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afandomdreamerwrites · 1 year

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Scarlet Part 2

For @aguilaguerrera10, here’s the second part. Again, so sorry for the wait. I’ve been trying to make a habit of finishing my stuff. So, to everyone, I am in the process of making your posts. I am very grateful for your patience and I am trying my best to get to all of you.

TW: ANGST, FIGHTING BETWEEN FATHER AND SON, and uh.. yeah. If there is anything else I missed or that troubles you, let me know, and I’ll put it in.

(Edit done in Picsart by me)

Neither you nor Jason ever mentioned your grandfather.

It didn’t matter. Jason raised you, cared for you. He was family and you were, too; finding out about your real family didn’t change that. Jason is your real family - who cares who your mother is or who your grandfather is? Jason has been there for you your entire life - you could care less about your 'other' family.

As you continue on with your life, each day your vigilante work got tougher; forgetting the incident between Jason and your grandfather. You were always near your dad, who explicitly told you to never stray from his eyesight unless given permission to - you listened, of course. Gotham is full of surprises, and Jason is a seasoned veteran at this sort of thing. While you may know how to dropkick a guy from above or put a man in a chokehold, Jason knows when a guy is gonna pull the trigger, or who's hiding behind the corner. Once, you got into a run-in with a group of thugs. You and Jason took them down, one by one. You let your guard down for a second, and you were tackled to the ground, repeatedly getting your face punched out. You would’ve been dead..-

If it wasn’t for Jason’s hard fist knocking their jaw out.

The memories were hazy…

You were going in and out of consciousness, but.. you could’ve swore you saw Jason’s knuckles covered in blood. When you managed to pick yourself up and run to safety, you also swore you heard a gunshot.

You shrugged it off as a result of nearly getting your head smashed in, but the more you thought about it, deep down, you start to wonder more and more about what your dad actually did to those men…

“Scarlet.”

You snapped out of your thoughts. “You understand?” Jason stands before you, arms crossed over his chest. You blink under your mask then nod. “Yes. I understand. No confrontation whatsoever.” Your Dad caught wind of an ‘organization’ doing some shady business around Crime Alley. A few searches and criminal records lead him down to a run-down building, deep in the east-end surrounded by the apartments of the ghetto, which is where you two currently stand on the rooftop of. He didn't intend to bring you along, but after going through some more information, he realized he was going to need a helping hand, so here you are.

Jason looks down, observing the guards through the clear windows. “If anything goes wrong, let me know, and I’ll come get you. Remember: never stray from my radar.” You nod. “Got it.” All you were assigned to do is take pictures and gather info - that's it. No confrontation, no take-downs, just sneaking around and playing spy; it will be your first time going solo. Jason stares at you then takes a deep breath - he would be lying if he said he wasn't worried about you. So many what-ifs and a thousand scenarios of the absolute worst things to happen play around in his mind. He knows you’re a good kid, you’ve rarely ever gone against him, and the only time you did was when you wanted to become a vigilante. Besides that, you never caused trouble for him, but still, he couldn’t help but worry - hell - fear.

You noticed Jason's silence and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, what are you scared about? All I gotta do is take a few pictures," you assured, "No biggie!” Although your face was behind a mask, he can feel your bright smile.

It's not that he doesn't trust you.

He trusts you.. wholeheartedly.

It’s those sick fucks that he doesn’t trust.

He holds your gaze then places a hand on your head. "I can always trust you, kid." He says. You smile then run to the air vent with Jason following right behind.

Using the X-ray vision in his mask, he gauges the area: there aren’t as many guards compared to yesterday. You won’t be engaging the enemy and you'll be in the vents, so it didn't matter as much. 'But you never know.' He noted. Jason would be careless to not think there could be more hidden around somewhere in the warehouse. "Well, kid." He turns to you. "Whenever you're ready." Nodding, you use a laser pen you made out of a laser pointer for cats - with the help of your dad, of course. The beam cuts through the vents, carving a circle into the metal, and all it took was one, gentle, push to create a perfect opening. You took one last look at your Dad, then climbed in. Jason can feel his nerves bubbling in his gut, but he pushed them down. 'You'll be fine.' He reassured himself. 'You're a good kid.'

You peer through the holes of the vents: there's a group of men surrounding a map on a table. Using the mini camera in your mask, you snap a few pics then move on to the next room. Jason sat on the rooftop watching the red dot on the map move across the vents in his helmet. Despite overviewing the entire area, he couldn’t shake off the suspicion about the unusual small number of guards hanging around the building. It gave him that much more anxiety with you.

"She shouldn't be doing this."

Jason grits his teeth.

He didn't need to ask to know who it was…

In the pitch black night of Gotham, a tall figure, camouflaged like a menacing shadow, stands behind Jason.

How long has it been..?

Weeks? Months? Years?

God knows how long since he last spoke to the man he was disgusted to call his mentor, his father.

"What do you want?"

"You know why."

Truth be told, Jason does..

Very well…

Along with finding out who your grandfather and mother is, Ra's also told him of who your father is, and your brother. Jason stands up. "Yeah, I do. What of it?"

Bruce's face was as cold and as expressionless as always. He saunters closer to Jason. "She can't live like this." Jason glares through his mask. "Who are you to decide that?" "I mean it, Jason. It's dangerous." Jason scoffs. "Funny coming from you and your four other little birds."

"Make that five."

The familiar cape dawned with the bright red, yellow, and green colors flies down beside him. An unfamiliar figure stands before him, another kid, another Robin. Jason narrows his eyes. "That's right. Almost forgot about you."

Damian Al-ghul Wayne. Grandson to Ra's Al Ghul, son to Talia and Bruce Wayne.

Your older twin brother.

Robin scoffs. "You've heard of me? Good."

Egotistic.

Wonderful…

"My sister will be coming back with us. That's a guarantee."

Jason clicks his teeth. It's his first time seeing the little devil in person and it's already bad enough learning that your mother tried to leave you for dead, it's a whole other thing to find out she abandoned you in favor of this entitled brat. 'Must be genetic.' Jason thought. "Yeah. That's not happening." Robin narrows his eyes. "Yeah. You heard me - she's staying with me and just like how I told your bastard of a grandfather: if any of you even lay a hand on my kid - I'll put a bullet in your skulls," Jason pulls out one of his pistols, "That's a guarantee."

Robin grits his teeth. Before he could even think about lashing out, Batman stands in front of him. "Think about this, Jason-" "I have. A long time ago. No one is taking my kid away from me, especially you."

A rustling echoes from the vent. All men turn to you as you climb out.

"I got all the pictures, Red. Is there..-" Your sentence trails off. Your dad, Batman and Robin standing before you.

Anyone who was born or has lived in Gotham long enough are familiar with the iconic dynamic duo, but to see them in person is an entirely different experience. Usually, you would be excited - if it wasn't for the feeling that something was wrong.

"...what's going on?"

Batman took a few steps towards you only for Jason to jump infront. There's a feral look in his eyes, his shoulders raised up and his muscles tense.

“Jason, please-"

“No! We’re done talking.”

Turning around, Jason starts walking. “Come on, kid. We’re leaving.” Glancing at the duo, you stare at them for a good minute before reluctantly following Jason. “Wait-” Batman grabs your hand.

Before you realize it, Batman goes flying backwards.

You blink.

You find your dad right next to you, his leg outstretched, breathing heavily.

It took a few moments for the gears to turn in your head. Then you realized…

Your dad kicked Batman.

The Dark Knight groans and sits up holding his stomach. You stand in complete shock, unsure of what to make of what just happened. Seeing this, Robin grits his teeth and runs at him, jumping up to send a roundhouse kick towards Red Hood’s head. “Robin! No!” Batman yells. Jason effortlessly catches him, flinging him across the roof to the next building. He tumbles a few times before falling to the ground, groaning.

Your mouth hangs open, stilled by both fear, confusion, and complete shock. Jason scoffs and grabs your wrist. “Let’s go."

“Jason, please. Can we at least talk?” Batman reaches out to grab you again. In a blink of an eye, Jason pulls out his gun.

There’s a suffocating moment of silence.

Neither party made a single move.

Despite your utter horror, the conflicted thoughts, and denials running through your head, there’s no doubt anymore that what happened with those goons is true - your dad had shot and killed them.

“Talk? Talk?! I said, we were done talking. I guess I didn’t make myself clear enough.” His finger begins to press down on the trigger. Your eyes blow wide, you shout. “Dad! Don’t-”

A gunshot never rang out. Batman kicked the gun out of his hand. He simultaneously grabs your arm and pulls you behind him. Robin, with a throbbing headache, stands up. “Robin! Take Scarlet away from here!” Red Hood growls and tries to bring his other gun out but Batman punches that one out too. Robin nods and grabs your arm. “Hey - wait!”

With both of his weapons out of reach, Jason takes to using his fist and goes straight for his nose. Batman catches it and punishes him by striking him twice in the abdomen before kicking him and sending him across the rooftop.

"Come on, let's get you out of here!" Robin is tugging at your arm, but you kept yourself planted. "No! I'm not leaving without my dad!"

Batman walks over. Jason lifts himself up, giving Batman the deadliest glares you’ve ever seen from him. Bruce says nothing and raises his fist at him, ready to land another punch.

"Stop!"

You ran between the two.

Batman halts. You stand there with your arms wide using your entire body to shield your father. "Don't hurt him!"

Batman lowers his fist and stands straight. "You don't understand. What you're doing.. it's not right." You glared at him. "So what?" Batman's gaze hardens. "You can get hurt or worse. Not to mention, where you live is just as unsafe." He kneels down to your eye-level. "If you live with me, with us, we can give you a better home, get you into a better school." He places a hand on your shoulder. Jason tenses up. "Become a family." You held your gaze with him. You didn't move from your spot nor let your arms down despite them beginning to ache. "I already have a family. It's him!" Batman goes silent. Robin grits his teeth. "Don't you get it? You'll die living like this!" "So what!" You snapped. "I rather die right beside my dad than leave him behind!" You hear a groan behind you and turn around. Your dad was struggling to get up, grunting as he held his stomach. You rush to his side, catching him when he falls. Batman steps to you, calling your name as he reaches a hand to you. "No!" You yell, clutching your dad harder, glaring harder at the Dark Knight. "You aren't taking me from him! I'm staying right here and if you try, you'll have to kill me to do it!" Batman stops. You were glued to Jason's side, standing next to him so defensively, ready to put up a fight. Robin was growing impatient and stomped his way to you. "You will come with us, whether you like it or no-" "Stop." Batman halts his son. Before Robin could argue, he turns away from you two, walking to the edge of the roof. "We're leaving." "But-" Batman narrows his eyes. Robin glances at Jason, then you. He holds his gaze with you, clutching his fists, before forcing himself to follow his father. The duo hop off from the roof, disappearing into the night. As if on cue, thunder rumbles across the sky, a heavy downpour following after.

You turn to your dad. He tries to get up again, this time, you help him by wrapping his arm around your shoulder and standing up. "Are you okay?" Jason groans. "I'll be fine. Are you alright?" You chuckle. "I'm alright. But we should get home." You say, then carefully guided him to the rooftop edge.

[DISCLAIMER: This work and any other works I do is purely fiction and fantasy. I do NOT condone any behaviors like this or other yandere behaviors in real life. If you experience something like this, I strongly advise you get help. Again, this work is purely fantasy and should not be done or supported in real life.]

...

[I also wished I could center text! >:(]

#platonic yandere #yandere batfam #batfam #batman #yandere jason todd #yandere batman #platonic yandere jason todd #yandere damian wayne #platonic yandere batman #yandere bat!dad #platonic yandere dc #yandere dc #platonic yandere damian wayne #jason todd #bruce wayne #damian wayne

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nulluxe · 9 months

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finished watching earthspark and jus ??? im so in love but so so confused. like what in the hell was going on with the writing direction ??? novastorm being thundercracker 2.0 (and being alive), breakdown suddenly being Yeah I’m Alive Too and nobody talking abt it especially after his absolutely heartbreaking episode??? whatever the fuck was going on with quintus prime and everything else ??

good god this is not a hate post I love es so so much but I feel like the second part was weirdly rushed??

editing to clarify: that in part is probably thanks to paramount/hasbro (?) and the poor treatment the crew received. tho this is allegations from what I’ve seen, though. the track record isn’t the greatest, considering what the tfp crew were also reportedly going through.

continuing on, it feels like a lot of characters were tossed in and quickly tossed out to get the plot moving, with little to no time to breathe. the inconsistencies with witwicky getting exploded particularly bothered me, because grimlock wrecked the shit out of the town and ended up not getting on GHOST’s radar, but shockwave did??

where the fuck is ravage?? where is frenzy and lazerbeak??? where the hell is my boy tarantulas, why did we get that flashback ‘teasing’ (putting in quotations, as it may have just been an easter egg) some of the og cast for that only to go nowhere? soundwave getting cucked constantly also bothered me because. oh my god. pls don’t waste his potential.

shrug. im still excited for s2, and i sincerely hope I’m just overreacting and everything will solve itself with season 2, as im enjoying all the silliness that comes with the episodes, but gah Damn does it need improvement

((also!! going to speak positively as we all need that. schloder is the funniest fucking character fight me, that scene where he put on screamo metal, said ‘what? optimus loves my playlist’ and immediately getting hit by him in altmode is the funniest shit ever, I adore the sheer goofiness of all of the decepticons, like. tarantulas, starscream, and kinda shockwave all just ?? falling in love with their respective terrans just bc of the,,, small,,, ounce of kindness??? love that shit. also the screamer trauma acknowledgement?? in my 2023???? amazing. showstopping ))

#transformers earthspark #maccadam #tf es spoilers

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jtargaryen18 · 6 months

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Hi! Miss you and your wonderful writing! Can’t wait for the next chapter of Steve and Mrs.Rogers😍😍 will you be posting a chapter soon?

Hey, thank you 🙏 How are you?

Yes, I need to get back to His Inheritance. I'm halfway through the next chapter. I'm also finishing One Night With You. 💕

I've been writing the last couple of days to meet a deadline, but it's not a fic here, it's for my publisher. Remember that MC romance I put out as Jamie Targaet last year? It sold very well but I haven't had the time to put in the next story in the series and that doesn't help series sales. And it gets me yelled at -- in a nice way. So I scrambled and did a Christmas story for the 2nd in the series and it's going to come out on 12/15.

The stories take place in a town called Mercy and center around the Hounds of Hell MC. The first story was Hero - and he was inspired by Steve Rogers. The second one, Snow, is inspired by Aaron Taylor Johnson's Pietro, there are identical twins, Axel and Ryder, based on Bucky Barnes... It's the first time I've done that in fiction that wasn't fanfic and it's been a lot of fun so far.

Now I'm doing edits, but I should finish those up soon. More than you probably wanted to know. But I'm here lol

I hope you're having a great full moon where you are. Yeah, it's been less than 3 hours since that hit and I'm flying under the radar. This week has been insane -- in strange ways. 😱

#Asks #Thank you #His Inheritance #One Night With YOu #Full Moon

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shameonmeeguiltypleasure · 1 year

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Speaking of Lady Whistledown I can just imagine her being one of Colin's trigger like Anthony Benedict, Simon and even the rest of the Bridgertons try to hide any and every pamphlet containing anything even remotely unflattering towards Pen because Colin is this 🤏🏼 close to hunting her down and making her pay for the transgression against his nymph. Like ooohh I'm swooning for Dark!Colin raising hell to defend his goddess and his famioy knowing and doing their best to tamper it down lest he and Eloise burn London down.

Hehehehe 😈

There's a reason my planned sequel for SMB is called 'Loving Mrs Bridgerton' 👀😏

But currently in SMB, Anthony, Simon and Eloise don't actually hide LW's pamphlets from Colin. The only one who practices caution on that front is Benedict 😂

Eloise was obsessed before shed discovered the truth (I chose show events for that bit) but after she forgave Pen, she would actively lecture Pen on how she would write about herself. It didn't always work cause Pen knows how to..... use her words 👀

But El knowing Pen was LW had a trump card.... She would threaten Pen that if she didn't ease up on saying nasty stuff about herself in LW, she'd send a pamphlet to Colin and say she hated LW then have Anthony actively try and get LWs work outlawed 😇

Of course, Pen tempered herself because El doesn't joke about blackmail.... Hehe

Anthony offered after the first pamphlet came out being mean about Pen. But Pen and El talked him down. He reminded them that the offer will always be open.

Simon...... I'm toying with giving Simon a bit of a side story, because yeah he and Sir Lee have some business to hash. There are some things the Duke just can't ignore, especially if it might affect the people important to him. How it works out considering Sir Lee's true identity.... Well.... Guess you're gonna have to wait and see.

As for Colin, his hatred for London Society, Propriety etc is sort of Penelope's fault anyway 😅(girl registered DEEP on his radar after knocking him off that horse). The scariest part of Colin's darker traits, is the absolute control he has over them. Yes, Colin can be impulsive and rash with some of his choices.... But there's never a situation where he's completely out of the captains seat. This man has worn a mask for quite a long time, he thrives in the shadows while letting everyone believe he is a charming ball of sunshine.

Penelope might have the ton eating out of her hands for LW content and master manipulator when it comes to words.... but Colin has years of practice and experience beyond London.

Between the two, Penelope is defs the wild card impulsive one, but Colin is the kind you don't see coming till it hits.

Don't mistake his impatience for lack of control...... Because this man knows the value of priorities and the sweetness of a long game won.....

I seriously can't wait till my Real life responsibilities ease up so I can proper write/edit etc for SMB. Gayzoned Colin is only getting so many updates because I mostly post the raw chapters and don't think too hard for plot and logic 😩

I miss writing my darkPolin babies 😞

#bridgerton #polin #fanfiction #seducing mr bridgerton #answered #ao3 #smb

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hansolosyou · 1 year

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Okay, so, before I go absolutely HAM on this…

CW! : mentions of marijuana/smoking, and alcohol.

Yes, this is very different from a lot of my posts. Hell, most of them are shit posts. But this time, this time it’s different.

This is a brief introduction to a fnaf AU I’ve been working on !!

So, I haven’t actually begun writing for it, but I’ve spoken to friends and have made art relating to it. Well then, I give you…

The Unnamed Human Springtrap AU because I haven’t actually gotten that far yet!! *confetti*

Wow… uhh yeah that’s it. Well, here’s a quick rundown on what it’s about:

William Afton, in his late 50s early 60s, is still avoiding the cops! Woo!! He never ended up springlocked, and is instead changing his appearance and name to stay under the radar. He goes under the alias Dave Miller (yes, like in the books)

While buying weed or something, the dealer was working at this place called Fazbears Fright and was wondering if “Dave” wanted a job there. That person is none other than the fnaf 3 phone dude! Of course, William needs cash, and thought it was interesting that they were making this horror attraction based on his sick actions. So, he gladly accepted. Next thing you know, he arrives that following Monday and is apparently one of the scare actors. He wasn’t informed of that. Well, he was just in it for the cash, anyways. Phone dude thinks his creepy aura and appearance is perfect for the role of a serial killer or something… oh. AHEM

William would eventually see a familiar face working there. Michael Afton, his son that he practically disowned, playing the role of the security guard! Now, the workers knew that Michael was the son of William Afton, so they hired him to get things accurate and learn more on Williams story and what it was like to live with him. But, obviously, they didn’t know that they had also just hired the man (behind the slaughter) himself.

Yeah, that’s a rundown of what I have planned. So, here’s some sketches!

EDIT: I just realized that I wrote “roots + bangs” instead of “roots + eyebrows”… I was tired okay

#fnaf #five nights at freddys #fnaf 3 #springtrap #fnaf au #purple guy #au #alternate universe #fnaf alternate universe #human au #human springtrap #william afton fnaf #william afton #fnaf william afton #five nights at freddy’s 3 #please tumblr give me attention #I’m very motivated to work on this #should I put a trending tag to throw off tumblr and make this famous #like the Mario movie or something

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alovelyburn · 1 year

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Rambles about the Conviction Arc Part 4

[insert clever stuff, idek]

That’s promising as far as my brain functioning but lets go. We’re pivoting into the Binding Chain arc which, notably, I didn’t know the name of until just now.

Rambles about the Conviction Arc Part 4 - Binding Chain

Sometimes

1. Deluxe Edition correction to the last panel - “Can he continue to walk it as a man? Or...”

Just a little note. I do think it’s is clearer as far as what it is Skull Knight is wondering - he’s not wondering whether Guts, a human, can walk this path, he’s wondering whether Guts can continue to walk this path and remain human. Which is cool foreshadowing for the uh scene in a couple of pages (okay its not foreshadowing if its that soon but nevermind that), which... yikes. Okay so.

2. One day I really want to just dissect the hell out of Guts’ psyche, but for the moment this scene is pretty fascinating. It opens with the very first appearance of the Beast of Darkness. Immediately, the BoD (and thus Guts’ subconscious) starts tackling what’s ultimately going to become a big question in the series right - the humanity of demons. It starts small and can kind of fly under the radar - he’s feeling guilty for killing a bunch of children, which can fly under the radar as far as the humanity/demonkind question due to their being transformed by Rosine rather than by choice.

But it is the first time we see this issue directly raised, and ultimately it becomes more important once Grifith reincarnates and starts reforming Apostles and such.

In any case, it’s obviously also laying the groundwork for Guts to start shifting his approach a bit as he can feel his own descent into darkness.

The Beast is cool because its really just Guts’ hidden and most visceral thoughts and feelings, right? It’s not just his anger it’s also his fear and his hungers and desires that he cant face. This part here hitting on his fear that he’ll be locked in darkness alone forever now - a result of his abandoning the Hawks and consequently being trapped in the interstice.

But the most interesting thing for me is this:

Because... that’s a lot. It speaks to Guts’ tendency to kind of differentiate between Griffith the person he knew and Femto the demon that replaced him - even though I’m sure he knows its the same person, just like he knows that if he allows himself to get devoured by hate he’ll still be the same person technically. Even so, the beast that he becomes would therefore take his place.

And then comes the next bit - maybe you can become a real monster like Griffith.

The thing is... the way it’s presented it is, yeah, a fear but also a temptation - he fears just being eaten alive by his own rage, but when his thoughts (aka the Beast) pivots to becoming “a monster” we focus on the behelit coming into the light, and then the wording changes - it’s not maybe you’ll end up becoming a monster, it’s maybe you CAN become a monster, like your friend. And the reason this sticks out in my head is because... it dovetails right into the scenes from just after Griffith’s reincarnation when he’s tempted to rape and murder Casca in order to get closer to Griffith - which is gonna be an interesting one to unpack too.

But the point is, while Guts is yes repulsed by Apostles and demons, there is a part of him that is tempted to become one in order to become further entwined with Griffith - listen this isn’t me editorializing, this is what the story says. I am sitting here with the Japanese volume in front of me, and the phrasing is in fact “maybe you can” in the same way someone would say “maybe if you study you can graduate top of your class” or whatever, like its an aspiration not a dread. And if you poke around tumblr you know why I phrase the BoD scene re: Casca as “become more entwined with Griffith” but I’ll also get there when I get there.

Anyway! Long story short, Guts is tempted to try to be a monster in order to be more like Griffith. And the fact that he has this thought, a thought he hates, is seemingly the reason he gets angry and lashes out at nothing in his frustration - as opposed to just listening passively while he tries to outrun the spirits stalking him the way he was when the Beast just went on about how he’s going to be alone forever or whatever.

I mean I don’t think Guts has a secret desire to be a demon, it’s just about wanting to get more interlinked with Griffith but yeah.

And of course we have another instance in which he is not quite able to articulate why he wants to reach Griffith. I mean look, surprising no one, I’m always a little annoyed when people act like Guts’ feelings about Griffith are exclusively hatred, both because the story itself repeatedly and directly states otherwise and because there are heavy implications otherwise right, like I don’t doubt that his intent is to try and kill Griffith but it’s sort of a complicated feeling and seems wrapped up in some doubt about what he actually wants and what he’ll do when he finally reaches Griffith. Which is reflected in his internally inconsistent reaction to Griffith when they actually meet again.

3. Anyway moving on, Puck really did save Guts’ psyche, huh?

Gut has this habit of, when hes passed through one of these ‘join the dark side” moments, just being like YEAH THATS NOT A THING AT ALL. He does it again after the BoD scene at the campfire in volume... 23? But it is a thing, and he never directly confronts those things or what they mean/imply about him and that’s part of why they keep recurring.

That said, you do get tthe behelit descending back into darkness which seems to imply the opposite for Guts - the moment of danger has passed.

4. Farnese is maybe my third most beloved character in Berserk (after Guts and Griffith) so her entrance into the story is prime excitement time for me.

It is funny though, like I can completely understand why they would think he’s the Hawk of Darkness, no lie - everywhere he goes he leaves a trail of death and destruction. But in reality the hawk of darkness is something much bigger than one guy causing chaos, like even if he were causing the destruction instead of chasing it (... well he is kinda causing it but you know what I mean), it still wouldn’t be large scale enough to touch whatever Griffith can do.

5. Point of retranslation noted because it’s amusing af: “What for? I don’t recall doin’ anything that’d make priests arrest me. But it’s possible... I guess...”

And this is pretty hilarious in light of the fact that Serpico is arguably the third best combatant in the series behind the obvious big two.

6. I never have much to say about fights, aside from “Guts fighting is basically porn” but it is kind of insane the way he managed to take out so many of the holy iron chain knights even in his condition because lets remember he just killed like quadrillion demon fairythings, a bunch of pseudoapostles and an actual apostle followed by running through the forest for the rest of the night. This has got to be the weakest he’s been since he reached adulthood and he STILL wrecked.

The blow that Farnese lucked into landing on him is the same one Griffith was planning to land but wimped out on. Interesting interesting.

7. Farnese is a really interesting character to me. When she first showed up in Berserk... I mean, okay when I first started reading Berserk I was right in the middle of being a huge Claymore fan, and one of the characters in Claymore that I really loved was the primary antagonist, Priscilla. Farnese reminded me a lot of Priscilla in her pre-awakening days - really unsure of herself and holding herself together by clinging onto a belief system that she ultimately kind of needs just to be able to function properly. If she doesn’t have that to hold onto, then who is she, even? It’s very... yeah Priscilla, or Inspector Javert in another way.

But the thing is, as much as she clings to those beliefs, ultimately they are fairly thin right, like every time you shake them even a little she lashes out and gets a sweat drop on her face. It’s kind of like how Guts can hear a lot of bullshit but if he gets accused of kinda wanting to be a monster so he can reach Griffith then he gets defensive and by defensive I mean hostile. It’s just lashing out at the thing about themselves that they don’t want to believe, because believing it calls eveything else they believe into question.

That’s the impression I had of her at the time, and of course later they explore this a bit and yeah that’s basically true.

Her association with the Holy See also adds an interesting element to it, given the Holy See’s relationship to, well, Griffith which gets explicitly called out soon (visually speaking). It also provides an outlet for Miura to talk about the cosmology of Berserk a bit more, not that people pay attention but...

It’s the contrast between the lofty but impersonal and abstract belief system she’s been drawn into...

And the harsh reality of what Gods and Demons and Angels and Monsters really are in this world - which Guts is better equipped than almost anyone to attest to.

It’s interesting to me because a lot of people continue to kind of impose this real world religious paradigm on the series, which I mean I can understand that since they literally are called the Holy See and Miura was very obviously evoking Catholicism here... but one of the things japanese media loves to do is deconstruct western religious imagery and belief systems and he’s doing it again right here. Even the Idea of Evil himself is a deconstruction of the God’s plan idea.

Anyway this little subarc is one of the places where this is directly addressed even though the idea’s been floating around since just after Griffith and Guts took on Zodd.

And dipping back into the Holy See, this is just the splash of Volume 17 so I’m not going to get into it too much but I gotta say, when I realized the Holy See’s symbol was a crucified hawk, two snakes and a behelit i just about lost my mind.

The Hawk/Falcon and Behelit are self-explanatory but the snakes are interesting - offhand I can think of three things they might symbolize:

1. Guts and Casca (the “snakes” that destroyed him - this kind of harkens back to how Casca is named after the roman soldier who killed Christ in an old novel series) 2. Griffith (Hawk of Light) and Griffith (Hawk of Darkness) - the two sides of him that form the reborn hawk. 3. Griffith and MoonKid (the two souls that came out of the behelit apostle inside the reborn Hawk).

8. MOVING ON. Random bits before I get back to business...

Puck really just acts completely differently in acorn mode doesnt he?

And there’s that famous Guts charm.

And this is unapologetically one of my favorite bits in the whole series. I cant believe that Guts actually did it, he apologized to the horse.

9. Serpico’s relationship with Farnese. I’m sure I’ll talk about it in greater depth once they really become more permanent/prominent members of the team, but I guess there’s some disagreement over whether their connection has unfulfilled romantic longing involved, and I’ll go on record that yes it does.

“But they’re siblings.” Yeah but Farnese doesn’t know, and thats why Serpico shut it down, but the element remains.

10. Now this whole thing about Elves being invisible to many people is pretty interesting - its obviously a bit of retcon but he does kind of cover for it by saying it’s more of a thing in big cities and cathedrals which makes it less inconsistent since the first storyarcs with Puck were generally in small towns or at least not enormous cities like Wyndham.

And as a storytelling device it’s useful because it helps to track where Farnese is in her mental journey.

11. And more hammering home that there is no good/evil when it comes to supernatural stuff in Berserk, just like calling the Godhand angels, or saying there’s no difference between gods and demons. This is one of my absolute favorite things about Berserk, because grey morality is my jam.

And I mean, look, I’m not gonna show pictures of the Rape Horse scene or get into whether that was a justified inclusion but I will say this: the way this experience breaks down Farnese’s foundation and puts the lie to everything she believes in and her reaction to it - that very human near mindbreak and how much she can’t even... process what it’s like to live Guts’ life, or in Guts’ world... is fascinating to watch but also makes her decision to willingly enter it later more impressive to me.

12. One of the things Miura consistently brings up - and he did mention in an interview that this is meant to be the case - is these echoes of Guts’ similarities to Griffith. This includes both the good and the bad things from their personal magnetism - that thing that draws others to them to follow along - to their mutual flirtation with amorality. This is one of the things that I think the wider Berserk fandom tends to overlook in their rush to condemn Griffith and glorify Guts. Kind of like the rush to ignore that he’s tempted to rape/murder Casca or that he kind of wants to be a monster even though he also definitely doesn’t want to be a monster.

Anyway that comes to mind here, because this is almost sentiment for sentiment the same as....

I think trying to consider them opposites kind of misses the point because its more like their personalities differ but they’re formed from the same metal in different shapes. And morally they aren’t really that different from one another, their limitations are just placed in different spots, and I don’t mean Griffith is willing to be worse than Guts is, that’s a serious misread. What I mean is that Guts is willing to be terrible to different people than Griffith is.

Like one major block to Guts ever making a sacrifice would be, I think, that the people he’d have to sacrifice are specifically the only people in the world he wouldn’t sacrifice. It’s just how his brain works.Ultimately I think you could get there but it would take a lot of doing, because Guts would wipe a nation off the map before he’d sacrifice someone he loved. And I don’t actually think that’s morally "good,” you know?

13. THAT’S SOME GRIFFITH SHIT, OK. Right down to the eyes!

Yeah so basically, it seems Serpico attacked him not as a serious strike but kind of to get his measure.

Another day another emotional breakdown catalyzed by our wandering hero.

And that’s all, folks. Soon we’re going to have quite the emotional rollercoaster, because we’re heading into the Birth Ceremony, and more specifically we’re about to roll into Griffith’s relevation dreams, the death of the King of Midland and, of course, Guts’ famous return to Godo’s cave after Casca runs off.

Exciting!

#berserk #ariel talks about berserk #rambles about berserk #berserk meta

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mxlfoydraco · 1 year

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In the HP wiki it says draco's middle name IS lucius? However I know the wiki can be edited by whoever and that's something that would have easily gone undetected by the radar. Either way... Is his middle name really not lucius??

Yeah it does say that but there’s no source (it doesn’t open for me?). I checked the full collection epub again and none of the Pottermore/Wizarding World articles refer to him as Draco Lucius. For comparison, Remus’ middle name is John and his article states that. HP Lexicon cites sources very well and there’s no middle name there either.

Honestly I’m obsessive as hell, if there’s a source I haven’t seen let me know!

#asks

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icharchivist · 3 months

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I want what Siete!Anon has

Their crushing on this guy is so adorable

But I also love the absolute lengths everyone here goes to stoke that fire, from sending merch links to proposing cute headcanons to editing the actual wiki to feed them

I love this so much <3

aWWWW

so true, the crushing is adorable. and i love how everyone somehow singled them out and decided to feed them in particular ahah.

And soooo true i love it too <33

tbh i was discussing it with the friend who gave me the audio files (and who translated Triple Zero), but like, he's pretty HL in general and he's been mostly staying in HL corners, and what he sees mostly is how cynical most of the HL players are and how little enjoyment they get from things.

He's not on tumblr, so it's not something in his radar and all, but when i bring up the stuff going on here, he gets soft because this unironic enjoyment and passion of the game is super endearing and it actually makes him want to dig into the files and stuff of the game much, much more, than he does by staying in our usual circles.

So even to him, it's something so special he is happy to participate in the bullying while he's not even here with us lmao, just because he thinks this type of enjoyment for the game should be well fed.

So honestly this is making me so happy and proud that this is the type of ambiance we're developping here??? hell yeah love the game! have fun! love the characters! we'll support you through it because yknow what, that's precious. godspeed!

i'm so glad everyone agrees on supporting each other here <3

#ichareply #ichafantalks gbf #anonymous

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loser-brain · 8 months

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Alright, since we all hate the new layout I want to add to it.

Since we are getting plagued by One Piece ads I have to say, with all the clutterness because of the new layout. It's taking waaaaaayyy too much space.

The ad I had before literally took up so much space I had to scroll a bit down to see an actual post

Everyone hated the clown ad because it was in the way of the Radar. In the old layout it would’ve been fine to have it in the empty space to the left hell next time have Buggy (the clown name btw) to the left below "Go Ad-Free"

"But it'll get in the way of the create button"

No one uses that button anyway, we all use the buttons that are at the top.

[Image with buggy logo edited smaller and to the bottom left with a caption below it saying "This is better!!," While the original image to the bottom right has a caption above it saying "This is not!!"]

These are the buttons I'm talking about in case someone gets confused (mostly talking to new users here)

"But it'll get in the way of the sidebar menu!"

make the ad disappear when the sidebar menu drops 🫠 like it's not that hard to visualize an end product/end goal.

These ads are because of the clutterness of the layout is more on the force end. More on the hey look hey look hey look hey look do you see it do you do you do you do you

like yes... I do see it... You have it plastered everywhere right in my face. Practically suffocating me/making me hate this ad.

The Pikaman ad was memorable because it was not in our faces as aggressively as this. It was not in the way like how Buggy was. It was just there doin' an ad, in which the community has a love and hate relationship with.

With the One Piece ads. Yeah, sorry but with how you placed Buggy he became an annoyance right from the get-go because he was in the way of Radar. And because he was in the way of Radar many people's first impressions were not happy ones. Instead of cultivating many fans to be hyped for the show on Netflix, you made it everyone's number-one enemy.

So to sum up, because of this new layout, Tumblr made it easy for everyone to hate a certain thing because of how cluttered everything is.

#tumblr #rant #sorry im rambling #but like I'm not wrong. Literally everyone is telling everyone hey if you have Ublock you can block this ad element #like I'm not gonna lie people telling everyone how to block a certain element isn't new however because of this... there so many #people telling everyone to not only get Ublock but also show how to block the element #that how you know you made a very bad move because it's encouraging the wrong idea on how you wanted to deliver the product #Tumblr: Were gonna hype one piece #Also Tumblr: *Make it annoying as much as possible to encourage everyone to not only hate Netflix live action OP but to also use UBlock*

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itsjustpoopeh · 1 year

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i think a lot of y’all forgot (or never acknowledged) that this was buck’s subconscious, not an actual alternate universe

like, were some of the choices ick? he fixed bobby? his absence means eddie lost his son? yeah, that’s self-centered as hell

idk if y’all have noticed tho, but one of the running themes of evan buckley’s character is that sometimes he thinks the world revolves around him and he’s a catastrophizer. if bad shit happens it’ll be the worst shit and it’s his fault. coma hen even acknowledged it so he knows it! *that’s what that was about*

like, *obviously* in the real world that’s not what would have happened. bobby would have either relapsed and lost his job or relapsed and gotten better and kept his job. dead bobby is a streeeetch. eddie would have just quit being a firefighter if he had to, or figured out another childcare solution. that was about a fear that eddie had that was communicated to buck bc they’re friends. coma buck is catastrophizing like crazy

and describing eddie as angry? yeah, there’s issues there, but most of those issues are being projected because of how fandom and fanfic tends to treat his character. let’s not pretend that eddie did not canonically join a gd fight club after losing someone he loved, literally nearly killed a dude, and ended up in therapy about it, okay? an eddie in a 118 that isn’t such a nosy ass family isn’t going to open up to them the way it’s taken real world eddie *five fucking years* to do, so to outsiders he’s just going to be That Angry Guy

did i want more eddie in the episode? well that man is my number 3 main behind Hen Wilson and Athena Grant so obviously. do i think there should have been more eddie in the episode? yes, actually. i think this would have benefited from being a two parter tbh. they should have cut down a lot of the unearned redemption of the gd birth parents (both buckley and han editions) since they were never going to have them apologize or hold themselves accountable. but also *we all knew this show was always going to treat them that way*

and none of this, btw, required post-mortem interviews and intensive analysis. i almost never read post-mortems and haven’t read any for this episode. it’s just... consistent with his character so far and therefore didn’t even ping my radar.

christ, as much as i hate to admit it even the treatment of his parents is consistent with his character, i just don’t like it and wish he’d learn he deserves better. like, yes, this show does a lot of stupid, inconsistent shit. i just don’t think there was as much of that in this episode as y’all are claiming

#911 fox #911 spoilers #y'all be making me tired #i wish television without pity was still around #it should be required reading for media analysis #like a lot of the angst on the dash is subverted expectations #but the expectations were never based on reality #don't y'all get tired?

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24cardpickup · 2 years

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Do you love the colour of Smajor?

Based on: This

#mcyt art #scott smajor #origins smp #afterlife smp #alsmp #empires smp #yes I like the colour of Smajor :)#Edit: on the radar!!! Hell yeah :))#scribles scrawls and other sillies

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misnomera · 4 years

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On racial stereotyping of the Haans in TMA...

Right so as someone who is ethnically Chinese I have NO FUCKING clue how I didn’t notice this more distinctly in my initial binge of tma (going too fast and not paying closer attention to character names and descriptions, probably) but the Haan family storyline is, all horror elements aside, pretty fucked up in terms of racial representation re: stereotyping. This got long as hell, but please please please take a moment to read through if you’ve got time for it. thanks.

To start off, the Haans are one of the few characters in tma with an explicitly specified race and ethnicity—Chinese—and pretty much the only explicitly Chinese characters in tma, other than the mostly unimportant librarian (Zhang Xiaoling) from Beijing. But like, Haan isn’t even a properly Chinese surname, at least not in the way that it’s spelled in canon (it should be Han, one a. A quick google search tells me that Haan as a surname has...Dutch origins??).

Of course, that could be chalked up to shoddy anglicization processes within family histories, which certainly isn’t uncommon with immigrant families, so I’m not going to dwell on names too much (although I also find it interesting that John Haan’s name is so specifically and weirdly anglicized that he changed his own surname?? Hun Yung to John Haan is a very big leap of a name change and frankly not very believable. ANYWAY, this is not that important. I don’t expect Jonny, a white Englishman, to come up with perfectly unquestionable non-Cho-Chang-like Chinese names, though it certainly would be nice. Moving on).

What really bothers me about the Haans is how they almost exclusively and explicitly play into negative Chinese immigrant stereotypes. I don’t even feel like I need to say it because it’s like...it’s literally Right There, folks. John Haan (in ep 72) owns and operates a sketchy takeout restaurant. They’re all avatars of the Flesh—and John Haan is Specifically horrific and terrifying because he cooked his wife’s human meat and fed it to his unknowing customers. Does that remind you of any stereotypes which accuse Chinese people of consuming societally unacceptable and ethically questionable things like dog/cat/bat meat (which, if it’s not already crystal fucking clear, we don’t. do that.), which in turn characterize us as horrible unfeeling monsters? John Haan’s characterization feeds (haha, badum tss) directly into this harmful stereotype that have caused very real pain for Chinese people and East Asians in general.

And Jonny does nothing to address that from within his writing (and not out of it either). And, speaking on a more meta level, Jonny could’ve easily had these flesh avatars be individuals of any race (like, what’s Jared Hopworth’s ethnicity? Do we know? No? Well then). Conversely, he could’ve easily, easily had a Chinese person be an avatar of any other entity. So why did he have to chose specifically the Flesh?

(This is a rhetorical question. You know why. Racial stereotyping and invoking a fear of the other in an attempt to enhance horror, babey~)

On Tom Haan’s side, Jonny seems weirdly intent on having other characters repeatedly comment on his accent (or rather, lack thereof) in relation to his race. Think about how, in ep 30 (killing floor), the fact that Tom Haan had spoken a line to the statement giver in “perfect English” was an emphasized beat in that statement, and a beat that was supposed to be “chilling” and meant to signify to us that something was, quote-unquote, “not right” with Tom Haan. Implicitly, that’s saying that it was unexpected, not “normal”, and in this case even eerie, for someone who looks Chinese to have spoken in fluid, unbroken English. Mind you, the line itself was perfectly scary on its own (“you cannot stop the slaughter by closing the door”), so why did Jonny feel the need to note the accent in which it was spoken in? Why did Jonny HAVE to have that statement giver note, that he initially “wasn’t even sure how much English [Haan] spoke”?

This happens again in episode 72 with a Chinese man (and again, his ethnicity is Explicitly Noted) who we assume is also Tom Haan. This one is rather ironically funny and kind of painfully self aware, because the statement giver expresses surprise at Haan’s “crisp RP accent” and then immediately “felt bad about making the assumption that he couldn’t speak English,” and subsequently admitted that thought was “low-key racist.” Like, from a writing perspective, this entire passage is roundabout, pointless, and says absolutely nothing helpful to enhance the horror genre experience for listeners (instead it just sounded like some sort of half-assed excuse so Jonny or other listeners could say “look! We’ve addressed the racism!” You didn’t. It just made me vaguely uncomfortable). And again, having other people comment on our accents/lack thereof while assuming we are foreign is a Very Real microaggression that east asians face on the daily. If Jonny needed some filler sentences for pacing he could’ve written about Literally anything else. So why point out, yet again, that the crazy murderous man was foreign and Chinese?

At this point, you might say, right, but yknow, it was just that the statement givers were kind of racist! It happens! Yeah sure, ok, that’s a passable in-universe explanation for descriptions of Tom Haan (though not John Haan, mind you), but the statement givers are fake made up people, and statement’s still written by Jonny, who absolutely has all the power to write overt discrimination out of his stories. And he does! Think about just how many minor (and major!!) characters are so, so carefully written as completely aracial, and do not have their ethnicity implicated at all in whatever horrors they may or may not be committing. Think about how many lgbtq+ characters have given statements, and have been in statements, without having faced direct forms of discrimination, or portrayed as embodying blatant stereotypes in their stories (though lgbtq+ rep in tma certainly has their own issues that I won’t go into here). Jonny can clearly write characters this way, and he can do it well. So why, why, am I being constantly, repeatedly reminded in-text of the fact that the Haans are East Asian, that they’re from China, that they’re Chinese immigrants, that they’re second-generation British Chinese or whatever the fuck, and that they’re also horrifying conduits for blood, gore, and general fucked-up-ness? It’s absolutely not something that is Needed for the stories to be an effective piece of horror; the only thing it does is perpetuate incredibly harmful and hurtful stereotypes.

And listen, I love tma to bits. It’s taken over my blog. I’ve really loved my interactions with the fandom. And I am consistently blown away by Jonny’s writing and how well he’s able to weave foreshadowing and plot into an incredibly complex collection of stories. But I absolutely Cannot stop thinking about the Haans because it’s just. It’s such a blatant display of racial stereotyping in writing. And I’ve certainly seen a few voices talking about it here and there, and I don’t know if I’m just not looking in the right places, but it certainly feels like something that is just straight up not on the radar for a lot of tma fans. And I’m disappointed about that.

Just, I don’t know. Take a look at those episodes again and do some of your own thinking about why these characters had to be specifically Chinese (answer: they didn’t.). And in general, PLEASE for the love of god turn a critical eye on character portrayals and descriptions whenever they are assigned specific races/ethnicities (Some examples that come to mind are Jude Perry, Annabelle Cane, and Diego Molina), because similar issues, to an extent, extend beyond the Haans, though I haven’t covered them here.

You shouldn’t need a POC to do point out these problems for you when they’re so glaringly There. But for those of you who really didn’t know, hope this was informative in some way. I’m tired, man. If some of the only significant Chinese characters you write are violent cannibalistic men with a perverted relationship with meat, just don’t do it. Please don’t do it.

EDIT: Since the making of this post Jonny has acknowledged and apologized for these portrayals on his twitter and in the Rusty Quill Operations Update, which went up September 2020. A long time coming, but better late than never. This of course doesn’t necessarily negate the harm done by Jonny’s writing, and doesn’t make me much less angry about it, but is appreciated nonetheless. For more on this topic there’s a lot of productive discussions happening in my “#tma crit” tag and in the notes of this post

#tma #the magnus archives #magnuspod #tma 30 #tma 72 #tma crit #racism #sinophobia #racist stereotyping #tw cannibalism #tw violence #long post #tom haan #john haan

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majortuttle · 3 years

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i don't know whether you're still taking beejhawk prompts but if so, i'd love to see something that takes place after the bus s4e6. they're all describing their first crushes and hawkeye never does and i think it would be fun for hawk to come out to bj with a little pronoun slip and if you don't do it, i will :) thank you for your service.

First off, I'll always take prompts and asks so we're golden! Second, I hope this scratches a small itch — I'm a little tired so I hope it tracks alright!

“The first time love conquered all,” BJ says, echoing the topic of their earlier conversation. “While Radar may have needed finding, you, sir, got skittish.”

“Skittish? What am I, a crab?”

BJ chuckles and leans back, resting his has against the window while keeping Hawkeye in sight, legs extended across the width of the bus to almost brush Hawkeye’s fatigue pants with his boot.

“C’mon, I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“I feel like this is an elaborate ruse meant to give you another opportunity to gush about your beautiful wife.”

“I don’t need a ruse to sing Peg’s praises, you know that. C’mon. Spill. I want to know more about my favorite bunkmate.”

“Alright, first time love conquered all,” Hawkeye says, keeping his voice low for the benefit of their sleeping comrades. “Well, I was fifteen; young, gangly, and stupid. You know the type.”

“That I do.”

Hawkeye tongues a tender spot on the inside of his cheek as he rewrites the story in his mind — swapping names and locations on the fly because he can’t admit the truth, not here.

“She was a good friend of mine,” Hawkeye starts, before immediately having to clear his throat. “Best friend. We grew up together and I’d had feelings for some time, not that I knew how to go about expressing them, refer back to young and stupid.”

“Noted.”

“I thought I’d take her skating. Confess my love on the ice and if things went south, I’d skate to a thin patch and do myself in.”

"Naturally."

“We got out on the ice, and before I could get my bearings, I hear this cracking — you know, when a large enough sheet of ice starts to break, it almost sounds like a gunshot, it startles you so badly you forget to be scared — but when I figured out what was happening, I panicked, started rushing back to shore and s-she was right behind me, and then she was ahead of me, and my skate caught in this crack and I fell.”

Hawkeye stops himself, thinking back on the number of times he’s told this story in its entirety, not edited for the sake of concerned parents.

“Didn’t fall through the ice,” Hawkeye clarifies, meeting BJ’s worried face. “But the whole sheet buckled, and I was on my stomach just waiting for the water to take me when I looked up and . . .”

He closes his eyes, and he can still see Tommy, flushed and panting in that patchwork red coat of his, easing onto his belly like a seal, reaching out with one gloved hand, telling Hawkeye not to panic, that everything would be okay if Hawkeye could just slide a little further.

Just a little further, Hawk! You can do it!

“She saved me,” Hawkeye takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly in time with BJ’s own sigh of relief. “Smacked me upside the head when we got to shore for being so stupid and scaring her half to death, and then she kissed me. Wasn’t my first kiss, but it was the one that counted.”

“Sounds like a hell of a gal.” BJ praises, shoulders drooping like he's just escaped the gallows himself. “I'd love to meet her some day. She waiting for you back home?”

“Well, you can't, he actually died quite recently.”

The words practically fall out of Hawkeye’s mouth, unbidden and unwanted; and when Hawkeye realizes what he’s done, he doesn’t look to the gently surprised expression on BJ’s face, he turns to Potter and Burns resting behind them. Searching for any hint that the men might have heard him.

“. . . I’m sorry to hear that.”

Hawkeye whips his attention back to BJ so quickly he feels a vertebrae pop in his neck. BJ casts a look to their sleeping compatriots before he lifts up and shifts across the aisle onto the seat beside Hawkeye — or what little remains of it — before slowly, carefully, pulling Hawkeye’s hand into his own.

It takes far too long for Hawkeye to realize he’s being comforted.

“What was his name?” BJ asks.

“Tommy,” Hawkeye whispers, swallowing hard against the fear threatening to consume him, against the earnest sympathy plastered over BJ’s face. “Tommy Gillis. He died here. In Korea.”

BJ tightens his grip around Hawkeye’s hand, closes his eyes, and bows his head. Hawkeye can’t bring himself to do the same, consumed in the moment by this new Captain, Trapper’s replacement, fresh off the boat, commiserating over the loss of someone who’s mere memory is dangerous to Hawkeye.

“Are you praying?”

“Something like that.” BJ answers somberly. “The least I can do.”

“He died on my table,” Hawkeye admits, wincing at the tremor in his voice as he tries to shake some inhumanity out of Hunnicutt. “I couldn’t save him. I let him die.”

“I’m sure you did what you could.”

“You don’t know that. You weren’t there —”

Hawkeye’s lips are cracked and now they’re burning, a roundabout way to realize he’s crying.

“I wasn’t, but I know you.” BJ insists, not letting go even as Hawkeye tugs his hand away. “You’re a good man. A better surgeon. It couldn’t have been your fault. Tommy, would he have blamed you? Would he want you beating yourself up like this?”

Hawkeye turns his blurry gaze to their clasped hands and stifles a sob, only to immediately find himself in BJ’s arms; the larger man holding him tightly.

“When we get out of this,” BJ whispers, running his hand over Hawkeye’s back in soothing circles, “I’ll tell you a story of my own, okay? It’s a good one. I promise you’ll like it.”

“Yeah? Is it about Peg?” Hawkeye sniffs, wiping his face on BJ’s shoulder. “There’s only so much Peg my heart can handle —”

BJ chuckles dryly, giving Hawkeye a reassuring squeeze. “Peg's not in this one," he swears, resting his cheek against the crown of Hawkeye's head. "In fact, you could say there aren't any women at all."

#beejhawk #kinda i guess it's pre-beejhawk #tommy gillis #angst #mentions of character death #this one was a little painful I'm sorry!#mash #my stuff #my fic

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beskarberry · 3 years

Text

Bargaining with Beskar (The Mandalorian x f!reader)

Rating : Explicit

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: canon-typical violence (bounty capture) smut: captured bounty sex, rough play (soft choke), fingering, pent up sex.

Summary: You’re an ex bounty hunter just trying to escape the guilds radar long enough to spend a hefty reward, but a another bounty hunter has other plans for you. Can you convince him to let you go with only your charm, or will you find yourself in carbonite?

Authors note: I wrote this in a fury in the middle of the night so it’s messy and very very self indulgent. It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything so if I need to tag something tell me!

Edit: This fic started on another blog of mine but I moved it here to keep it consistent for when I add more chapters.

Next->

You'd had a good run.

It was a hard opportunity to pass up, the high profile bounty you had been charged to bring in had been able to contact their family shortly before you had captured them and the family offered to pay you handsomely for their return, easily triple what the guild was going to pay for this bail jumper. You’d taken the deal, but that meant you would be returning to the guild empty handed. Maybe if you laid low for a while they'd forget.

Of course that was a stupid thought, within weeks you had noticed rookie hunters on your tail. Word had gotten out that the bounty was walking free and a sloppy bounty hunter was a liability to the guild. After evading all of the green-horns for a time the more experienced hunters began tracking you, and your only choice with them was kill or be killed. They should have known you wouldn't go down quietly.

Months passed before you saw another hunter, hoping against hope that they had given up. It wasn't until you had gotten somewhat comfortable on Tatooine that the last one came.

You were far outside of Mos Eisly, the sandy city was barely a smudge on the horizon from where you were laying low doing repair work on a moisture extractor when he arrived. The machines engine was so loud in your ear you never heard him coming up over the dune, though through the scope of the pulse riffle he carried you wouldn't have heard him anyway. You cranked a ratchet against a stubborn bolt,

-crank.... crank.... c-CRZZT-!

Electricity coursed through you, your first thought was that somehow you had made a connection with a loose wire and shocked yourself, but it was soon obvious that whatever had electrified you was strong enough to paralyze you, causing you to drop down onto the ground. Your fingers were still twitching when you heard bootsteps coming over the sand, but you were unable to stand, instead you worked to shake the electricity running through you.

"Th-thi-think I hit a whi-wh-wire there, I- I- I- I'll get it fi- fixed." you stuttered through clenched teeth, thinking it was the moisture farmer that had hired you coming to see if you were ok. The pulse was wearing off quickly, and you were able to jerk your head enough to make visual contact with the boot of the man approaching you, but these were not the boots of a farmer, they were the boots of a bounty hunter.

"Oh fuck" you tried to scramble to your feet, but you were still jarred from the pulse bolt that had hit you. The man above you wasn't going to wait for you to get your footing, and kicked you over onto your back with one bandoliered boot, then kneeled into your gut with the other, knocking the wind out of you. Still twitching with electricity he snapped a pair of binders on your wrist before hauling you to your feet. You struggled in his grasp, a combination of convulsion and fear made you squirm like a womp rat in a trap, but his grasp was too strong. Suddenly there was cold metal pressed against your side, the barrel of a blaster digging into your ribs.

"Move it." A man of little words but quick and to the point, the blaster barrel forced harder into your side to accentuate his point. He ripped your supply bag off of your shoulders and stuffed a leather clad hand into the belt of your canvas pants to fish out your hidden blaster. Rude. He shoved you toward the barren wasteland of the dune sea, unable to argue with the barrel digging into your ribs you both set off in a brisk pace across sands.

"Whose p- paying you?" You sputtered, still feeling the after effects of the pulse bolt. "I can pay you m- more. I made three ti- times the bounty the guild would pay and I would g- gladly split it with you." Bargaining was your only option at the moment, arms and legs like jelly and unable to put up a good fight. The hunter said nothing, continuing to half march half drag you over the sands. "I bet half is still more than double what they're paying you now, so whad’dya say? Wanna go splitsies?" Still nothing. You huffed, dragging your legs in the sand as best you could to slow him down, but a quick jab with the blaster barrel had you singing a different tune.

The pair of you marched on for a couple hours through the dunes towards a rocky outcropping, you continued making offers of credits and services but never once did he respond, choosing instead to shank you with the blaster or shove a hand into your back to remind you of your current position as his prisoner, without letting you get so much as a peek at your captor. Before long you both had made it to the rocks, and hidden behind them was the saddest looking star ship you had ever seen. It was pre-Imperial you were sure, standing dusty and dented in the fading double sunset. The fact that it had survived atmospheric reentry was a surprise in itself. Like hell you were getting on that thing. The bounty hunter shoved you forward towards the ugly ship, letting go of you just long enough to press a couple buttons on his vambrace to open the entry ramp. It was now or never.

Tired and dehydrated as you were from your trek across the dunes you knew this might be your only chance. You tucked in your bound wrists and made a run for it, kicking up sand in your escape. You were fast but he was faster.

-fwip!- SNAP! Something had caught your leg, yanking your feet out from under you and forcing you to do a faceplant in the rocky sand with a thud. You whipped around to find that he had shot you with some kind of grapple, hauling you back towards him by your ankle you were finally able to see who had caught you.

Is that the Mandalorian? From Karga’s cantina? Of all the hunters you had seen in your travels, Mandalorians were a breed all their own. The stoic hunters had frequented the ramshackle cantina on Navarro that you had visited a handful of times in your earlier days of hunting. You’d started to recognize one in particular that frequented the guild post often. His beskar helmet was shiny unpainted silver, but the last time you had seen him the rest of his armor was a dingy reddish brown. The thought was fleeting as you struggled to escape being dragged by the grapple but once he had you back in his grasp there was no denying it was the same man. He was covered almost head to toe in bullets and beskar, all the way up to the familiar shiny dome of it that covered his entire head. You were able to get an excellent view of its craftsmanship as he pulled you back up to your feet and marched you backwards into the old ship, the black shimmer of his visor never leaving your face. You stumbled over your own feet, fighting with the last bit of your strength for one last chance at escape.

“Mando! Remember me? From Kargas? On Navarro? Yeah yeah heya buddy! Hey hunter to hunter you don’t actually want to bring me in, I just know how much you ~looove~ talking with that old cantina crook and the, uh, paper work! Yeah paper work is suuuch a headache! I’ll just slip on out of here and we can both avoid a bad time, sound good?” Though you knew who he was you’d never spoken to this man in your life, and he of course wasn’t going to entertain your pleas, but it was the best you had. You were pushed backwards through the ship, past supply crates and what looked like the guts of a protocol droid towards what you could only guess was a carbonite chamber. He tossed your supply pack somewhere into the bowels of the ship without ever taking his gaze off you. Panic found a few last drops of adrenaline to pump through your veins as you neared your impending doom. Your silent captor backed you into the chamber, puffs of fog billowing out from behind you as the machine fired up. You had to get out, thrashing in his grasp and kicking against the walls of the chamber with every last bit of strength you had, but just like the armor he wore, he himself was unbreakable.

The bigger hunter was becoming fed up, frustrated with your squirming and never ending bargaining; he needed you to hold still long enough for him to hit the activation sequence so this hunt would be over. He let go of your bound wrists and pushed a leather clad hand up against your throat.

“~Ahh~!”

The noise that escaped your mouth made you both freeze, you just as shocked as he was. Your cheeks flushed with heat, embarrassed that in your current state of capture such a filthy noise had been coaxed from you. You squeezed your eyes shut, just waiting for it to be over and let the carbonite freeze you into oblivion, but its chill never came. You slowly opened one eye to glance at the armored man, but he looked like he was the one that had been frozen.

“What was that?” His voice was like gravel coming through the modulator of his helmet, and you flushed red again at his question, looking between the corners of his visor where you thought his eyes might be.

“Don’t worry about it, tin man.” you croaked, “Just hurry up and let’s get this over with.” You squeezed your eyes shut again, hoping that the darkness behind your eyelids was enough for you to vanish into. But you felt the hand leave your neck, coasting down to your bound wrists and tugging you out of the carbonite freezer. Unable to really argue with him you followed his pull on shaky legs, looking at the unreadable face for a sign of his intentions. Once you were free of the chamber he pushed you up against the nearby wall and held you in front of him, completely motionless.

You were confused, embarrassed, and now suddenly frustrated. Was he really going to drag this out for stupid questions? He stood like a statue, the visor of his helmet felt like its gaze was trying to bore a hole through your skull. You stared at him, then to his hands, and last down to his blaster before looking back up to his visor. You watched as one leather gloved hand slowly made its way back up to your neck, giving it a firm squeeze like he had done before, but you wouldn’t fall for that trick a second time.

“Do it again.” came a rumbling voice from deep inside the beskar, but this time it was lower, more measured and full of something that made your heart do flip-flops in your chest. A sinful thought came to you, maybe you would be able to escape after all.

“You’re going to have to work for it, no more freebies” a sly smile crept over your face, earning a tilt of the helmet that made you feel like you were being inspected by a large bird. Your hands were still locked together, but you brought them both up anyway to wrap your fingers around the armored wrist that still leaned against your throat. Immediately his other hand went for the blaster and its barrel was trained on you in a heartbeat. “Easy...” you whispered showing both of your raised palms in a sign of peace. He kept the blaster trained on you as you gently grabbed his wrist with both hands, pulling on it to guide it down the front of your shirt. When his hand reached your breast, you pushed his palm into the supple mound, rewarding him with another breathy sigh.

Something like a huff whispered out though his modulator, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it over the whirring of the ships innards, but you knew what you heard. The blaster in his other hand dipped away from you slowly before finding its spot back in its holster. Once it was safely away his free hand came up to grab at your other breast, earning him another encouraging sigh. Without letting go of the front of your shirt he carefully spun you away from the carbonite freezer and walked you backwards towards one of the supply crates that littered the hull until it bumped up against the back of your knees; prompting you to plop down on it. You leaned back, arching your bound arms over your head to give you some kind of leverage while he toyed with your breasts.

“Y’know they’re even more fun without the shirt.” you chided. The mandalorian took the hint and ghosted down to the hem of the tunic you had worn to blend in with the other farmers. It was thin and yielded easily as he pushed it up over your breasts, the flesh of your nipple puckering in the cool air of the ship. The shiny black of his visor never left your chest, only tilting side to side as he took both of them in. His leather gloves were soft and warm on your skin, gently pinching at your nipple and pulling on them just enough to cause your breast to bounce when he let go. He grabbed at the pillowy flesh, groping and rolling your sensitive buds between the knuckles of his pointer and middle fingers. All the while you made good on your word, making soft sighs to edge him on. Though you knew this was supposed to be your escape plan, you couldn’t help the way heated pooled in your belly, making you squeeze your thighs together and rock your hips. The armored man noticed the way you were squirming and let his hands wander down from your breasts to the hem of your canvas pants.

“Well? Don’t leave a girl waiting.” You rocked your hips up at his hands, trying to get him to take the hint. His expert hands that had wielded fierce weaponry so well now seemed to falter at what he was supposed to do next. His fingers were slow undoing the button and zipper as if he'd never taking someone else's clothes off before, before pushing them down until they were around your knees. The sudden hit of cool air made you instantly aware of just how hot you had become under his groping. You used your knees and heels to push your pants all the way off, kicking your muckboots off with them and opening yourself up for him to get a good look at you.

His body was stiff, the visor of his helmet staring down at your heat, he was so still you could swear he was holding his breath. Suddenly his gaze made you feel vulnerable, as if he didn’t like your display. You moved to start closing your legs when a strong hand shot out to grab your knee and hold it in place while he continued to gawk at you. He likes what he sees you realized, heat flushing to your face and your cunt. Again you rolled your hips from side to side, trying to entice him. What’s he waiting for?

“Please...” you gave him your best impression of a needy virgin and saw his shoulders immediately go even stiffer, the black visor snapping up to meet your eyes. “Take your gloves off.”

He cocked his helmet at you, and you were starting to get the hang of reading an unreadable face. “Just trust me, we’ll both enjoy it more.” At that he tugged the glove off of one hand and tossed it somewhere behind him in the ship, exposing bronze skin of a, thankfully, human hand. He reached down between your legs at the hot core of your body, slowly moving his fingers down your slit. You sighed and arched into his touch, begging with your body for something more tangible. His other hand came up to grab your thigh and steady you, but the hand tracing your heat was shy and ghostlike, almost like he wasn’t touching you at all. “Please Mando...” you begged again, hoping he would get the damn hint.

He pushed one finger experimentally into your folds, dragging the wetness that had accumulated there over your opening and making you hum for him. He moved from the bottom up until his calloused hand found the sensitive little nub you had been waiting for him to find. The roughness of his skin caused you to convulse and cry out, making him tear his hand away as if he’d been burned.

“It’s alright! Please touch me there.” Who is this guy? What’s he never seen a pussy before? You thought to yourself, surprised that such a big scary man would be so jumpy. You arched your back and was rewarded with his hands back where they belonged. He pushed his thumb up against your aching clit, drawing lazy circles with it while another finger began pushing its way inside you. This time you let out a ragged and dirty moan to let him know he was doing a good job. He pulled his thumb away from your engorged nub to push a second finger up in you, making you whine. He found a spot in you quickly that was starting to make you shake again, but this time he knew not to foolishly let go. Your legs were quaking, head lolling to the side and making those sinful sighs that you could tell he liked. He was getting you close, your muscles squeezing around his rough fingers as he worked you to your climax. When his thumb found your clit again you came undone, your cunt fluttering around his fingers with your orgasm. He rode it out with you, pushing up against the coiled muscle to milk every ounce of pleasure from you that you could give on his hands alone. You could feel your own cum leaking down your thighs and around his hand, now realizing how pent up you actually were. What a mess you would be.

You were nearly gasping but you knew you were far from spent. He pulled his hand from your dripping cunt and you watched him stare at the slick on his hands, sticking and unsticking his fingers just to watch the glimmering trails. Cute, you mused to yourself, he really might not have seen a pussy before.

“Alright, space cowboy, your turn.” You nodded towards the bulge that had made his baggy canvas pants grow tight, and he followed your gaze with what you guessed was surprise. “Let’s see what you’ve got in there, hmm?” With one last glance at the prize on his fingers, he took a moment to reach them up underneath the edge of his helmet, greedily getting a taste of you, before straightening up and undoing his own buttons. You were not prepared for the monster that flopped out of his pants, his cock full and engorged all the way to its hot red tip. Thick veins wound their way up its length and you swore you could see them pulse even from your vantage point on the crate. A soft drop of precum was already forming at the tip and you licked your lips involuntarily, feeling a fresh rush of heat pooling between your legs. “I’m all yours.”

The hunter grasped his aching cock and used his thumb to glide the precum up and down it’s length before he angled himself between your legs. You arched your hips to give him the best angle but he wanted to take his time. He dragged the head of his cock up and down the length of your slick opening, gathering the cum he had earned for himself. When he bumped up against your clit you moaned a breathy and sinful sound that made him shiver. He slid back down again and you pushed your hip towards him, forcing his tip to notch and he almost doubled over from the sensation, giving you a ragged groan in response.

“Did that feel good?” you asked, biting your lip with a devious sneer. “It’ll feel even better inside.” His gaze was fixed on where the two of you were connected, his hands like steel on your thighs. Another tilt of your hips was enough to turn the cogwheels of the metal man and he pushed his length into you with a shuddering gasp. Your own breath caught in your throat at the size of him breaking you open. He pulled himself back out achingly slow before thrusting into you again and earning himself another round of pleasured cries. It took him only a couple more thrusts to find his rhythm, bottoming out against your cervix with every thrust. Your head was cloudy and a fearsome heat was building in your belly, threatening to burst every time he pounded into you. You could hear him now, the once silent bounty hunter was panting ragged puffs of air and if it had been any cooler in the ship you swore you would have seen steam coming out of the helmets vents.

He slowed his feverish pounding just long enough to release one of your captured thighs and bring a thumb down to your clit, pushing against it in a way that was rougher than what you would have liked but nevertheless sent your head spiraling and forcing a pitiful mewl to escape your throat. It wasn’t long before another round of lightning crackled through your body and sent another orgasm crashing through you. The force of it made him choke and stuttered his perfect rhythm hard enough that he fell forward onto you. Your hands were still locked together but you wrapped them around his broad armored back as best you could, pulling him close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath coming out of the bottom of the helmet. He groaned and pushed his head into the crook of your neck before finding his filthy cadence again. He was close enough now that you could catch the scent of him, a mix of sweat and metal and gunpowder and something so primal it made your eyes flutter.

“Let me feel that again.” His ragged voice in your ear sent you spinning, and you could only answer with choked cries. The hand he had used to work you into a frenzy before now snaked it’s way up to your throat, giving it the exact gentle squeeze he had earlier that started this whole twisted tango. This time you gave him precisely what he was asking for, your tongue peeking ever so slightly past wet lips in between soft choked gasps. His pace quickened by your edging and his grasp tightened on your neck, drawing an ugly -urk- noise that had you patting his back in protest. To your relief he respected your gesture and let go of your neck entirely. Interesting...what a sweet, thoughtful murder machine he is. He grabbed ahold of the abused crate that held you both up and ground his hips into you, fucking you so hard you swore it would break. It wasn’t long before your overstimulated cunt gave him exactly what he asked for, crying out into the silence of the hull and clamping down around his cock.

That was the last thing he needed to push him over the edge. A few more messy thrusts and a modulated roar accompanied his climax while he pumped you full of cum. He pushed himself as deep as he could go and you felt his cum start to pour out of you, mixing with your own as it trailed down from the intersection of your bodies and onto the cold metal of the ships floor. You were both panting, his weight on you making it almost hard to breathe. With great difficulty you pulled your bound arms over top of him and dropped them back behind your head so he could get up, but he just laid on top of you while his cock slowly softened and released itself from you, sending a fresh wave of cum flooding down your legs.

Carefully he pushed himself up, grunting and groaning the whole way. He stumbled to his feet, resting an arm on one of the crates next to you to steady himself and the other on your quaking knee. You glanced down at him and was bemused to see his glossy black visor staring down at your dripping cunt. His hands made their way back to you, gently pushing at your folds to watch the delicious mess he had made trickle from you. You couldn’t hear much over the blood pounding in your ears, but you could have sworn he said something with fondness in a language you didn’t know.

Releasing you from his grasp he walked up your side, dragging his ungloved hand over your disheveled body, devouring your naked form with his visor like a starving man watches a feast. It was now that you remembered why you had let him fuck you in the first place, but your body was limp and your legs shaky. He ran his hands up your chest and over your exposed breasts, then up your arms, grabbing the magnetic cuffs he had put there. Great. Back to the carbonite chamber for me.

But instead your ears were graced with the metallic click of the unlocking mechanism and the restrictive cuffs clattered to the floor. You sat up immediately, rubbing at the bruises on your wrists and staring at your captor with mix of bliss and confusion.

“You’re letting me go?”

Mando was working to put his clothes back in order, the sound of belts and snaps shuffling into place echoed in the ships hull. “Last I heard you had fallen into a sarlacc pit on Tatooine. Can’t collect a bounty on the dead. Pity too, I’d heard you were such a great hunter.” The man who had been your captor was now leaning against the hull wall, his visor still locked on your mostly naked form. “You can go back to doing repairs on moisture farm equipment, or...” he tilted his helmet towards the back of the ship “You’re welcome to use the fresher.”

You blinked at his uncharacteristic generosity, though you supposed you didn’t actually know anything about him. Shifting off of the crate sent another gooey wave of cum dribbling down your legs and flushed your cheeks red. Maybe the fresher wasn’t a bad idea. The metallic man turned on his heel towards what you could only guess was the cockpit.

“Alright, but no peeking.” Like I could stop him. The thought made you laugh, it was his ship after all. You tossed what was left of your clothing onto the floor and made for the tiny alcove that passed as a bathroom and the even tinier shower; but the water was hot and that was enough. It had been so long since you had felt running water on your skin that you didn’t even hear the engines firing up and the rickety ship begin to take off. There was a bar of military grade soap on the ledge that you decided to help yourself to, it smelled surprisingly nice for something so plain. It smells like he does. You shook your head at the intrusive thought. It was just soap.

When you had finished your wash you stood in the fresher trying to squeegie water from your hair, now noticing the rumbling of the ship under your feet. Well, goodbye Tatooine I guess. The ugly dust ball had done you no favors, but this wasn’t exactly the way you had guessed you were getting off of it. He had set out to capture me, and he succeeded. He’ll probably grow tired of me and throw me in the carbonite anyway, so one way or another I would have ended up on this ship. You opened the shower door and saw something on the counter that hadn’t been there when you got in.

Two gray-brown towels were folded neatly on the fresher sink, as well as your clothing and something that looked like a black knit sweater. You hadn’t even heard the door to the fresher open, let alone him coming in to drop the items off.

“Sneaky Mando!” You hollered out into the darkness of the ship, though you guessed he probably couldn’t hear you from where he was at. The idea of him creeping in the bathroom to bring you a towel made you chuckle. “I told you not to peek!”

“I didn’t.” A modulated voice right in your ear made you jump backwards into the safety of the fresher.

“Fucksake man! Scare a girl to death why don’tcha?” You wrapped your towel tighter in indignation, surprised that your nudity would make you embarrassed after what had just happened between the two of you.

He sighed a long, exhausted sigh. “After you went rouge you took out three top tier bounty hunters and not once did you try to beg the guild to stop hunting you. There’s a pretty hefty price on your head, but I think your skills could be put to better use.” The Mandalorian cocked his head at you, “Think you can do that again?”

The audacity... You huffed and put your hands on your hips in a stance of mock fury. “So you kidnap me and now you’re going to put me to work? Great. Thanks pal. Really know how to take a girl out on a date, huh?”

He shrugged. “Do you want to go back to the carbonite freezer? I’m sure Karga would love to part with all those credits for your capture.”

No... No you did not want to go back to the freezer. You glared down at the floor with raised eyebrows, pretending like you were mulling over the idea like it was a job offer and not literally your only option.

“Alright... fine fine you talked me into it. Let’s go hunting, captain.” You snapped a damp hand out for him to shake, but he just shook his shiny metal dome in what you might have guessed was a laugh. He pushed himself away from the wall and climbed back up the ladder to the cockpit without a single word.

You watched as his boots disappeared into the ceiling and shook your head, wondering now if when you woke up this morning you had any idea that the day would take you on some wild bantha hunt though space with a well-hung mystery man. You tightened your towel and tucked back into the still steamy fresher to put on the clothes he had left you. The farming tunic was in a sad state, but the knit sweater looked snug and inviting. Pulling it over your damp hair your nose was flooded with that same delectable scent that you had gotten to indulge in earlier. When he was pressed into you.

“Hoo boy...” You finished getting dressed, rubbing your hair with one of the towels Mr. Mystery had left for you. I hope he’s got travel scrabble somewhere in this rust bucket, or you’re going to have to find some more... physical... activities to pass the time. Your lips turned up in a mischievous grin at the idea.

What a strange trip this will be.

Next ->

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #self insert #smut

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blueskrugs · 3 years

Text

Airport Shenanigans | Matthew Tkachuk

this was @broadstbroskis‘s request! I’m not gonna lie, I wasn’t really feeling either number you asked for, but I decided to have some fun with this! I also wanted to have something new for his birthday today, so here we are. not my best, and also minimally edited, but I hope you guys still like it!

20. stuck in an airport in a snowstorm

length: 1.1K

Matthew had insisted you get to the airport early, for some fucking reason, which is why you’ve already been sitting around for an hour when he gets back from checking the flights board. You look at him expectantly, but he just shakes his head.

“Snowstorm back home, they’re not letting any flights into Lambert,” Matt says, and Brady groans from the floor next to you. The Sens had been in town for the last game before break, so he was flying back home to St. Louis with you and Matthew. You think he was already beginning to regret that decision.

The airport was crowded, being only a few days before Christmas, but the three of you had claimed a small corner of the terminal for yourselves, spreading out all your bags– which there really were a lot of. There was an entire large suitcase just dedicated to all the presents the three of you were having to lug across the border. (Matt wouldn’t let you just have them delivered to his parents house, claimed he didn’t want Taryn snooping.) Matt flopped onto the floor next to Brady.

“I call not calling Mom to tell her,” Brady says, still staring at the ceiling.

Matt groaned. “Fuck.” He tilted his head to pout up at you.

“No way, I love you, but she’s not my mom,” you told him. He groaned again.

You pulled out your phone to check the weather. Snowstorm was right; it covered most of Missouri on the radar, and definitely didn’t look like it would be stopping anytime soon. Except your flight had just been delayed, not cancelled, which meant you were stuck in limbo for the foreseeable future (and couldn’t go home, either).

“What’re you doing?” Matt asked, hauling himself into a chair next to you and resting his head on your shoulder.

“Checking for flights to Chicago instead. Maybe we could drive down,” you told him.

“No way in hell am I driving five hours in a car with you and Brady.”

“Then what’s your big plan to get us home for Christmas then?” you snapped. Matt sighed and didn’t respond.

“I’m getting food,” Brady announced.

“Bring me back popcorn!” you yelled after him.

Eating your popcorn turned into throwing it to Matthew because he wanted to catch it in his mouth, which turned into him and Brady just pelting it at each other. It only ended when they accidentally hit some woman carrying a baby. Boys.

“Cards Against Humanity?” you suggested. You knew Matthew had thrown it in his backpack.

“Boring,” Matt said.

“You’re boring,” Brady shot back.

“Hide and seek?”

“Sardines?”

“Yeah, and who’s gonna watch our stuff?”

All three of you turned to look at the only other person near you, a college-aged girl who had been engrossed in her book the whole time you guys had been in the airport. The girl definitely recognized Matthew, but she agreed to keep an eye on your bags.

The boys decided that you would be “it” first and wandered away while you tried to figure out where to hide. You dug out a Flames hat from Matt’s bag, and a book from yours before settling in a chair at a different gate, texted Matt that you were ready. You watched Matthew and Brady walk right past you no less than three times, trying and failing to look casual, and not like they were hopelessly lost.

Sardines lasted almost half an hour, until someone reported the boys for looking suspicious, and you got to watch them try and talk their way out of being chased by security.

You broke out TikTok around 11:30, lost yourself to the mindless scroll. Matt watched with you for a little bit, and you laughed at the crease between his eyebrows as he tried to follow the dances.

“Wanna do one?” you asked, waving your phone in Matt’s direction.

“Yeah, no.”

You hadn’t forgotten the meltdown the internet had had that time Taryn had gotten him to do a TikTok with her. You scrolled for a second. “Here, look, this one is easy,” you said, handing your phone to Matthew.

“I think you and I have different ideas of what’s easy, babe,” Matt said, unimpressed, but he watched the video three times.

Twenty minutes and more attempts than you could count later, Matthew collapsed on the floor with a groan. You nudged him with your foot; he swatted you away but didn’t open his eyes. You were rewatching the last clip you had taken. It wasn’t perfect, but you had hardly expected it to be.

“I’m posting this,” you told Matt. He waved his hand at you.

You filmed another one, too, of the two of you attempting the koala challenge, but on those moving sidewalks. It didn’t end well. (You weren’t sure it would have gone any better on solid ground, either.)

It was 1 AM, and the airport was deserted. You were in that weird space where time didn’t feel real, and you couldn’t honestly have said what day it was or how many hours you’d been in the airport. Brady was half-asleep on the floor, and Matt was stretched across three chairs with his head in your lap. Your flight had finally actually been rescheduled, and would be leaving in another hour or so, which meant you’d be getting in at an ungodly hour of the morning. You were trying to decide if it was worth it to try and sleep and destroy your sleep schedule, or to stay awake and suffer. You and Matt were people-watching, amusing yourselves by making up the life stories of the other poor souls stuck in an airport in Calgary at 1 AM. Most of Matthew’s were completely ridiculous, but you were so tired you weren’t making much sense either. The only sign you had that Brady was still awake was that he occasionally snickered at something one of you said.

Before you knew it, they were finally calling your flight to board. There weren’t many people left, between the long delay, and it not being a crowded flight to begin with. The three of you were in a row together, but there was no one in the row next to you, so Brady claimed it and sprawled out across it. You and Matt spent five minutes arguing over who got the window seat. (You won.) It didn’t really matter, because it was the middle of the night, and you were pretty sure you would both pass out not longer after the flight took off.

Matthew held your hand from the seat next to you. Sure, you hadn’t planned on being stuck at YYC for hours, but at least you’d had some fun in the process. You kissed Matt’s forehead when he rested his head on your shoulder. Yeah, there were worse people you could’ve gotten stuck with.

#cait's holiday prompts #cait writes things #matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic

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