the middle of the night.

you were safely wrapped in hyunjae’s arms, souls wandering in each other’s hearts.

doctor choi said it was unnecessary, but both you and hyunjae still run off to the car under the bright moon where wolves would be running and owls hooting, dressed in nothing more besides shirts and pants when you meet the elder doctor in the ward.

mrs kang passed away in her sleep at 3.48am.

it was her birthday.

watching hyunjae break into a million pieces without physically resigning to his tears crushes you.

you couldn’t help the one or two tears that managed to escape your eyes, and you were ready to bawl once you got back home, or to his place.

but hyunjae breaks down in the car without even starting it up. it’s horrible that it comforts you to know that he cries more over the death of someone than you, but nonetheless, he bares his soul to you, and you embrace it like it was a thin sheet of glass waiting to shatter in the wind.

life and time is relentless because it doesn’t stop for anybody. by the time mrs kang’s body was cremated and her ashes scattered into the ocean, there was already someone else in that bed, in need of your care.

hyunjae bounces back to reality within a week. though you know his heart was still hurting, you remember he was a professional, and professional doctors try never to let their feelings take hold of their work.

the both of you make it a point to sit by the shore of the waters they scattered mrs kang’s ashes in every now and then.

she must be so happy that the advice she gave hyunjae was true, that love will always find a way.

so you are choking in denial when you find yourself in the hallways of the school you first met hyunjae in, where you yanked on his hair and he scribbled all over your worksheets.

you were both invited back to the school to talk about pursuing medicine as a career, and the principal (who was no longer the greasy old man) lets the both of you roam about the compound.

“oh, wow,” you peer out the windows of the classroom where you threw his stationery out eleven years ago. “i wonder if anybody actually found your--”

you were turned around, ready to tease hyunjae for being the childish kid he was, only to see him on one knee just feet away from you.

“pens...”

his eyes don’t leave yours while his hands fumble in his blazer, and he pulls out a red velvet box with the brand name engraved into it on the top.

“i can only hope that one year has been enough for you to hate me a little less, because i know you still do. it’s the same for me.”

“but i know enough that i love you more than i hate you. you are stronger than i ever thought you were, you are smarter than i assume you are, and you are kinder than people expect doctors to be.”

the box opens, and the ring inside forces tears into your eyes. your heart is thumping against your chest and your hands fly up to your face to cover your mouth and nose.

“i’m sorry that i’ve given you so much pain and resentment, and i wish i could’ve earned your love without doing whatever i did. it is the last thing i want to see... seeing you hurt.”

“and i promise you that you’ll never have to hurt ever again. well -- if you get butthurt over my possible promotion--”

“hyunjae!”

“okay, okay,” he laughs and his smile was so bright, it finally pushes tears over your lower lids.

“i wish mrs kang was here to see this. to see that she was right.”

“we’ll fight everyday if it means you’ll fall more in love with me. because that’s what happened last year, and i didn’t know it. now i know i do, and i love you a little more every time you get upset when i win you in a game or everytime you rub it in my face when i lose. it means that you are worthy of being one half of ares, and now i want you to be my half of an ares.”

“so marry me, and don’t ever let go. i don’t know where i will find this -- you -- anywhere else.”

it feels like the sun was pouring itself all over you when the words run through your nerves and lay themselves all over you like a warm blanket. it feels like flowers blooming in spring after winter.

it feels like love.

it really does.

“will you marry me?”

the nod shakes your head first, and more tears billow out down your cheeks.

“yes, yes... yes, yes.”

hyunjae’s eyes were light and loving when he removes the ring from the box and slides it up your finger. your hands were trembling in his when he stands up, and you pull his face into yours to kiss him.

every puzzle piece in your life falls into place. that was such a cliche thought, but you now know what it really means to be half of a whole.

all this while, you were one of two, so becoming half of one feels more intimate. it tastes sweet on your tongue and it feels warm on your body.

he is smiling when he pulls away, fingers stroking your cheek so gently like he was afraid to break you.

you laugh under your breath while you close your fist, feeling the ring around your finger and letting the reality set into your existence.

then you look up into his eyes and you see not stars, but fire in them. and you decide that fire was all you needed.

your arms wrap around his neck this time, already pulling him in towards your lips while his arms snake around your waist.

“i won’t let go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ END ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@vxstarlightxv asked to be tagged so i did :”) she is the author of 17.5 in case you guys didn’t know.

A/N: i am SAD this is over. like... it feels weird to know that i don’t have to wake up and worry about how to fuck these two up even more as if they already aren’t fucked up on their own kdsjdksd.

this has been my first e2l fic i think, and it was such a ride. i’m not a fan of the e2l trope because i found it unrealistic, so when i started out on hostis, i had to make a conscious effort to make sure it is believable, that their dynamics is buyable, and that their story isn’t cringey or shallow.

i’ll best be honest i am sad this isn’t an eric fic ujfsod, #teameric :(

anyway, personally i hate BOTH y/n and hyunjae. but their dynamics definitely get more endearing after their confession (“but dana what’s the fun of that??”) yes i know i’m boring welps.

it has been such a crazy ride with hostis, i have headaches every now and then writing for these two fktards bec they are so ANNOYING but i’m SOOOO grateful that you guys love them so much :”)

once again, i thank you all for finding joy and comfort in reading my work. it will ALWAYS mean alot for a writer to have readers.

with this, we come to the end of hostis, and may you find your very own dr. hyunjae ;)

i’ll see you soon with a juyeon one shot :”) lets all die together cause ik i will LMAO

- love, dana

#hyunjae #lee hyunjae #the boyz hyunjae #the boyz lee hyunjae #the boyz #hyunjae fic #timetohajima #timetohajima hostis

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stxphxn-strange · 4 years

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what? a beautiful wedding? pt. 4

a/n: wow, this is the last part! thank you for all your support on this little series, i’ve had such fun writing these💓 you know the drill by now, we’re following this au and part 1, part 2, and part 3 are linked!

In a disorderly clump, the entire friend group as well as various other family members and friends (of both brides) walked to the outdoor venue. Stephen looked around the garden with wonder, drawing on the back of Anthony’s hand with his thumb.

“This is pretty,” he murmured, simultaneously thinking aloud and talking to Anthony. “I think an outdoor wedding would be nice, weather and seasonal allergies permitting.”

Anthony nodded. “Can you imagine you’re about to say ‘I do’ and you sneeze because the pollen count is too high? I’m sure it’s happened to somebody before.”

“Good thing Christine is a med student and has the foresight to take allergy medicine, and Hope is somehow lucky enough not to have allergies,” Stephen replied.

The couple took their seats, continuing to hold hands as they waited for the ceremony to begin.

“I think an outdoor wedding would be nice,” Anthony said. “My mother used to say that she imagined my wedding in her rose garden.”

Stephen didn’t miss the fact that Anthony’s voice dropped at the mention of his mother. “Natasha’s wedding wasn’t there, was it?”

“No, she always dreamed of getting married in Paris, like we know she did. But Mom was always proud of her roses, and she always hoped one of us would get married there,” Anthony explained.

Stephen saved this information for a later date, wrapping an arm around Anthony as his face fell. Stephen kissed him softly, trying to prevent him from spiraling into old and upsetting memories. He didn’t want to see the love of his life upset, especially when he felt somewhat responsible.

“I’m fine,” Anthony murmured, leaning slightly against Stephen. His words said one thing, but his body language (looking around somewhat nervously, playing with his sunglasses in his hand) said another.

“I’m sorry,” Stephen whispered. “I love you.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong!” Anthony assured him. “And I love you too.”

Stephen kissed him again. “Why didn’t Natasha come today, by the way?”

“Hope didn’t invite her. Not to be meanspirited, or anything, but they’ve never met.

“That’s a little weird, given that she’s your half-sister, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know if Natasha would have come if she got invited, honestly,” Anthony replied. “She really never liked being around this many people. Even still, she wanted to show support and her way of doing that is through gestures.”

“So is yours,” Stephen said with a smirk.

“Yes, but Natasha is much more lowkey about everything than I am. In fact I think she’d agree with you that islands are weird wedding gifts,” Anthony said. “How else are you supposed to tell people you love them, if not with a grand gesture?”

Stephen’s heart clenched. “You know you’re far too precious for this world, it’s really unfair. I’m lucky you’re mine.”

“Feeling possessive, are we?” Anthony asked, giving Stephen a little, good-natured shove.

“Not really, just introspective,” Stephen replied, as his phone began to buzz. “Oh wait, drama in the groupchat.”

The seat switch occurred just before as the organist announced the arrival of the brides. The brides and their bridesmaids would be walking down the aisle in two parallel lines, tailed by Hope’s niece as the flower girl. Christine’s father, ordained specifically for this day, was the officiant (while Hope’s father would emcee the reception) waiting at the end of the aisle. It was a beautiful arrangement, and the entire group was happy to see both of their friends radiant and glowing in the afternoon sunlight.

Even Pepper, from her place behind Christine, had a peaceful smile on her face. Peaceful was the perfect word to describe her, as it seemed she had found a way to make amends with her feelings. She was even the first one to toss a bouquet in the air when Christine and Hope shared their first kiss, and wasn’t that nice?

++++

“I always underestimate how loud you can actually be,” Stephen teased, wrapping his arms around Anthony.

“I’m not being that loud!” Anthony was indignant, despite the fact that he was practically shouting. “It’s just important that you can hear me over the music!”

“I can hear you fine, and beyond that I’m listening to you,” Stephen replied. “So talk, you have my attention.”

Anthony was interrupted by Sam, forcing himself behind the couple. “What are you doing?”

“Hiding! Didn’t you see the texts? Bucky is after me with the confetti cannon!” Sam said. “I need you to cover me.”

Anthony smiled wickedly, continuing to hold onto Stephen even as he faced Sam. “Fine, but I need a favor from you. See Rhodey and T’challa flirting over there? I need you to run past them, leading Bucky behind you while he’s chasing you, and somehow knock them into a corner.”

“Fine I’ll do it, just hide me for a minute!” Sam pleaded.

He continued to stand behind them, periodically looking around for Bucky.

“Why would anyone hide behind you? Even with this startling amount of hair gel, you’re tiny,” Stephen teased Anthony.

“Uncalled for, on so many levels!” Anthony replied. “It’s not that much hair gel! Besides, you try dancing the night away while maintaining immaculate hair.”

“I don’t need to try, I’ve perfected it,” Stephen quipped.

“Where’s Sam? Has anyone seen Sam?” Bucky had the confetti cannon slung over his shoulder like a bag, his hands forming a makeshift megaphone as he dramatically searched for his boyfriend.

“I’m making a run for it!” Sam yelled, sprinting to the left.

Bucky appeared as quickly as Sam had sprinted away. “Where did he go?”

Anthony simply pointed to the left, returning his attention to Stephen. “Have I told you how nice you look today?”

“I wouldn’t mind hearing it again,” Stephen replied. His mind drifted back to earlier in the day, to lazy kisses being traded as they prepared to leave for the wedding. It felt like it was days ago when Anthony grabbed Stephen’s shirt collar and kissed him in their closet. Even though Anthony generally preferred hugs, he never shied away from an opportunity to kiss Stephen.

He knew he was grinning like an idiot when Anthony caressed his face and whispered, “You look great, Steph.”

“That’s high praise coming from you,” Stephen preened at Anthony’s words, leaning in to kiss him.

“Hmm, and you do love my praise, don’t you?” Anthony whispered against his lips.

“I love all of you, if you don’t already know that,” Stephen said.

“I love you too,” Anthony murmured, leaning in for another kiss as someone clinked a glass.

“May I have everyone’s attention please?” Carol asked. “Wow, lots of PDA here tonight, huh? Anyway, it’s come to my attention that some of you want to toast to the happy couple, and since dinner is about to be served I figured now is a good time for some toasts! The dance floor isn’t going anywhere, everyone return to your seats!”

In an even less orderly clump than before, the wedding guests returned to their seats. Excitement buzzed in the air as people whispered to each other, finalizing their toasts.

“Now, who’d like to go first?” Carol asked, once everyone was seated.

Rhodey’s hand was up before Carol could even finish her sentence, and no one opposed him going first. Clearly, a lot was on his mind. “I’d just like to start out by saying congratulations to the both of you, I couldn’t be happier! I wanted to actually give you your wedding gift now, although this is directed at Christine. Why, you may ask? Because she was the only one who thought me and T’challa were together where the rest of our friends have assumed we’ve just been pining for each other! Christine— you were right, we’ve been together since February.”

Anthony stood up immediately. “You mean I’ve been trying to play Cupid for nothing?!”

Rhodey took a bow as all the wedding guests clapped.

“Thank you Rhodey, this might be the second best early wedding present I got today!” Christine declared with a wink.

Stephen followed her line of sight, confusion on his face. She wasn’t winking at Rhodey...

Christine winked at Pepper.

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sole-cuore-amore-e-droga · 3 years

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Italy brings the rock’n’roll youth of tomorrow to Rotterdam 2021

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It’s the final day of doing my yet again botched attempt at a review series and I’ve been dying to post my gigantic write-up for my newly beloved Italy, at the top of the bookies, darling of all hearts, ready to rock Eurovision, and even more! Vai vai~

ARTIST & ENTRY INFO

Representing them this year is Måneskin, a band made up of four - singer and possibly the hottest motherfucker to grace the planet Earth Damiano, guitarist Thomas, drummer Ethan, and the cherry on top - bassist Victoria, whose half-Danish heritage is the reason Måneskin is called Måneskin (= Moonshine). They thought of this name at a “battle of the bands” that they won, thinking they might as well change it to something different, but in the end... say it with me now

They have known each other since highschool, made a band in 2016, won the “battle of the bands”, started out making a living as buskers in the streets of Rome, from which they gradually grew through playing small gigs, and later tried out for X Factor Italia season 11, on which they came 2nd.

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They went on to release an EP titled after their debut single of the name of the song above, including some of their X Factor covers, and later on got to get big through releasing an album, getting it certified all kinds of goodnesses, having singles from that album be popular, even releasing a documentary of themselves... they’ve done so much in life and they’re only 20-22 years old... aw man, the life is just ahead of them, for them to be so young and win Sanremo on their first try. (And I’ve always wanted them for Eurovision ever since I was aware of their existence, because their music is very nice, and they just feel like charming human beings. So imagine my joy seeing them announced for Sanremo 2021? And them WINNING months later??? man what kind of luck do I have even if just for a year lmao <333)

“Zitti e buoni”, the last song title alphabetically this year, is purely of the band’s making, and the lyrics are talking about not abiding the rules in general, how they’re out of their minds but they’re not like “them”, and how people talk but don’t know what they’re talking at all.

REVIEW

IT’S A PRETTY CRAZY GOOD ROCK SONG AMEN HALLELUJAH OPRAH WOOOOOOO

wbk I love it. Yeah sure it might be composited of something that sounds like standard rock riffs and what not, but it’s the ENERGY that goes into it that gets me more excited for this than for Finland, a fellow rock song of this year’s final.

Damiano’s vocals have the specific kind of rockstar tinge to them, and they’re very complimenting to the song. The way he says everything is beautiful, the “e buonasera signore e signori” line in particular is just a moment that shows the beginning of power somehow, I don’t know. The chorus is great, eventhough it’s just one line repeated but it changes the pronoun each time (going from “I’m out of my mind” to “you’re out of your mind” to “we’re out of my mind”) - MAGICAL.

And the bridge. YES, the bridge. Along with the outro it’s the best part of the song. The chord progression. The lines repeated on that bridge. The emotions going on. The delivery of the lines of the emotion. It’s a convincing little bridge, to the point that it sounds just as great with violins! Wish they brought one, because according to Love Love Peace Peace, nothing screams winner quite like a violin.

God damn to the Måneskinsters pump this song up to the maximum. It was originally a ballad song, and I think that’s for the better for them to present it as a rock song, because a Sanremo ballad in a pool of Sanremo ballads... unless it stands out according to demoscopic & press juries, and there seems to be a no better option at hand that could make them stand out other than just sending a classy ballad, it just fizzles out in a spectacularly lame fashion. Måneskin’s one real shot through was with a song that would make them stand out, and they did it, and they’re here.

Everyone has put in their work, their passion, their skills into this, and it shows off in spades. Måneskin themselves are fantastic and chill human beings, who too, just like Flo Rida, get to enjoy how crazy amazing Eurovision experience is. And for that I salute them with my whole heart. Whatever they do tonight on Eurovision, they’ll leave a lasting mark in it. And for a good reason.

Also an Italian Eurovision edit that doesn’t suck, once again, yay! (In their defense, they didn’t have a whole lot to work with, so they released theirs early - just a few trimmings here and there, and a lyric change so that they skate by EBU easier with their anti-swearing policies. Gahddamn swearing~)

Approval factor: FUCK YES Follow-up factor: The funny thing about this is that last year their entry is about making noise but the song was a love ballad, this year it’s a song titled “shut up and behave” while dressed in a loudest motherfucking musical setting lol. Fuck the rules! It was solely on the Sanremo’s last year’s winner Diodato not to send an entry he thought that would fit for Sanremo, and that’s good on him - he can return next year replenished as all hell, and maybe aim for the trophy again? wishful thinking? aaaa. Anyway on a personal scale “Zitti e buoni” is a marvelous follow-up from “Fai rumore”, even if skipping 2020 entirely, especially after “Soldi”, which was already a fab follow-up after “Non mi avete fatto niente”, and even from “Occidentali’s Karma” on. And so it is subjectively a good follow-up. Italy SLAYS. AQ factor: As I write this, the odds are very much in their favour, if not a little bit too persuaded over the fact that Måneskin gave a good rock performance and knew what they would be doing, or it’s just that the Italians like overbetting for their acts way too damn much. But nevertheless, I just wanna hope for them to break the expectations people set on rock songs in Eurovision and SMASH themselves a victory. Or a top 2. Or a top 5-10. Anything will do, goddamn.

NF CORNER

Well, I promised that I will talk about Sanremo in a NF corner, because this is the first year I actually cared to watch it myself, unlike when I would’ve sided with someone whose reviewing style I love in not caring to watch it, and usually just check all the songs on the last day lol.

One thing about Sanremo that I sorely underestimate is that a handful of artists on there can come across as very versatile, and the one song you loved of one genre they presented several years ago, can be completely different and leave you baffled for days if you’re not very familiarized with their discography and the Italian music scene in general. Which now I’m going to pay an extreme amount of attention towards following Sanremo 2022 on out because hot damn did I never see gems like Willie Peyote coming!

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Did I call him a gem over his entry? Yes, somehow. Am I even sure if I’m being serious?

I think I can somewhat agree when I say that for the international fam watching Sanremo at least, “Mai dire mai (La locura)” was a major expectation destroyer, at least for the crowd whose main lookouts in a lineup like this years were Ermal Meta, Annalisa, Arisa, etc. You know they’re gonna bring a ballad, and their ballads are usually decent, but what about the unexpected? That’s where a handful of acts, including Willie, comes in for me. The bass hooks in the second the song starts. The beat is minimalistic but strong enough to slap. The steady rap flow is mesmerizing, paired with that somewhat specifically Italian(?) vocal timbre. The chorus is greatly catchy, and it is a sung chorus, with this song still being largely a rap song. The electric-esque guitar soundwaves interspersed throughout the song are magnificent and magical, and on the chorus they even make a constant melody riff that repeats and may get annoying on multiple listens, but I still adore them. I really love the bridge as well and all that goes into it. A fantastic surprise of the season for me personally.

Now I figure that the lyrics may hinder the enjoyment for some, especially the points raised in some lines that may seem questionable and shady (if this went to Eurovision and got a “twerking” comment on Youtube, I will not be surprised if the description of choice is “patriarchic twerking”), but am I supposed to be fully offended at some points of it if I’m not its target audience, although I see some of what I do nowadays in those lines? “Mai dire mai” is probably dedicated to the Italian media and the Italian trends and what not. I’m not even disappointed it didn’t win, because if it went to Eurovision, it would’ve likely been met like a lesser “Occidentali’s Karma” - catchy song with lyrics that fly over listener’s heads which might as well be very accidentally mocking how we live our lives.

“Mai dire mai” has just less of a memorability-in-history value and no memorable gimmicks (Francesco had a gorilla, what is it visually going for on Willie’s performance?), besides, it would’ve suffered even WORSE post-Eurovision-edit than OK has - a lot of the bits and bobs that pass me by but when I notice them they make a really great entry, but other than the (presumably copyrighted) removal of a sample from a TV series (spoken by a fish character, nonetheless), what else is there to remove???? With Eurovision’s rules specifying that brands (Spotify, TikTok) and swearwords (lots of the good old Italian ones that Italian radios would digitally scratch out to emphasize that there were a LOT in the second verse) can’t be sung live, the song loses some of its lyrical charm. And you can’t just go around the song like Francesco Gabbani chopping off entire verses full of content full of witty lyrics and a reference to Chanel in order to present the more lyrically singable-along-to lines and not let go of the long chorus to whom his gorilla can dance to. “Mai dire mai” is RIFE with lyrics, that’s what a rap song is. It would have absolutely fallen apart.

Also no one paged it as a potential Eurovision winner during Sanremo, at least seriously, and it doesn’t have much that would have clicked with the future Eurovision generation and contestants when they would be asked to name their favourite Eurovision song of all times. In a world where from Italy they really like “Grande amore” and “Soldi” and even sometimes could name “Occidentali’s Karma”, is there really a place for “Mai dire mai (La locura)” over “Zitti e buoni”? Who would be naming that song as their favourite of all time? If you raised a hand, you lie to yourself, because that would’ve been me.

Now I don’t know how many of the Tumblr fam would draw ire at me putting out paragraphs worth of me being ultra positive towards this song, because as I’ve learned, there’s an ironic and unironic audience for Mr. Peyote on Tumblr especially, but for me I guess it was pretty worthy, also a thing I was finally able to yell off my chest since, and now I finally said it, I will continue streaming “Mai dire mai (La locura)” in peace.

He might’ve not won Sanremo, but his song won the equally important Mia Martini Critics Award, and also, my heart. Rest in broken shards of the Boris aquarium, my sweet cynical prince~

Måneskin were my 2nd after him so I’m equally happy they won. But what about my other favourites?

• Extraliscio ft. Davide Toffolo - Bianca luce nera A diluted version of the liscio genre, still makes for a very fascinatingly catchy and swaying song with lots of great instruments that are violins and a clarinet. What I figure is kinda a love song. Their performances were also great, with lots of dancers on stage and a genuinely great fun to be had, and you may remember them more after their performance in cover night, which was titled “Rosamunda”. They were the ones with their main singer’s guitar spinning for whatever reason that was there to make their song catchy, I guess.

• Lo Stato Sociale - Combat Pop A little bit of a far cry from their glory heydays with 2nd place in Sanremo 2018, but they returned with an equally banging song and an amazing set of performance chaos they brought in each and every time - dedicating their first night’s one to making a performance to not forget (and being the ones of two to reference the great Bugo&Morgan incident from last year, the other being Willie Peyote), the second competitive one was for referencing politics, and so on.

• Colapesce & Dimartino - Musica leggerissima Sweet melancholic song with the shades of Sebastien Tellier kinda sound, this song may seem jolly at first, but the especially melancholic undertones denote that there’s something else going on. It’s actually about depression, as that’s what the term “musica leggerissima” (very light music) means. But it still found a heart in Italian listeners and the Italian world finally woke up to how great Antonio Di Martino and Lorenzo “Colapesce” Urciullo are, and a handful of viewers were slightly heartbroken to see it not place in the superfinal top 3. Who knows if they would’ve actually won over Måneskin. I just know that their rollerskater girlie is so damn fine~

Bugo has also returned but I think his redemption arc started off the wrong foot, as his return entry, “E invece si”, was a bloated showtune ballad and got obnoxious to listen to at part. I declared to myself that night when I first heard the new entry that regarding on what made “Sincero” great, I side with Morgan.

And a special shout out to Ghemon, whose 2019 song was more than just a “purple rose” unlike I noted on a last proper Italian entry review. I don’t know what expectations I had for him, but I certainly wanted to love “Momento perfetto” more at the first listen, which was also somewhat of a show-tuney piece, but with a bit more funk and pizzazz, also Ghemon was VERY much vibing with his song, and that made me feel great for the few other performances of it that I saw the following days. It’s definitely a grower song, and around 2 months after Sanremo I fell into a bit of a rabbit-hole of his earlier music discovering, and I may be a bit exaggerating but, give Ghemon a bit more of acknowledgement and a stellar enough song, and with a little bit of magic touch, I can maybe see him lifting the Golden Lion trophy one day. Don’t ask why. (also lovely music video for his 2021 entry, which replaces continuous spinning in an aesthetic area to everybody moving their body in a diner (hopefully with everyone in the MV tested and been negative for long enough for the MV to actually happen).)

NF CORNER (NON-COMPETITIVE)

There’s so much needed to be discussed about there. So I’ll restrict myself to the moments that I remember and cherish:

• Rosario Fiorello. Just. Him.

• And the gentleman next to him, Achille Lauro.

tw // body piercing

Belarus 2018 could never

Fiorello and Lauro are perfect matches to each other’s worlds of imagination, and I was more than ever glad to see so much creativity coming from each one of them, a host and a nightly interval act respectively.

• Once again, “Rosamunda Medley” by Extraliscio, I didn’t watch the cover night in its entirety but I think it’s good enough of a medley if it got a 3rd place from the cover night from the orchestra!

• Sanremo Newcomers section of this year. I liked or vibed to almost every song out of the 8, and I’m decently happy with the winner, but if there’s one big shoutout I really want to make, is to “Regina” by Davide Shorty, for it’s such a cozy funky little love song that always makes me happy when I hear it. My personal winner preference, but I don’t mind Davide getting 2nd! For as long as he gets to place 1st in a future main Sanremo event hihihihihi

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• Diodato proving himself to be a dance king at the beginning of his “Che vita meravigliosa” performance, my good Twitter friend made a bunch of videos where he dances to a lot of songs, as per request, check them out and you won’t forget it.

• Since Sanremo 2021 got rid of the audience as per COVID regulations and much to Amadeus’s dread, there ended up quite a handful of audience related memes. Such as the penis balloon et al.

• Remember when Sanremo 2021 audience was supposed to be whisked away in a cruise ship for safety measures? Pepperidge Farm remembers

• SESSO IBUPROFENEEEEEEEE

The guy that sang this song actually has the same birthday as me, so in my eyes, I feel like he has some charm to it. I’m biased lol sorry

There’s way too many more but I am afraid of flooding my post beyond your readability interest. Let’s hope that, in an event of Italy’s victory or non, we’ll get to see an even more iconic event of Sanremo emerge come the future. <3

ANY LAST WORDS?

Måneskin’s big goal was to rock Eurovision, and I think they’ve greatly accomplished that by just... doing what they do best, and that is, rocking. They leave energy lasting for days.

In bocca al lupo, fam. You’ll nail it, and even if you don’t win, Italy shouldn’t not hail you as national heroes after it’s all over.

#eurovision #eurovision 2021 #rotterdam 2021 reviews #italy #måneskin #zitti e buoni #gifs i didn't make

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ranger-report · 4 years

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Opinion: JURASSIC WORLD Learned Nothing From JURASSIC PARK

Twenty-seven years ago (god, can you believe it?) a sci-fi blockbuster with Things To Say exploded into cinemas. Tackling the subject of science, control, and whether or not man should play God, it also featured state-of-the-art special effects, intense sequences of dinosaur action, and just enough human heart to win audiences over. Of course we’re talking about Jurassic Park. It’s a monumental film that still holds up today, even as the effects are finally starting to show their age. It’s a deep shame that the sequel series, Jurassic World, has learned nothing from it. If anything, World is very much a reaction to Park...and not in a good way.

The first three films in the Park series all dealt with questions of science and progress, and what responsibility man has to the things he creates. Sure, The Lost World and Jurassic Park III weren’t nearly as deft in the handling of these themes as the first film, but they maintained the same spirit. Jurassic Park asked whether or not mankind had the right to resurrect a dead species for their amusement; The Lost World carried this over, asking how much responsibility man should have in maintaining this resurrected species’s existence; Jurassic Park III insinuated that man could still finds things to learn from these science-born dinosaurs even if they weren’t the real deal. Science was the forefront in these stories, perhaps to diminishing results, but at least Science maintained a consistent role of moral gray area. Park III is considered the low point of the series, a brisk hour-and-a-half of rollercoaster excitement with goofy moments and lightweight human drama, but even that film conjures impressive moments of dinosaur action and awe, including a river sequence where Dr. Alan Grant, finding himself returned to this world he vowed to disavow, discovers he still has reverence for the giant beasts that roam this island, and maybe doesn’t hate them as much as he lays claim. The scene in the aviary with the pterodactyls is particularly effective, using shadow and light and fog and height to add tension and terror. No, it’s no masterpiece, and if you detest the film, I don’t blame you. But detesting that film is what led to the existence of Jurassic World, which claims to hold the same ideals as the first series, but none of the actual heft.

Jurassic World starts off with an interesting premise: what if Jurassic Park had actually opened to the public and was a success? This is a great hook, sure, but with everything that has come before in the first three movies, this isn’t something that should have ever come to pass. But, movie needs to movie. We have questions of whether or not science should be creating these creatures, whether or not they have the right to experiment with DNA and create “new” dinosaurs that are bigger meaner and badder than regular dinosaurs, questions of corporate influence. As with the first Park, World plays the same beats: everything is great, people are coming to visit and inspect certain aspects, everything goes wrong, dinosaurs get loose, people start dying. World turns the scale up to 11 since now we have an entire amusement park full of people instead of a small group of survivors, meaning bigger thrills, bigger sequences, bigger dinosaurs. Everything is bigger, including the science, but while it’s bigger it’s also hollow. Nostalgia and references to past films can’t fill the void that the film builds around this premise we’ve seen before. I admit that when I walked out of the theater the first time, I was happy. After the letdown of Park III, World felt exciting and invigorating and fresh. Then I watched it a few more times, and the sheen began to vanish. Stilted dialogue, characters with little charm, obvious setups, contrived danger, and an obvious sequel bait ending revealed the true corporate influence of the film: franchising. Meanwhile, Science and Nature were still adversaries in this new series of dino-centric films, but Science became less of a gray area, less of a “How much right do we have?” and dialed into a “Science Is Evil And Scientists Do Evil Things For Money.” Meanwhile, Nature, which is true neutral in the first three films (just don’t fuck around with Nature and you won’t get bit), has become the True Good Guy, and instead of seeing the fear of messing with Nature, now we see how Nature is being oppressed by Science, and so we should begin to empathize with our friendly dinosaur foes.

And what about those sequels? Both The Lost World and Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom start with the premise that Something Has Survived and opens with dire situations. One involves a family on a beach who stumble across dinosaurs, the other involves corporate espionage gone horribly awry when they underestimate the prehistoric menace around them. Both are tense, well-shot, and arguably Kingdom’s sequence is the best opening scene in the series. And both films move forward from there, revealing the dinosaurs are still alive (Lost World explains a second island called Site B, Fallen Kingdom simply continues the tale), getting Jeff Goldblum involved, and asking what responsibility the creators have for their creations. But the key difference between the films is that Fallen Kingdom asks the audience to have empathy and sympathy for the dinosaurs of the island -- most of them, in fact, excepting the genetic mutations crafted and grown by the park scientists. Blue, a raptor introduced in the first World, is the reason Chris Pratt’s Owen goes back to the island to help rescue the creatures from imminent death. He formed a bond with the raptor from birth, and the dinosaur -- of a species that once was the scariest goddamn thing in cinema -- is reduced to little more than a pet with big teeth and claws. The Lost World shows us that Nature is scary, and when Science believes that it can control Nature then Life Will Find A Way (remember that line?). Dinosaurs in the first three Park films are forces of Nature, and if left alone will leave you alone. But Nature doesn’t take kindly to intruders: see literally every scene in The Lost World. Even the big leaf-eaters are dangerous and scary when uncaged and scared. Fallen Kingdom makes the big ask of the audience to see the dinosaurs as on-par with the human characters, to have empathy for them. And while, to an extent, we should have empathy for Living Things, Fallen Kingdom goes so far as to spare the lives of dinosaurs brought to the mainland rather than let them die so they don’t get released into the world of humans. Which, if you’ve seen The Lost World, is kind of a bad thing. Many people reacted poorly to the T-Rex roaming through San Diego searching for its young, and Fallen Kingdom decides to not only go with that same premise, but ups the ante by unleashing several species out into the human world, this time a cliffhanger. In fact, the upcoming third film, Jurassic World: Dominion rests entirely on this premise, and will no doubt focus on attempting to contain the prehistoric creatures roaming through suburbia. But how can we, the audience, even take this seriously when we’ve been asked to have empathy with the dinosaurs now? If these creatures are now characters, toys to be sold and displayed on children’s coloring books, exactly how deadly can they -- or will they -- be?

Dominion already appears to be making similar decisions as Jurassic Park III, by including Sam Neill and Laura Dern as Alan Grant and Ellie Sattler respectively. And in continuing to funhouse-mirror the previous trilogy, now instead of a dinosaur island that is strictly off-limits to humans we have dinosaurs in the human world. Both sequels were primed as rollercoasters, introducing new creatures and thrills, and no doubt Dominion will make the same mistakes as Park III and the other World films. But Park III at least remembered that the focus of the show is the big bad dinos, how uncontrollable they are, how scary they are, and how Nature is a force unto itself. Alan Grant learned by the end of Park III that the raptors he was researching in his studies were similar enough to the raptors of Site B that he could find a way to communicate with them to a degree of saving everyone’s lives. He had turned his nose at the Science of the creations, not recognizing the Nature that still existed in their modified DNA. What will he learn -- or unlearn -- in Dominion?

The Jurassic Park films were all about asking questions. “Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn’t stop to think if they should,” Goldblum’s Ian Malcolm says in the first film, to great effect. Meanwhile, Jurassic World’s tagline could be summed up as “The scientists never should and they are still doing it.” Where we were asked to think in the first films, now we can sit back and be told the moral. We can just watch the onscreen drama as Things Happen and People Get Eaten. Jurassic World learned the wrong things from Jurassic Park, and to that effect, perhaps the filmmakers were so preoccupied with whether or not they could make a new Jurassic film that they didn’t stop to think if they should.

#jurassic park #the lost world #jurassic park iii #jurassic world #fallen kingdom #dominion #steven spielberg #colin trevorrow #dinosaurs #film #opinion #universal pictures #ck burch #rubyranger #ranger report

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