#give me back the post editing format from before

[captainfern]

i’m still thinking of this post about price and you pretending you don’t know each other at a hotel and i’ve given in to the brain worms

part one | part two ->

18+ (no smut in this one but for future parts), fem!reader

un-edited, super lazy writing + formatting sorry

You sat idly at the bar, your finger running up and down the cool, smooth edges of your glass. You had one elbow propped up against the sleek wood, your body half-turned to watch whatever bullshit was playing on the tv above the shelves of expensive alcohol.

The hotel bustled around you, the bar itself busy with patrons moving to and fro. oftentimes, you felt slightly crowded, with bodies packing in beside you, ordering their poison before departing like a wraith. No one seemed to linger near the bar for too long.

“No company tonight?” The bartender asked, a dark-coloured dish towel tossed over her shoulder. She was a kind looking woman, in her late thirties you estimated, with flawless dark skin that seemed to glow beneath the ambiant lighting above.

You shook your head with a rueful smile. “Not tonight. Just enjoying my own company, I suppose.”

The bartender smiled politely. “Well, that’s nice. You here for business or pleasure?”

You took a sip of your drink, the taste of it washing over your tongue and continuing to put your nerves at ease.

“Pleasure, I think. It’s nice to get away from everything for a while, you know?” You said with your lips still brushing the cold glass, and you took another sip.

“I’m really happy for you,” the bartender smiled. Then, after being waved at by a drunken patron at the other end of the bar, added: “Give me a shout when you need a refill.” She then breezed away to continue her job.

You sighed through your nose, looking wistfully around the bar for a moment. When you returned to your drink, you let your eyes admire the kaleidoscope of colours that comprised the wall at the back of the bar— shelves upon shelves of glass bottles of different kinds of alcohol.

As your eyes alighted on a bottle of Bombay, the blue bottle glinting like some sort of diamond beneath the light, someone slotted into the barstool beside you. You didn’t take much notice, but when you caught a whiff of an expensive, masculine cologne, you couldn’t help but twist your head to the side.

A handsome man had settled in beside you. He was probably in his early forties, with neatly trimmed facial hair that perfectly settled between the angles of his face— his cheekbones, his jawline, the pinkish line of his Cupid’s bow. In the overhead lighting, all dim and moody, his eyes were dark, and his hair speckled with just a few grey strands.

He turned to face you the moment you looked his way, offering you a warm smile that made butterflies tickle the edges of your stomach. You smiled back, before taking another sip of your drink in an attempt to steel your nerves.

Signalling the bartender, he ordered his own drink, and the baritone of his voice had your stomach swooping. Deep and melodious, with a distinct hoarseness akin to a smoker of fine cigars. The rumble of it seemed to do wonders to your fraying nerves, acting as some sort of salve to cool the heat pulsing beneath your skin.

The man thanked the bartender when she placed a tumbler of whiskey before him, the single ball of ice clinking against the crystal. Once more, sending another deep swoop to your stomach, he turned to you with those deep, dark eyes and warm smile, raising his glass.

Your eyes traipsed over his fingers, the roughness of them, the calloused skin pressing against sleek glass. You noted the thickness of them, and the way they wrapped around the tumbler. You also noticed the couple of veins leading from his wrist and down his strong, hairy forearm. You swallowed, and hesitantly lifted your own glass.

“Cheers,” he said, smiling. Crow’s feet appeared at the corners of his eyes, three lines chiseled into his skin over the years.

“Cheers,” you echoed, and the two of you took a moment to sip at your drinks. You swallowed yours, still looking at the man beside you.

He placed his tumbler of whiskey against the bartop, and then leaned an arm against the surface, swivelling his entire body around to face you. He made it known that you had his full, undivided attention. It made you nervous almost.

“I hope you don’t mind me interrupting your alone time,” he spoke, and his words were honeyed and sweet, warm mollasses falling from his tongue. “Couldn’t help myself, really. A pretty lady like you shouldn’t be left all on her lonesome.”

You smiled shyly, running the tip of your finger along the ring of your glass. “Oh, no, you’re not interrupting anything at all. I… I don’t mind the company, actually.”

The handsome man’s smile only grew, and it was so warm that you wondered if you’d start to melt.

“That’s good to hear,” he said. “I’m John, by the way.”

He stretched his hand out. You introduced yourself, a first name that fell from your lips a bit more seductively than you had intended, and shook his hand. John seemed to beam at your introduction and the acceptance of his handshake, his broad-shouldered body sitting up just a bit straighter in his seat.

His hand was strong in yours. There was a warmth beneath his skin, seeping from his palm like ichor. It made your hand curl instinctively tighter around his, just a subtle squeeze of your fingers. His thumb brushed over the back of your hand, and it took everything in you not to gasp.

When you retracted your hand, John reached for his drink to take a sip.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said before he sealed his lips around the edge of the crystal tumbler. You watched the movement, before dragging your eyes downwards in a sudden realisation.

Your eyes locked in on his other hand, resting on his thick, muscular thigh— stretched out beneath a pair of faded jeans, making you feel warm all of a sudden. Again. His hand was bare. No wedding band. You looked back up at him.

“What brings you here?” You asked, cocking your head slightly as he brought his tumbler of whiskey back to the bartop.

John smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth a couple of times, tasting the lingering bitterness of his liquor. He ran his tongue over his teeth, too, the potent drink seeping into the grooves of his molars. He wondered briefly whether you’d be able to taste it if you kissed him.

“A weekend break from work,” he replied simply.

“Oh, yeah? What do you do?”

“I’m in the Armed Forces. A captain.”

“Wow,” you said, impressed. “You must be a busy man.”

John chuckled, eyes meeting yours and darting quickly across your face, as if committing parts of you to memory. He replied with a light quirk in his lips. “I am, yeah.”

He then cleared his throat. “What about you? What brings you here?”

You shrugged, nonchalant. “Just needed a little getaway from home, I suppose.”

“Oh, yeah?” It was John’s turn to cock his head, eyes darkening— if that was even possible— beneath the weight of his pupils, expanding as he gazed at you. “Treating yourself?”

“Mhm.”

“Good girl,” he uttered. “I bet you deserve it.”

You smiled, feeling giddy. Your eyes didn’t leave him, and the butterflies wreaking havoc in your stomach didn’t leave either. They continued, and the way he was looking at you wasn’t much of an insecticide. His gaze was intense, all whiskey smooth and molten hot. You squirmed in your seat.

Your knees brushed— his large ones against yours, and you swear you felt sparks. You wanted so desperately to place the flat of your hand along his leg, hold it there, smiling and bartering your eyelashes and mentally insisting he take you back to his room.

Oh my god. You’d never thought like this before! You would never usually want someone to whisk you back to their room, especially not someone from the bar of a fancy hotel.

But if it wasn’t for the way he was staring at you— hunger and a mixed-bag of lustrous emotions— you would’ve felt guilty. But you didn’t.

“Sweetheart,” John began with a voice that could ignite a fire on a damp winters day. It definitely ignited something within you, stoking at the embers of your desire. He smiled, heated and tempting. “I don’t mean to be forward but… if you’d like too, I’d love to take you back to my room.”

You felt a smile creep over your pretty features. “Wow, John, are you always this forward with the girls you meet?”

He laughed. “Never. You’d be the first.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Trust me. You’re the prettiest woman I have ever seen.”

You grabbed hold of your drink and downed the rest of it— just two swallows, and your glass shone empty. You placed it gently back onto the sleek surface of the bar, not taking your eyes off of the handsome man in front of you.

“I’d love to go back to your room, John.”

Something shifted in his facial expression. Something primal, almost, passing over his features. With blown pupils and a rush of pink to his cheeks, he finished the rest of his whiskey in a couple of deep mouthfuls, before slamming the tumbler back onto the bartop.

The sound attracted the bartender, who sidled over with a knowing smile on her face. “Closing your tab, sir?”

“Please,” John said with a polite nod, getting to his feet. He then placed a hand to the small of your back as you clambered off of your barstool as well. “And put this lovely lady’s drinks on my tab as well.”

The bartender gave you a knowing look, but said nothing. And once everything had been sorted for the evening, John escorted you out of the bar and into the luxurious hotel lobby with a large hand still on the small of your back.

Walking, and with the lifts in sight, John pulled you closer to him, close enough that you giggled at the sensation of him pressed up against you. He smiled, leaning down until his facial hair tickled against the soft skin of the side of your face.

“I must say, you look absolutely stunning tonight, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice like heaven in your ear. Then, the hand on the small of your back smoothed around your waist, holding you impossibly closer, fingers bunching at the material of your outfit. “But I can’t wait to take this pretty thing off.”

#hey siri play hotel room by pitbull #captain john price smut #captain john price x you #captain john price #call of duty #cod smut #price cod #price x reader #fem!reader #captainfern

[baby-yongbok]

Fan Fiction

Skz/ Dom!Bang Chan x Sub!afab reader - Explicit Sexual Content, MDNI!

✨Masterlist ✨

Word Count: 5,257

Tags: Dom/Sub dynamics, penatrative sex, degradation, unprotected sex, teasing, overstimulation, breath play (mild), oral sex ( f & m receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, multiple orgasms (reader), breeding??, creampie, established relationship, after care.

(Sorry if I missed any tags)

Notes: This is my first ever Skz AU, and I'm nervous but excited to share. Please be nice! Also, i posted this from my phone, so I'm sorry if the formatting is odd or anything. I'm kinda new to posting on here.

This is a work of fiction and is not meant to reflect or portray any of the members in real life!

I do not own the picture attached, credit to the owner. (Found on pinterest)

You woke up in a panic as your eyes searched for the glowing numbers on your alarm clock. As your vision became less blurry, you realized that it was still Sunday and you didn't sleep in and nearly miss work. Thank goodness. You've been trying to get rest whenever you could as of late. Your job was draining you beyond belief, and you had very little things that could help you relax, especially since Chan was always busy with work. You laid still for a while, staring up at the ceiling and pondering the possibilities… What could you do? How could you relax?

Without coming to a full thought you decide to pull yourself out of bed. Your naked feet felt cold against the hardwood and Goosebumps covered your naked legs. Chan always kept the air conditioner at 63 degrees and if you ever changed it he'd lose his mind. You pulled your feet lazily across the floor and let out a big yawn and stretch, stumbling a bit as you became lightheaded. Once you were steady you continued on your mindless journey to Chan's studio. The door was closed as always and you could hear a beat blaring from the speakers. Chan didn't like to be interrupted while he was mixing and told you to only knock if it were an emergency. You stood at the door mulling over your thoughts trying to think of the exact reason that you were going to knock on the door but nothing came to mind.

Fuck it.

You lifted your hand to knock but swiftly stopped once you heard the music on the other side stop. You took a step back with furrowed brows as you figured he was probably editing a section of the track. To your surprise the door swung open and your fiance towered over you as he took in the sight before him. You stood there clad in one of his t- shirts and pink lace panties as you stared up at him.

"I had a feeling you were out here. What're you doing? Eavesdropping? " a grin pulled at the corners of his mouth as he took a step forward to lace his strong arm around your waist and pull you into him.

"I wanted to see you but I heard you mixing so I just kinda… stood here. " Your sleepy brain spilled the truth immediately since you didn't feel the need to hide from him.

"You're always welcome into the studio, love." Your arms snaked around his waist as you hugged him sinking into his toned torso. " Well, I know I told you I don't like being interrupted but still, I always want to see my baby."

"I just woke up and I just… I don't know what to do with myself. It's only six o'clock and I'm just bored." With a sigh you loosen your grip around his waist.

"Hm, how about this, I'll finish mixing this song and then we can do something. Maybe order some take out? Play a board game? Whatever you'd like." Your big eyes glance up to him looking down at you with a sweet smile.

"How long until you're done?"

"Uh, give me thirty minutes, okay?" With another long sigh you let go of your fiancé completely.

"Okay." With a mumbled 'thank you' leaving his lips he pressed a kiss to the top of your head before letting you go and watching you as you slowly stalked back into your shared bedroom. You figure that you'll just spend the next thirty minutes scrolling through your phone looking at TikTok or something while you wait for Chan to finish up. That was until you accidentally pressed the Tumblr app on your phone and your old Stay account lit up your screen.

Oh

You had forgotten about your account, ever since the world blessed you with actually meeting, dating and now being engaged to your bias you didn't see any use for it. Of course you were still a fan but you see the boys as your ordinary friends now instead of world famous idols. Even with this logic fresh in your mind your finger began to scroll and you ended up getting lost in what used to be your world.

It's been two hours and Chan is still mixing. Usually this would bother you but you were too immersed in your virtual world to care. You were going back into your likes and reading all of the disgustingly sexy fan fictions that you liked three years ago. Some about Felix and Hyunjin but most of them about your fiancé.

You sat straight up when you came across the one. That one fan fiction that you used to go back to every time you needed that sweet release. Everytime you wanted to pretend that your fingers were Chan's, long before you knew what it actually felt like. Your excited fingers quickly pressed 'Keep Reading' as your eyes scanned the screen and arousal pools at your core. You read for what felt like hours but was probably only fifteen minutes. God did you love this fic. It was your dream till this day to get fucked like that by Chan. Rough and unrelenting. Forceful and Primal. You knew he was capable of doing it but only if you asked and God knows that you were way too shy to do that. In your day dreamy haze you decided to send the fan fiction to yourself so that you could have easy access to it instead of scrolling all the way down your likes every time you wanted to read it. You hit share and then sent it to yourself on messenger. It took a matter of seconds to pass and for you to come out of your daydream to realize that you were thinking of Chan so much that you sent it to him. Your heart dropped into your ass and you swear that your brown skin turned bright red with embarrassment. What do you do? How do you come back from this?

You weren't thinking straight, I mean how could you? You just sent your fiance a smutty fanfiction about him. You weren't thinking, you couldn't, you felt dizzy with the pressure that was building up in your head. You thought that maybe you could stop him from seeing it. You opened messenger and tried to unsend it but it only gave you the option to unsend for yourself. It was then when your worst nightmare came true. Chan's small profile picture on the side dropped down to the message indicating that he had seen it. Your heart stopped or at least you think it did. What were you supposed to tell him? Yes, he knew you were a fan when he got with you but you felt like exposing him to your fangirl world would make him look at you like just that, a fan.

You decided to wait. You weren't even worried about being bored anymore because your imagination had been keeping you very very entertained not to mention on edge. You kept wondering if Chan read the fanfiction or if he just looked at it and laughed before starting to work again. Did he love you any less for sending him fan made work? Or maybe he loves you less for even looking at it. Either way you were pretty sure that you were doomed.

"Alright, I know that, that was way more than thirty minutes and I'm so fucking sorry about that. I just wanted the track to be perfect." You jump at the sound of Chan's voice as he makes his way over to you on the bed and sits down pulling your legs into his lap. "We could still order take out, you must be starving."

He smiles over at you and you know that you must look like a deer caught in headlights with how big your eyes are, yet he says nothing. His smile is unwavering and you can't fathom why. Didn't he see what you sent him? Isn't he disgusted?

"So…? Thai or maybe Italian? We haven't had that in awhile." Chan pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through uber eats mindlessly. "Chicken?"

You decide to take a deep breath and try to compose yourself. If he doesn't say anything about it than fuck it neither will you. Forcing a smile onto your face you try to scoot closer to him and get comfortable. He swiftly welcomes you into his arms and pulls you into his lap so that you can browse together.

"Chicken sounds good but now you got me wanting Italian." You add with a playful forced smile.

"Italian it is, mama." You freeze for a second staring over at your fiancé as he picks an Italian restaurant to order from. He never calls you that, why would he call you that? Are you overreacting? Maybe he just wanted to try something new.

"Do you want your usual?" He asks looking up at you and catching your confused gaze. "Are you alright? "

"Yeah… I'm, uh, fine." No. You were not fine. That was a big fat lie. You were confused but mostly turned on by the new term of endearment. You slowly pressed your thighs together as you heard it echo through your head. The fan fics you read earlier weren't helping either, you were already hot and bothered as it is then he goes and calls you that?

"So, your usual?" You nod your head yes and continue to let your mind race.

"Alright, it'll be here in 25 minutes. Do you wanna watch a movie or something while we wait?" You shrug mindlessly, staring past Chan's face. "Hey, are you alright? You seem off, baby."

Straightening up and looking down at him you smile and try your best to get out of your head, and that nearly works before Chan puts his hand on the back of your neck rubbing his finger along the soft sensitive skin on the side of your neck. "I'm okay" you choke out as the feeling of his big hand on your neck sends chills down your spine.

"Alright, well I'm here if you want to talk, mama." There he goes again. You press your thighs together quickly before getting up off of his lap.

"Let's watch TV, yeah?" Chan smiles over at you as he quickly and nonchalantly scans your entire body taking in your bare legs and lace covered core.

"Sounds good, baby."

The food came and went quickly since the two of you were hungrier than you realized. You watched various random television shows and finished the end of a movie that Chan swears used to be his favorite. The two of you decided to pack it in maybe fifteen minutes ago. You've already showered and changed into a more comfortable cotton pair of red panties and another one of your fiance's shirts. You slid into bed and stared up at the ceiling as you waited on Chan to finish up his shower. You had pretty much forgotten about today's fuck up since he hadn't brought it up to you. It also helped to distract yourself with TV and food but there was still a lingering feeling deep in your chest. Something was off, you just didn't know what. You had noticed that he was extra attentive while the two of you spent time together. He made continuous eye contact that you couldn't seem to keep up with and his hand kept finding its way to the back of your neck. Not to mention that damned name he kept calling you.

The sound of the bathroom door opening snapped you out of your thoughts. You sat up to ask Chan how his shower was but instantly went dry at the mouth when you took in the sight in front of you. His dark hair was wet, some strands sticking to his forehead. He was shirtless with nothing but Grey sweatpants on and bare feet.

Holy fuck

You couldn't help but to stare, how could you do anything else with a man like that in front of you. The three years that you've spent together should have prepared you to see him like this. Hell, you've seen all of this man and probably know him better than he knows himself but there was something about the way that he looked right now that just threw you off. It almost felt familiar to you, you just couldn't put a finger on it.

"Do you work tomorrow, baby?" He asked as he looked over at you from under the towel he was using to dry his hair.

"Uh, yeah I do." You could barely get that sentence out as your eyes locked with his. There was a particular gleam in his eye that you didn't quite recognize but you knew he was up to something.

"Hm, I better make this quick then. It would be irresponsible of me to keep you up all night." He throws the towel he was using over to the hamper and starts to slowly stalk over to the bed. "Don't you think so, mama?"

Your brain went to mush instantly as you took in his dark tone and even darker eyes. It was at this moment that you were sure he read it. Everything clicked for you now. The name, the touches, even his outfit, it all came from that one fanfiction.

He crawled onto the bed and over to you slowly like a lion hunting its prey. In an instant he was on top of you. Looking down at you with his burning brown eyes. You couldn't help but to look away and over to the side but that was no use. You felt as his hand slowly snaked up your body and his thumb and pointer finger rested on your chin turning your head to face him.

"What is it? Is my little kitty shy?" You pushed your thighs together involuntarily. "It's just me baby, don't worry, I'm going to take such good care of you. "

"Chan I-" He lifted his finger to stop you from talking.

"What's my name baby?" His tone was dark and demanding as he stared down at you. Dropping down to his forearm next to your head he moved in to whisper into your ear. "I want you to call me by my name when I ruin you."

You were breathless and paralyzed. You racked your brain for the right answer even though you knew exactly what it was. You've called him by his name before so why should this be any different? Why was this so different?

"Chris - Christopher." A dark chuckle left his lips as he lifted himself up to look into your eyes again.

"That's my girl." Turning your head to the side with one finger he wasted no time littering kisses and love bites all over the exposed skin milking small moans from your lips as you desperately pressed your thighs together. "So you want me to break you, huh? "

You freeze as you realize that he's reciting lines from the very fanfiction that you accidentally sent him.

"You want me to fuck you senseless, mama?" He lightly bites at your collarbone before licking up your neck and planting a kiss behind your ear.

"I can do that." His right hand snakes down your body, his nails digging in lightly as he makes his way to your clothed heat. "Oh, baby"

He harshly but slowly rubs on your clothed core taking in the wetness seeping through your panties.

"You're fucking soaked." His eyes burn into yours as he rubs you over your underwear. You try your best to maintain eye contact but you can't help but to let your eyelids flutter shut every time he caresses your clit. "Eyes on me, mama"

You force your eyes open and look up at Chris as he rubs tight circles around your clit using your arousal as lube against your panties. "Let me hear you."

It wasn't until then that you realized that you had been holding your breath. With a shaky sigh you let out a moan and then you just can't stop. The moans just kept falling from your lips and the sound only encouraged Chris to do more. Before you know it he's moved your panties to the side and is tracing lines up and down your slick cunt. He barely touches your clit as he tries to build you up as high as he can. The higher he can get you the harder the crash will be.

"You want to see what you do to me, Jagi?" You frantically nod in response earning a smile from Chris. He pulls his hand away from your core painfully slowly and sits up on his knees straddling you. In one swift motion he dips his sweatpants down and lets his thick cock free from its restraint. You've seen it a million times but right now it feels new. "Look at how hard you've got Daddy's dick."

A moan fell from your lips at the sound of his filthy words. He was always good at dirty talk but this was different. He was playing out a written fantasy right now and your pussy just couldn't take it.

"Chris, please." He looked down at you with furrowed brows as you begged.

"Please what, mama?" He asked as he began pumping his length slowly, teasingly.

"Fuck" you moaned at the sound and the sight in front of you. "Fuck me, please." A chuckle fell from his lips as he watched you squirm under him.

"You're so needy, baby." You groaned at him in frustration. Was he really going to tease you? He was already basically acting out a fanfiction right in front of you. Did he have to add the teasing? You rolled your eyes at him instinctively. You found yourself doing that a lot and usually he thought it was cute but today was different. You watched as his free hand dipped down and grabbed your face and he stared down at you silently for what felt like hours but were merely seconds.

"Did you just roll your fucking eyes at me?" He got off of you while keeping a firm grip on your face. "Someone needs to be put in their place.

Without another word he roughly guided you over to his exposed length and tapped the head of his cock on your red lips. "Open your mouth and suck this dick."

You were taken aback to say the least. Chan was the type of guy who was more of a soft dom and didn't demand you to do much, especially not in such a dark domineering tone. You couldn't stop yourself even if you tried. It's like a button was pressed and your mouth was open, your tongue out and ready to taste your fiancé. He smiled down at you and slowly slid his cock into your mouth filling you up to the hilt. His head fell back in euphoria and he hissed a curse into the air.

You bobbed your head slowly at first trying to get him used to the sensation of your mouth around him but clearly he had other plans.

"Come on, you can do better than that." Both of his hands found their way into your curly hair and gripped the root making sure to not pull too hard. He began guiding you and moving your head faster and faster each time you came up from the hilt. It wasn't long before you began to gag around him with every stroke, your eyes watering from the choking.

"Fuck, Mamas, that mouth is filthy." You looked up at him with your big watering eyes as he looked down at you with his dark ones. You wanted to make him feel good but right now his rough nature was making you weak for him. Could it be possible that you feel better than he does right now? Having your mouth be used for his pleasure could be the very thing that drives you over the edge.

He continued to guide your head up and down his shaft until he suddenly stopped. Pushing your head down to swallow him completely. He forced you to stay in place temporarily, cutting off your air supply and making you gag and choke around him.

"Be good, slut, take it." Your eyes began to water, tears flowing down your cheeks. He pulled you up off of him, completely freeing his cock from your mouth. You gasped as he watched you intently paying attention to your body language.

"What's your color?" You had almost forgotten about the Stoplight system that Chris put in place as safe words for you. You were too focused on your pleasure and his to remember much else.

"Green" He smiles down at you before taking one hand out of your hair and grabbing the back of your neck.

"Good" He sinks his cock back into your throat as he holds you down once again cutting off your air supply " You're such a good hole"

His moans and growls are what keep you going as you gag around him. He pulls you off once again before pushing you back onto the bed. You gasp at the sudden change as he grabs your ankles and pulls your ass to the edge of the bed. Wrapping your legs around him he leans down to finally kiss your wet lips. The kiss was passionate and rough like it was meant to mark you. This was the kiss of a man who wanted you to know who you belong to. He swiped his tongue across your bottom lip asking for access that you gladly granted. His tongue explored your mouth. He tasted of sweet spearmint and the smell of his pheromones filled your nostrils. You hadn't even realized that you began grinding your clothed core on his exposed cock until he bit your lip with a hiss warning you to stop, but you couldn't. You needed him, you were desperate to feel him. If anything his warning only made you grind harder and faster against him. The feeling of his cockhead grinding against your clit was euphoric and you only wanted more as time went on.

"Naughty little toy." Chris growled as he broke the kiss. "If it's my dick that you want then that's what you're gonna get."

Grabbing the back of your thighs Chris swiftly picked you up and turned you both around so that you were against the wall. Your legs tightened around him as you squealed. You've done this position once or twice but it's been so long.

"I'm going to make you fall apart on my cock, mama." He buried himself into the crook of your neck being much rougher this time. He bites at the skin leaving marks that you're sure you'll have to cover up in the morning. He growled into your ear making you moan as you tried your best to grind against him. The both of you were growing impatient but you knew you couldn't move until Chris did.

Finally, he moves your panties to the side and teases your entrance with his cock. "Please, Chris, I need you so badly baby. Ruin me, please." A groan leaves his lips as he looks into your pleading eyes.

"You sound so pathetic, baby. You want to be fucked?" He slips his cock into you faster than he usually does but slow enough to allow you to adjust. "Here you go, kitty."

You cry out instantly moaning his name like your life depended on it. He bounced you on his cock picking up the pace with every stroke. He growled curse words in your ear every time you took him all the way, your walls tightening at the sensation.

"Shit, baby, you're so tight around me." Your head fell back against the wall in pure bliss. "Tell me you like it, let me hear you."

"You feel so fucking good Chris. You fuck me so good." Your praise only made him pick up the pace, turning your moans into gaspy screams.

"Fuck, oh my god, Chris… yes, please, yes. " Words mindlessly fell from your mouth as he pounded into you. Sweat dripping from his forehead as he fucked you senseless just as he promised.

"That's it, take it baby." His cock was hitting just the right spot and he stretched you out perfectly. The fact that this position felt so new to you didn't help to contain the arousal brimming over and spilling from your pussy. You felt a knot in your stomach and your toes started to burn as you got closer and closer to your release. That's when he said the magic words.

"Don't you dare fucking cum." The words came out as a breathy growl. It wasn't a demand this time, it was a threat. You whined as you tried your best to contain your growing orgasm but it just kept creeping up on you.

"Please, let me cum, Please Daddy I'm so close." He groaned at you calling him daddy, something he loved but would never admit to anyone else.

"Don't you dare." He growled again, making you whine. You tried, you really did but you just couldn't contain it. Your pussy clenched around him sucking him in like a vacuum and that's when he knew. " Y/N, don't you fucking cum"

That's all he had to say to throw you over the edge. The way he said your name with that darkness lingering on his tongue sent a shock straight to your clit. You couldn't stop it, you tried so hard but you couldn't stop. Your legs shook around him as your orgasm came crashing down. He didn't stop fucking you he only picked up the pace once he realized that you had cum. His thrusts were shorter and harder, he was punishing you.

"Oh, you've done it now." He fucked into you like he hadn't had sex in years. He'd gone feral for you and all you could do was cry out as your sensitive cunt got abused by his cock. To add fuel to the fire he snaked one of his hands in between the two of you to rub your sensitive clit as he pounded into you throwing you into an overstimulation spiral.

"Chris I- I can't take it." Tears welled up in your eyes as he made you feel so painfully good. It was so much but somehow you found yourself wanting more.

"Find a way to." Was all he said as he continued to abuse your aching cunt. "You should've listened."

His strokes were getting sloppier and his moans were getting louder as he felt you clench around him desperately. The knot in your core building up again.

"I'm going to fill you up so good." He moaned into your ear as his orgasm creeped up his spine. "Fuck, yes, I'm cumming baby. "

Just like that you felt Chan's warm sticky cum coat your walls. The same walls that were now sore and desperate for release again.

"Yes, thank you, daddy. Thank you." He fucked his cum into with a few more pumps before turning and laying you back onto the bed. You both panted, trying your best to catch your breath. You were in a daze, a happy cum drunk daze. You couldn't believe that he actually did what was in that fanfiction but God you were grateful.

"So, you want to be a disobedient whore, huh?" Your eyes shoot open as your fiancé's dark tone catches your attention. "You needed to cum, right?"

You slowly shake your head yes and a knowing smile is painted on Chan's face. "Then here." His hand pops against your pussy spanking it as his cum drips from your wet hole.

"Cum again." Chris drops to his knees teasingly slow and pulls you closer to him by your thighs.

"Chris I- .. Fuck." Before you can finish your sentence his tongue runs a hot stripe up your cunt. He groans as he tastes both you and himself in the mixture of arousal. "Oh my gosh"

He continues to lick and taste you wrapping his lips around your swollen and sensitive clit. His tongue flicks at the nub with slow and firm pressure keeping up his rhythm as he circles your clit. You turn into a hip bucking mess at the amount of pleasure you are feeling right now. It's so much but you want more. Your hands find a home in Chris' wet hair as you start to grind into his mouth. He hums his approval in response as he moves his head back and forth to give you more friction, the perfect formula. You feel your orgasm creep up your legs and it's moving faster and stronger than any one you've ever had before. Your vision goes dark and the grip you have on Chris' hair tightens as you scream for him.

"Fuck, Chris, I'm cumming." Your high washes over you like a storm. Your body shaking against his mouth as he continues to fuck you with his tongue helping you ride out your orgasm. High pitched moans leave your lips and you struggle against his tongue as it continues to taste you. Your vision starts to go white when he finally lets go of his hold over you.

"Such a greedy slut." Chris chuckles as you try your best to catch your breath.

"Are you alright? " He asks as he pulls up his sweatpants and plops down next to you pulling you into his arms. "Take it slow, in and out, baby. "

"I- I'm fine" you finally get out in a breathy reply.

"Good, you were amazing, Jagi" He pulls you into a tight hug and you turn to put your leg over his body as you finally find a comfortable breathing rhythm.

"You were better." Chris smiles down at you with knowing eyes.

"Well, you have your little fan fiction to thank for that. I would've never been that rough with you otherwise. I didn't realize that you like being bossed around so much. " A blush creeps up on your cheeks as you hide your face at the mention of the fanfiction. You had almost forgotten about it.

"I'm so embarrassed. I never meant to send you that."

"Hey, don't be embarrassed." He lifts your chin so that your eyes meet his. "I'm glad you accidentally sent it to me. I want to please you in every way that I can and if you want it a little rougher in the bedroom that's fine. I can do that for you. I'm happy to please you, Y/N"

"Did you enjoy it too?" Chris laughs with a wide smile and nods his head.

"Hell yeah I did. You felt amazing and I really liked topping you like that."

"Good" You say with a blush.

"Okay, well, it's one in the morning so we need to get some sleep but first I know you've gotta be thirsty."

"Yeah, my throat is pretty dry."

"Great, I'll get us some water before round two." With a smile Chris jumps up out of bed and jogs out of the room and down to the kitchen leaving you yelling behind him.

"What do you mean round two?!" You plop your head down on the bed and sigh with a smile. "This fan fiction has created a monster

#stray kids #skz smut #skz stay #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x fan fic #bang chan #bang chan smut #bang chris #chris bang #bangchan #christopher bang #bang christopher chan #bangchan skz #bangchan imagines #bangchan scenarios #bangchan x reader #bangchan x y/n #bangchan smut #kpop smut #kpop x reader #stray kids x poc reader #fanfic #smut fanfiction #skz

[strangersatellites]

second installment of the eddie knows tarot-verse

decided to flesh out this post !! enjoy !! xoxo

part two is posted!!

edit: look at this AMAZING art by: @amethyst-crowns !

“What are these?”

Steve is gesturing to Eddie’s deck of tarot cards on top of his dresser.

Today has been just like every other Saturday has been for the past several months.

At the ungodly hour of nine a.m. Steve knocks on the trailer door to summon the boy out for their standing Saturday breakfast at the diner. After several cups of coffee and a rather mediocre stack of pancakes, they find themselves back at Eddie’s where the rest of the day is typically spent with Eddie strumming at his guitar and jotting down song lyrics and melodies while Steve entertains himself by either listening, interjecting with questions, or rummaging through Eddie’s things.

Today, he’s spotted Eddie’s deck.

Shifting in his spot on the floor he props his guitar against his bed and stands to walk to the dresser and retrieve the deck. 

“I knew you were gonna ask that,” Eddie jokes as he pulls Steve to sit on the bed with him and starts shuffling with the cards.

Steve’s eyebrows furrow and he lets out a questioning hum making Eddie huff a laugh.

“They’re tarot cards,” he starts, dropping his voice low for dramatic effect. “Set aside your skepticism and allow the cards to tell you your fortune.”

Steve chuckles, “Don’t think I would call myself a skeptic, ya know, given the circumstances of the last several years of my life. But I’ll bite. What kind of future can they tell me, oh wise one?”

And see, as of late, Eddie has been working on not running away from things that scare him. Has been the reason he has run directly toward danger in situations severe enough to nearly cost his life. 

Point is, one would think that by now he would know which scary things are hills worth dying on.

He doesn’t.

His big, fat crush on Steve Harrington clouds his judgment and drives his own morbid curiosity and self-destructive tendencies to have him saying, “Well, my favorite is the soulmate reading. Let's do that one, yeah?”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “They can tell me that?”

Eddie starts focusing his energy more intentionally on his card shuffling. Furrows his brows in an attempt to convey his seriousness. 

“They can tell you anything, sweetheart.”

Decidedly dragging his eyes from the pretty flush covering Steve’s cheeks at the pet name, Eddie gives Steve a quick lesson in what he’s doing.

“So, basically, I just focus my energy-”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“Shush!”

Steve giggles.

“I focus my energy on communicating to the universe what I am asking the cards. So this time, I’m asking them to tell me about the soulmate of the great Steve Harrington.” He catches the card that jumps out of the deck and into his lap and places it face down between them. “And that, Stevie, is how we pull cards.”

Steve looks questioning but not dismissive. “So you pick the ones that fall out?”

Eddie scoffs as he pauses his rapid shuffling and pulls a rogue card from where it’s peeking out from the deck. “Ones that fall out. No, Steve! I pick the ones that speak to me.” He resumes his shuffling and is immediately gifted with another two cards spinning out between them both.

Lifting his hands in a gesture of innocence Steve mutters apologies as Eddie stacks his remaining cards and sets them to the side.

‘Okay, pretty boy. Last chance to back out before all is revealed,” Eddie whispers, lining up the four cards he pulled. 

Its an out for Steve if he was just feigning interest, and it's a copout for Eddie. Eddie who is actively psyching himself up to face disappointment at the task of telling Steve allllll about his dream girl.

Steve shoves his shoulder. “Shut up and tell me about them.”

Before flipping the cards face up, Eddie points at each one and tells what it is going to represent based on the reading format he chose.

“Alright, this first card is going to be representative of how your soulmate views you. The next one tells you who they are and how this person comes into your life, and the last two are descriptors of your soulmate.” 

Steve takes a breath and gives a resolute nod. 

Eddie steels himself and flips the cards.

Freezes.

Instantly his mind is running a mile a minute, both in shock and what the fuck he is going to tell Steve.

Let it be said that Eddie is nothing if not quick on his feet. And Eddie Munson knows for a fact that Steve doesn’t know anything about tarot. What’s he going to do? Correct him?

He claps his hands together and plasters on his most predatory smile. 

“Stevie, Stevie, Stevie,” he tuts. “Now this is no surprise,” he starts.

And you see, the best kinds of lies are ones that are based in truth. That’s the reason that Eddie taps a finger over The Magician and says, “Your soulmate sees you as a person of great power and influence. King Steve, if you will.”

True.

Steve bristles a bit but nods along.

Pointing at the next card, “The King of Cups,” Eddie tells him, “Now this, this is a good one. This one says you’re going to be a great boyfriend-”

Not quite true.

“- and that your soulmate is a new person in your life. You meet a new girl and not tell me, Stevie? I’m hurt.”

Steve laughs and runs a hand through his hair. “I mean, I don't think so, no. Haven’t really had much time since the apocalypse, ya know,”

Eddie’s brain short circuits a bit at the idea that he is the newest person Steve knows. Right. 

He opts to press on. “Ah this is interesting. The reverse King of Swords. Well, typically this represents someone abrasive. Brash, even.”

True.

“But since it's reversed, it means the opposite,” he says.

Not true. 

“She’s going to be gentle and kind. Aw. Isn’t that sweet, Stevie.”

Even the thought of it makes Eddie’s heart flip over and twist with discomfort. Despite the fact that he’s lying out of his ass.

Steve is getting really into it and picks up the last card himself. “What’s this one? The Tower.”

Eddie twirls a piece of his hair around his finger and thinks for a split second before responding with the first thing that comes to mind. 

“It’s a landmark. It means you’ll meet her somewhere you’re familiar with. Maybe that farmer’s market you like to go to on Sunday’s! That seems like a good place to meet someone.”

Steve wrings his hands together and then takes Eddie’s notebook from the floor to jot down what he’s learned. 

If Eddie wasn’t already trying valiantly to hold back his own impending panic he might find his enthusiasm cute. As it is, he’s experiencing the heavy feeling of dread settling low in his stomach of the realization of what this reading actually says.

The Magician actually says that Steve’s soulmate had to learn to use their intuition to get to know him. Had to look past his power and influence, his King Steve persona. 

The reverse King of Swords actually says that it's someone abrasive and blunt. Someone who uses words as a weapon and easily finds themselves in harm's way. 

The Tower actually says that this person comes close to chaos, destruction. Has had their life turned upside down. When pulled with the reverse King of Swords it implies that this person nearly fell victim to their own rash decisions. 

If that wasn’t enough, it's the King of Cups that really put Eddie over the edge. Because it tells us that Steve’s soulmate is someone older than him who came into his life with a bang. 

It also says it's a guy.

But Eddie just agrees with Steve’s request to join him on a trip to the farmer’s market tomorrow and puts his cards back on the dresser with a ringing static sound in his ears.

He’s content to join Steve on his quest to find his nice girl at the farmer’s market if it means he never has to tell him the truth.

That the cards said Steve’s soulmate was him.

_________________________________________________

It's Tuesday night and Eddie is nose-deep in some book Gareth recommended to him. Truth be told it's boring, but he’s reading it because his friend liked it. He can never say Eddie never did anything for him. 

A firm knock on his door frame has his eyes shooting up.

Wayne is standing there, hands in his pockets. He nods Eddie’s direction.

“Got a call from that Buckley girl, kid.”

Eddie furrows his eyebrows as he walks to the phone in the living room. 

He answers with a question in his voice. 

“Hey Bird. You okay?”

He is cut off from asking anything else when Robin launches into one of her rambles.

“Well honestly I feel like I might be going crazy because like a year ago- well I guess it was two years ago. Anyway- this one Summer our tv went out and I had to find other ways to entertain myself, and you know I’ve already read every book I own and Steve was working on his house and was busy all the time so no one could drive me to the library-”

“Bird! What’s going on? Why did you call?”

She groans dramatically, “I was getting there Eddie. But fine. I learned how to read tarot and I don’t know what you said to Steve about the soulmate reading you did for him, but I know for a fact that The Tower has nothing to do with the farmer’s market.”

And isn't that just it? All of Eddie’s carefully crafted lies coming back to bite him. 

“I- Robbie. You can’t tell him. Please?”

Her voice drops in a show of sincerity. 

“Of course not Eds. I won’t tell him.”

He heaves out a breath of relief.

“Thank you, Bird. I owe you one.”

She giggles.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” She pauses before she speaks again.

“Not with Steve though. He’s the one who taught me how to read the cards.”

#Eddie knows tarot #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie ficlet #Steve harrington #Eddie munson #Steve is causing problems on purpose #Eddie is going to have to go into hibernation after this stunt #robin is a ride or die #gin writes #shot of gin

[dduane]

Judging books by their covers

Having spent the morning reading the notes on this post (and reading them, and reading them...), I realized I really needed to get to grips with a piece of work I'd been avoiding.

Some of you may remember me mentioning that the Young Wizards website's longtime ISP went out of business suddenly in July, necessitating the site's hasty relocation to a new home. In the process a lot of its internal URLs ceased to operate correctly, meaning that files weren't displaying. (As I was quickly reminded when looking for the original David Wiesner art for So You Want To Be A Wizard at 01:30 last night.)

Anyway, I just wound up spending the day rescanning book covers for the Young Wizards publication history page, and was reminded of some favorites while getting the work done. (And a note for the interested: if there's any particular cover from an English-language edition of the YW books that interests you, or you think the sight of one might jog your memory somehow, that page is where you'll find the images. Use the tabs under the header image to take you through the history of publishers and artists.)

Meanwhile, being reminded of what happened to the covers for So You Want To... alone is both funny and a bit sobering. Styles change, formats change, art directors change. Sometimes the covers get a lot better, and sometimes they, uh, don't. Look at the difference in styles alone among these, for example.

Most of the time the writer gets to take what they're given, and like it. Sometimes, though, they get to give advice.

Here, for example, is one time that happened.

This is for the UK hardcover of the first of the Feline Wizards books. The artist, Mick Posen, is a cat person... and he insisted on having pictures of the cats who inspired the NY worldgating team before he started painting. Just look at these three, especially Rhiow there in the foreground. Is this a hero, or what? :)

Here's one that caused a little controversy.

The question of the day: Is Nita wearing anything? And if so, what?

The art won Greg Swearingen a silver Spectrum Award for that Deep Wizardry painting. But he and my then-editor on the series, Michael Stearns, apparently got into it a little regarding a conflict between the text and the necessities of painting a YA cover. If I remember correctly, I think Greg was holding out for "She's not wearing anything in the text in this situation, she just turned human again after changing back from being a whale, she shouldn't be wearing anything here!" and Michael was saying "But the parents, what if we freak out the parents...!" ...Eventually it seems like some kind of compromise was achieved. Swirly light = magic, or something. (shrug) Not my problem. It's a lovely cover.

About this one I have, well, mixed feelings. At this end of time, the art looks clunky. Yet this is also my first bestseller. When the SF Book Club published this omnibus, Support Your Local Wizard quickly set records as their single most-requested item of all time for new members just signing up. Its print run ran to more than 250,000 copies, and it remained constantly in print until the Book Club itself ended.

I've always been fond of this one for Deep Wizardry, and also of the one the artist, Neal McPheeters, did for the Dell Yearling and Dell mass market paperback editions of So You Want To... . There's a solid quality to both of them, but the second one in particular, that appeals to me.

(For those in the notes on that other post who reacted immediately to Kit's antenna: This is one of the reasons why it features—along with one of Nita's wands from the rowan tree Liused—on all the covers of the revised/updated Young Wizards New Millennium Editions. I've seen a lot of memories jogged by its appearance.)

...Do I have a favorite favorite one of all these covers? As usual, it's hard to pick. But I have to admit that I smile, at the moment, when looking at this one—Greg Swearingen’s art again—since in a couple of weeks it'll be the fortieth anniversary of So You Want To Be A Wizard's publication.

We'll see what the publisher does for the fiftieth. :)

#Young Wizards #Young Wizards series #covers

[badomensbaby]

above the law. lrh

pairing: luke hemmings x fem! reader

summary: luke's so sick of his assistant, you, talking all the damn time. he finally does something about it.

warnings: 18+ only. minors DNI. smut, thigh-riding, unprotected sex, verbal degradation, rough bj, slightly dubious consent, office sex, cum-swallowing, cursing.

word count: 4,173

a/n: i wrote this originally back in early 2023 as an au using one of my wattpad original characters. through some editing, i've decided to change the pov and post it here! i hope you enjoy x

feedback and constructive criticism welcome. requests are open!

Copyright © 2024 badomensbaby. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hemmings, get your head out of your ass for once and finish this goddamn deal."

The curly headed blonde's eyes snap away from the project he's currently in the middle of, various folders scattered amongst his desk, drowning him in useless paperwork all for a stupid fucking merger.

"The fuck do you think I'm doing?" Luke grumbles under his breath, snapping the Bolton file shut and tossing his overly expensive fountain pen on top of the mess he's created. Ashton Irwin, one of three named partners, stands with his arms crossed in the doorway of Luke's corner office, an unamused expression on his face.

"I think you're trying to do all this shit on your own instead of utilizing your associate, that's what I think," the honey blonde scoffs, thick brow raising, "Where's Y/N anyway? You send her across town for your stupid coffee again?"

"No," Luke's quick to defend, though it is the easiest way to get you out of his eyesight for a little while and focus, "I've got her on the Mansfield settlement."

"The Mansfield- that's Mike's case, idiot," Ashton shakes his head, "What's the deal, Luke? You really hate Y/N that much?"

A sigh of exhaustion leaves Luke's lips, head cocking back as he stares at the ceiling. "She's just chatty," he says vaguely, "Can't get a single fuckin' thing done 'cause she won't shut up."

"She's your associate, Luke, stop pawning her off on Mike or he'll swipe her out from under you."

"Good," he forces out a low chuckle, meeting the man's eyes, "He can have her."

"Don't say things you don't mean, you know she's one of the best associates we've got." Luke's eyes roll at his boss' words, sitting up straighter in his desk chair.

"Whatever," he mumbles softly, not willing to admit your brain is undeniably better than half the fucking people he's met. "Can I get back to work now?"

A defeated sigh escapes Ash's lips, "If I don't see Y/N in here working with you I'll make sure to send Calum your way."

"Calum?" the curly haired boy's nose wrinkles, shaking his head, "That's like giving me a fucking puppy, Ash, literally useless."

"Your call." he responds, a little smirk on his lips before pulling Luke's office door shut behind him. A groan leaves Luke's throat at this, the urge to rip every last blonde ringlet from his head at the idea of spending the remaining afternoon going over these stupid files with you.

Regardless of the fact that you’re distracting, which he'll never admit aloud, he shoots you a vague text requiring your presence in his office, no more than twenty minutes from now.

And of course, your dainty little wrist began knocking on the dark wooden door of his office precisely twenty-three minutes after he'd sent the text, only fueling his annoyance. A curt "come in" leaves his lips but his eyes remain on the file, instead of the sinful black dress on your curvy frame.

Tasteful and tightly fit, your fingers instinctively tug at the material resting on your mid thigh, a worrisome look on your features. For as long as you can recall, Luke's always teased you about your wardrobe, especially the bright colors and silken skirts.

"You're late," his tone is flat, hand scribbling away at the paperwork he's nearly memorized already, "I swear to god if you say some bullshit about the elevator again-"

Luke's words die in his throat as he lifts his head, eyes landing on the tight fabric on your frame, hugging every fucking dip and curve of your body. You meet eyes, yours widening, worried you’re going to be lectured again. Was your dress too plain, too boring?

The sweetheart neckline alone almost makes Luke lick his lips, stifling the urge to say something far, far more inappropriate to his associate. "Doesn't matter," the blonde rushes out, "We're gonna be here all night. Preorder from Machi's while you're at it."

"Okay," is all you say, walking closer to his desk, the click of your heels echoing Luke's ears as you bend over, just slightly, grabbing his desk phone and beginning to dial.

After nearly four hours and neither had made a miraculous discovery, a whine of agony leaves your throat, sat across the moderately sized office, snapping yet another useless file folder shut. "Luke,"

"What?" he rasps, tearing his eyes away from the file, meeting your eyes, his own filled with annoyance. "Don't tell me you've got nothing, Y/N."

"There's honestly no reason why Bolton should be merging with Daniels," you sigh out, running a hand through your hair, "Seriously, it's like Pampers merging with Microsoft, they have no interest in one another."

"Christ," Luke mutters under his breath, jaw tensing as you continue to ramble useless information, "Do you ever shut up?"

Mid-sentence, your lips snap shut, a warmth spreading across your cheeks. "Sorry," you respond softly, and Luke almost feels bad for being so curt, but god you never close your fucking mouth. "Did you find anything?"

A huff of air leaves Luke's nose, "Maybe," he says, twirling his fountain pen between his fingers, leg bouncing aimlessly as he scans over the documents for the umpteenth time. "But you keep fucking talking and it's throwing me off."

"Sorry."

"Damnit, Y/N," his curls bounce slightly as he shakes his head, rifling a hand through them, glancing over at your position on the small sofa, dress slightly ridden up your smooth thighs. "Come here, let me show you something."

Hesitantly, you toss the file on your lap onto the cushion, standing and making your way over to Luke's desk, oblivious to the fitted material of your dress riding a bit higher than intended. Luke swallows thickly, attempting to keep focus on the file in his hand. As you lean over slightly to see what Luke's underlined, his eyelids fall shut, the smell of your perfume annihilating his senses.

"But that means-" you cut yourself off, lower lip tucked between your teeth, palms flat on the corner of Luke's desk, "This isn't about combining their companies, is it?"

"No," Luke finally says after a moment, slowly blinking his eyes open, "But we need to convince the judge it is."

"That's impossible, Luke, it's clear they're only doing this for-"

"I know, just figure it out, Y/N."

"That'll take all night," you whine softly, "I'm not sleeping in the office two nights in a row." Luke's teeth grit together at your response, frustrated and fed up with your goddamn attitude.

"If you can't do it I'll find someone who can," he cranes his neck to meet your eyes, narrowed and darkened, "You wanna whine about a few more hours be my guest, but you're not doing it here."

"But-"

"Jesus fucking-" he abandons his pen with a thud, rubbing the palms of his hands against his tired eyes, "I seriously have never met someone so goddamn annoying. All you fucking do is whine and complain and talk my fucking ear off," Luke rambles lowly, "You wanted to be an associate, so be a goddamn associate and shut your fucking mouth before I shut it for you."

You stand upright, embarrassment washing over your features, attempting to remain composed as tears threaten your eyes. It's not a secret that Luke's always harbored some sort of annoyance toward you, but he's never spoken to you in such a vile manner before. You swallow the thick lump in your throat, fists balled at your sides. How dare he say those things to you?

"You're an asshole," you say, voice wavering slightly, "You're always a dick to everyone. Nobody's ever good enough for you. I wanted to be an associate to learn and do what I love, not be talked to like a child."

"The fuck did you say to me?" Luke counters with a raised brow, ringed fingers slowly rolling up the sleeves of his fitted black dress shirt. "I think you forget who you work for. Not Ashton, not Michael, definitely not Jessica. You work for me, Y/N, and if you want to keep your fucking job I think you owe me a goddamn apology."

Luke's eyes flicker between yours and the hemline of your little black dress, the skin of your thighs soft and tempting as he widens the distance between his legs, splayed open. "Come here," he says, a bit quieter this time, though he's fucking seething internally, he can't deny how fucking hot it is talking down to the you. Hesitantly, you step closer, stomach swirling with uneasiness.

"You don't wanna go through those files? Fine," Luke forces out a low chuckle, "But I've got work to do and I'm not gonna let you get in the way of that. So what you're gonna do is sit right here," he taps on his clothed thigh, "Shut your fucking mouth and make yourself cum on my thigh."

"What-"

"You heard me."

"Luke, I-"

"It wasn't a question, Y/N. And so help me god if you complain or make a fucking sound you're more than welcome to leave."

For the first time, you’re speechless. Standing so close to the man you swear hates you with every fiber of his being, asking you to make yourself cum on his thigh, you can't help the clench of your own thighs at the thought. Sure, you’ve had those kinds of thoughts about the tall blonde, but never did you imagine his request.

"So? What'll it be?" Luke asks impatiently, a thick brow raised as he grabs his pen, clicking it profusely, leaning back in his chair.

Wordlessly, and swallowing your pride, you step closer, slowly lifting your leg over the blonde's thigh, his foot firmly planted on the small rug beneath him. His eyes almost widen, as if he didn't expect you to comply, and he stifles a grunt when your warm center meets the fabric of his slacks. He can feel how fucking wet you are through the thin material of your underwear, your dress sliding a bit further up your thighs, almost exposing yourself to him.

"Alright then," Luke clears his throat, leaning forward slightly to grab the Bolton file, relaxing in his desk chair. "Get to it."

With her heart rattling in her chest, you grasp the armrest of Luke's chair to ground yourself, filled to the brim with shame. Are you really going to do this? You can still back out, you don't need to show Luke how pathetic you are, fucking leaking on his slacks just from his crude words. You don't even register the rock of your hips against his thigh until a soft moan slips from your lips, catching Luke's attention, his eyes briefly flickering to you.

And fuck is it hot. Your eyes slowly flutter shut as your hips roll in slow motions, the friction from the fabric forgotten, sensitive clit throbbing from your movements. Luke's jaw tenses, tearing his eyes away from the tempting sight, his cock twitching in his slacks.

Shame and embarrassment are out the window as you near your first orgasm, the explicit images of things you’ve only dreamt of unfolding behind your eyelids. You can only fucking imagine how Luke's fingers would feel inside you, the things he'd say as he's bottoming out inside of your tight heat. And it's suddenly overwhelming as you clench pathetically, throbbing against his thigh and your own legs shaking as you finish. "Fuck-"

Luke's eyes widen, biting hard at the inside of his cheek to keep his composure, the sound of you falling apart on his thigh sending a jolt straight to his aching cock. He wants nothing more than to bend you over his desk and fuck the daylights out of you until you’re drooling and forgetting your own goddamn name.

Reality comes crashing down as your orgasm passes, ragged breaths leaving your parted lips. Did you really just make yourself cum on your boss' thigh? "Luke-"

"Do it again."

"What?" You ask breathlessly, straightening your back, "You- you want me to do it again?"

"What did I say about shutting that pretty mouth of yours, Y/N? If I tell you to do something, do it," he scoffs, acting as though the sight of you cumming didn't turn him on even more, "If you're pathetic enough to do it once I'm sure you'll have no problem doing it again."

Your sensitive clit throbs helplessly as you swallow, white-knuckling the armrest and rocking your hips yet again. The swollen nub continuously brushing Luke's slacks has you choking down whimpers and whines, fearful of Luke's reaction to you making noise. Though, the idea of what he'll do if you don't comply lingers in your hazy mind.

The intermittent bounce of Luke's leg isn't doing you any favors either, little uh uh's leaving your parted lips.

You’re fucking drenched, the thin fabric of your lace underwear doing nothing to keep your arousal from coating Luke's thigh as you roll and rock your hips a bit quicker, your second orgasm creeping up on you, your head tossing back when a low, drawn-out whine leaves your lips, cumming for the second time like a pathetic whore.

And Luke fucking loves every goddamn second of it.

Attempting to calm yourself down from your release, thighs still trembling, Luke tosses the file onto his desk. He hadn't read a damn word of it anyway, not when you’re grinding your pretty little cunt against his thigh like a slut.

Suddenly embarrassed, your cheeks flush a deep crimson shade as you realize what you’ve done. You’ve soaked the fabric of Luke's slacks with your release, your own goddamn boss. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"Don't say another word," he firmly cuts you off, "Get on your fucking knees."

"Why-"

"I'm honestly so fucking tired of listening to you, Y/N," Luke's tone lowers, a scoff leaving his lips, watching as you scramble to the floor. "Gonna shut you up, make good use of that stupid fucking mouth of yours."

Catching sight of the wet patch on his slacks, he nearly groans, ringed fingers fumbling with his belt buckle in record time, desperate for the release of his achingly hard cock. You seem to catch on, widened doey eyes flickering up to Luke's, your hands neatly folded in your lap. Luke pulls his slacks down just enough to allow his length to be exposed, not wanting to show an ounce of vulnerability to you. You don't deserve a sweet intimate moment, you deserve to be fucking ruined.

"Open your mouth," he grunts, hissing as he grasps the base of his cock, your lips parting slowly, the blonde stepping forward and guiding the tip past your lips. "Wanna see you choke on my cock."

He doesn't give you a moment to register his words before he's thrusting fully into your mouth, tip poking the back of your throat and a choking sound emitting from your lips. You scramble to grasp at the backs of his thighs to keep yourself steady. The sight of your sparkly lipgloss coating his cock is so fucking intoxicating and he wonders why he hadn't thought of it sooner.

Using his hands to grasp your hair quite roughly, he continues to fuck into your mouth at a degrading pace, not allowing you to adjust to the forceful movements. Choking and gagging sounds fill the otherwise quiet room, spit dribbling from your lips. "Yeah, you like choking on my cock, Y/N? So much better than hearing you fuckin' talk."

Your nails dig into the fabric of his pants, a grunt leaving Luke's lips as his hips continue thrusting his cock into your mouth. You can barely take all of him, the base nearly untouched. "All you're fuckin' good for, hm?"

And suddenly he's removing himself from your mouth, chest heaving from how fucking wrecked you already look, the small tears pooling your waterline smudging the mascara you'd put on. "As much as I wanna watch you swallow for me," he heaves out, "I wanna feel that pretty fuckin' pussy of yours."

A pathetic whimper leaves your lips, clenching around nothing as you remain on your knees before him, a string of saliva connecting your swollen lips and the reddened, aching tip of Luke's cock. "You want me inside you?" he asks.

You have no words, honestly, the burn left behind in your throat from Luke's forceful thrusts halts you from speaking. Instead, you nod. "No, I want to hear you fuckin' say it, Y/N. I'm not an asshole."

"Yes," you weakly respond, "I want you."

"Good. Take that fuckin' dress off while you're at it."

Your shaky and frail fingers grasp the hemline of your dress hesitantly, eyes flickering between his leaking cock and his firm gaze, pulling the fitted material over your head and tossing it aside. Now sat in nothing but a pair of soaked, white lace panties and your heels, Luke's eyes fall on your bare breasts. "So fuckin' pretty."

"Luke-" you whimper quietly.

"Shut up," his hands reach beneath your arms, pulling you to your feet. Luke reaches around you, large hand swiping the array of documents off of his desk, sending them to the floor with a thud. You release a soft gasp when your bare backside meets the cool wooden desk, "Can't say I've never thought about this."

Luke's hands fall to your hips, gripping the skin roughly, and guiding you down until your back is flush with the desk, legs spread pathetically, displaying your clothed core to him. "God, you're so fucking soaked it's pathetic," he laughs lowly, shaking his head, and trailing a finger along the dampened material, coated in your previous orgasms and current arousal. He sends a soft smack with the back of his hand to your swollen clit, causing a whimper to leave your lips. "You'll let me have you any way I want, huh?"

"Luke-"

"Don't talk, I already know the answer," he raises your legs so your heels are resting on the edge of the desk, fingers ghosting the inside of your thighs teasingly, "Because here you are, spread out on my fucking desk like the whore you are."

"Please-"

"God, you just can't listen, huh?" his hands retreat from your skin, fumbling with his necktie, folding it into a neat little square. "I said I don't wanna hear you, Y/N." leaning over you, the tip of his cock pressing against your clothed core, he forces the folded tie between your lips, gagging you. "There, much better."

Luke works quickly to pull the pathetic excuse for underwear down your legs, tossing them alongside your dress on the floor. His cock twitches at the sight of you, fucking glistening and leaking just for him. He trails two fingers up your wetness, slicking his cock with your arousal, and prodding the tip against you. "Look at me," he says, hovering over you, hands on either side of your head. Hesitantly, you meet his eyes, your own widening, "Wanna watch you take my fucking cock."

You look so fucking pretty all gagged up for him. Running his tongue along his lower lip, he roughly juts his hips forward, instantly bottoming out and a muffled scream leaves your lips at the stretch. The tears that brimmed your eyes previously begin to fall, feeling so full, "Fuck," he hums lowly.

He rocks his hips a few times, watching as your eyes practically roll back into your head. And god does that make him so fucking proud, staring at you as drool slowly dribbles from yourr lips. He halts, roughly tugging the tie from your mouth, fingers gathering the spit and shoving it between your lips. "Don't be messy," he tuts, before placing the tie back, "Already fuckin' droolin' like a whore and I'm barely getting started."

Luke retracts his cock, hands grasping at your hips and flipping your body, the sound of your stomach colliding with the wooden desk echoing through the room. "I don't wanna look at you," he says, palming the skin of your backside before smacking the smooth flesh. He realigns himself with your entrance, one hand splayed on your bare back to hold you in place.

Roughly thrusting inside once again, the moans and muffled choked sobs barely reach Luke's ears, too fucking entranced by the feeling of your tight little cunt taking him so well. "This," he rocks his hips forcefully, "Is fuckin' mine. Anytime I goddamn want it, you're gonna give it to me."

You scramble to grab the opposite edge of Luke's desk, white knuckling it as he forcefully pounds into you, so fucking deep and quick you can barely breathe. "Such a tight fuckin' cunt," he groans, fingernails scraping along your back, "Taking my cock like a good fuckin' slut."

Instinctively you clench around him, eliciting a deep borderline growl from Luke's throat, hand previously raking down your back finding your hair, fisting the strands between his fingers and yanking you backwards until you’re halfway to his chest. You rest your palms flat on the desk, eyes pinched shut in pleasure while he continues fucking into you at an unruly pace.

"Clench again for me," he moans out, feeling the muscles in his stomach tighten, his orgasm slowly beginning to build. You comply, your thighs trembling, clenching as hard as you can. "Fuckin' god," Luke tosses his head back, eyelids fluttering shut in pure bliss.

You choke out another moan around the tie in your mouth, unable to warn the blonde of your third orgasm that's quickly approaching as he continuously pokes the perfect spot so fucking deep inside you’re nearly a drooling mess. The hand not entangled in your hair grips one of your breasts roughly, sending you over the edge in a series of muffled cries. Tears stream down your cheeks, cunt tightening around Luke yet again, the blonde hissing as he feels your release coat his cock, the slick sound of his thrusts growing louder.

"Fuckin' milkin' my cock like a whore," he spits out, grip tightening on your hair as he pulls you closer, thrusting into you impossibly harder. You can't fucking think, you’re a dizzy mess and can hardly form a thought. You can't even feel the drool pooling from the edges of your lips. "Gonna fill up that sweet little cunt of yours and make you mine."

Luke pulls you flush to his chest, your head lolling against his shoulder. Though he isn't one for kissing, he doesn't hesitate to graze his teeth against your exposed neck, sinking them into the supple flesh as his hips begin to stutter, groaning against your neck as he releases inside. You wince at the rough bite on your neck but you’re too spent to care, leaning fully against him as he rocks through his orgasm.

You’re in a daze when he pulls out of you, nearly falling against the desk, the blonde quickly reaching for you to keep you upright. Though he's smug and feeling overly satisfied for ruining you, a swirl in his stomach tells him he needs to make sure you’re alright. He pulls the tie from your mouth, not commenting on the drool spilled from your lips. "Y'okay?"

You can't fucking speak.

Luke's brows furrow with worry, hand delicately grasping your jaw and searching your hazy eyes. Pupils blown out just like his, fresh tears lingering on your cheeks. "Oh, baby," the pet name falls from his lips effortlessly, "C'mon."

Tucking his softening cock into his pants and guiding you away from his desk and towards the couch, he plucks your heels from your feet. Though he'd never in a million years consider aftercare, he's stripping his button down from his broadened frame and slipping your arms inside, buttoning it to cover your exposed body. "Luke," you toss your head back onto the plush couch.

"Hm?" he hums softly.

"I need to- need to clean up," you rasp quietly, a hint of a blush on your cheeks, head reeling from the soreness between your thighs.

"That's what m'here for," he coos sweetly, though the smirk of his lips has you swallowing thickly. His ringed hands trail along your warm and flushed skin, parting your trembling thighs, the sight of his release slowly dribbling out of your sweet cunt nearly has his cock stiffening in his slacks again. "Mm, such a pretty wrecked little pussy."

A gasp leaves your lips as he leans forward, nose brushing your lower stomach, tongue gathering his cum from your sensitive folds. Lapping up every fucking drop, Luke straightens himself out, reaching a hand towards your swollen lips and parting them with his thumb. You’re beyond confused as he tightly grips your jaw, before spitting the contents into your own mouth. Swiping any remnants from his own lips, he narrows his eyes. "Fuckin' swallow."

Clasping your pretty lips shut, you comply, feeling a stir in your stomach when your eyes meet, and swallow.

"My good fuckin' girl."

#luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings x y/n #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings x you #luke hemmings smut #5sos smut #5sos fanfic #5sos imagine #5sos x reader #smut

[itisme-rosie]

-- warmth; sirius black, james potter, remus lupin x reader (separately) wherein one is in desperate need of warmth during the cold days in hogwarts

cw: fluff!! pining sirius, established relationship for james and remus

[ the first draft for this didn't save even though it was ready for publishing so like 👹👹. originally full scenarios, idk what to call this format, i just wanted to post these already 😭😭 i'll get around to editing it eventually 😭 ]

masterlist | rules

[ sirius black ]

it was at a point in your blossoming relationship that you two were still getting to know each other and your boundaries together.

sirius found you in the common room, cursing the gap in your window that allowed a cold draft of wind to enter your room and almost freeze you over.

you explained that to him while he sat in the armchair across from you, thinking of a few solutions for your predicament of feeling cold.

"galleon for your thoughts?" sirius pulls out the coin from his pocket, holding it out to me.

i laugh softly, taking from him and toying with the gold lump, "i just feel a little cold," i shrug.

"cold?" he echoes, "would you like more blankets?"

i shake my head, "i'd feel suffocated rather than warm under layers and layers of blankets,"

"i can stoke the fire for you,"

"i'd have to move closer to the fire to feel the warmth, and merlin knows i might accidentally burn something " i sigh, sinking into the sofa.

"warming spell?" sirius leans forward in his seat.

"it'd feel too hot after a while,"

sirius sits in contemplation for a while before he looks at you with a look that spelled out mischief.

he stands up and tells you to scoot over.

you would ask a few times why, and he wouldn't entertain your question.

"nothing terrible," he would say, and there was no stopping the grin on his lips when you make space for him.

sirius opens his arms as soon as he sits down and it takes a lot for him to not burst out laughing when he sees your face.

"i'm confused," *i say, looking sirius up and down in slight amusement.

"i am ready and willing to cuddle you for warmth,"

you laugh softly, a fond smile on your lips as he reassures you that he'll only do it if you were comfortable with it.

so you settle in his arms, a comfortablr silence filling the room.

"i think i could actually get used to this," *i yawn, snuggling closer to him, head resting on his chest to listen to his heartbeat.

i feel him smile against my hair, gently rubbing my back.

"me too darling, me too,"

[ james potter ]

a darling of a man, really.

he reminded you to grab your gloves before you left for class and, obviously, you still forgot them.

on your date around the grounds, he notices how you keep your hands in your pockets, fidgeting around with something inside them.

"you forgot them, didn't you?"

i smile sheepishly with a nod, looking down at my boots and murmuring and apology.

"hey, hey, it's alright love," james says reassuringly, holding my cold hands in between his gloved ones and kissing my knuckles and the tip of my nose.

"i know, it's just," i sigh in frustration, "you reminded me and i still forgot,"

james smiles and kisses your forehead.

"it's gives me the perfect opportunity to do this..."

"to do what?"

you barely have time to brace yourself before he smirks mischievously, scooping you up in his arms.

"james!" i squeal.

"bear hug!" the brunette laughs out loud, twirling me around in the air, our laughter filling the air.

he pepper kisses all over your face when he puts you back on the ground, your knees shaky from how hard you were laughing.

"better?" "a lot better," "good,"

with his hand holding yours, he guides you to the kitchens to get you cookies and hot chocolate.

"you mean so you can get cookies," i say accusingly with a teasing smile.

james laughs heartily, "i mean so you, my little love, can warm up properly,"

[ remus lupin ]

you were waiting for him over in the courtyard, bouncing on the balls of your heels and waiting for him to show up so you could walk to your next class together.

remus arrived after a while, taking your gloved hand in his so he could lead you to your next class.

halfway through the journey, you start jumping to get your blood pumping to at least get a little warm.

"i feel cold, so very cold," i explain to remus with a shudder, and there's a guilty look in his eyes.

"don't you dare blame yourself," i frown, kissing his cheek to calm him down, "it is not your fault, i've always been sensitive to the cold rem,"

he has plenty of ideas, and he is more than capable of casting a warming spell.

but remus john lupin is also a romantic so he takes off his scarf and wraps it around you.

then he undos his oversized robes and you almost yell at him, but he wraps them around you while he still wore the robes. remus' arms are firm around me as he keeps me warm.

"was this your best idea?" i quip teasingly, wrapping my arms around him and laying my head against his chest.

remus is extremely warm, and it's comforting.

"the most effective," remus nods, very serious before he chuckles, rubbing his nose against mine in a penguin kiss that has me giggling.

after standing around for a whille, wrapped up in remus, i remind him that we had a class to attend.

"right," he sighs heavily, reluctantly pulling away, "but we are very much going to cuddle again later to share body warmth like penguins, yes?"

#hp imagine #hp fluff #hp x reader #james potter x reader #james x reader #sirius x reader #sirius black x reader #remus x reader #remus lupin x reader #marauders fluff #marauders imagine #marauders x reader

[jlfletcher]

All I Really Want Is You

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: bullet wounds, mentions of potential death (no one dies, just a small injury during a mission). This is told in 3rd person limited POV (of Miguel, mostly?). One-sided kind of. Reader can speak Spanish (is that considered a warning?).

Summary: This is how it all began for Miguel. From mere coincidence to something more. (Fluff/Romance)

Excerpt: "He realizes something and it’s arguable in his mind... Out of all the Spiders, you’re the anomaly."

A/N: This narrative is actually repurposed from my friend's spidersona story. It didn't have any romance in it originally but my version does and the more I wrote, the more it diverged from their initial story. They said they liked this version and gave me the go ahead to post it because they'll probably never share their's anyway.

Special thank you to my friend who edited this thing. I'm grateful that they were able to help me turn my messy notes and ramblings in a cohesive story.

I get really inspired by music. So, if I do continue to publish installments of this story, they'll most likely be written with songs included.

Also, I'm sorry if there are any mistakes. I've never had to format such a long post like this on here before.

Word Count: 13.9k (This is a slow burn)

Breakdown

I'm overworking 'til the sundown

Don't see the light inside my head now

There’s a faint buzzing sound that fills Miguel’s workspace. His eyes are a bit bloodshot and itchy from his lack of blinking. He’s grown irritated by now after hours of surveillance and Lyla badgering him to just take a break already. He keeps swatting her away with languid flicks of his wrist while sighing and rubbing his temple. There’s an ache in his head that’s dull yet ever-present but he feels like rest will not come to him anytime soon. He also remembered that he wanted to run diagnostics on a few of his lab’s systems that would ultimately take a while. The testing is usually run automatically but he’s disabled the scheduled maintenance cycle in order to have tasks to do when he's restless like now. Unfortunately for Miguel’s overactive mind, things have mellowed out in the multiverse for the time being. He's been trying to fill his time as he waits for something, anything to happen. It's caused him to grow a bit on edge as of late. Yes, there are still plenty of anomalies to be dealt with but he’s found the late hours to have grown more quiet. It seems that the uncharacteristic silence has planted an eerie feeling in him that he just can’t shake. What if the moment he steps away, something arises? Lyla calls him paranoid but truthfully, he can’t take the risk of complacency.

Eventually, he plops into his chair and prepares to stare at the monitors for another who knows how many hours. He glances over the society’s various CCTV displays in a sluggish attempt at monitoring the building. Yet, something catches his attention. His eyes zero in on a lone figure in the engineering lab. He blinks a bit slowly and scoots closer to take a better look while disregarding the buttons on the control panel in front of him that actually allows him to zoom in on the feed. The thought had completely escaped his foggy brain thanks to his chronic sleep deprivation. Languidly, his eyes flicker to the time and back up. 4:13 am.

I need to see you in my window

There’s not a doubt in Miguel’s mind about what or more accurately who it may be. It’s your form hunched over the workbench. Your signature pair of shoes gives you away entirely. Frankly, it’s not a surprise at this point. This may be the fourth or fifth time he's noticed your presence at such an unorthodox hour. You always tend to stay late at HQ because of your own odd sleeping schedule. He’s overheard you mention to Jess that your universe has a slight daytime shift compared to the others but he didn’t consider it to be by this much. This was nonetheless a preferred choice of company, albeit in an entirely different area of the building from him, because you're quiet and focus on your work. He's not entirely sure if the two of you have interacted for more than a single minute. Perhaps, that's why he prefers you over others. He's never actually spoken to you outside of very few mission assignments and reports. You've caught his eye before. At first, he noticed you were a bit too quiet. It initially caused suspicion to sew itself within his brain. However, after a brief investigation into you performed by Lyla, he concluded that it's simply the way you behave. Now, when you catch his eye he assumes it's due to how you carry yourself relative to others, professional and efficient. Despite the distance between you two, both figurative and literal in this moment, he finds himself watching you through one of the many floating windows before him. His fingers finally slither among the control panel to switch to a different camera in the lab. After flicking through a couple of feeds, the screen changes to an angle that shows your face. Perhaps he's a bit too tired in this instance because his hazy brain barely registers the way his breath hitches in his throat momentarily.

He's seen your bare face only once before and it summoned the same reaction from him. He's taken aback by how you look. It's a bit of a surprise in all honesty. You're so, for lack of a better term, different. And that's not claimed in some common colloquial way. You are literally different. Here at the society, a handful of faces are circulated between the Spiders. However, yours is unique and undoubtedly you. He's only ever come across one of you, the one that's sitting and tinkering in one of his labs. The last and only time he saw your bare face was a fleeting glance before you quickly shoved your mask back on. He assumes you're a bit shy because of it. However, now he can take his time to really analyze your features. He sees how your brows pinch in concentration and how your eyes look a bit red. Ah, it appears you haven't been blinking properly like him either. He sees how your tongue gently swipes out from your mouth before you nip at your bottom lip. Your hands work on repairing a circuit board with your eyes focused on the corrosion you wipe off. He watches you for a while as you work, finding intrigue in the way you do such mundane tasks as repairing a PCB and reassembling a gadget. Eventually, you sit up and stretch a bit, before rubbing your face in what he collects as either exhaustion or boredom. He understands the feeling, truly. Yet his eyes widen a bit as your eyes look at the camera and he finds himself perking up when he sees you smile. He then zooms out to see that you’re conversing with Lyla. Despite the quick misunderstanding, he finds himself enjoying the scene before him. You speak to her so calmly and casually. Do you often speak with her? Many thoughts start to pop up in his mind about you and your overall enigmatic behavior. Your smile triggers hyperactivity to blossom in his mind, his thoughts reeling at the way you look. Your lips pinch together softly as one side of your mouth curls a bit more than the other. Your brows raise as you speak with Lyla, your contentment is evident. He's caught up in the details of your face and it's nearly instinctual the way the corners of his lips twitch in a subconscious attempt to mirror yours.

And I whisper

All I really want is you

What would you do?

He has formed this habit of watching you in the late nights and early mornings. At first, it was mere coincidence when his eyes lingered on you, maybe even out of some sense of caution, but now he finds himself seeking you out after a month of noticing your constant presence. Lyla teased him about being a creep but he usually just replies with a grunt or the occasional snarky comment. Every night you’re working on something and his curiosity is piqued. However, it appears you work efficiently given how it seems to be a new project every few nights or so. His eyes flutter a bit as he sees Lyla appear next to you. Judging by the way you react to her arrival, it’s just for a chat. He notices how your hands rest over one another in front of you as you nod at what Lyla says, laughing and blinking softly at her. You’re polite when listening, putting down whatever you’re working on to give her your attention. The only assumption he's made from it being that you're simply kind. His eyes are attracted to the way your thumbs twiddle around one another absentmindedly. Do you often fidget like that? He tries to think back on the previous times he witnessed your hands when they were not busy, which is not a common occurrence. And as he watches you, he strokes the panel button under his own thumb subconsciously as if it were the back of your hand. He’s only managed to conclude one thing about them and it’s not about how you fidget.

He mutters to himself deeply in observation, “Pequeñas.”

He looks at your hands, pixelated by the monitor, and then down at his own much bigger ones. He ponders momentarily about just how small they truly are. He's certain that if he were to measure them, the entire length would barely reach 7 inches while his are well past 9, probably even past 10 in actuality. If you placed your palm against his, his hand would completely dwarf yours. If you placed your palm against his... what would it fit like? What would it feel like? What would you do if he held your hand? Wait… why is he thinking about that?

“But,” he mumbles softly as he watches you walk off with Lyla in tow, “I think…”

Laying in the rain with you

Middle of June

It’s been two months since he fully took notice of you that night with his full attention; the night he seen you truly as yourself for the first time. From what Lyla has mentioned, you’ve been here almost every night since you joined the society. It doesn’t bother him that he hadn’t noticed you for so long. To him, it made sense. He often found himself drowned in work. Things were hectic for a while, a long while, but luckily during these past few months, things have been relatively easy. Emergency missions in the middle of the night have been few and far between and usually required only one person to complete them which is why Miguel has been manning the fort all by his lonesome for some time now. However, the only other spider permitted to be at HQ during the overnight hours is you thanks to your completely reversed day-night schedule. The two of you have been on a handful of late night missions together throughout this time but he has yet to speak to you about anything not regarding work. It’s a bit strange if he’s being truthful. You may be the only spider that has never spoken to him casually, ever. Sure, he’s suspected you are antisocial but he hadn’t anticipated it to be by this much. You don’t stand out, you stay focused on your work, and you never talk to anyone. Well, that last one isn’t too unbelievable given the fact that you’re only ever here when everyone else isn’t. Miguel can’t help but wonder if you have ever spoken to anyone in the Society without the intention of completing your professional duties? The closest to such an instance was the one time he heard you speak to Jess which was also the first time he had ever seen you. Jess was going to introduce you to him but he was busy having an argument with Hobie. It never grew to be physical but his shouting certainly must have put you off considering he never saw you around again after that. It makes sense, truthfully, since that was your first impression of him. You must think he's always shouting, irritated, and highly intolerant of disobeying his instruction. That is what he was yelling about at the time after all. Well, that is until he noticed you lingering around the building at night. Honestly, you weren’t even a thought in his mind until Lyla sent him a debriefing of you just before Jess officially assigned you to the night shift. He was going to protest, citing that you have no meritorious experience to do so or something like that but he found out that you don’t actually bother him like everyone else. However, he’s grown very aware of your presence as of late thanks to his more unoccupied overnight schedule.

He even has time to just sit and think about anything other than the multiverse now. Usually, this spare time is occupied by observing you. He likes to sit back and watch all the tasks you do with no one around. He finds it relaxing in a way, which is something he’s grateful for. He’s discovered many things about you through this newfound hobby. You tilt your head with a small pout when you’re confused. You often have music stuck in your head which is made evident by the way you nod your head rhythmically. You rub your face with both hands when you’re tired and only one hand when you’re bored. You like to take power naps under the workbench specifically in the left corner of the lab, closest to the door. You usually wear civilian clothing around HQ at night but always wear the same shoes. You don’t like coffee. You drink tea but it has to be hot with steam billowing from the cup. You drink water more often than tea though, but only at room temperature. You crack your knuckles in 30-minute intervals when you type or tinker for long periods of time. You yawn frequently when the air-conditioner is pointed at you… The list could go on. Honestly, he’s a bit taken aback by how much knowledge he’s retained of your behavior and mannerisms. Why is that exactly? He can’t just claim outright boredom. Watching you is something he avidly chooses to do because he likes it. Bored certainly isn't the word he'd use to describe how observing you makes him feel.

“Why am I doing this?”, he mutters deeply as his eyes watch you type away on a computer. Maybe it’s like a child with an ant farm. It’s simply interesting. No, that doesn’t quite sound right. Even ‘interesting’ doesn’t truly capture how he feels watching you every night.

Soon a bright search window pops up in front of him, making him flinch aggressively. “Lyla!”, he shouts in annoyance as he rubs his stinging eyes; already knowing the culprit.

She pops up next to him with a shrug, “What? You asked a question and I’m answering it.”

He squints softly, his eyes focusing on the window presented to him. There are multiple articles listing words that make him furrow his brows. Intrigue, infatuation, sonder, escapism, comfort-watching. To Lyla’s surprise, he mulls them over but she chalks it up to his sleep deprivation. Some words stick out to him, finding himself unfamiliar with them.

“Comfort-watching.”, he states slowly as he selects the article. It explains what it is and what it stems from, denoting its connection to escapism. “The habitual diversion of the mind to purely imaginative activity or entertainment as an escape from reality or routine.”, he reads aloud, words muffled by his hand stroking his chin. Well, that didn’t make sense, watching you is his routine at this point.

He wouldn’t describe what you do as entertainment in theory and it’s certainly not imaginative. It’s just him watching how you do normal things. He softly chews his lip as he glosses over the other articles.

Lyla mimics his actions and strokes her chin, opening another article in front of her form. “Oh? This’ll be interesting.”, she thinks before speaking to Miguel, who’s now distracted by both the articles and his occasional glances at you. “Why do you like watching y/s/n?” [your spider name]

He replies with a sigh as he waves his hands around, positioning the articles around him, “That's what I’m trying to figure out, Lyla.”

“Just think for a moment. Off the top of your head, what’s one thing you like about doing this?”, she gestures to the monitor containing you. The two of them glance at you through one of the screens standing from your seat and stretching your whole body in an attempt to reduce your exhaustion.

Miguel’s inquisitive eyes soften a bit as he responds earnestly, “It’s familiar.” Lyla’s face flashes a bit in curiosity as she observes his expression. Before she can speak again, he continues, “This is calm and… warm.”

“Warm?”, Lyla asks curiously, her eyes fluttering over the chart in the article she opened. She's notated a couple of checkmarks now, in places she hadn't expected.

His eyes just can’t leave you as he thinks about what he’s said. It’s hard to put exactly into words, “I… appreciate her presence. She’s always there and it makes me feel comfortable.” There’s a strange feeling that stirs inside him upon hearing the words he formulates in response. You, a complete stranger, have somehow become a totem of routine in his eyes. Because after watching you nearly every night, you are always there working. Always. Despite the strange and unpredictable multiverse the two of you reside in, you sit in one of his labs, typing away on a computer. In a sense you’ve become the embodiment of normal.

Lyla repeats quietly but not lacking the casual tone she usually holds, “Her… Do you ever want to talk to y/s/n?”

He hums in thought before replying with an unsure shrug, “Honestly… I never even considered that. I don’t think I need to.”

Lyla glances back at the article and then back to Miguel, “But do you want to?”

His movements stall as her question hangs in the air. He takes a moment to apprehend what she’s asking. His eyes trail slowly from the articles floating around him to you on the CCTV display. You're crawling under that specific workbench in the left corner of the lab for what he knows is a power nap; he finds himself almost smiling at that. Does he want to talk to you? He ponders a situation in which he finds himself conversing with you casually. What would you talk about? He knows you like tea. Would you talk about your favorite kind? What is your favorite kind? How would you pronounce it? How do you pronounce certain words like caramel or aluminum? Maybe like aluminium? Maybe you say it differently than he does. He can imagine a light-hearted debate over phonetics, the two of you drowsy from the late night hours. Maybe you’ll tease him about the way he says it. How would you say… his name? You’ve spoken his name before on missions with a professional tone, always addressing him by his surname. It irks him a bit but he's never gotten around to informing you to just call him Miguel… How would you sound calling out to him in a tone that's amicable and familiar?

He’s broken out of his thoughts by Lyla waving her pixelated arms in front of him and a shout of his name, “Miguel!” He jolts at the sound of an alarm beeping around him. Bold words pop out in front of him, “ANOMALY DETECTED”. He hears his family name called out and straightens at the sound. That’s not Lyla's voice. He turns around to see you in your suit, tucking the hem of your mask into your collar as you trek to his platform. His hand waved behind him, minimizing the displays floating around him to hide the clues to his distraction with a single motion.

He hears you speak in a sober tone as you stand before him, “Lyla informed me that we’re both needed for this one. There’s an anomaly running around a metropolitan area on Earth-26. It travels quickly so we'll have to chase after it. Also, there doesn’t appear to be anyone to help.” He nods quickly, navigating through the multiversal map on his watch to open a portal. He nearly flinches as you gently grasp his forearm, looking up at him slowly.

“O'Hara,” you said calmly, which made him look at you curiously, “full stealth on this one. I’m uncertain how this universe would respond to… our kind.”

His lips nearly press into his natural pout under his mask as you address him by his family name but quickly absorbs what you're truly saying to him. He’s had a couple run-ins with a universe like this before and understands your concern entirely. He slowly pulls your hand from his forearm. The size difference doesn’t skip past him and makes something buzz in the back of his brain. Yet it’s subconscious, the way his fingers linger around yours before he releases them and states firmly, “Stay close to me.” You nod in understanding which he reciprocates before opening a portal. You flip open your watch and quickly calibrate your interface and send sync data to his watch to stay connected during the mission. It’s strange how ready you appear to be but it’s greatly appreciated. He hadn’t realized that he was staring before you turned towards him. You tilt your head softly and unbeknownst to you, he knows without a doubt that it’s out of curiosity. He gives you a nod, hoping it didn’t look as strange as he felt doing it. You step through the portal first and he’s quick to follow after as Lyla observes it all with an inquisitive squint.

All I really want is you

This was an uncommon feeling. You two chased after the anomaly, zipping through the sleeping city's skies quickly. Luckily, you both haven’t been spotted by anyone as you swing through the late-night drizzle. He started feeling a bit… he supposes ‘at ease’ is the best way to put it. He’s not foolish enough to grow complacent mid-mission but being on mission with you, working so seamlessly with him, made this feel easy. You’re professional, giving clear cues and staying on the same page. It’s as if you can hear what he’s thinking. Sure lego Spider-man is a good teammate but you’re a good partner.

The anomaly made its way to a rooftop with you right on its tail. You landed quickly with a soft roll before keeping low to the ground while Miguel landed behind you with a soft grunt. You crouched a bit as you tiptoed around gently, trying not to alarm the anomaly located somewhere nearby. He waits on standby, keeping a lookout for anyone who might see you two while you try to catch the small creature. You freeze as you see the silhouette of it, patting the ground with stubby limbs, seemingly ready to take flight again. That is until you squat down and pat the ground too. It looks at you and tilts its head, another action that you mimic before removing your mask. It slowly walks to its right and you gently shuffle to your left. You release a chuckle as you can see something that looks like a tail wagging. The noise meets Miguel’s ears and he turns to find you squatting and maskless. His eyes widen at the sight, fighting the hitch in his breath as he sees your h/c hair, it looks much softer in person. His eyes narrow is realization as he quickly replaces his intrigue with his usual pragmatism.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he speaks monotone, “What are you doing?”

You release a slow and soft, “Shhhh.” You then gently raise your hand, motioning him to approach you. His fingers twitch instinctively as he looks at your flopping hand and surprises himself by reaching out for it. However, his mellow emotions are doused in confusion as you tug him down quickly. He nearly falls on top of you, clearly not anticipating such sudden strength from you. Luckily, he manages to brace himself, kneeling behind you, and leaning a bit over your shoulder. He’s about to ask what the hell you’re doing when you point to the far corner of the rooftop. His eyes widen as he watches the dark creature slowly slink toward the two of you.

You breathe out quietly to Miguel, “Deactivate your mask.” He turns to you in shock despite you not looking at him. He’s about to protest before you whisper, “It needs to see your face.”

He acquiesces your command and slowly retracts his mask. The air nips at his warm face as he spies the creature tilting its head. You tilt your head too while whispering to him, “Mimic what it does.”

Miguel begins to protest but you quickly cut off his words, “Why-?”

“Just do it.” He nearly rolls his eyes at your sudden command but finds himself following suit as he tilts his head too. He watches curiously as the creature pats the ground with its left paw and you mirror it with your right hand. He grows a bit amused watching the two of you continue this little dance until it slowly crawls closer to you both. Miguel can hear your breath hitch as the creature steps into the light shining from over the door to the rooftop you all are on. It’s dark and covered with scales, with large blue eyes and bat-like wings. Your hand is still placed on the ground as the creature cautiously closes the distance between you. You cautiously turn your hand palm up, Miguel is confused by this but continues to watch nonetheless. The creature's eyes look up at you warily with tightly constricted pupils. You then turn your head, facing away from it and toward Miguel quickly. He barely manages to lean back enough to avoid you smacking your head into his shoulder.

He looks at you quizzically as you whisper to him, “Keep your eyes on me.” His brows furrow which indicates his clear confusion at your command. You respond cautiously yet softly, “Don’t look it in the eyes. It’s still scared.” Miguel slowly nods in understanding as his eyes stay on yours. 

There’s something that fizzles in his ears as he stares at you. Your eyes are oddly… calming. He’s never thought of looking at them before. At least not in an intentional way like this, unlike the usual polite eye contact you’re obligated to give someone you work with. It's so strange seeing you in person up close like this. He also has to fight the heat he feels making its way onto his cheeks at your close proximity. Your eyes sparkle a bit from the dim moonlight and there's drops of rain littered around your hair. You look so soft and inviting. There's not a sliver of malice anywhere across your features. He's sure this small anomaly is smart enough to come to you.

Soon he feels his lungs quiver in his chest as he watches your eyes crinkle as you smile. You’re chuckling. Why are you chuckling? His ears are roaring by the time you turn back toward the creature. His gaze lingers on the side of your face before looking down at the little one who’s currently licking and nuzzling into your hand, giving it playful nips. He smiles at that, grateful that this mission will end easier than expected.

The creature jumps on you and licks your face with a happy warble. Miguel tenses, worried that it may be attacking you until you release a giggle as you coo warmly, slowly standing with the creature wrapped in your arms. The sound tingles in Miguel's ears and he can’t help but watch you almost mesmerized as you carry the creature carefully before he stands back up next to you.

You comfort the creature with soft words as your nimble fingers quickly fashion a tracker to the little beast then click your watch. You speak calmly as you stare down at the baby creature with a smile, “Lyla, may you please check for any residual anomalies?” Lyla appears behind the creature and gives you a little salute before her visage flits around and scans the area. Miguel approaches to inspect the animal but leans back when it attempts to sniff at him which makes you chuckle at his stiffness. Then, you gently scratch between the animal’s horns as you walk closer to him to let it smell him properly. He stands awkwardly, watching its nostrils flare with each sniff of his arm.

You look around at the skyline behind him with a sigh, “What a view. Do you ever-”. Your voice fades off quickly as you squint, looking at something in the distance. Miguel notices as your hand stops moving and you cradle the creature protectively. Before he can even look at you, you shout while shoving him to the ground roughly, “Sniper!”. You yelp as something pierces your forearm violently, making your knees wobble. The creature jumps out of your hold, having sensed your body going limp before you slump into Miguel’s arms. The creature nuzzles into your dangling hand with a sad whine.

Miguel immediately enters high alert. He stays low as shots ring out above you, dragging you behind a structure to obstruct you all from whatever the hell is attacking. You're slumped against him as he shakes you softly with a tense voice, patting your face anxiously, “Y/s/n? Y/s/n wake up!” He sees the creature standing on its hind legs pawing at your thigh, looking up at him with scared eyes. Miguel shouts out into the air, “Lyla!” Immediately, a portal opens in front of you three.

Lyla speaks in a rushed tone, looking down at you worriedly, “I didn’t detect any more anomalies. Hurry.” Miguel scoops up both you and the anomaly, holding you tight as he jumps through the portal quickly.

What would you do?

Sleeping outside, the moon

Tripping with you

Miguel’s quick as he carries you to the med bay, the anomaly’s little legs trying to keep up with his long, wide strides. He places you on a bed and pulls up a med pod. He runs a full scan of your body and finds a bit of relief when it is concluded that you got dosed with a tranquilizer but he’s still tense. Usually a tranq doesn’t work that instantaneously; nor does it cause a strong shift in your blood pressure like this… It’s almost as if it’s thinned your blood. He sanitizes and gloves up quickly before grabbing some supplies to remove the projectile lodged in your arm. Fortunately, it doesn't take too long to remove all the pieces of the dart that broke apart. There's a bad feeling in his stomach as he does. He's never seen a tranq dart do such a thing. Why is it so fragile? Miguel has Lyla analyze the fragments while he cleans the wound.

He steals a glance at the little creature sitting in the doorway, its eyes watching you intently. He speaks evenly as he floods the wound with saline, gently patting it dry, “Don’t worry, she’s okay. She’s just sleeping.” He finishes wrapping your arm gingerly with a bandage and pulls the bed sheet over you, raising each of your arms to rest over the sheet. He stares at your hand in his for a moment. It’s warm. Your hands are warm and tiny compared to his. So, that’s how they feel… He blinks himself out of his thoughts and gently sets your hand down by your side to let you rest.

“You can come over. I’m done but she won’t be awake for a while.” Miguel says before looking over at the little beast. He’s almost surprised when it appears to understand what he’s said. After all, you did mention during the mission that it seemed highly intelligent relative to other wild animals. It stands, slowly trudging over before hopping onto the bed beside your leg. It looks at you and then turns to crawl on you cautiously as if it’s afraid of hurting you. After a few moments of hesitation, it pats the bed, circling a few times before settling down between your feet. Finally, it rests its chin on your leg, looking at you with large eyes while its tail curls around itself, and releases a soft bleat.

The display of how gentle it acts with you nearly makes him scoff in disbelief. It’s hard to believe that this is the same angry little beast that tried to claw at him earlier in the night. He's almost offended, truthfully. Why was it so mean to him? It seems to act like a cat, aggressive one moment then clingy the next. Miguel's eyes drift back up to look at you as he works around the room. He thinks for a moment to himself, "I guess between the two of us, I'd go to her too." He shakes the thoughts from his head. Miguel plops back onto the stool beside your bed with a sigh, having just finished cleaning up the soiled supplies. He yawns and scratches his jaw tiredly before he crosses his arms over his chest. The adrenaline that was once in his body is now long gone and his prior exhaustion floods him tenfold. However, he’s able to mutter with droopy eyes that watch your peaceful sleeping face, “What were you going to ask me?” He soon couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, his body feeling heavy and slowly slumping over as he drifted off to sleep. 

Head down

Miguel groans as he feels something slimy on his forehead. He squints harshly at the light that penetrates his eyelids but before he can get up to stretch he freezes at what he hears.

"Hey, hey. Don't do that, little one. He needs to rest."

He's about to just sit up to explain that it's too late but your voice breaks through with a gentle coo. "Oh. Look what you did, honey. You messed it up…"

Before his mind can propel itself into countless thoughts of hearing you say the pet name in such an endearing way, he feels something gently card through his hair. There's something that erupts down his spine at the sensation and that faint fizzling in his ears returns. Especially when he can feel your fingers graze against his helix as you sweep some strands of his hair behind it. He feels his body melt at your ministrations.

Now, he chooses not to move or open his eyes. He pretends to be asleep on what he can blindly tell is the edge of the bed you’re resting in. He enjoys this, the sound of your voice as you comfort and hush the little anomaly the two of you caught. He hears sad warbling and feels the bed move a bit. He manages to cautiously crack an eye open to peek at you cradling the creature close as it sniffs and licks your bandage gently.

You speak softly to it, "Hey, shh-shh. It's okay, I'm okay. See?" You poke the bandage, not where the wound is but the edge of it, to prove that it's fine. You point at Miguel which causes him to shut his eyes quickly before you speak again, "He protected me and helped me get better. So, it's okay." He feels the bed shift as you quietly chuckle, "Ah, ah. Don’t do that, love. I don't want to wake him up, he was really tired." He can sense you stopping the creature from approaching him further as you stand.

There's a soft shuffle that can be heard around him before he feels something drape over his shoulders. You speak so delicately near his ear as you cover him, “Thank you for taking care of me. Sweet dreams.”

He hears the rustling of fabric and the soft plodding of your feet along the floor accompanied by your voice, "Okay, baby. Let's go." Miguel's eyes peek open to see you walking out of the infirmary with the little creature trotting next to you.

Once you’re gone he turns his head, pulling the fabric off his back. It's your cardigan. The one that you were wearing earlier before the mission. His eyes still feel heavy as he bunches up the fabric under him. His nose is flooded with a scent he's unused to. It smells warm and comfortable and soon he drifts off again with his arms wrapped securely around your cardigan below his head.

That’s what you are, he thinks. Warm and comfortable.

I don't know when to come up for air now

It's been a couple of days since your e-26 mission together and you haven't spoken since. Like usual, you spend the night in the lab and Miguel busies himself with some backlogged reports. However, his eyes still glance over to the monitor displaying you occasionally. He's noticed that you haven't worked as much as before. Sure, you’ve tinkered with a few things but you mostly just write in a notebook and slump over the workbench now. He pauses to inspect your face then switches to a camera angle that shows what you're writing. Oh. You're not writing, you're sketching something. He zooms in to see a picture of the anomaly you two sent back after Miguel woke up that morning. Just as he thought, you were depressed because your little friend had to go back home. That’s a lie, he hadn’t actually thought of that at all. Truthfully, he was starting to grow concerned that something was wrong with you… He watches as you add detail to the eyes, the tip of your pencil faintly tracing along the paper to simulate each streak across its irises. It's this that reminds him of when he stared into your eyes. They're much richer than expected, drowned in a color that is so… you. It's you because it's comforting and relaxing and deep. Comfortable and warm. He remembers the words with a soft hum.

He catches something bright appearing next to you. It's Lyla. He's found that you two converse almost every night. What do you two talk about? How many things have you discussed? There’s something unknown that bubbles in the pit of his stomach as these thoughts fill his head. Eventually, his curiosity gets the best of him and he switches on the audio feed. The thought of this being a violation of your privacy, completely slipping past him. He gently sits down as he listens to the two of you talk.

"Raon? What does it mean?", Lyla questions curiously.

You rest your chin on your hand as you lean against the table, looking up at Lyla with a warm smile as you reply, "It means joyful. He looks just like… ah, it’s nothing." You trailed softly but soon chuckled with a wave of your hand.

The scene before him makes Miguel smile softly to himself. It’s such a mundane conversation yet he finds enjoyment from it. Especially from the soft chuckle that comes from you. 

"Hey, did you ever get around to-" Lyla begins but is cut off by your quick response.

"Nope… sorry.", You apologize with a bow of your head, realizing you interrupted her, "I should probably soon, huh?"

"Uh, yeah. The window of validity is closing, bud.", Lyla conjures up a window beside her before shutting it slowly as she raises a brow at you.

You nod and sigh, standing from your seat before turning to leave, "You're right. Thanks for reminding me, Lyla."

She hums to you before disappearing off the screen. She soon pops up next to Miguel who’s watching the feed of you walking through a corridor. She leans over his shoulder and speaks near his ear, "Stalker much?"

Miguel jolts at that and quickly exits off the camera display. He grunts and pulls some reports in front of him in a feeble attempt to cover up what he was doing, "I'm not a stalker."

She smirks and sings with an almost smug tone, "Ah, c'mon. It's just a joke, Miguel. Don't pout."

He states evenly as his eyes glance over the files presented before him, “Not pouting.”

“You never answered my question, y’know?”

“What question?”

“Do you want to talk to y/s/n?” She emphasizes her words with raised brows as she slowly orbits around his head to face him.

He blinks in thought, recalling the recent mission. You’re unfinished words wading upon the surface of his mind and truthfully they have been in his thoughts ever since you first uttered them into the night air. It wasn’t in your usually professional tone. It sounded more casual and unfortunately, you were cut short before finishing your sentence. “Do you ever… Do I ever what?”, he muses as his fingers rub at the side of his chin. He nods slowly before mumbling, “Yes… I think I do.”

Lyla bends down to smirk smugly at him with her arms akimbo, “Good.”

He squints at her and voices his confusion, “What do you mean? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“O’Hara?”, he stiffened as his eyes went wide at the sound of your voice. He composes himself quickly with a low grunt before turning to you.

Unfortunately, you misunderstand this, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“You’re not interrupting me. I just remembered something. Did something happen?”

You absorb his fast-paced sentences, “No, I just wanted to talk to you.”

He’s shocked by this but his face doesn’t show it. If only you knew of the discussion you just interrupted by coming here.

“I wanted to formally thank you for taking care of me.”, you spoke calmly while looking up at him on his platform. He noticed your hand resting over your bandaged arm, confusion taking over his features. You noticed this and looked down at your arm too, nodding before your gaze returned to him. You subconsciously rub the bandage as you speak, “Ah, this. I don’t… heal as quickly as the rest of you.”

He mulls over your words, the rest of you. You speak in a way that alienates yourself from the Spiders. It’s a phrase he can understand due to him constantly being put in his own category relative to the other spider-people. Other… He supposes he speaks about himself the same as you. So that’s that sense of familiarity explained, albeit partially. He asks with his naturally stoic expression, “Why is that?” He watches with furrowed brows as you think of how to respond.

You softly shake your head with a shrug, “I just don’t.”

Before either of you can speak again, Lyla questions while pointing at you next to Miguel. There’s a small smirk on her face, “Hey, y/s/n? What’s that?” Miguel looks at her curiously before looking down at the box in your hands.

“Oh, this is just… This is for you, O’Hara.”, you take a step forward towards his platform. Miguel’s brows shoot up not only at what you say but at his now descending platform. He looks over to Lyla who smirks at him, clearly the cause. He clears his throat as his workspace reaches your level, “Is it something to sign off on?” He thinks that maybe you’re ready to beta-test new equipment that needs approval first.

You shake your head and hand the box to him with a small smile, “No. This is a thank you.”

He furrows his brows again as he slowly opens the box with his words trailing off, “A thank you?...” It’s… they’re empanadas. You just gave him a box of empanadas as a thank you? 

“I heard Jess mention you liked empanadas. Sorry, they’re not the ones from the cafeteria though.”

He stares at them for a few more seconds. They’re warm. Are they fresh? How? It’s almost 3 am. Did you pick them up from your universe? “You didn’t have to give me this. I didn’t really-”

“You saved my life.” His eyes widen a bit as they meet yours. Ah. So you found out…

Your hands wring together nervously as you speak, “Lyla showed me the analysis of the fragments you pulled from my arm. Etorphine is a strong agent as is but it was formulated into a high-dose soluble projectile. If you hadn’t helped me so quickly, it would have dissolved into my blood and…”

“Thank you.”, Miguel all but whispers with his head down.

“You don’t have to thank me for thanking yo-”

“You took that shot for me.”, he quickly cuts you off. His eyes slowly trailing up to meet yours with firm sincerity. “Why did you take that shot?”

You rub your nape as you avoid his gaze and reply in an almost soft voice, “Ah. I didn’t really think about it… my body just moved on its own.”

There’s a bit of an awkward silence that spreads between you two as you both avoid each other’s eyes. Miguel stares back down at the food before speaking, “You really didn’t have to give me these.”

You speak with gentle hand gestures, a trait he didn’t know you had until now, “No, no. Please take them. I made them to thank you. It’s how I show proper gratitude. Honestly, I don’t think it’s enough.”

He looks at you in thought before looking back down at them with raised brows and a gentle smirk, “You made them?”

You tense, eyes darting to Lyla but she only offers you a quiet snicker. You sigh before nodding slowly, “Yes, I did. I’m sorry if you think they taste bad.”

He’s amused at your word choice. You didn’t say if they taste bad, you said if he thinks they taste bad. So you cook. And it sounds like you cook well given how confidently you speak about what you make.

Before he speaks, Lyla asks you something and motions you toward the control panel, “Y/n/n, come take a look at this.” [your nickname]

You bow your head briefly at Miguel with a modest smile before making your way to the screen Lyla opens for you. That’s another habit of yours he wasn’t fully aware of. He stands back and watches as you point at the screen and discuss it with Lyla. Your arms cross as you stand before the monitors, your face morphed from your inquisitiveness as you inspect the blueprint Lyla shows you. This makes him calm again. Watching you always made him calm and relaxed. However, it feels a bit stronger when you’re standing just a meter or so away from him. With you here now, so close to him, he actually feels warm. There’s a heat that surrounds him that he just can’t really explain. He continues his musings before taking a bite of the empanada absentmindedly but his eyes shoot down at the food as he tastes it. These aren’t like the ones from the cafeteria, they’re far better. The cafeteria carries standard beef empanadas. Beef and seasoning, it’s hard to mess it up. But these? Is this stew? This is honestly the best thing he's eaten in a long time. His foot stutters as he prevents himself from stepping closer to you and swallows the delicious bite before mumbling, “Are these-”

“Salteñas, sí.” His eyes travel up to see you looking back at him with a warm smile and nod. The way you say it is so natural. It rolls off your tongue so smoothly. Do you speak Spanish?

“Wow, it eats!”, Lyla cheers sarcastically.

“Lyla!”, he groans in annoyance.

“What do you-”, you unfurl your arms and look at him with what he recognizes as concern, “Sir, are you not eating properly?” You turn to face him completely and approach him slowly when all he returns is silence.

Lyla floats over to you, her voice laced with a haughty tone as she tattles, “No. No, he is not.” He grunts and tries to snatch her holographic form. His hand just misses her as she teleports to your other side with a giggle.

“O’Hara,” you call to him in a tone that’s so soft while still holding firmness. That’s new. It’s not as casual as he imagined and you’re still addressing him by his surname but he’s still pleased with how it sounds coming from you in that tone. “How often do you eat?”

He tenses a bit and looks away from your eyes before he gets lost in more of his thoughts. “I eat.” His brows furrowed as he mentally berates himself for his obvious statement. Of course, he eats. Estúpido. His embarrassment quickly triggered his next words despite how unexpected they are, even to him, “What does it matter to you?”

He feels an odd sense of uneasiness as he notices your lack of reaction. He’s quick to attempt to amend his words, “It’s appreciated but it’s none of your concern when I do and don’t eat.” Then there is more silence. It weighs heavily in the air awkwardly. He realizes his words may seem a bit harsh given how tense his voice is. He’s unsure what to say now and for once the silence from you isn’t so comfortable.

“O’Hara.”, you say more sternly as you cross your arms. He can’t help the way he feels like a child being scolded by their teacher. What truly catches him off guard is how firm your tone is despite how gentle you look at him, “Stop deflecting.”

It all makes him feel a bit small despite him being the one looking down at you due to your apparent size difference. He’s never been fond of his height. It’s annoying and cumbersome but the way your body positions itself to stare at him makes him think that it’s not that bad. Your head has to tilt back for your eyes to meet his. Those rich eyes of yours… The e/c encompasses your pupils in such an inviting way [eye color]. And each time you blink he catches a glimpse of how your lashes flutter against your skin. His eyes slowly travel along your features. Your forehead creases softly as your brows raise. The action makes your eyes appear larger as you look up at him. Then he sees your lips moving slowly. They’re not shiny nor are they chapped. But they do look smooth as he sees the tip of your tongue softly curl behind your teeth as you speak. Your words slowly grow less foggy before he flinches at the feeling of your hand gently holding his forearm. There’s a slight ringing in his ears as your voice finally reaches him.

“Mr. O’Hara, are you okay? You’re flushed.”

“What?”, he breathes out in a rushed tone before his eyes focus out to see the entirety of your worried expression. He gently tugs at the collar of his suit uncomfortably. He actually feels the heat now, it’s more intense than before.

“You’re burning up. It’s warm in here too…”. You quickly grab the box of food from his hand and place it on a nearby tabletop before pulling him toward the entrance of his work area. “Here, come with me.”

You take my hand like there's a way out (way out)

And we're escaping through the window

Miguel isn’t sure how but he now finds himself in a rather unfamiliar situation. You’re dragging him around by the wrist. However, it’s apparent that he follows seamlessly behind you. It feels natural for him to just maintain your lead, especially when there’s very little energy within him to resist. He watches how you walk in front of him. You walk in a way that makes you look smaller than you actually are. It’s as if you’re trying to hide. Why is that? Your shoulders are slouched a bit forward as you guide him through the corridors. His eyes drift to the back of your head, watching the way your hair gently bounces with each one of your steps. You halt for a moment which causes him to nearly stumble into you. Your grip on his wrist falters briefly before sliding down to take him by the hand. The action completely slips past you as you decide where to walk next, but it surely does not get past him. He has to fight the urge to squeeze his hand around yours but utterly fails. He’s not too upset about this. Truthfully, most of his awareness was occupied by trying not to let his claws protrude from his fingertips. You turn back to look at him but he’s quick to avoid your eyes, oscillating his head mindlessly.

You must have taken this as a sign of his unwell state because soon you're tugging him through the cafeteria with a firm whisper, “Over there. You need fresh air.”

His red face and his lack of words must make him appear as though he won’t be able to last the trek to the infirmary. You gently squeeze his hand which makes his eyes snap back to you quickly. Making your way to the large terrace, you push the glass door open. The air sweeps past you both as you guide him to sit on one of the patio chairs scattered among the outdoor area. His eyes are dazed as he looks up at you standing in front of him but they haven’t left you for even a moment since you squeezed his hand. But now your hand is no longer in his. He’s surprised to find himself a bit annoyed at that. You’re moving too fast, he thinks. All your actions are slipping away from him thanks to his hazy mind and he doesn’t appreciate it. You pull a handkerchief out of your back pocket and pat his sweaty forehead. His eyes watch you as you do. Your lips press into a line as you gently bite your bottom lip. Your eyes are full of concern as they roam over the sight of his flushed face. You remove your hand from his space as you step back a bit, wanting to let him feel the light breeze.

He spies how your hands start to reach out but retract back to your side, settling on your hips instead. You speak evenly as you look at him, “Are you okay? Does that feel better?” It’s gradual as he breaks out of his cloudy stupor, the wind finally cooling him down. He nods slowly before something slithers out of his brain and past his lips.

And I whisper

“What?”, you tilt your head curiously.

“Miguel….”, he breathes out, “My name is Miguel.”

You blink at him and speak with a bit of concern, “I know tha-”

“I don’t like being called O’Hara or Sir or Mr. O’Hara. Call me Miguel.”

You nod softly as you take in his words before giving him a small smile, “Okay. From now on I’ll call you Miguel.”

He almost smiles at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue but catches himself before it’s too late. His brows furrowed in confusion as you gently extended your hand toward him. You smile softly as you gently grasp his hand and shake it with a kind tone, “My name is y/n. It’s only fair that you address me as such.”

His brain stalls for a few moments, absorbing your name. It’s so fitting in a previously unknown yet expectedly pleasant way. Of course, that’s your name. He looks up at you in thought as you gently pull your hand from his, “Y/n, huh? It’s… pretty.”

He tenses in realization for a moment before slowly speaking, ensuring that his own curiosity remains undetectable, “The other night on e-26, on the rooftop. What were you going to ask me?”

You’re taken aback and stand back up, your lip jutting out in a pout as you try to remember. Your eyes wander to the table beside the two of you in thought but Miguel’s eyes stay on you. He takes in the sight of your face morphed in contemplation. It’s the same look he’s seen countlessly through the late nights. Except this time, it’s not pixelated or blurry from his monitors. Now, he can see you up close. He can see clearly how your chin softly wrinkles as you purse your lips and the way your eyes crinkle at the outer corners. It’s almost comical how earnestly he takes in such ordinary features with the same scrupulousness as a lab experiment.

“Do you ever look out at the skyline… and feel at peace?” The words flow out of you softly as you move to sit on the patio table next to him. Your eyes glide up to look at the lights below that decorate the horizon.

Miguel finally tears his eyes from you to look at the skyline before you both. It’s hard to hear the vehicles from up here but he knows they’re there. He can see the lights flicker and wane in the distance as his body relaxes into the chair. He realizes how familiar he is with the scene and breathes out lowly, “Yes. I do.”

He can see you smile in his peripherals before your voice fills the space between you, “I’ve always found comfort in the horizon and the view of the land below. The sunrise and sunset. I think Raon would have been mesmerized by this view of the city lights.”

He turns to look at you curiously, “Raon?” Truthfully, he was a bit curious about the word you mentioned to Lyla earlier.

You nod with a hum, crossing your legs and propping your chin on your elbows as you get comfortable. “The baby creature from our mission. Raon.”

Miguel notices how the word our rattles around his brain but pushes that feeling aside. He attempts to overpower it with a wry remark, “Did you name the anomaly?”

You release a breathy chuckle and nod, “Kind of. There’s a story from my universe that had a baby dragon named Raon Miru in it. Looked exactly like him too, blue eyes and all.”

He finds relief now not just in observing you but in your close presence and words. He’s intrigued by what you say. He can’t quite place the origin of such a unique name. He knows Japanese but he’s unsure if that is its correct origin. He takes a moment to look at you in thought, certain that he wants to hear more, “That name, what does it mean?”

“It’s a bit on the nose, truthfully. It means ‘joyful dragon’.”

“Raon Miru.”, he repeats to himself as he turns back to look at the skyline with you. There’s a comfortable silence that swells between you both. It takes a few more moments before your voice slithers into the empty space.

“Do you truly not eat well?”

He turns to look at you again but immediately regrets it. Well, not really. Your eyes are full of concern as they meet his. He sighs and shakes his head, “No. I don’t.”

“Why?” You ask so simply as your eyes never leave him.

He bites the inside of his cheeks and contemplates whether he should brush this off and lie or just tell you the truth. He chooses the latter, citing that he genuinely enjoys your consideration. “I’m busy. I lose track of time and just forget.”

Lyla finally decides to pop up next to you, “Hey, y/s/n. You actually remember to eat stuff. Mind keeping Miguel in check for me?”

Miguel stiffens quickly shaking his head to protest but before he can, you respond. “Sure, I don’t see why not.”

“Cool.”, Lyla nods and disappears having completed her job as instigator.

His eyes travel to yours in question only for you to smile gently at him with a tilt of your head. “I need to make sure you’re properly taken care of.”

Need, you say. Not want. The way you say it so matter-of-factly makes his lungs quiver, just like that night. His mouth shuts as he slowly leans back in his chair. The way you look at him lets him know that there’s no room for debate. You nod with a smile as you watch him acquiesce your response. “Good. So, did you like the salteñas?”

He nods and speaks with a low hum, “Yes, they were good.”

You beam at that and lean toward him unconsciously, “Really? I was worried there for a second. By the way you heated up, I thought you had a bad reaction.” You straighten up as your features quickly morph in realization of something before speaking, “That reminds me. Lyla?”

“Yo.”, she appears in front of you like a pop-up ad.

“What’s the temperature in Miguel’s work area?”

She conjures up a thermostat and squints at it, “Yeesh, 85°F and climbing. At the time of reporting, it is approximately 20 degrees higher than average. Excessive heat appears to be emitting from a ground-level display console.”

“Oh, may you please-”

“Filtering and cooling as we speak, captain.”, her little hand bumping her forehead to salute you in assurance. “I’ve shut off the machine since it’s under minimal usage priority. Consider this a work order.”

You chuckle at her antics, “Thank you, dear. I’ll be sure to repair it asap. It also sounds like your active monitoring is on the fritz, I’ll check that too.” You then turn to Miguel, leaning in inquisitively to see if he’s cooled down enough.

He questions absentmindedly with an almost gravelly mumble, “Hablas español?” [Do you speak Spanish?]

You're taken aback but smile softly, “Sí, pero no lo hablo con fluidez.” [Yes, but I’m not fluent in it.]

He finds the corners of his mouth gently lifting at your words, “Me suenas fluido. Tu acento es natural.” [You sound fluent to me. Your accent is natural.]

Your smile seems to grow ever so gently as you nod, “Thank you. I grew up in a diverse place. Lots of people spoke languages other than English.”

Miguel found himself completely relaxed as he spoke with you about anything and everything. Like that, the conversation flowed between you for a long while.

All I really want is you

What would you do?

Your brows shoot up in shock before a small smile blooms on your face. “Good. Let’s meet out on the terrace at 3 am. You better not leave me hanging.”

He smirks at your warning in amusement, you said it in such a way that carries no real malice. He nods in understanding as you two walk side by side languidly, back to his work area. The conversation hasn’t stopped. Miguel thinks this is the longest he’s ever talked to someone, speaking more words in these last couple of hours with you than he has to anyone in months. It’s odd to him how easy it is to talk with you. It makes him feel like he’s conversing with an old friend.

He’s lost in content conversation with you as you two enter back into his lab and continues even after you begin to work. He leans against the main control panel on his platform as he watches you repair the display console that practically turned his work area into an oven. Miguel’s arms are crossed over his chest, somehow unsure of what to do with his hands. He speaks with a more calm tone, “So you’re the one who does repairs around here? You’d think I, of all people, would know that.”

“I actually did think you already knew that but I suppose me coming in here and working on your tech while you’re out during the day is a bit of a clue as to why you didn’t.” You calmly respond to him. Your voice is just a bit louder than normal in order to ensure he can hear you properly. After all, half of your body is inside a relatively large electronics console.

“So what’s the issue here then?”

"Just a basic issue. Overclocked GPUs and faulty heatsinks don't really mix well.", you sigh with a shrug after gently crawling out of the unit to drop some screws into a small tray beside you. You present a damaged PCB to him and point at a burnt section of it with the tip of your screwdriver, “See, a few of them have blown fuses.”

He’s tuned into what you say and nods in acknowledgment. He knows what you’re talking about and enjoys it because it’s not rushed and not frantic like during the day. It’s calm and comfortable.

"Although I told Pete to run manual diagnostics on this which he said he did. Liar." 

Miguel is amused by your annoyed grumble as you work. He’s a bit curious as to why you refer to Peter by nickname when you’ve only started calling him by his given name a couple hours ago but he figures it’s fine since Peter is the one who initially recruited you from what he can recall. 

Miguel leans a bit over to peek at the mess that is the internal hardware before you crawl back inside. "I'm going to guess that he didn't even look at this at all."

"Yeah, pretty safe to assume that. I should have known better than to ask him. He's been preoccupied lately.", you groan from inside the panel. You look a bit funny like this, with half your body inside the console.

“Why did you ask Peter to look at it then?”, Miguel asks a bit curiously.

“Um, my arm was still messed up, Sir. I couldn’t really pronate it without feeling uncomfortable.”

He hears how nonchalantly you say it and senses that you don’t want to bring up the injury again. He nods curtly to himself and continues while changing the subject, “Don't call me Sir. It makes me feel old.”

You smile softly to yourself as you respond, “Sorry, it’s a hard habit to shake. I mean, you are the boss. But you shouldn’t worry, you’re not old by a long shot. In fact, I’m your elder…”

Your last few words are muffled but he manages to pick them up. His brows raise in intrigue as he asks, “Is that so?”

The way you tense at what he says doesn’t slip past him but you soon answer in a calm voice, “My universe’s present year is several decades earlier than here. So despite being biologically younger than you, I am chronologically n/y years older than you.” [number of years]

Miguel turns to work on some reports as he says, “Well, you still look spry enough to handle the duties of a Spider.”

You nearly snort at his comment. You must have not expected it, judging by your reaction. You continue to work, your eyes focused on the components you inspect as you jest in a sardonic tone, “Thanks, jefe. I’m glad to know you think my body is still young enough to be thrown around on missions.”

He has to bite his lip to contain the chuckle that he feels vibrate in his chest. He didn’t expect you to respond so sarcastically but he’s glad that you did. If anything, it makes him want to continue talking with you, “So why haven’t I been formally notified of your work here?”

“Well, if something breaks or needs general maintenance, Lyla is informed and she then passes that information to me. She typically deals with software issues and I’m the hardware person. We don’t usually bother you with these things because you’re always so busy as it is.”, you offer with a shrug as you crawl out and sit on your heels, inspecting yet another PCB.

“It wouldn’t be a bother. I need to know about these things.”

You look up at him and chuckle quietly with a soft shake of your head, “There are reports on file of every single repair I’ve done but… the last thing you need to worry about is a coffee maker gone haywire or someone’s empty web cartridges.”

“Aren’t you busy too? You take missions yet you still pull the Society’s odd jobs. Why?”

“Not really. I’m active mostly at night or in the early morning hours. Even when there is an active mission, I’m D-team at best.”

“D-team? Why do you think that?”, Miguel is genuinely confused by what you say. After all, the two of you worked so well together during the missions you have been on with one another.

“I’m just not that capable when compared to the Spiders.”

There’s that phrasing of yours again. It paints a clear separation between you and the society. Why are you so unwilling to include yourself with them? What exactly makes you speak this way? Miguel then thinks back to your first mission together, when it was just the two of you. Although it felt foreign at first, you two completed it quickly and efficiently. He speaks in a tone that leaves no room for rebuttal, “You are very capable.”

“Yeah, you think so?”

“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”

You sigh casually as you stand up, carrying a small tote against your hip of damaged hardware to be further inspected, “Well, I could just be pleasant to be around.”

He releases a breathy laugh at your arch remark with a shake of his head. If only you knew how important your presence has become to him over all these late nights.

You perked up at the sound as you placed the tote on a nearby desk, turning to him as you asked, “Did I just make you laugh?” 

He was about to groan in annoyance on instinct but caught the look in your eyes before he did. Your face didn’t show a single sign of ill intent. Rather, it carried what he identifies as wonder. His lips purse a bit as he looks away from you, trying to avoid your gaze to spare himself from how overactive he’s found his mind becomes when gazing upon your bare face.

“Oh, now you’re pouting.”

“Not pouting.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I am not.” 

Miguel’s brain stalls as his ears pick up a previously unknown yet gratifying sound. Gentle giggling slips from you and it makes that buzzing sensation in his ears return. But he's not upset because he knows you're not laughing at him. It’s that kind of laughter that isn’t rude nor teasing. It’s kind and full of joy. He can’t help the upturn of the corners of his mouth, finding your delight somewhat infectious.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just too cute.”, you wave your hand softly as your other hand attempts to muffle your chortling before grabbing the tote of hardware to repair again. You turn to leave to your usual lab to work but your joyful sounds have yet to cease.

Miguel’s frozen by your comment. Cute? In reference to him? That’s not… that’s implausible and honestly, unprecedented. The more he speaks with you, the more he learns just how strange you are. You’re different in not only appearance but behavior as well. He's sure now that you are unique to the Society in such an eccentric way. He realizes something and it’s arguable in his mind. It makes sense why you exclude yourself from them all. Out of all the Spiders, you’re the anomaly.

Laying in the rain with you

Middle of June

“Miguel O’Hara! Get your butt out here now!”

He groans and rolls his eyes with a smirk as he looks at the time. 3 am, on the dot. It’s time.

The two have grown very well acquainted with each other over the past 8 months. There was a stint of anomalies surfacing during the early overnight hours. For a while, it seemed you and Miguel were dispatched nearly every night but now the instances have slowed to every week or so. You’ve learned a lot about each other and have acclimated well to each other’s presence. His hands swipe away the monitors floating around him as he calls over his shoulder, “Yeah, yeah. Just a second, needy.”

“Needy?! Puh-lease, you would waste away without me.”, you chuckle as your body swings around the entrance to his work area. You cross your arms and lean against the doorway, “Ven a comer.” [Come eat.]

“Sí, Mami.”, he mumbles amusedly, stroking his chin as he stares at the monitors in front of him. [Yes, Mom.]

You chuckle and walk over to him, “Don’t make me drag you out of here.”

He closes the floating screens around him with a flick of his wrist before turning to you with a smirk. His hands rest on his hips as his platform descends to meet you. The soft fizzling in his ears returns as you look up at him with a small, playful smile. The sensation is no longer foreign to him. It’s welcomed now. Warm and comfortable. “Yeah, uh-huh. And how do you suppose you’d do that?”

Your grin is almost mischievous as he finally stands in front of you, “I’d figure it out. I’m very resourceful, you know?”

He nods and begins to walk with you to complete your late-night ritual. “Oh, are you now?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” You repeat the words he told you from your first night together. At this point, it’s more of an inside joke; a reference that often appears as you two converse.

“I thought you said it was because you were pleasant to be around.”, he hums amusedly.

“Well? Am I?”, you look up at him through your lashes. Your eyes gleam with warmth and he’s not sure if you truly know just how beguiling it is.

He mutters as he avoids your gaze, knowing damn well he wants to say yes, “Don’t fish for compliments.”

“But you would compliment me.”, you state in a way that’s laced with playfulness. You bend a bit at the waist to catch a glimpse of his face with your hands resting neatly upon your lower back.

He meets your teasing gaze for a moment before rolling his eyes, “What’s for dinner?”

He sees your lips curl up in his peripherals before you state nonchalantly, “It’s a surprise.”

“A surprise? What do you mean? What for?”

“What? Don’t you trust me?”, you chuckle in amusement after he rambles a bit. You managed to identify that habit of his despite his general seriousness after the many nights you've spent working together.

“I trust you as far as I can throw you.”, he replies collectedly, or so he hopes.

“Liar.”, you hum with an amused smile on your lips, “Nonetheless, I suppose it’s good that you’re an incredibly strong man that can throw me very, very far.”

You chuckle again as he groans beside you. You’re far too sharp for your own good, having seen right through his strategic word choice. You two enter the terrace and something feels different. The air is a bit warmer tonight. Miguel supposes it’s just that kind of summer night. One where the heat from the day lingers into the late night and rekindles the following morning. His eyes shut for a moment as he absorbs the scent floating around. It’s familiar, it’s… enticing. He blinks softly before turning to you, eyebrows lifting in surprise as he sees that setup you’ve made. Upon the ground is a large blanket with a couple of small pillows. There are a few containers of what he knows is your cooking placed in the center. It’s not extravagant but something does stir in his stomach as he sees you turn to him. You almost look coy as you gesture behind you but your eyes never lack that warmth he knows as yours. “Yeah, it’s a bit silly but… happy 50th successful mission, partner.”

He stiffens at your calm yet happy proclamation. The word partner rattles around his brain for a few moments before the gears in his brain turn again. 50 missions? Have you two truly been on 50 missions already? Oh, who is he kidding? Of course, he knows that already. The two of you have actually been on 58 missions to be exact but they can’t always be successes.

You walk over to pull him gently by the wrist to the blanket, “Come on already. Food’s getting cold.”

He rolls his eyes with a smirk as he indulges your command with reluctance, but only externally.

You let go of his hand and sit at one end of the blanket, “Mira, I made some of your favorites.” You remove the lids of the containers presenting a small variety of his preferred dishes. There’s a smile on your lips as you pull out the final container, presenting it to him with a kind tone of voice, “I even made Stobhach for you. And I’ll let you know I’ve perfected my recipe.”

He can’t help the small curl of his lips as he sits opposite of you. You seem so excited to show him all that you prepared for tonight. It all almost makes him blush. He’s learned fairly early on in your acquaintanceship-turned-friendship that you show affection through care. Especially, by giving someone a home cooked meal. He stares down at the food and hums, “Thank you.”

You return with a hum of your own. Besides the banter and wry humor, words aren’t really necessary between the two of you. You’ve learned to read each other well. Body language, quirks, and even the noises that rumble from each of your chests. It’s almost animalistic in its simplicity. Miguel has come to realize how truly perceptive you can be, similar to himself. You two actually share a lot of similarities like your inquisitive nature and reclusive behavior. And he’s come to the conclusion that that is why you two can exist so harmoniously together. It’s not hard to be around you. To him, your presence is easy.

All I really want is you

What would you do?

You two have been talking for a while, the food long gone and your bellies satiated. There’s a bubble around you two as you converse like you’re in your own little world. 

“Come on. Lay with me.”, you look up at him with warmth in your eyes as you pat the space next to you. He truly can’t find it within himself to deny such a gentle command. He moves to lie next to you and stares up at the few stars that manage to make it through the city’s light pollution. It’s times like these when he ponders upon his actions and realizes how easily he finds himself following your instruction. He’s not upset about it. He just finds it odd although certainly not unwelcome. Truthfully, he’s grateful that he can take your lead and not have to be in charge, even if only for a moment. But these moments fill his chest with something warm. Warm and comfortable are his two choice words to describe you in any situation. Whether it be as you two work in silence in one of the labs or when you patch each other up after rough missions.

Sleeping outside, the moon

Tripping with you

He hears a sweet sigh from your lips as you relax on the blanket next to him. You whisper into the night air with the same gentleness one speaks a secret, “This reminds me of one night when I was a teen. In my universe…”

Miguel’s ears perked a bit as you began. It was very rare for you to speak of yourself, your experiences, or your universe. Every time you did, he was sure to pay attention and commit each word to memory because if you ever spoke of it like this, earnestly and unprompted, it meant you were revealing a part of who you are. That you were trusting him with a part of your very essence. To keep it safe.

“California isn’t gone. There’s a coastal city there called San Francisco that my friends and I traveled to. We spent hours there. We watched the sunset on the bay and the evening fog that rolled in. And eventually, we laid back on the sand and looked up at the stars. Just like this.”

He didn't say anything or make a noise. He just stared up at the stars with you, listening intently.

“I felt so calm that night. I knew in that moment that nothing else mattered. And for the first time, I felt at peace. My whole life I didn’t do much. I stayed at home filling my time with random knowledge and tricks. I avoided people and kept to myself as best as I could because I had learned very young that people were not to be trusted.”

Miguel feels his chest tighten at your words but keeps silent. There’s a darkness that barely laces your voice but it is there. He picks up the sound of hurt in your tone and it grips him tightly. There’s a tumultuous feeling in his stomach. He’s eager to preserve the pieces of yourself that you delicately hand him but it doesn’t change the feeling of helplessness that floods him. Your honesty is encased in sadness, a build-up of fears and insecurity that he’s far too late to have prevented. So he listens because maybe, just maybe, something you reveal to him in these genuine passages of your lore can help him protect the parts of you he keeps.

“I learned that family was everything because family would never hurt you. It’s funny now… Now, I think I’m nothing but a memory yet to be forgotten by them.”

He turns to look at you curiously but the concern is unmistakable in his eyes. Of all the countless nights you’ve spent together, you’re finally revealing why you are the way you are. Why he feels like he knows you without words. Because loss and loneliness radiates off you like bittersweet perfume yet you contain it with walls built of sufferance and capability. He’s always held a certain affinity to you that he could never quite describe until now. Before his thoughts submerge his consciousness, he notices how your eyes are screwed shut and the way your fist is squeezed tightly around the strings of your hoodie. Your clenched fingers resting above your heart almost as if you're quelling pain into passivity.

You sigh quietly as if to prepare yourself for what to say. “Things happen. At one point you think you know where you are. Then you blink and wake up somewhere else entirely.”

There’s a brief pause before your next words. Your eyes slowly flutter open to look up at the stars with glossy eyes and a gentle yet certain voice, “I’m here now and I’m actually very grateful for all that has happened. I’ve learned things I never thought were possible, about reality and the world. About people and about myself.”

He’s a bit surprised as you speak to him with sincerity, “I know I’m strange, Miguel. I know I don't make sense and that I don’t really fit. But you make me feel understood. And you make me feel like I’m not really alone… Thank you.”

You turn to find him staring at you in surprise. Your smile is small but your usual warmth has returned, and truthfully, he thinks that it never left. “Sorry. That was a bit heavy, huh? Just forget I said anything.” You offer with a chuckle before laying back.

All I really want is you

Your eyes are closed as you bask in the moonlight and his eyes travel over you. He takes in the soft curl of your lips and the faint flush on your cheeks from the cool air and candid words. The temperature isn’t too bad but thanks to the extreme altitude of the building, it’s crisp yet foggy. It’s an odd feeling, the air is damp from the clouds rolling through the skyscraper but Miguel feels warm. So soothingly warm. Especially, with you laying so close to him. So earnest and so true. He finds it odd how comforting this feeling is despite it being foreign to him, or rather dormant. He’s astonished by your trust in him. It fills him with something that he wasn’t entirely sure he was missing. Suddenly it's apparent what exactly this feeling is. The same feeling that he's felt for months. And it finally sparks in his mind as you look at him with tired eyes and a warm smile.

I love you. 

All I really want is you

What would you do?

He can nearly taste the words on his tongue but he remains silent as your eyes stare into his. Suddenly he feels very awake as his own thoughts dawn on him. Managing to tear his gaze away from your familiar e/c eyes, he finally speaks as he closes his eyes with a coy smirk.

“Never.”

It’s you. Now, it’s something that’s as certain as fact in his mind. He feels the heat of your hand resting on the blanket between the two of you, right next to his. Right where you belong, he thinks. Right next to him.

All I really want is you

Is you, is you, is you

Appearing near you two and out of sight is Lyla. She watches you two and makes a final checkmark on the chart she pulled from an article months ago, when Miguel was initially questioning his interest in you. She smiles to herself as she looks over the chart then back at you two as you exist in your own little world. The words softly illuminated in the window beside her, Infatuation vs. Love, with all her markings under the latter.

Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this! Also, big thanks to everyone who voted on my poll regarding this fic. I am open to your opinions and questions! Please feel free to ask me anything!

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel ohara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #atsv #itsv #miguel x fem!reader #hispanic!reader #??? maybe #y/n #female reader #reader insert #miguel x y/n #holy shit #this is long #fem!reader #? i guess #plus size!reader #he just wants to hold your hand #🥺 #fluff #atsv fluff #falling in love #oof #my heart

[xecutivecucumber]

Executive Cucumber's thoughts on the Bad Batch: Season 3x06 and 3x07 (I'm pretty sure I'm formatting this differently every time. Oh well)

Okay, there's a subject I'm going to have to postpone until the end of the post because I want all my thoughts on that to be together: the main operative clone. And the rest might be slightly out of order. I'm also doing this before I see anyone else's thoughts, just so we get the pure version.

Let's go!

I honestly thought that Senator Singh and Riyo were dead meat. But no, they're fine because REX IS COOLER THAN ANYONE. Ugh that man. Freaking throwing the grenade back at him.

Clones are beautiful. That is all.

THAT'S THAT ONE PLACE FROM THE OG CLONE WARS MOVIE!!! TETH!!!

Howzer I love you but if you touch Crosshair we will be having words.

I am actually really proud of Crosshair and his restraint this episode. He could have been really cutting to Howzer.

OMEGA WITH THE TOOTHPIIIIICKS and Hunter is jealouuuus

EDIT: ECHO AND THE CROSSBOW HE'S SO SWEET

WHAT DID THEY DO TO YOU CROSSHAIR

It's really nice to see normal clones being normal again. (Too bad it doesn't last)

There's something up with Omega. I'm not going to lie, I think that she and Rex are going to plan to get her captured in order to track her back to Tantiss.

HOWZER STOP DISTRUSTING CROSSHAIR THIS MOMENT

I appreciate that Hunter doesn't seem to distrust Crosshair during this point.

...they really shouldn't have brought that operative back.

Rex is considering stealing Omega, I swear. I love that he gets down to her level.

WOOOOOOOOOOOLFFE (Plo would be so disappointed in you)

It's...odd to see these normal troopers with him.

It's also strange that he cannot comprehend that the clones could be traitors at first.

STOP DYING YOU BEAUTIFUL REGS

'She only bites half the time' I'm pretty sure Omega is lying here but I don't care.

CROSSHAIR IS SUCH A WORRIED DAD HOLY CRAP. 'Oh, I'm much worse' I LOVE YOU

And this just gives such a little insight into how the Batch was when they were together. I have a feeling that Crosshair was a fusser and a nagger.

And I love how Howzer's natural and correct conclusion is: 'no one evil could love that child.' (Unless you're Nala Se)

Hey, actual candor from Crosshair. I keep saying this is who he always was under it all, but I do think he's healed somewhat, at least towards regs. The healing power of Omega.

'Too bad' I LOVE THIS MAN

STOP DYING REGS

Rex talking down Wolffe reminded me so much of him trying to talk Jesse down. So ow.

Okay, what ROCK have they shoved Wolffe under for the last YEAR??? YES THE EMPIRE WOULD GET RID OF THE CLONES YOU DOG BRAINED IDIOT

(Plo would be proud that you let them go)

...they just killed all of Rex's clones, except Howzer and Gregor. And I have a bad feeling about Howzer. STOP TAKING THINGS FROM REX HASN'T HE LOST ENOUGH???

Okay here we are, at the big topic. Hold onto your pants.

That operative clone. Is. Tech. Because if he is not, they are purposefully using the narrative to deceive us.

I might miss a few things, but that's because I'm up past my bedtime and I've been up too late the last few days.

1. The falling and water parallels. This clone falls a LOT during this episode and dives into a lot of water. He even falls into mist. This time it's to kill and capture his siblings instead of save them.

2. The injury. This clone is hobbling around a lot after his injury, which was immediately reminiscent of Tech's broken leg at the beginning of season 2. Both of them are forcing themselves past their limit to achieve a mission. Specifically with injured legs.

3. General attitude and demeanor. In combination with the stealth and injury, this clone has a more hunched posture. His speech patterns are more formal, though we haven't really heard a lot of other clone operatives talk with their helmets on. But he's also apparently allergic to orders. I first thought that he'd be out of the chain of command, but they would have told Wolffe that he wasn't in charge of the operative if that were the case. Or the operative would have straight up told him 'I don't take orders from you' instead of staring awkwardly at him. Instead he runs off and does his own thing. While injured. Not to mention the buttons on his gauntlet. The other clone operatives don't have those.

4. The cybernetic legs. Now we don't know for sure if Tech would have cybernetic legs, but it seems likely for a severely injured trooper. And when Crosshair is looking at the heat signature, you can see that his legs are blue instead of yellow or red. No heat. Not organic.

5. What he says to Crosshair. 'You could have been one of us.' 'You chose the wrong side.' Yes, he's talking about Crosshair resisting the re-education. But flip it on its head real quick. 'You could have been one of us. One of the Bad Batch.' 'You chose the wrong side. The Empire.' Those lines very easily have double meanings.

6. An interesting one is when he starts moving rocks after the explosion. Why would he do that? Why not immediately go find another way in? He's moving only the smaller rocks. There's a large one in the way that he couldn't move himself. And he doesn't get the rest of the troopers to come move it when they arrive. He almost seems confused.

Like he's somewhere else after an explosion, having to move rocks. Like in the Crossing.

I know that this hardly seem like iron clad evidence. But in the language of story telling, it's practically screaming in our faces.

And I'm so glad he's back. I missed him. He won't be himself for a while, but I legitimately believe we'll get one last fight with the Batch all together. Because brain washing is a heck of a lot easier to fix than being dead.

My sister is doing the good work and creating a tik token about it, and I'll probably share it here when she's finished.

(We're getting the episode 'Identity Crisis ON MY BIRTHDAY and so help me if that's about Tech)

Honestly I thought I'd be more excited, but I spent the entire two episodes forcing myself into not having expectations and also I might be in shock.

#the bad batch #tbb #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch season 3 spoilers #tbb season 3 spoilers #tbb spoilers #bad batch #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb omega #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #star wars #tbb season 3 #captain rex #commander wolffe #captain howzer #tech lives #i am sure of it now #crossdad #can this show stop being so good I'm trying to live my life #and I'm up too late again #clone troopers

[datsyuks]

"If You Want Anything All You Have To Do Is Ask"

(Hi everyone. I'm new around these parts. Please enjoy. Leave a like or reblog. If the formatting is weird please let know. i used dreaded notepad and it seems like it was more of a curse than a blessing. i should have more coming soon.)

Warnings: smut toward the end

"I'm going inside. I need a refill," you wave your empty can in the air, "you want anything?" you yell to your friend who was ankle deep in ocean water. "I'm good!" She yells back. You glance down the beach to see if your brother, Mitch, and his friend, Auston, would want a refill but they are down the beach chatting it up with two blondes. "Their loss," you mumble to yourself and hike it up the sand.

The cool air feels good on your skin as you open the freezer to get a popsicle. The sweet treat cooling you down even more. You walk upstairs to your shared bedroom. Clothes litter the ground as you make your way to your phone on the nightstand. You start to edit some pictures to post to Instagram when two hands grab at your waist and tugging your body backwards into something hard.

"Boo," he whispers into your ear, his stubble rubbing lightly on your jaw gives him away. Still, it makes you jump, enough for the phone to slip from your hands and onto the bed. "Auston!" you shout and turn around to push against his chest. He laughs as one hand leaves your waist and envelopes it over your hand on his chest, locking it in place. Warmth radiated from his chest. "How'd you know it was me?"

Of course you knew it was him. It became your first instinct now. Years and years of him coming around allowed you to memorize, every part of him. The way his hand ghosted the small of your back as he past behind you. The way he was somehow always there to reach the cup out of the highest shelf of the kitchen cabinet for you before you could even ask. How fast he volunteered himself to teach you how to play tennis, even after Mitch's relentless teasing. 'She's got potential.' He'd say giving you a smile and a wink.

"No, hold the racket like this," walking behind you, he wraps his arms around yours and held your hands over the tennis racket. His hands enveloped around yours so tightly you could only see bits of your neon colored nail polish. "That way when you swing, you have more control." "Uh huh, " you say suddenly very aware of his closeness. You were caged between his arms and you couldn't help yourself from staring at them. They glisened with sweat and sunscreen. Your eyes trail down to the veins popping out on his forearm from squeezing your hands against the racket.

"Why are you so sift?" He asks and wiggles your arms oblivious to you not listening to him at all. "Sorry, I-" you turn your head to look up at him. You are suddenly aware he is not wearing a shirt, your eyes drag up his chest, taking a pause at the small tattoo on his collarbone. Is that new? you think and look up to his face. He's smirking down at you. "Just loosen up."

He let's go of your hands and walks back to the bench. You gather your thoughts, "get it together, get it together." you chant in a whisper. You swing your arms around, do some stretches, and repeat your chant trying to get the feeling of him off you. "Get it together," you look back at Auston on the bench, he's squirting some water into his mouth before squirting some into his hair. "get it," he runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head, “together." your breathless now.

"Want some?" he offers the bottle toward you. You hold out your hands so he can throw the bottle. But he walks over to you, until he’s face to face, “open up.” He gestures to your mouth. His eyes never leave yours as he squirts some water into his mouth. Your eyes widen at his actions yet you still open your mouth, tilting your head up. Lifting the bottle to your mouth, he squirts some in before spraying it all over your face.

"Auston!" you snap out of your trance and charge at him, trying to grab for the bottle but he holds it out of your reach. "That," jump, "was", jump, "not nice!" With your hands on his shoulders, trying to use him as leverage you jump one last time but it's no use. He laughs even harder at your attempts.

"Ugh!" you stomp toward the bench, hastly grabbing a towel out of your bag. Sitting on the bench, you hear him next to you as he sets down the bottle and picks up his racket. "What? You thought I would squirt the water in my mouth into yours?" he asks, playfully. You choke your water down, "what? No." He raises his eyebrows, “you sure?" he smiles, unconvinced. God, you could melt, not trusting your voice you nod. He drops his smile and takes a few steps toward you. “Ok, if you want anything all you have to do is ask, ya know." Is this a dream? Does he even know what he's saying? He must know. He has to know how he affects you. He-' His body is right in front of you, he leans down so he's eye level.

His mouth opens as if he's going to say something, but nothing comes out. You noticably gulp and nervously shift your hands on your water bottle. "Now," he tries again. His eyes glance down to your mouth then back to your eyes. Your body tenses up when you feel his fingertips graze your bare knee. They leave a trail of fire until he slips them under the hem of your tennis skirt. Water droplets fall from his hair and onto your exposed leg. His eyes glance down again, his tounge wets his lips, and his breathing becomes slightly harder. Your still frozen in place when his eyes snap back up to yours.

"Let's play," he grabs the ball you put in your shorts pocket and turns around towards the other end of the court. You suck in a breath, quickly stand to your feet, and brush off the invisible dirt off your skirt. "Yeah, let's play."

You're brought back to reality when he squeezes your hand. "You okay?" His thumb brushes circles onto the back of your hand. Your eyes instincivitly go to his mouth then back to his eyes. You nod.

"Whatcha eating there?" nodding at your hand. Your eyes glance toward your other hand, now being covered by the melting treat. "A popsicle," your voice finally comes out in a whisper. This might be the only chance to spark something, anything, before he goes back to Toronto. Before he's gone away for months. Before, god forbid, he brings another girl to the lakehouse. Before he moves on and leaves you behind and you're stuck in a spirl of what could've happend.

"Do you want to try it?" you ask, almost as quietly as before. His eyes search yours to see if you're joking. In all his years of knowing you, he was always the one teasing.

You bring the treat in front of his mouth, "go ahead. I want you to have a bite." His hand leaves your hip and wraps over yours on the stick. His tongue licks a long strip up the popsicle. His plump lips wrap around the top breaking off a piece. He goes in for another lick going slower this time, teasing you. His lips are covered in the blue liquid. He goes in for another lick when you pull the stick from him and into your mouth. You close your eyes and let out a moan as you taste him and the blue raspberry.

Opening you eyes, you hold you the last piece toward him, "you want some more?" Eager, he leans in but you're quicker, pulling the rest of the popsicle in your mouth, "come and get it."

Dropping your hands and grabbing your hips slamming your body into his. His mouth in on yours, licking his way in. His hand glides up your back until the reach your neck holding you in place. He tastes like the popsicle and warm bud light.

Tossing the popsicle stick to the ground, your hands trail down to the waistband of his bathinsuit. He pulls away, out of breath. "get on the bed." He presses a small, gentle kiss to your lips before letting go. "sit onthe edge."

He spreads your legs apart and unties the little bows on sides of your bathing suit bottoms. The cold air makes you shiver and snaps you out of your fantasy. Does he really want to do this? What's going to happen after? How do you go back to being civil, especially if he sucks? “Auston," you say out of breath, "you don't have to do this. We can just-" You couldn't finish and let out a whimper as he lightly bites the inside of your thigh. "No talking." He flattens his togune against you and licks up.

A moan escapes your lips and your fingers tangle in his hair. “Oh my god, yes." He wraps his arms tighter around your legs as he continues lapping you up. He licks up and down slowly, dragging his tongue over every inch, before dipping inside to tease your clit. He goes around tugging, biting, licking getting lost in the way you taste. "Do you want me to keep going?" He swirls his tongue around your hole.

"Yes," you groan out, before he dives right in, until you are shaking aginst him, "keep going." Two of his fingers replace his tongue and you arch into his mouth. “That's right baby, just tell me what you want." His fingers speed up and you whimper, "i'm close." He pulls out his fingers before slamming them back in curling up just to find the right spot.

"That's it baby," he leans up and takes your nipple in his mouth. Another moan leaves you lips as your orgasm washes over you. Auston slows his fingers down before sliding them out and pops them into his mouth.

Trying to catch you breath, he kisses along your jaw before connecting your lips. "I'll repay you later?" "Don’t worry about it. You asked so nicely. I just had to give you what you want.”One more kiss and he stands back up. Stretching his arms. “We should get going before anyone else comes in." The reality sets in and your body becomes heavy. You snap out of it and shake your head, "Hey Aus-," but you couldn't even get his name out before you heard the back door slam shut.

#auston matthews imagine #Auston matthews one shot #Auston matthews x Reader #Auston matthews x y/n #a.matthews #Auston x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #Auston matthews fanfic #auston fanfic

[jaynovz]

Expanded Info for Black Sails Kink Meme 2024

Hi there!

Since there has been a sufficient amount of interest for this idea, let me explain a little further how I think this will work and general guidelines–

I’m encouraging as informal and low stress/pressure of an atmosphere as possible here. Back in The Day when LiveJournal Kink Memes were common, it was very typical to see a prompt put up and filled within an hour. It doesn’t have to be polished, it doesn’t have to make logistical sense, it just has to fill the prompt as best as you can, sexily! It’s supposed to be fun. A bunch of fun, raunchy kink and smut to roll around in as a fandom. 🥳 🥳

So yeah, first thing to expect, it’s basically ALL PWP (porn without plot). Not to say that someone can’t write a full plot epic if they like, do whatever you like, but in my experience, a 4am fugue state smut fill written in a sweaty haze is kind of, the spirit of the thing. We’re creating ficlets, snapshots, tasty treats of smut with as little pressure to make it in any way polished as possible. Please think of this as, hmmm, a little fun writing exercise you do before you go back to your Big Serious Work, if that helps. We are letting loose, we are having fun, we are being deliciously, joyously, unrepentantly filthy with it! The tagline for the event is: “Get High, Jerk Off Three Times, and Write Me a Warmup :DD”

A prompt might say, for example– “MaxAnne, s2, would love to see the girls get slippery wet with some period sex, bonus if one or both eats the other out while she’s menstruating.” 

Pretty standard stuff, nothing that off the wall from my perspective, however, some folks might feel shy about asking for it for whatever reasons and so the anonymous format frees ppl up to ask for anything from: “Midshipman James McGraw getting caned in pre-canon by his superiors” to, idk, “full tentacle-y type oviposition porn where someone is being forced to come over and over again while being implanted with eggs by some giant plant beast on Skeleton Island (probably Silver).”

Literally ask for whatever smut you want~~ This is your chance, toss it into the pot! It will be tagged accordingly when posted if it’s filled, so live your truth, chase your bliss, know no shame, no one can see you~~

It is helpful when submitting a prompt to give details that are important to you, and the prompt filler will do their best with it. <3 So, I suggest giving a ship specification up front, maybe a vague timeline (season 1, season 2, etc), and then the kinks you want to see with a short description. Sort of like the MaxAnne period sex I gave an example of above.

Logistics and Structure of Submissions–

I have created a sideblog called @blacksailskmeme through which, once submissions are live (it will be open to accept prompts hopefully in March 2024), you may submit ANON ASK PROMPTS. I will publish them with a number and a link to the collection. If you like one of the prompts, simply post it through the collection with its corresponding number and then that AO3 link to your fill will be reblogged underneath the original ask prompt.

Simple as that! 

Follow the Event Blog, or the tag #2024BSKMemeFills in order to keep tabs on when prompts are filled. 

This makes it very easy for me and yall both, as there is no claiming process to trouble ourselves with. As many fills as are written are allowed for each prompt, simply write whatever speaks to you and I’ll be able to track the fills by the notifs on the collection. :DD

As of now, I’m planning to open prompts in March 2024 and keep the collection and blog running for prompts and fills both up through the end of Summer 2024. To respect the spirit of the event, all fills and prompts MUST be anonymous. Edit for clarification: The entire collection is marked Anonymous, which means any work submitted to it will be posted Anon. There is no option you need to worry about checking to guarantee this. I apologize for the initial confusing language, I have been learning as I go.

It still stands that if, after the event is closed, you want to then de-anon your work, that is your prerogative. However, it will mean you must remove the work from the collection, as the collection itself will forever and always remain anonymous.

Rules–

–This is an 18 plus event, please, as all of the content will be Explicit. 

–It is also a Black Sails Only Event, please no crossover prompts or fills. However, AU of all types are encouraged with our favorite pirates.

–All ships, all kinks, are welcome for submission, and the fill will then be tagged appropriately. If you have any questions on how to tag something, or just want another pair of eyes to confirm, you can always DM me <3

–Fills must be 500 words minimum of fic. There is no maximum and the fill is allowed to be WIP if you intend to write more chapters later. I would encourage that the content of the prompt be IN the first chapter at least before submission to the collection.

–We’re Gonna Be Nice and Civil!! No ship bashing, no kink shaming, we’re all mature adults here. If you don’t like something, then don’t fill it, don’t reblog it, don’t read it, pretend you do not see it. If you don’t like it, it’s not for you! 

If I haven’t covered everything here, or if you’re unsure about something, feel free to reach out to me either through the event blog or through @jaynovz <3 Also, if you’d like to help me out with the event, hit me up as well.

Thank you!

#black sails #black sails event #black sails fanfiction #2024bskmeme #would love if yall would reblog this to signal boost thank you

[writingquestionsanswered]

How do I make my writing less.. like I'm rambling? I speak and type in a way that is very much rambling but I want my writing (even if it's just a fanfic) to be more on topic ig?

How to Ramble Less in Your Writing

1 - Have a plan - Planning doesn't have to mean figuring out every last detail--creating scene lists, outlines, and timelines. It can mean that, and if that would help you, do it! But mainly "having a plan" in writing just means that you know the general plot. Who is this story about? What is the conflict? Why does the protagonist want to resolve the conflict? How will they go about it? What obstacles do they face along the way? Who or what placed those obstacles there? How will the character, their situation, or their world have changed by the end of the story? At the very least, having a beginning to end summary is a great way to format the answers to these questions and give you a plan to follow.

2 - Balance Exposition, Dialogue, and Action - If you find yourself rambling a lot in your story, you might be doing too much exposition, aka "explaining things." Remember that scenes (and your story in general) should be a balance of exposition, dialogue (conversation), and action (things happening). When you balance these things out in your story, you will find that you probably ramble less.

3 - Ramble First, Edit Later - Rambling in your writing isn't always a bad thing. For some writers, that's just part of the first draft process. It's sort of a "throw everything at the wall and see what sticks" method of writing, but it works really well for some writers. Some of the best stories in the world were written that way. The key is to go back and edit what's there so you can take out the things that "didn't stick" and clean up the things that did.

4 - Start With a Mind Map - If you find yourself having difficulty staying on topic in your story, try doing a mind map before you start writing and let all those rambling thoughts come out in an organized way. This can help you see all those seemingly random connections your brain is making between elements in your story, which is what sends you off on these rambling paths in the first place. Not only does this let your brain get all those random connections out of its system before you start writing, it also gives you the ability to look at what's there and see if there's anything worth working into something more relevant and cohesive to the story.

5 - Break It Up Into Smaller Parts - Another thing you can try is to break your writing up into smaller parts, which has the effect of putting up barriers that keep you from rambling too far off course. Try to focus on writing a scene... know what you want to accomplish in the scene before you start writing. Figure out the beginning point, the midpoint, and the end point. Then, plot the path between each point. If you still find yourself rambling, break it up by point. Write from the beginning to the midpoint. Then from the midpoint to the end point. Breaking it into smaller parts forces your brain to focus on that smaller part rather than giving it the opportunity to run off into the wild.

Happy writing! ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[lucxiii]

Please You | Steven Grant x GN! Reader

A/N: I would like to thank my touch-starved ass for conjuring this idea at 3 am. Enjoy!

Synopsis: You want to please Steven real good

WC - 1,240

Content: NSFW | explicit | 18+, language, blowjobs, deepthroating, face-fucking, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, cum eating and swallowing, Steven moaning and groaning and grunting and whimpering because you make him feel really really good

EDIT 1/17/2023 • THIS FIC IS UNFINISHED. Hello everyone, by this update it has been a very long time since I have touched this draft of mine and after a moment of thinking I have decided to post it. This has been a fic i've been working on since the spring of 2022 and I no longer bear the will to finish it (THIS CAN CHANGE.) Out of the countless drafts in my dead blog, I thought I should get at least one work out there and this is it. Any form of feedback is greatly appreciated. Lastly, thank you very much and please enjoy.

EDIT 3/?/2023 • Proper ending.

EDIT 3/21/2023 • Formatting/layout changes.

“Fuck, Steven…” You breathe out with a grin just before Steven’s tongue darts out and presses gently between your lips, sliding in and savoring the sacred taste of you with adoration. Arousal levels high enough to compete with the esteemed Eiffel Tower, you teasingly suck on Steven’s tongue as you would on a cherry lollipop and this causes him to unintentionally buck his hips towards you, his erection pressing hard against your thigh. Pulling away with a string of saliva on the edge of his tongue connecting to your lips, he stares at you with a dazed and ecstatic expression. An expression that has arousal coursing through your veins.

“Sweetheart, you’re a tease…” Steven’s hands move from their place on your hips to around your waist, pulling your body closer and slowly pressing you harder against him. You’re very well aware of what he’s doing; making sure you know just how hard you get him- how you get blood rushing to his cock with anticipation to achieve paradise tonight. And that’s exactly what you plan on giving him.

“And you love me for it.” You waste no time latching your lips right back on Steven’s, the two of you devouring each other in a desperate attempt to satisfy the soaring dopamine in your bloodstreams and doing so just for the pleasure of it. Clawing yet soothing your waist at the same time, Steven’s hot tongue pushes past your lips with ease and you take the opportunity to sloppily lick at his tongue with the same fervor. Grinding down on Steven with a steady pace, you take hold of his strong jaw with both hands- your fingers splayed on his warm cheeks- and your tongue tenaciously fights to explore his wet cavern. Unwillingly backing away once more to allow the pair of you to take in well-needed breaths of air, his lust-dilated pupils swallowing your gaze, Steven licks his saliva-coated lips and the sight makes you roll your hips hard.

Gasping, Steven’s chocolate brown eyes threaten to screw shut from the pleasure as he thrusts upwards at your clothed entrance, “Of course I do, love. All…” Letting out a moan of your own from the press of Steven’s throbbing cock against your clothed core, he reaches his left hand out from its place clawing at your waist to get a tight grasp on the back of your head and pulls you in towards his luscious lips in a tenacious kiss. “Of…” savoring your delicious taste as one would do to prolong a sacred experience as long as possible, Steven begins to leisurely trail his kisses to the edge of your mouth and your hands slide down to feel his broad shoulders with soothing adoration. Not wanting to have his mouth leave yours yet, you follow in retaliation as you hungrily swipe your tongue between his lips- but with his own persistent intentions to please you, he fights until you give in with a soft scoff of faint disappointment. Exploring further at your jaw and letting out satisfied hums at your hitched breaths, Steven’s desperate wet kisses are then aimed at your neck, turning sloppier by the second as he laps at your skin and you struggle to keep the moans that spill for your lips at a controlled level. A smug smirk displayed on his Greek god-like features, your lover finishes his statement in a hushed whisper, “You.”

Before you can even fully comprehend the words that leave his mouth due to being consumed by the overwhelming pleasure, Steven leans forward to bury his face in your neck and hungrily mouths the plush skin with such intensity that has you tilting your head back, offering him more to devour, offering more of yourself. “Oh, mmmh! Right there,” you feel as if you’re about to have a sensory overload, you can feel your cheeks burn as hot breaths escape your mouth- your entire body, from your curling toes to your clammy fingertips- burning, especially down there. The occasional subtle groans of Steven as you continuously grind your ass against his pulsing cock is music to your ears as your noises are to his, it’s an erotic melody- a duet between two lovers.

“Do you like that, sweetheart? Am I making you feel good? Huh?” Definitely. Steven is already very well aware of how much pleasure he’s bringing you and that makes him throb. A proper verbal reply isn’t needed from you, your low moans and whimpers are enough of a confirmation for him to know he’s hitting all the right spots. To make it even more literal, just as he continues leaving sloppy kisses at your neck- he precisely slides his tongue across your pulse and you can’t resist the tightening of your legs on his lap- from the pleasures of his mouth and the feel of his cock pressed at your entrance, the only thing between your intertwining figures being your clothes. Knowing he’s just hit one of the spots that render you into a state of ignorant bliss, Steven breathily chuckles whilst his left arm dives back down to wrap around your waist and his hand slides up the curve of your back.

“Steven- Oh, fuck…” You bring a hand to his scalp- fingers intertwining into his dark locks, and subtly pull him away from nipping at your neck as you struggle to prevent yourself from just collapsing right back onto him. Bringing his head up, Steven takes gentle hold of your hand within his own calloused ones, and presses the palm of it against his flushed cheeks as he levels himself to meet your gaze. And god- his eyes meet yours as if you’re the only source of life in his void of nothingness.

The atmosphere in the spacious living room of your flat screams sex, the heat emitting from within your bodies and shared shallow breaths between the two of you are a clear indication. Fortunately with your flat on the fourth and last floor (yet not so fortunate in other various situations) of the building complex, there is no chance for prying eyes to see the two of you in such a compromising position, besides the presence of the ivory moon in the clear night sky to adorn the pair of you with the soft glow of moonlight. Shuffling back on Steven’s lap to leave space between the two of you, you grab the hem of your oversized sweatshirt- Steven’s sweatshirt that you bought him and not so secretly stole- and slowly begin lifting, revealing your warm skin to the gaze of Steven as you bask in the air rushing to kiss your body.

“So beautiful… I just want to feel you…” Steven trails off.

#steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x gn!reader #steven grant x gender neutral reader #steven grant smut #moon knight #moon knight x reader #moon knight x you #moon knight x gn!reader #moon knight x gender neutral reader #moon knight smut

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Sweet Little Lies

[ID: The title of the story, Sweet Little Lies, written in a pink to yellow gradient over a picture of various glass jars filled with assorted, colorful candies. All other images in this post are decorative dividers showing a row of round, white, flat candies with a pink heart in the middle. End ID]

“I don’t want to keep you from working. Which is what I assume you were doing before I came in, not that it’s any of my business what you’re doing back there.” He nodded in the direction of the backroom, aware that he was talking too much. Again. “If you’re worried about leaving me alone up front, I can stand in the doorway and keep in your line of sight.” 

“My line of sight, huh.” A moment of silence settled between them in which the woman inclined her head. “I wouldn’t mind some company,” she then said. “Name’s Aurelia, by the way.”

“Laurent,” Laurent said before he remembered that he should not have given her his real name. Whatever. He was only here to buy some candy, right? “Pleased to meet you.”

📖 Synopsis

Aurelia’s days are filled with work. A charming stranger with a voice like soft caramel is a welcome distraction, even though she has more to worry about than the question of whether his lips are as sweet as his words. Someone is trying to put her out of business, and their methods keep escalating.

Laurent is scouting a target for his best friend’s heist when he dives into a candy store to avoid being spotted by the guards. What starts as an attempt to kill some time ends with his heart lost to the store owner’s warm smile. He wants to see her again but returning to the scene of the crime is playing with fire.

Fortunately, Laurent is a fire mage.

📖 About

Genre: Fantasy romance

POV: Third person past tense, split POV

Word Count: 37k

Status: Editing and formatting

Content Warnings: Genre-typical violence, off-screen deaths. That's it. That's the warnings.

Vibes: dark wooden shelves filled with glass jars / the smell of warm sugar / a bloody handprint on the window / blueberry muffins and lavender tea / stolen touches between fire and ice / a rainbow of candies / dancing slowly at a grand ball

Other Things:

Moodboard | Character Art by @bumblingdragon | Rainbow Tag

📖 Cast

Aurelia

“I don’t believe a single word you say, Mister Beaufort.”

As a candy-smith, Aurelia is a master of her craft, and her store a paradise filled everything from fruit drops to rainbow lollipops. She doesn't need much to be happy: good friends, a nice cup of tea, and a stranger who promises to get rid of the man trying to destroy her life.

Laurent

“Am I too late to witness the miracle of rainbow candy making?”

Accountant by day and fence by night, Laurent is used to lying, and his charm has saved him more often than his magic has. He doesn’t like candy, but he will try every single flavor in this store if it means he gets to spend more time with the owner who stole his heart.

📖 Tags

I haven't posted much about this yet, but the few tags that exist are:

#wip: lies

#Laurent is a guy to count on

#Aurelia is a sweetheart

Currently aiming for a mid-May release, which would give me two months for editing and formatting. Fingers crossed.

#wip intro #wip: lies #Sweet Little Lies #writeblr #writers on tumblr #did I pause my queue for a day just so this could be the 10.000th post on my blog? #it's more likely than you think #(if that even works I was at 9999 and then somehow went back to 9998 no counter on this site is reliable) #This was supposed to be my nano but it just wasn't ready yet in November

[mannatea]

Fanfiction writing and posting culture has shifted so much over the last 20 years. Every time I read anything on r/fanfiction, not only do I lose brain cells, but I feel like a huge, huge part of fanfiction culture has moved toward reading only completed works and avoiding engagement at all cost, but particularly until a work is finished. There was a post yesterday by someone celebrating the fact that a fic they had on alert updated because it had "been so long" since the last update: it was a wait of one and a half months.

That isn't that long for a writer with a spouse and/or children and/or a busy career and/or someone busting ass at school and/or a life outside and off the internet.

While a lot of comments did chastise this person for their perceived idea of a long wait for an update, there were also a few comments from readers proclaiming that this was why they never read incomplete works.

Heck, there were one or two (upvoted!) comments about how writers should simply pre-write everything if they wanted feedback.

Don't get me started on the posts by people that read hundreds of fics a week and yet never comment. "Gosh, I wish I there were more fics for xyz." As if there's not something they can do about that by simply commenting on the works that do exist to show the authors the content they made has an audience!

As a fanfic writer specifically, I find this weird attitude toward the creative work of other people more than a bit discouraging (and sometimes deeply uncomfortable). Fanfiction, like fanart, is a social experience. I create a thing and then others engage with it to encourage me to do more of the thing. I am not a machine and I do not exist for your entertainment or pleasure, but the way fandom leans these days would lead you to believe authors and artists exist for the purpose of consumption.

I am a whole person and doing this costs me my time. For a long story, many many hours of time.

I don't think it's asking too much for people who took the time to read a story (and in particular those who enjoy it) to engage with it.

This doesn't even touch the weird "I only read completed fics" mindset and how it feels to see that sentiment echoed as an author.

"Just write it all in advance before posting it then." Do you even know how long it takes to write a story—to write a longform fic with a plot to completion?

Break Open the Sky was 102,000 words long (and this is short compared to a lot of longfics, so keep that in mind). Even if you assume a writing speed of 1,000 words an hour (generous, because some difficult passages will be much slower to write), that is a whopping 102 hours. That doesn't include the time I had to spend to go back and re-read to continue the story. That doesn't include outlining. That doesn't include note-taking. That doesn't including mapping out locations and distance for travel. That doesn't include editing or formatting to post, either, which took hours per chapter.

I have to sacrifice something else to be able to write. No video games, no movies, no books, no television, no nap, no goofing off online.

Comments become a big motivation, especially on a WIP. It doesn't feel like a waste of time then, to get a little less sleep or take a little less time for yourself; it gives the writer something to look forward to: interaction and socialization with fellow fans. And I don't think the cost is that high for a reader compared to the hundreds of hours it might have cost me to be able to show it to them in the first place.

But nope, r/fanfiction is really out there complaining that fics don't update (even though they didn't bother to comment) and that longfics aren't finished before they start being posted (even though they still don't comment as the story is being posted) and then complaining that there aren't enough fics for [ship]/[trope] even though they are really out there refusing to engage in fandom in a meaningful way that might encourage authors whose work they enjoy to continue to create.

TL;DR: creation costs time.

#if you wanna be real technical fanfic has never been free #when the comments stop oftentimes so do the writers #artists are the same way though. #imagine spending 20 hours on a piece of art and nobody ever says anything about it #and you can't tell if they ACTUALLY like it or if they're just looking at it

[manikasu-nyx]

winters in sumeru (part 1)

OH MY GOD THIS ENTRY IS SO LATE I’M SO SORRY @kunikushi I hope you enjoy this despite me being to late to finish it I’m so sorry again 😭 also the formatting might be weird cause tumblr just??? Broke on me!???

right before posting edit: hey so I think I hit the word limit so I have to split this into two posts so the second one is here

charas/content: al-haitham, scaramouche, gender neutral reader, modern/college au, inaccurate weather scenario, author writes Cheese, kinda ooc i'm sorry i tried my best

Al-Haitham:

You placed the tip of your pencil against your lip as you chewed on it thoughtfully, staring down at the problem in your textbook. You understood the material fairly well, but this problem was made to be difficult, and you knew it’d be on your exams. You sighed and placed your pencil down, opting to run a hand through your hair in frustration instead. You’d been staring at that problem for almost fifteen minutes now, and it’d take a miracle for you to understand it. “You’ve been staring at that problem for a while. Are you sure you don’t want my help?” A voice asks from over your shoulder, causing you to turn your head to look at the source. Al-Haitham was sitting on a stool at the kitchen island, a book in his hand and a cup next to him. His face was blank as usual, but also had a fair bit of concern on it. You shook your head at him, turning back to the books in front of you, deciding to move on to a different subject. “No, I’ll be fine. You can’t help me on the exams, so I have to do this by myself,” you said, going back to scribbling down more notes, cutting the conversation abruptly. After a couple more minutes of writing, your coat was placed next to you, and tapping was felt on the crown of your head. “Well, at least take a break,” Al-Haitham said, pulling on his own coat, slipping on his shoes. “C’mon, we’re going for a walk.” His tone of voice told you that it was less of a suggestion and more of a command. You stood up and put on your coat, deciding that it’d be good for you to stop staring at the same tiny font for now. The words were jumbling together anyway. “Hey, wait, does Kaveh have his key?” You ask, looking up at him as he gives himself a small smirk, locking the door and placing his key in his pocket. “No,” he simply replies, starting to walk off, you giving a little gasp as you caught up with him, smacking him on the arm lightly with a pout. "You're so mean to him!" You exclaim, him only giving a shrug as he kept walking, slipping his hands in his coat pockets. "Oh well. He should've taken his key. But don't worry about him. Just walk with me for now," he said, slipping a hand out of his pocket and grabbing yours, squeezing it gently. "Just focus on me for now, okay? I'm not particularly fond of you thinking of him while you're with me," he said, mumbling the last part, locking his neck and eyes forward to avoid your gaze as you looked up at him. "What do you mean by that?" "Whatever you think I mean." "You know I can't think, my brain is fried!" "That's a shame." "Al-Haitham!" He laughed at your pout, looking up at the starry sky above the two of you, watching your breaths of air create small puffs of steam. Maybe after exams he'd elaborate. But your brain was already fried, so there was no need for him to fry it more with the knowledge he liked you, right? 'Soon,' he told himself. 'Soon.'

Scaramouche:

You let out an internal sigh as you watched your lover walk into your shared home, already ranting about different people he had seen today. You had just wanted one night of peace, but no. Not tonight. Not with him. But you loved him regardless, so you took a sip of your tea, closing your laptop and placing it to the side, glancing over at him. He had taken off his jacket and placed it on the coat rack, still grumbling as he took his spot next to you on the couch. "And seriously, if Childe says something else about our professor being hot I'm gonna kill him. Like that's not just our professor, jackass, that's my fucking mom!" You had to hold back a snort, knowing that any sign of amusement from you would only make him angrier. You listened to him go on a bit more before placing your cup down and grabbing his face, making him pause mid-sentence. "And I swear if I could I'd have Dottore blown away in a-! …What. What are you doing?" He asked, still confused by the sudden warmth on his cheeks. You nodded a bit, as if in thought, before standing up and handing him your blanket, pointing to your balcony. "Go sit out there. I'll be out in a minute," you said, walking off before he could question you, let alone protest. He eventually decided what you had planned couldn't possibly make his day any worse (he was being dramatic, it was only slightly annoying at best), and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, going to sit on the couch, shivering at the cold on it.

You walked out soon after, holding two steaming cups, handing one to him as you took your seat next to him, wrapping your half of the blanket around you in a shared cocoon. Scaramouche shivered, and you scooted closer to him, knowing he was both too cold and too smart to make a remark to push you away. "What's in the cup?" He asked, you taking a sip of your own. "Hot chocolate." "With milk or water?" "The way you like it." He let out a small hum, taking a sip of his drink, letting the liquid warm his insides and simultaneously calm him. "Feel better?" You ask, glancing over at him. He took another sip, giving a small nod as he answered under his breath. "S' fine. But why are we out here when it's so cold?" He asked, you simply raising a hand and pointing up. "Look up," you said, his indigo eyes looking up with an eyebrow raised. The sky was clear, and the stars were shimmering. And some of them were... Moving? "It's snowing...? But it's completely clear out!" He exclaimed, his understanding of earth science failing him. "Diamond dust." "Huh?" "Diamond dust," you corrected. "It happens when the surface is a lot colder than the air above it. It takes the moisture from the warmer air above and freezes it. It's like snow, except it doesn't accumulate. That's the short version, anyway," you explained, not noticing how his eyes gazed at you with wonder, like a child seeing a firework for the first time.

"Is that why you brought me out here?" He asked, you giving a nod as you leaned over to him, resting your head on his shoulder. "Yep. It's pretty, and it's hard to be mad while you're looking at something pretty," you commented, looking out at the dust, the stars, and the city. "...Yeah. You're right," he said, nodding with your words. The sight calmed his mind and his heart, but made it race all the same. A small smile graced his face, placing an arm around your shoulder. But he wasn't looking at the city. He was looking at you.

#nyx writes #gixrsecretsanta2022 #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scenarios #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham imagines #alhaitham scenarios #wanderer x reader #wanderer imagines #wanderer scenarios #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche imagines #scaramouche scenarios

[whypolar]

Gundam Unicorn OVA 5: The Black Unicorn

This is the first time watching one of these where I came out of it unambiguously preferring the novel. I guess it's only fair, after OVA 4 was such an improvement on the source material.

There's nothing particularly objectionable about it, to be clear. It just didn't meet the high expectations the previous episodes had given me. I'd been very impressed by how they never left me disappointed when the credits rolled, and it's a shame to lose that streak.

This was probably inevitable. Unless the narrative is deliberately on a small scale— think War in the Pocket— I tend to prefer my Gundam in a longer format. Seven film-length OVAs were never going to be able to cover everything I would want.

It's hard holding off on researching the production until I finish all the episodes. I'm so curious about what limitations they were working under and the motivations behind various choices.

As always, novel excerpts in this post have been sourced from the English fan translation hosted on Baka-Tsuki, with my own (clearly marked) edits to smooth out grammar or correct any particularly obvious deviations from the Japanese text.

The fan translation is very rough, and I'm not any kind of expert. If you're interested in any of the quotes, I encourage you to do your own research and look at the original text!

(Previous posts: Day of the Unicorn, The Second Coming of Char, The Ghost of Laplace, At the Bottom of the Gravity Well)

Surprisingly, a significant part of what I found disappointing was the visuals. The production values up to this point have been incredibly high, so it just feels wrong for such an intense battle from the book to get scaled back.

Some of this is just a consequence of moving the attack on Torrington to Loni's episode, but not all of it. The fights on the Garuda could easily have played out more like they did in the novel, and it would have helped a lot.

Cool stuff still happens on screen— mobile suits are jumping around in the sky! The Banshee has big crazy claws!— but it's all very sterile in comparison to the original text, which is relentless and chaotic in its violence.

I'm not just complaining about missing out on eye candy; I genuinely think this stuff is important for the themes. The destruction reflects the emotional stakes of what's happening for the characters.

I wish brainwashed Marida had actually killed some people during her big dramatic episode.

A Change in Premise: Who Planned What?

Here's how the OVA plays out: Bright sets up everything beforehand. He makes sure both the Nahel Argama and the Garancieres know the plan and agree to it, and he gives Banagher direct instructions. While there are some unexpected complications, everything ultimately goes according to plan.

The situation in the novel is very different, in that it's a clusterfuck of many people making decisions on the fly as they learn new information. The different groups who ultimately end up working together have very little contact with each other before the attack begins.

This is the setup:

Zinnerman plans the attack on the Ra Cailum at Torrington, with the goal of rescuing Banagher and retrieving the Unicorn. He does not know Mineva is there.

Banagher knows that Mineva is on the Garuda and that Marida is piloting the Banshee. He does not know Zinnerman's team is coming to rescue him. He has a positive opinion of Captain Bright after their conversation in his cell, but does not speak to him after that. He refuses to get in the Unicorn to help the Vist Foundation people move it.

Bright is suspicious of the Vist Foundation and unhappy with their behaviour on his ship. Beltorchika gives him some intel on the Box and the conflict surrounding it, to get him caught up to speed with the audience. She also warns him that the Zeon remnants seem to be mobilizing in the area, so he has some advance warning of the attack. He is aware of the Nahel Argama's location.

The Argama is sitting in orbit, doing nothing. The entire crew is bored and anxious.

Zinnerman only learns where Mineva is after meeting up with Banagher, at which point he has to change the plan on the fly to include rescuing her and Marida. Bright only decides to contact the Argama and tell them to rendezvous with the Garancieres after the fight has already begun. He is not able to tell Banagher or Zinnerman. They learn about Bright's plan for the first time at the literal last minute, when the Argama appears to pick them up.

Zinnerman and his crew see a Federation ship approaching and assume they're being captured, even after being hailed and told otherwise. Ultimately, Banagher and Mineva convince them to stop fleeing and go along with the plan.

The new conceit for the anime is fine. I think the changes they made are clever as a way to streamline events, and I can appreciate that. They clearly put a lot of thought into how the original narrative is structured, and how some plot elements need to move to compensate for the removal of others.

It was probably necessary to fit with the time they were given. I just don't like it as much as the original, unfortunately.

I thought everyone coming together in an environment of total chaos was more interesting than a flawlessly executed plan. Characters had to choose whether or not to trust each other in the heat of the moment, with limited information. In comparison, this new version feels artificially clean.

I also just liked that Zinnerman cared enough about Banagher to rally these scattered Zeon remnant forces for a big battle, with no instruction of any kind from Frontal. He's part of the crew now. 🥺

We lose some specific action moments during the battle— not even counting any of the Torrington stuff that was in the last one instead:

Novel Banagher lays down in front of a truck and lets it drive over him during his escape attempt, before he even knows Zinnerman is coming to get him. Alberto tells his guards they're allowed to shoot Banagher when he's running away so long as he survives, yeesh— the book definitely has more human-scale gunfighting generally. Riddhe actually attacks Banagher, giving us a Delta Plus vs. Unicorn fight.

The consequence of moving Torrington that I care about most is that it means Marida didn't get to participate, so she only really gets to fight Banagher. Seeing her actually killing Zeon soldiers who should have been her comrades did a lot to emphasize both the threat she poses and the effectiveness of her reconditioning.

Reunited, Apart

The OVA opens with the Banshee getting the drop on Riddhe and Banagher. It plays out pretty much like the end of novel 6, barring accommodations for the change in setting.

It may be short, but I really like the visuals of this fight. It's fun watching the Delta Plus schmoove about, and I love the lighting at the end.

They kept Riddhe telling Banagher to run here, which was a pleasant surprise. His characterization in the first half of this episode feels significantly more recognizable than like... literally anything else we've seen from him up to this point.

After the fight, we're treated to a sequence of Banagher waking up in the cockpit of the Unicorn and gradually trying to get his bearings. I think it's a really cool framing, and it's another one that's wholly unique to the anime.

A lot of minor dialogue we hear directly in the book is instead silent and left to implication through body language. The meaning is still conveyed very clearly. I thought it was neat.

One example: we get to hear some of what's said to Banagher during the interrogation in the novel. The interrogator is clearly trying to scare him. He claims to be an ex-Titan who got kicked out for torturing too many suspects to death. It's not necessarily notable, just 'flavour'. The silent video feed we see in the OVA gives us the same general information.

The more important part of this scene, which we actually lose, is that Alberto sends the interrogator away so that he can speak with Banagher personally.

Most of the conversation is about their father. Alberto tells Banagher that Cardeas must have enhanced him as a child, making Banagher a Cyber-Newtype. Banagher strongly denies this, but hearing it does plant a seed of anxiety in him going forward:

“You’re really amazing. You have a strong will, [guts], and even the sense [to pilot] the “Unicorn” ... It seems that the Laplace Program’s data can’t be extracted without your neurowaves. Even if we tie you down to the cockpit, nobody else can read the data as long as you don’t agree. When did you learn how to operate it like that?” Banagher [wasn't sure himself]. When Alberto barged into the cockpit, his [immediate] thought was to [make it disappear], [it wasn't something he did by understanding the system]. “Seriously, you’re made too perfectly.” Alberto sighed as he put his elbows on the table. “You [look] like you don’t understand anything, but you’re always in the center of everything. The [situation changes] according to your will; you’re [like] a natural king ... so perfect [it's almost disgusting]. What was unsealed might not be the Laplace Program, but you.” [...] “Don’t you find it weird? You’re too perfect already. As expected of an enhanced human [created by Cardeas.]” “Enhanced…human?” Perhaps you’re the same kind as me.—Marida’s voice, which he heard some time before, suddenly awoke deep within his ears, and he felt goosebumps all over him. “Am I wrong?” Alberto said as his sneer intensified. “When you were in the Vist family, I was in a boarding school, so I don’t know how Cardeas raised you, but…you said before that you don’t have any memories of that time, right?”

Alberto's resentments are obvious. His feelings of inferiority to both Cardeas and Banagher are a major part of his character. The OVA hasn't really shown that side of him at all so far, instead presenting him more straightforwardly as bumbling comic relief.

(Remember, the last time these two spoke Alberto told Banagher that his entire existence is a curse and then tried to kill him. Really, they're both being remarkably civil.)

The family relationships in the OVA are generally less developed than they were in the novels, and I really wish that wasn't the case. The anime cares about family ties, unquestionably— we just had Loni's entire arc about that— but the actual intra-family dynamics between characters are less complicated and less interesting. I think that's a huge loss.

Unicorn is very much about family. The entire conceit hinges on it. The Vist Foundation and Laplace's Box are a pretty substantial bit of retroactive lore to add to the UC timeline, and the reason I'm content to buy into it is that the story does stuff with it, and clearly has things it wants to say. Again, the anime still explores those same themes, but the loss of detail and specificity makes the Vist and the Marcenas families feel more like nebulous plot devices than real groups of people, and I dislike that.

This conversation with Alberto also tells us more about the ideology behind the Box:

“What’s the so called “Laplace Box”? It’s an order. The world’s rules can [be maintained by belief] in this [hidden] “Box”. It’s like a common delusion, an existence that guards people from their selfishness. Once we lose it, the Vist Foundation will not be the only thing that can’t continue. The gears running the world up till now will lose control [as well]. The Dakar incident was [proof] of [that]. If Cardeas never [tried to open] the “Box”, that incident would never have happened. After the chaos of the One Year War, we [have learned] how to control war.” The shadow formed by the lamp caused the slightly arched back to look heinous. That’s the back of someone scared of something. [...] “[...] There is an instinct to fight within humans; as long as society continues to rely on the differences in hierarchy, wars will never disappear from the world. ... Gears to drive the economy, a catharsis that can purge the instinct to fight; without these two factors, humans will continue to start full-scale [wars]. This is a symptom of ill-management of humanity, and it’s impossible to cure [the disease]. We can only think of ways to live with our bad habits.”

The translation combines some sentences in that last paragraph in a way I'm almost certain is incorrect, but I'm not confident in my ability to render it more accurately. Sorry.

The gist is that by carefully managing tensions and allowing occasional smaller-scale conflicts, total annihilation can be avoided. The Box is a tool for this purpose.

Alberto is arguing that the Vist Foundation's goals are a moral imperative, not merely motivated by greed. I cut the paragraph where it comes up, but Banagher gets the impression that he's also trying to convince himself.

Banagher changes the subject to ask about Marida, which catches Alberto off guard. He dodges the question, telling Banagher he should be worrying about himself.

Banagher verbally reiterates his ideals, making it clear that abandoning them is not an option. He names all the people who're counting on him. There's a precursor to his conversation with Bright, where he thinks about the helplessness of the individual and the strength that comes from relationships and connection.

Alberto dismisses Banagher's conviction as Cyber-Newtype brainwashing— and it's clear that the idea had also occurred to Banagher. There's a discomfort taking root about the nature of identity, the self, and the way human beings are inherently shaped (and sometimes deliberately manipulated) by others. Connection with other people is vital, but also frightening.

My final note on this conversation: Banagher and Alberto both frequently describe each other as looking or acting like their father. They usually only compare themselves to him in the context of difference, generally with the subtext that these differences are something that makes them insufficient. Ouch.

There are more differences during this period of captivity. For one thing, Mineva is held on the Ra Cailum before they move her to the Garuda. There's a 'so close yet so far' dynamic where our three protagonists are finally all in the same location again, and they all know it, yet they are totally isolated from one another.

Banagher and Riddhe both get scenes where they chase after Mineva, and in both cases Marida intervenes and prevents their meeting. She almost chokes Banagher out, it's very dramatic.

Banagher and Riddhe manage to meet very briefly. They don't get the opportunity to talk for long; the scene takes place when Banagher has just escaped his room and is being chased by Vist Foundation goons. Riddhe deliberately creates a distraction to allow Banagher to pursue Mineva.

Compare this passage to the closest anime equivalent, where Banagher calls out to Riddhe and Riddhe just turns and walks away:

He ... turned right, and nearly knocked into someone else running [toward him]. “You’re…!” The young man dodged behind to avoid a head-on collision, and widened his eyes. “Mr Riddhe…” Banagher muttered, but the pursuers’ footsteps caused him to look back again. He immediately grabbed Riddhe’s uniform and pulled him over, “Ensign Riddhe. Audrey’s on this ship now. The Vist Foundation wants to use her as a hostage.” “Hostage…!?” Riddhe gasped, and lifted his [chin]. “Wait!” “Oi, get that guy!” the yells came from the corridor behind Banagher, and he gave a pleading stare at Riddhe. It’s all on you. If it’s you, you’ll definitely be able to understand. Banagher had relied on Riddhe when their mobile suits interacted with each [other. He] looked at [Riddhe's face and saw him gritting] his teeth. Riddhe lowered his brown eyes, and [turned away with] a bitter expression. “…Go,” he muttered with a barely audible voice, and took the fire extinguisher installed on the wall. “The mobile suit deck’s straight ahead. Hurry.” Riddhe informed Banagher, who did not have the time to thank [him] as he darted forward. The sound of the fire extinguisher being sprayed [overlapped with] the pursuers’ [approaching] footsteps. "Hurry up!" echoed down the hallway, breaking through the agitated voices of the guards. ...

I don't mind the anime scene, and I actually think it's still well within the bounds of things the original Riddhe could plausibly do. It's just another example of him clearly playing a different role in the adaptation than the original text.

Returning Characters and Cameos

The Bright-centric scene that I consider most thematically important is his talk with Banagher, which is essentially the same in both versions. The only real difference is that the novel shows the audience Banagher's internal thoughts, many of which are about things that aren't in the anime anyway (such as his conversation with Alberto, and specifically Alberto's claim that Banagher must be a Cyber Newtype).

I like this scene, and being unchanged means I don't have much to say about it. It was nice.

I'll be honest: I wish Bright was in this episode less. Making him the mastermind behind everything that goes down inflates his individual importance— and screentime— relative to other characters.

The bit where he came back and talked to Banagher a second time to tell him the plan was the tipping point for me, I think. I was sitting there thinking 'Again? Fucking again?'

I just don't think it's a good use of time, and it rubbed me the wrong way in the context of how much other stuff I thought was important didn't make the cut.

I love Bright— and when I want to see him, there are three other tv shows and a movie I can go rewatch to do just that. When time is clearly extremely limited, I think the priority should be developing the characters that originated in Unicorn.

Bright's scene with Beltorchika is quite different. Aside from her giving different information due to changes in premise, the conversation is very streamlined. I'm fine with it, but it does make her presence kind of... perfunctory?

The information Beltorchika provides is necessary for plot progression in both versions, but the actual character interactions that made it matter that she's the one delivering it have been removed in the anime.

Bright contacts Luio & Co. by private mail with the recipient listed as Hayato Kobayashi, seeking more information about the Box. Later, Beltorchika is the one who responds to deliver the results of the investigation, stating that she is acting in lieu of Stephanie.

Bright was not expecting her. While he obviously knows who she is, this is the first time they've actually met.

Instead of telling him about the General Revil, she warns him about the movements of the Zeon remnants and the possibility of an attack on Torrington base and the Ra Cailum. She makes it clear that she's telling him this unofficially, and not on behalf of Luio & Co.

The novel version of this scene is very much about the Amuro-shaped void in the room.

Beltorchika used her hand to tidy her blond hair that was cut short and gave a somewhat stiff smile. (Because of my relations with [Karaba], senior manager Stephanie has been taking care of me, and Mr Kai Shiden would often come by too.) “Oh…it sounds like there’s quite a few people both you and I [know]."

[...]

The reason why both sides could not show their honest smiles was probably because of the huge hollow they saw in each other, the man called Amuro Ray.

[...]

“What happened to Lieutenant Amuro was a pity.” ... This insensitive line would touch upon a person’s old wounds, but Bright believed if [it caused] Beltorchika to waver, he could be certain that it was best not to trust in her abilities. He realized that he was doing something cruel as he hid his sense of guilt ... with a nonchalant look. Beltorchika herself merely [looked him over carefully], then chuckled. (It’s Commander Amuro, right?) [...] “Ah, you’re right. Sorry.” (You don’t have to think for my sake. We used to be deeply in love with each other, and then we broke up. I heard he died in battle during “Char’s Counterattack”, and I was depressed for a while…but his body wasn’t discovered, right?) “Yes…” (Isn’t him being MIA after the battle against his arch-nemesis Char a suitable ending for a romantic like him? Up till now, I sometimes feel that he should be alive, somewhere. Even if we lose the shell of the human called Amuro, I do feel that his heart has merged with space…) Beltorchika looked like she was staring in the distance as she narrowed her eyes, and Bright felt that these words of her were not forced. The brat who’s always crying about on “White Base” had become a man who made a woman show this expression? Bright was suddenly overcome by grief as he too looked afar, and Beltorchika chuckled, saying, (You’re just like what Amuro said, always worrying.) ...

She also makes him feel old after he starts lamenting about how he thinks the world is getting worse because nobody believes in anything anymore.

(I do understand what you mean, but I can’t accept this way of thinking. Your words seem to imply that it’s alright to start wars as long as we have our own ideals.) On hearing this direct refute, he felt that someone just poked him in the head. (I’m sorry. I’m someone who speaks too much. Amuro used to remind me of this habit I have.) Beltorchika said, but the glance she shot through the monitor showed that she had no intent of retracting her words. Bright was shocked that he was unabashed in beautifying the past and criticizing the present, and that perhaps was the proof that he was advanced in age. “No, I was insensitive in my choice of words. My wife often reproves me regarding this too.”

lol

While he is briefly name-dropped by Beltorchika, Kai does not appear in the seventh novel, and he has no contact with the Garancieres. His big scene is in Volume 8, where he speaks to Ronan Marcenas. It's fairly substantial.

It begins with Kai arriving in Dakar, giving us a look at how things are on the ground in the aftermath of the attack. It's a nice, evocative bit of scene-setting. He sees the remains of the Shamblo being disassembled, still lying in the street. The destruction is so severe that it looks like areas the Shamblo passed through have been carpet bombed. Emergency rescue and clean-up teams are still searching for survivors buried under the rubble. Armed soldiers and mobile suits have a strong presence.

The Shamblo never made it to Parliament, but the building still sustained some indirect damage from tremors during the attack. Repair crews are present, coming and going while everyone else still works in the slightly fucked up building as usual. The phones are ringing off the hooks.

When Kai arrives, he is greeted by Patrick Marcenas (Cynthia's husband / Riddhe's brother-in-law).

Patrick is a fan of Kai as a member of the White Base and seems a little star-struck. He gets embarrassed when Kai wryly tells him not to believe everything he reads.

In his office, Ronan is watching a televised speech by Monaghan Bakharo, the Defense Minister of the Zeon Republic. Bakharo denounces the attack on Dakar and denies all involvement or association with Neo Zeon / Sleeves.

I'm not sure how the tone is meant to read in Japanese, but as rendered in English it comes off very insincere and backhanded. Like, he's denouncing Zeon's past misdeeds, but also simultaneously justifying them and complaining that it's unfair that everyone is still being mean about it.

Kai arrives during this. Ronan gives some political commentary, basically saying that Bakharo is full of shit, then turns off the tv so they can have their conversation. He makes it clear that he is offering information.

Kai acts politely disinterested until Ronan asks if he has heard of Laplace's Box, which manages to shake his composure. He doesn't know much, but he has heard rumours. One of his reporter acquaintances seemingly disappeared after attempting to publish a series of articles on the subject, and the magazine that published the first piece went out of business soon after.

Ronan says he has evidence that the Vist Foundation is interfering with the Senate Council. He explains their goal of preventing the release of the Box, and the connection between the Box and recent battles with Neo Zeon.

He offers to provide Kai with a list of Senate Council members involved with the Foundation. He assures Kai that he will do everything in his power to ensure Kai's personal safety.

Kai is keenly aware that Ronan isn't whistleblowing for principled reasons, but rather wants to use Kai's platform for his own benefit. Ronan tries to appeal to Kai's hatred of Zeon, and emphasizes the importance of ensuring stability and safety to prevent it rising again.

Ultimately, Kai is not interested in being used as a politician's propaganda tool, and he doesn't have much respect for Ronan. He tells Ronan that he researched his career beore he arrived, and proceeds to give him a scathing review— the gist being that Ronan was a left-liberal politician who flirted with big, radical ideas, then moved right over time after being elected.

When he goes to leave, Ronan namedrops Bright as a last-ditch effort, with an offer somewhere in the territory between a bribe and threat (basically, 'I can help him keep his position as Commander now that he's involved with the Box and causing trouble... but only if we root out the conspirators with the Foundation in the Senate.')

Kai is pissed. He tells Ronan that he's shameless and pathetic, and that this is probably why Riddhe ran away from home. Jesus, Kai, were you just keeping that one in your back pocket in case you needed to bully him?

Ronan is too stunned to respond, so Kai gets the last word. The scene ends with Ronan looking at a photo of Riddhe on the wall. It's not the one we see in the anime, but one that feels a little more sinister:

There was his wife, narrowing her eyes [as if to say] that the sunlight in Africa was too strong, Cynthia, who was in the vibrancy of her youth, and Riddhe, who was less than 10 years old. As Ronan stood there, unable to show a sincere smile once he started to understand the rule that this world could not change, Riddhe was showing a weird stiff smile beside him. At that time, he would mimic Ronan’s own actions which he somehow saw, and was often reprimanded by his mother. In fact, Riddhe, who seemed to be giving an adult-manufactured smile, looked just as pitiful as Ronan was. Right, that child understood. Ronan looked at the door and imagined Kai’s back on it, telling himself the words he could not say out. That child understood everything and accepted the destiny of the Marcenas family. I let that child bear the burden of the “Box”. I wanted to change everything in this generation, but I couldn’t do anything, and added the burden of my father and grandfather upon him. Ever since the battle of Torrington, there was no news of Riddhe. His “Delta Plus” was reclaimed safely, so he probably was not hurt. This news alone was enough for Ronan. No matter where Riddhe was, no matter what happened to him, he would not betray the Marcenas’ destiny. Even though others could not understand, he could firmly believe so.

Kai appears again very briefly in Novel 10, when he calls Bright and tells him about his conversation with Ronan.

Martha and Mineva: Negotiation

This line is important. Banagher thinks the same thing almost word for word about Frontal later. People generally seem very aware of how referential Unicorn is to previous Gundam media, but sometimes I wonder if it's obvious to anime-only watchers just how referential it is within itself? The whole narrative is a funhouse hall of mirrors. Everyone is always reflecting at least one other person, and usually more. Characters bleed into each other in other characters' perceptions, both implicitly and explicitly. I say Frontal is my favourite, because he is— but when I think about Unicorn, I'm usually thinking about the ensemble cast as a unit. They're deeply enmeshed. I think this is why the mangling of Riddhe threw me so badly before I had even fully realized that I cared about him and why— if you move one of the mirrors without compensating for it elsewhere, the illusion breaks.

Martha and Mineva's negotiations happen in the novel before they move to the Garuda. The scene takes place on the Ra Cailum, in the unused Commander's room.

One irrelevant but extremely funny detail is that Martha started a feud with Bright over her accommodations, because she originally wanted to stay in that room specifically:

[The VIP room] was the last arrangement Captain Bright made when Martha demanded to have the commander room. As the commander and captain, Bright was staying inside the captain’s room, and the commander’s room that was often kept empty should be okay for anyone’s use, but this was a serious problem to the military. The disputes between Martha and Bright had been becoming a common scene to the crew, but it could be said that this room was the start of the dispute between the two.

I'm not sure if this was meant to be implied in the anime or not, but Mineva is on a hunger strike and refuses to eat or drink anything but water while being held captive, so she's quite physically weak during this scene.

Martha tries harder to be "friendly" in the novel. She's playing fake nice in the anime, obviously, but there's a professional distance there. Novel Martha gets up in Mineva's space— whispering in her ear, putting an arm around her shoulder, saying some truly bizarre shit about wombs... the vibes of this conversation are rancid either way, but the over-familiarity is a slightly different genre of red flag.

I think these are good changes, especially since they've already changed the tone of Martha's character by choosing to omit her sexual abuse of Alberto. The original characterization might feel incongruent with New Martha, leaving aside all question of whether or not the way she was originally written was "good".

God, I still really love reading most of Martha's novel scenes, so long as she isn't directly alone in the same room as Alberto. She has just the right mix of traits for a petty, 'shit-stirrer' antagonist that I love to watch bounce off other people: highly perceptive but still unable to truly understand other people; deeply angry about being wronged but perfectly happy to take advantage of others; carefully manicured and put together until suddenly she's not.

She's a creep. She's morally repulsive. She's mean, and she knows exactly how to pinpoint a person's vulnerabilities, but she's also constantly letting her own bizarre preoccupations bleed into the conversation.

The way she's written and described is, unfortunately, almost always some level of misogynist in its framing— and her bizarre preoccupations as a person are arguably also Fukui's bizarre preoccupations as an author.

And yet.

Later, after Martha leaves, the OVA shows us a flashback of a champagne glass breaking, and we hear Martha chastising Mineva for rejecting her proposal. The implication is that Martha's facade eventually shattered, and she threw the glass in a fit of rage. The novel shows us this directly.

This means we get to hear the specific thing Mineva said that got under Martha's skin, which is, uh... maybe it's easier to just show you.

Martha is doing her spiel about the innate biological superiority of women and the importance of The Womb, and then we get this exchange:

“Miss Martha, do you have children?” The interrupting voice caused Martha’s fingers, resting on Mineva’s shoulder, to tremble. “Two of them. why?” Upon hearing the stiff tone, Mineva felt the reason by the chill in her heart, “Are they the children you bore?” she started to ask with a personal tone. “…What do you mean?” “I don’t understand what kind of person my mother is, and that’s because she [died] before I could remember. However, [I still remember the way she felt]. [A woman who has become a mother, or who has the qualities to become one,] will give off that sort of gentle presence. I can’t sense that maternal presence from you.” Martha’s expression immediately changed as she stumbled backwards. Mineva saw the suit that showed the other woman’s bodyline, realized that she obviously put in her utmost effort to maintain her skin so as to prevent people from realizing her age, ... [This woman played the role of] a clever tactician, [but there was something childish about her]. Her girlish ideals and grudges had [festered, rotting down to the root], and [she seemed to have] lost something as she [grew older]. She talked of her knowledge of humans, but she never understood people, and did not intend to understand them. Martha was a hypocrite of a reformer. Mineva stood up and looked in front, feeling that there was no need for her to be afraid. Martha wanted to maintain [her] footing, but could not do so, and stumbled backwards again as Mineva glared at her with her clearly hostile eyes. “You denied the logic of men, and yet used that to conquer Marida. It’s possible if you explained that it was the ruthlessness of women at work, but you’re acting just like a man when you’re using that excuse to rationalize your knowledge. You’re not the kind of woman you say. Of course, you’re not a man. You’re just using the tone of a man to exercise the cruelty of a woman, a conman who uses whatever indecent weapons—” Something grazed past Mineva’s face before she could finish, and a sharp sound glided past the sky as it entered her ears. The shrill sound of the glass breaking rang from behind, and the Foundation subordinates in black charged into the room, perhaps because they realized that there was something amiss in the situation. Mineva stared at Martha, not moving at all, ...

...There's a lot going on here.

I've gone back and forth on whether the implication is just that Martha is unwilling to actually go through the difficulties of pregnancy despite her posturing, or if we're supposed to assume her reaction implies some kind of complex about infertility.

I feel like the former makes more immediate sense and is the less weird option of the two, but the latter would have some interesting implications on a character level, in that it could be a reason for her to genuinely see herself in Marida.

Even if that were the case, it would be a false understanding. Martha considers the projection of her own desires onto Marida more important than Marida's actual personhood.

One last thing I want to mention is that the original version of Martha is extremely angry and resentful.

It was too cold to call them martyrs, the Zeon soldier that disappeared in the explosion, and Marida, who was mind-controlled to kill her comrade— “How impressive.” Martha, who unknowingly got behind her, had the color of fire reflected in her eyes [...] “The self-satisfaction men have will all—be severed by her sword.” Martha clenched her hand that was pressing against the window, seemingly wanting to [crush] something in her hand. At that moment, Mineva had a feeling that it was this vengeance that was driving Martha, and the rage within Marida’s heart was driven by this poison, ...

If anime Martha is meant to be bitter and vengeful like this, then she's much better at hiding it. Her greed and ambition are central, and whatever sincere emotion or vulnerability she might theoretically have is entirely concealed from us.

The Riddhe Section

As I've said previously: in the first half of this episode, Riddhe feels more like himself (and generally more interesting to me) than he did in the first four. Then, around the 30 minute mark, he has a single line of dialogue that implies a dramatically different ideological viewpoint and motivation. It's honestly kind of fascinating.

I'm not mad about it. At this point, I've resigned myself to the fact I'm dealing with a different character. I'm just surprised, and wondering about the reasoning behind the choice— they pretty much completely inverted the nature of Riddhe's hostility to Newtypes.

The breakdown Riddhe has after Mineva's jump from the Garuda is also different from its novel counterpart. I actually enjoyed it a lot, mostly because it's fucking silly. A character who is unhinged in a way that makes me laugh is an improvement over one who vacillates between being boring and making me angry.

Novel Riddhe doesn't necessarily have a clear over-the-top moment where he 'snaps' like this after Mineva's rejection. His instability becomes obvious long before this point, but he doesn't go violently out of control like this until the climax of his arc. It's a gradual but inescapable downward spiral, with fewer dramatic hard drops.

Riddhe, Alberto, and Marida

The Alberto-Marida-Riddhe dynamic is fascinating in the book, and there's much less of it in the anime. This scene here is still an important one for Riddhe, though.

The novel equivalent is told from Alberto's perspective, and it opens with him talking to Marida before Riddhe appears. It also happens a bit later than it does in the anime, after Banagher has already been interrogated and had his first escape attempt.

Since running into Banagher, Marida has been having a harder time connecting with the Banshee. Her physical symptoms have worsened, with more frequent headaches. Alberto is worried about her, and tries to tell her not to push herself too hard. The moment has a very different tone than the anime version, which mostly seemed to be played for laughs.

Novel Alberto is deeply disturbed and upset by Marida's blankness. There's a callback to an incredibly vile innuendo from Martha about "playing with dolls," and remembering it upsets him so much he yells at Marida, trying to make her understand the seriousness of what he's saying. She just responds with flat, uncomprehending obedience.

Riddhe enters, interrupting Alberto's one-sided argument. His reaction to Marida is interesting.

“It confounds me to think that this lady here is a Cyber-Newtype.” Riddhe said as he frowned and approached Alberto. Since when has that guy been standing there watching? Alberto resisted the urge to click his tongue and turned to face Riddhe, ostensibly trying to block Marida’s sights. “She’s most likely a kidnapped orphan, am I right? Does the Vist Foundation deal with human trafficking too?”

Riddhe asks to see Mineva, then Banagher when this is denied. This is when Alberto tells Riddhe that Banagher is his half-brother. He's deliberately trying to break Riddhe and Banagher's friendship, because he knows Riddhe tried to help Banagher escape.

Riddhe's reaction is more outwardly dramatic than in the OVA. He crumples, bracing himself against the wall so he doesn't collapse— he wasn't thrown by Marida, so he's still standing— and then starts laughing bitterly and saying cryptic things about the history of the Vist Foundation.

I think this would feel very weird and out of place in the context of the anime, so it's good they cut it, but I did like it as a scene in the book. It makes for a nice little chapter cliffhanger, where Alberto realizes that Riddhe seems to know what's in the Box.

Later, Riddhe meets Marida and Alberto a second time.

The scene takes place in the hangar bay while the Unicorn is being moved. As he watches, Riddhe thinks about Banagher— until he catches sight of Mineva, who is also being transported. Riddhe calls out and attempts to go to her, but Alberto and Marida get in his way.

The white frame of the “Unicorn” was lifted by the two “Jestas” and laid down horizontally on the trailer, [...] Unlike the “Banshee” that was moving into the “Medea” on its own, the “Unicorn” was dragged over by the trailer, and the reason for this was due to the only pilot, Banagher, refusing to work with the Vist Foundation. That’s his style alright… he thought, but [he] felt Alberto’s words appear in his mind again, and bit his lips [alone] in the [cockpit.] His rational side was telling himself that there was no reason for him to feel angry, but he could not [help but feel] cheated, and [an uncontrollable frustration] continued to swirl in his heart. That guy [seemed like an ordinary person who] simply got involved in this [by chance]—no, there was already an [unsual feeling] about him right from the beginning. If he really has the Vist bloodline, I can only describe my two battles alongside him as ironic. He’s supposed to belong to the other side, but I got fooled by him saying ‘you’re a man of your word’, and ended up [learning the truth about] my cursed family. I’m like a clown performing ...

[...]

... just when he wanted to shake [this] thought from his mind and [refocus] on the inspection, a [flash of] familiar chestnut-colored hair appeared in the corner of his [vision,] and he felt his [heart that had been pounding suddenly go] silent.

[...]

... Riddhe got down to the deck and yelled, “IT’S ME, AUDREY!” as he leapt off the gondola. Mineva’s eyes widened as she looked back, and she [tried] to break away from the ranks, [but she was] restrained by the subordinates in black suits. Riddhe [ignored] Martha’s piercing stare ... as he continued to dash down the mobile suit deck.

[...]

[Just] when Riddhe was about to see [Mineva's] face, [Alberto interrupted.] “How troublesome”, [he] said as he [stepped in front]. “I should have told you that you’re not to see her, Ensign Riddhe.”

I love this whole section, even through the garbled grammar. It hurt me to trim it down, but I can't justify all that text.

Alberto and Riddhe argue. Marida steps between them when Riddhe gets too close. He tries to push her out of his way, but she dodges and throws him to the ground. When he gets up and fights back, she starts trying to choke him like she did to Banagher earlier. However, the fight ends abruptly when something triggers one of Marida's headaches, and she collapses in pain.

Alberto rushes over to Marida's side and orders his subordinates to fetch Bentner, the Cyber-Newtype researcher who facilitated Marida's reconditioning. Alberto clearly wants to help her, but his only solution is asserting control and further reinforcing her brainwashing. He soothes Marida by walking her through her 'Gundam is the enemy' mantra. Riddhe is still there, watching this happen and getting increasingly creeped out.

It's heavily implied that what Marida is actually reacting to is Zinnerman's approach. The scene ends with an alarm going off, as the Neo Zeon attack finally begins.

Unlike the reader, Riddhe doesn't know what's happening yet— but he has a bad gut feeling. When the alarm rings, he books it straight for the Delta Plus, without even bothering to wait for Bright's announcement.

Newtypes, Cyber and Otherwise

Let's back up for a moment and get some more context on Riddhe and Marida, since what he thinks of her is relevant to his later interactions with both Banagher and Mineva.

What does Riddhe know about Cyber-Newtypes? Not necessarily a whole lot. He's heard what the crew of the Ra Cailum think, though, and their perception seems to be that getting enhanced may as well be a lobotomy.

“Cyber-Newtypes…” Daryl’s face suddenly turned pale as he muttered this. “With those guys from the Newtype research institute around, I guess you’re right.” “You mean that if we end up becoming this thing’s pilot, we might end up being enhanced…?” Watts whispered as he looked at the back of the pilot who disappeared behind the cockpit hatch. There was already a rumor amongst pilots that a Cyber-Newtype was a synonym of being a vegetable. Then what about Banagher? Riddhe pondered, and then shook off this question without an answer ...

This is Riddhe's starting point, before he ever interacts with Marida. It's a bad first impression, and it doesn't get better.

His narration compares her to a guard dog. He calls her a puppet. When he recognizes her as a person, it's generally in the context of a person who is being or has already been destroyed— a kidnapped orphan; a brief flash of emotion in the eyes that fades to nothing. Empathy is overridden by disgust for what was done to her.

Riddhe doesn't know much about Cyber-Newtypes, but he thinks the decision to make them was morally repulsive.

So, what about "natural" Newtypes?

Trick question.

Novel Riddhe doesn't think Newtypes are real.

He has an entire back and forth with Banagher about how fake they are. You can imagine my surprise when "the revelation that Newtypes really exist" came out of his mouth in the anime.

"Newtype" as a word has a lot of historical and political baggage in-universe. It refers to multiple different concepts that are loosely related but not identical, and they're often conflated.

Do you remember the first episode, when Banagher is in class? This is what we hear of the lecture:

They claim to desire autonomy for the Spacenoids, but at their heart you will still find the same ideas of the inherent superiority of the chosen elite found in the philosophy of Gihren Zabi. The concept of Zeonism proposed by Zeon Deikun, the so-called 'Newtype' ideology, was a dangerous belief that ultimately produced rebellious elements such as these.

This is Riddhe's position— Newtypes are just Zeon's equivalent of the Nazi Übermensch. It's an ideological concept, and only real insofar as humans have made it so through enhancement.

He isn't disturbed by the Box because he considers it proof of Newtypes being real; he's disturbed by it as a propaganda tool for Neo Zeon that would strengthen belief in a harmful myth.

Riddhe is terrified of Zeon. It doesn't matter if he's sympathetic to spacenoid rights and disdainful of his father's politics; Zeon is still the greater evil. He's able to make an exception for Mineva because she's acting against her own government on moral grounds, and her words moved him.

That's how Riddhe felt at the start of the series, when he still had an optimistic outlook. He's been thoroughly disillusioned by this point, and just recently spent half a novel watching people die at ground zero of a terrorist attack carried out by Neo Zeon.

This is how Riddhe describes Newtypes during his confrontation with Banagher:

(Zeon is the tumor born from twisted idealism of the Space Migration Issues. This Newtype thinking is just a fantasy they have, and a virus that divided humanity into two after humanity nearly united. If we don’t eradicate them, there won’t be peace…!)

"A fantasy." Not a real phenomenon.

It makes sense that Riddhe would think it's bullshit. We can assume this was probably also true in the anime at first, even if his political beliefs are less developed— we've already established that Newtypes being fake is a mainstream position that gets taught in schools.

The point of divergence is that OVA Riddhe is apparently convinced that Newtypes are real when he learns the truth about the contents of Laplace's Box.

... Why, exactly? Did Ronan tell him that's what it means? Did he come to that conclusion on his own?

I know characters can be fallible and believe things that are wrong, but I literally already know what the Box is, and it doesn't prove anything about Newtypes. Riddhe already has vested emotional interest in them being a myth, so it seems strange to me that he would change his mind without undeniable evidence.

It could be they were trying to make his motivation simpler, so that he wouldn't have to spend time explaining it? The concept of Earth society and "Oldtypes" feeling threatened by the emergence of "Newtypes" has already been raised by other characters, so the writers might have felt it would be self-explanatory.

It strikes me as a dubious choice from a storytelling perspective, even if they don't care about making Riddhe look a bit dim. Sure, we've already seen other characters speculate about the Box, but Riddhe is the first character who we know is aware of the contents to make a specific claim about what's in there. The audience is reasonably going to assume what he's saying is accurate, and I think setting up that kind of false expectation is a mistake.

I've always assumed learning about the contents of the Box is intentionally meant to be a bit underwhelming for the audience, because the ossified political structures around it were more important and dangerous than the thing itself. I just think this particular implication feels more like a bait-and-switch that could lead to disappointment, rather than realization. I dunno.

Anyway: Riddhe hates Zeon. Riddhe is traumatized after Neo Zeon's attack on Dakar. Now Neo Zeon is attacking again— and Banagher is co-operating with them.

(Banagher! Have you really become a Neo Zeon member…!?) The solid anger pierced through the armor of the machine and came right at Banagher. It was a stubborn will that was overly stiff, one that felt impossible to communicate it. ... [Banagher] could sense all warmth of the human called Riddhe disappear as he pulled the control stick in the moment of extreme stress. ... Now’s not the time for this. Banagher felt that the distance between both of them was very far, and gritted his teeth anxiously.

[...]

“You’re saying the same things as the people of the Vist Foundation, Ensign Riddhe. You courageously brought Audrey back to Earth, so why…!” (That Riddhe Marcenas is dead.) ... (I don’t have the power to save the world. Even if order is incomplete here, I’ll protect it if there’s no way to [change] it. That way, I can protect Mineva too…!)

[...]

The humanoid that leapt from the barren land instantly transformed into a wave rider and entered the clouds. If I let him go like this, he’ll really become an enemy. Banagher was driven by the anxiety in him, “Mr Riddhe, wait…!” and called out. (Are you alright, Banagher?) however, upon hearing this call from Zinnerman, he looked back at the sky again, and spotted the homebase-shaped machine of the “DO-DAI Kai” approach him.

I cut a lot here, both action and dialogue. I skipped over the parts where he talks about Newtypes and Zeon, since I already quoted them previously.

These are the details I think are most relevant:

Riddhe's belief— and anger— that Banagher has joined Neo Zeon

His loss of faith that the system can meaningfully be changed

His description of his previous self as dead

The official severance of his relationship with Banagher.

I do think what the anime did, having him catch on to what's happening and conclude "they're all working together," was a smart way to spur him into action. It fosters a similar sense of frustration, betrayal, and paranoia.

God, though, he just feels so much less connected to Banagher in the anime. I thought this was one of the more interesting episodes for their relationship, and the most direct interaction they had was Riddhe ignoring Banagher calling out to him and walking away.

After the fight with Banagher, Riddhe immediately heads for the Garuda, where he confronts Martha and Alberto. This scene plays out fairly similarly at first, with a few tweaks.

First: Riddhe pulls a gun on them immediately.

Second: Martha is not at all worried about the idea of killing Ronan Marcenas' son. It would be an easy cover-up. Soldiers die all the time during battles like this, no matter how important their daddies are.

She backs down when Riddhe tells her that he's recording the conversation, and that the Delta Plus would automatically transmit the contents of its black box if it was destroyed.

Third: Riddhe's paranoia about Zeon now extends to Mineva, even if his entire reason for doing this at all is supposedly to keep her safe. He snaps at her about her loyalties when she presses him for information about the box. When she pleads with him further and reminds him why he brought her to Earth in the first place, he reiterates his previous proposal— Join our family. Renounce Zeon. Prove I can trust you. He doesn't seem to actually expect her to agree, and she obviously doesn't.

I'm so glad he didn't do this in the anime, holy shit. I was sure it was coming and dreading it. After how they changed the first proposal scene to be so much more weird and aggressive, it would have pissed me off to hear it again.

Everything else he says during this scene is roughly the same, up until "the revelation that Newtypes really exist." I've already explained that novel Riddhe doesn't believe in Newtypes, but he definitely wouldn't have told Mineva about it right now if he did.

This scene is told from Mineva's perspective, as with most of the scenes with her and Riddhe. We get more insight into how she's feeling. Her actions and dialogue differ from the anime in several ways.

Points of interest:

Mineva still feels the general "Newtype pull" from Riddhe. She has to actively resist just automatically doing what he tells her, even now that his behaviour has changed to become closed off and aggressive.

Mineva is feeling genuinely angry toward Riddhe, which has never been the case until this scene.

Mineva specifically confronts Riddhe about how his idea of protecting her is just keeping her locked away in his family's house while he handles everything himself. He doesn't seem to understand why she needs to talk about this before she's willing to follow him.

Mineva doesn't just slip away during the commotion of Neo Zeon boarding the Garuda— first, she refuses to leave with Riddhe. Then she elbows him in the gut when he isn't expecting it, steals his gun, and tries to use it to get away from Martha and her goons. lol

And the big one, that I really wish had made it into the anime:

Riddhe's lack of empathy for Marida is the reason she ultimately decides not to go with him.

“Let’s go.” Mineva’s shoulder was grabbed unexpectedly, and Riddhe’s face appeared in the direction she was being pulled towards. He forgot to control his strength, and even if it may be caused by anxiety, this caused her to feel a little repulsed. “There’s no reason for you to be here. Come with me.” “But Banagher and Marida are still…” “Marida? Are you referring to that puppet?” Riddhe [said simply.] [Mineva’s body inadvertently tensed up, and at that moment there was] the sound of something breaking ... as the Medea transport carrier, fastened at the rear hatch, tilted drastically.

...

“It’s dangerous here, let’s go!” Mineva saw the growling Riddhe’s face as he grabbed her arm, and instinctively shook his hand away. “Audrey…?” “Ensign Riddhe, I understand your good intentions, but I can’t leave with you now.” Mineva understood very well that Riddhe did not have any malice, but he would choose to abandon Marida like a puppet without care, and that was [not] something the old him would do. This man who used to be so understanding ignored all that he could see in the past because he tried to kill his old self, but even with that factored in, the pull he had was not enough for Mineva to entrust her life to. ... ... If she went with him at this point, [they] would simply fall into the abyss together—no, that was not the reason. Perhaps it was the feminine aspect within her that gave her the instant conclusion [that] this man was not someone she was willing to go down with.

Mineva's Jump

This smile is the first time I felt convinced that OVA Mineva might have ever had a positive thought about Riddhe. That's kind of nuts, given this scene is supposed to be the culmination of her finally deciding that caring about him and believing he has good intentions is not enough. Still, it's... nice that they kept this line? A little humanizing moment for both of them? An actual hint that there was anything positive about this relationship for Mineva?

The way this scene is described in the novel is more harrowing, since we actually witness the moment the Garuda tears and Mineva gets stuck holding onto that steel frame. She's also wearing normal civilian clothes still, not a protective suit. The floor is warped and falling apart, so Riddhe getting over to her is more precarious.

Again the scene is told from Mineva's perspective, so we see her thoughts as she makes her decision.

She can feel the psychoframe resonance from the Unicorn and the Banshee fighting. She concludes that Banagher will definitely be able to hear her thoughts, because he's in a machine specifically designed for that purpose.

She also considers the jump to be a test, to prove to herself that she's following the right path.

I know that this choice [is] illogical, but the hand I want is in that light. Maybe nothing can be done, maybe we’ll just die with regret, but this is a test to me—a test to see whether [someone so small can affect the fate of] the world.

This is what romance is, to me.

After Mineva's jump, all of Riddhe's appearances for the rest of the episode are anime-original. The fixation on the Gundam as an object of hatred is new. They basically made him do the same thing Marida does, with the verbal repetition, which is interesting. I hope they play up that comparison more.

Novel Riddhe resents the Unicorn and the Banshee for their ties to the Box and the Vist Foundation, but he never responds to them with this kind of mindless rage. He actually doesn't get angry at all during the immediate aftermath of Mineva's rejection. Maybe he would have if he'd been left to his own devices long enough, who knows— he gets taken out of the equation fairly quickly.

Riddhe returns to the Delta Plus and begins searching for Mineva, apparently too addled by grief to accept that she would be dead if someone else hadn't already caught her.

Marida shoots him out of the sky, completely unprovoked. She can tell it's a friendly machine and everything, she just gets pissed that it looks too much like a Gundam. lmao

The thick grey streamlined body was looking towards the sea of clouds below it, completely ignoring the “Banshee” as it tilted its head around. The allied machine marker and the name “Delta Plus” were indicated on the enlarged window, but these details did not matter to Ple Twleve. That was because the visor on the main camera was sunk inwards, and the head looked like it had eyes on it; to her, it simply looked like a “Gundam” without the horns. “You’re a “Gundam” too…!?” Ple Twelve [shouted] as she aimed the beam rifle at [the machine.] The “Delta Plus” showed no signs of [dodging, continuing to stare down at] the clouds. The human thoughts inside the machine suddenly entered her head, causing her fingers on the trigger to numb. —Mineva, where did you go? Answer me. Don’t leave me alone, don’t leave me… That thought interfered with Ple Twelve’s consciousness like noise, and she could sense the owner of this thought crying. The pleading ‘voice’ became a discomforting particle bouncing around in her mind, and she felt nauseous as she exerted strength into the trigger. “If you’re just going to weep here, DON’T GET IN MY WAY!!” The beam rifle let out a flash, and the empty Magnum cartridge was ejected from the gun. The beam grazed the “Garuda” wing, brushed right by the engine block, and the right shoulder of the “Delta Plus” was devoured by the light. As it was deflected by the impact and falling, the engine block of the “Garuda” let out flames as it got hit by the scattered particles that exploded, and the large machine lost another support as it tilted heavily.

His suffering makes her angry. Her own empathy is overwhelming and repulsive...

When I first read this, I found it extremely funny, even if it's obviously tragic for the characters. This time around I was able to take it completely seriously, because it will never match the comedy of "Riddhe repeatedly shoots the Banshee with a handgun while chanting 'Gundam' until Marida psychically brain blasts him into unconsciousness."

I like OVA Riddhe so much more now that he's insane. I feel like I'm being stockholm-syndromed into enjoying him.

What caused Riddhe's heel turn?

Even though Riddhe's dialogue about the box is almost identical, it feels like it comes from a different place because of his previous portrayal.

Both versions of the character experience a disillusionment, but the things they've lost faith in are different.

OVA Riddhe's arc feels like he has been forced for the first time to think about what he believes. His sheltered worldview has been shattered, and he has to grapple with that. Because of his position, he naturally reaches for the comfort of the status quo.

Novel Riddhe's arc is about the destruction of the convictions he already had. It's about watching this guy get repeatedly emotionally brutalized until he no longer believes in the possibility of a better world. He's willing to kill himself for societal stability because he thinks that's the best he's ever going to get.

The thing that drags him down is isolation. Mineva and Banagher both go through similar moments of disillusionment, and they both are ultimately pulled out of despair when they are able to reaffirm their beliefs through connection with other people.

Mineva is the one out of the three who holds up the best under pressure, possibly because her childhood demanded she develop that kind of resilience. A friendly guy in a diner was enough to help her get her bearings.

Banagher is literally catatonic after crashing on Earth. He recovers because Zinnerman deliberately, aggressively pursues him, refusing to let him waste away.

Riddhe responds to emotional distress by withdrawing from other people and throwing himself into his responsibilities. He isn't going to go looking for a friendly man in a diner. He doesn’t have a Zinnerman. Bright and Nigel are something, but evidently not enough.

The people he knew and loved from the Nahel Argama all think he's dead. The two people he's closest to now, Banagher and Mineva, are immediately confined where he's not allowed to see them.

There’s no one he trusts enough left to help him reorient. By the time he finally gets a chance to see Banagher again, he believes he defected to Neo Zeon. Rational communication is impossible.

Then Mineva throws herself off an aircraft rather than take his hand, which. Like. She had her reasons. But lmao

(For anime Riddhe, Mineva's rejection is clearly the final straw. I think novel Riddhe was already over the edge by then. Banagher's perceived betrayal was the breaking point. Losing Mineva as well was just salt in the wound.)

I still don't know why they replaced his model airplanes with this thing.

I'm curious. What do you guys think of Riddhe's lucky charm as a piece of symbolism? Does it add anything for you? They put an incredible amount of effort into visually highlighting it. Obviously, he drops it during his final scene in this episode to represent some kind of significant change or loss. Aside from the charm being an anime-only addition, I think what throws me is that novel Riddhe had already lost all the things the charm would logically represent before this point. He already underwent his most significant emotional and ideological changes. "That Riddhe Marcenas is dead." It's why he can't make peace with Banagher, and it's why Mineva rejects him.

That's what novel Riddhe loses at Torrington: his two most important remaining relationships. I definitely don't think that's what the charm is meant to symbolize in the anime.

Since it's a charm for luck, I'm assuming it represents caring about his own well-being. That makes sense to me, when dropping it is being associated with choosing to pilot the Banshee. "Riddhi" is also a real name and word that means "prosperity" or "good fortune", which meshes well with that interpretation.

I'm assuming this means he's going to finally develop novel Riddhe's trait of deranged latent suicidality going forward. Beyond that, I'm not sure what to make of it— though I did like how it was used in "Return of the Lion".

Marida in the Banshee

The motion sensor showed a matching signal, and the word “RAS-96” appeared on the screen. That’s called the “Anksha”, right? Name and model number, Marida and Ple Twelve. ... What is a name? What significance does it bear? It’ll simply cause confusion to call the same thing two different names. [...] I just don’t have to think. I can continue to fight as long as I don’t think.

There are things I could criticize about Marida's portrayal in the novel— we'll get to that— but I still found the anime version of this arc to be the less compelling version of the two.

I think there are three key issues here.

I've mentioned before that the environment mirrors the conflict between characters. The combat in the anime version is more static and less visceral, failing to match the heightened emotions the characters are feeling.

Characters in Unicorn are very densely interconnected, and minor details are often carrying more emotional weight than it might appear. If something had to get cut, Alberto's scenes were a rational choice— but removing them also means removing meaningful character moments for Marida.

Marida's history of sexual abuse was weaponized as part of her brainwashing, so it is referenced often during this part of the original text. In the anime, this is elided.

I'm sure it's difficult to thread the needle regarding that last point, and I sympathize. I mentioned in my last post that I think Fukui's writing could probably benefit from an editor willing to rein him in, and the handling of Marida is one of the areas I cited. The anime reined him in— but in this case, I find myself wishing they left more of the original. Ah, well.

I don't think there's a perfect solution here. I'm not sure there's even a more correct decision. All I can do is explain my own feelings about each work.

I wish Banshee pilot Marida was scarier.

Novel Marida sees significantly more extensive— and effective— use as Martha and Alberto's weapon. While her kills are all minor players in the narrative, at least one of them is a named perspective character with an important role in Neo Zeon's offensive.

Unfortunately, moving Torrington unavoidably defanged her a little as a threat. Since she didn't fight in the battle, she never had the chance to engage with anyone other than Banagher and Riddhe, and they both came out of it alive and physically sound.

They also cut the moment during her rampage where Marida causes the gruesome (accidental?) death of novel-only character Bentner, the head Cyber-Newtype researcher from Augusta. As someone who directly contributed to Marida's suffering, his death is poetic, even if it wasn't a choice she made with intention.

I'm a fan of this claw weapon. It gives the Banshee something that makes it more than just a visual Unicorn redesign, and it's appropriate for the lion theming. It's new for the anime, so I appreciate the addition.

I'm glad they kept the detail of the robots "screaming," and I dig the Banshee's new unique loadout, but the fight on the Garuda left me really underwhelmed. It was so cool in the book, man. There has to be more they could have done.

If you're specifically invoking the Axis Shock, I want it to look crazy. A colour overlay on the robots absolutely does not cut it. Have the surface of the Garuda that they're standing on start peeling! Get some real psychic miasma going! Make it so I can't even tell the sky is blue when the camera pulls in close. Something.

Am I being unreasonable here? Is this an unfair expectation?

I'm aware of the difference between drawing an illustration and doing the same thing in animation, but maybe this gives you an idea of the kind of imagery I had in my head going in:

LOOK HOW SICK THIS IS.

Another thing about the novel's Banshee-Unicorn fight is that Zinnerman boards the Garuda while it's happening. He's literally an exposed human figure dangling on a wire while these metal giants are stomping around and swinging superheated beams at each other. Then the wire snaps, so Banagher has to catch him and cradle him to the Unicorn's chest while the Banshee attacks!

Zinnerman shoots the Banshee with a rocket launcher at one point. I swear to god, so much shit happens.

Marida tearing into the Delta Plus had more of the aggressive vibe I wanted, and it was definitely my favourite visual in the whole fight. The scene they placed it in, unfortunately, is still significantly less dramatic than the original scene that inspired it.

The anime version of the Garuda's hangar bay is essentially a big, empty arena for the mobile suits to fight in. In the novel, there's a ton of shit in there, and people are still present. Several small work vehicles explode, so the whole deck gets set on fire. There's human gore, because Marida unintentionally crushes Bentner with the Banshee's hand. It's a nightmarish scene, especially for someone like Zinnerman who isn't in a mobile suit.

Excerpt, for comparison:

The entire hatch was blown off, and [the air inside the plane was sucked out through a huge gash where the deck caved in]. The [wind roared in Zinnerman's ears] as he heard the frantic voices of the crew, “Retreat to the deck!” “We might have to evacuate everyone here. Get everyone to the escape pods!” He [could barely] distinguish the yells ...

[...]

He turned his [head sharply] and saw the black “Unicorn” with the thruster lights on its back, followed by the white frame of the “Unicorn Gundam” closing in on it. Both “Gundams” proceeded back and forth within the deck, [knocking down the hangar and releasing hot air from their verniers]. Zinnerman saw the black [“Unicorn's” hand fall, crushing an] old man in [a white coat.] Blood and flesh was splattered everywhere immediately, but [it was drowned out by] the impact and [sound] of ... these several ton machines [colliding, followed by] a hot wind [that blocked all vision] as it blew above his head. The workcar got knocked into the air, crashing right into the compressed gas cylinders, creating an explosion of flames. The energy of the explosion created a quake, causing Zinnerman, who was sprawled on the floor to feel a rumbling, and he lifted his head only when the heat wave passed by. Alberto had disappeared, and the two “Gundams” were in front of him, stepping on the floor and trying to get up. The black “Gundam” was lit by the flames, [making the likness of] the “Unicorn Gundam” it [opposed] in this mirage, and the [golden glow of the] Psycoframe [flickered] like it was breathing. [The heat of the beam saber erupting from the machine's sleeve made] the [catwalk railings] melt and bend like malt candy. “MARIDA!” Zinnerman covered his face as his skin was being burnt, but the black “Unicorn Gundam” did not care about what was below it as it continued to backtrack and knock over the work vehicles.

Like. Holy shit.

Sexual violence, gender, and "the light"

(Content warnings for this section: rape, csa, pregnancy and pregnancy loss, forced medical procedures, incest. I'm not getting graphic about it, but this is the primary subject of this section.)

I had a fairly negative opinion of how the sexual violence was handled in book 7 the first time around. It has the disadvantage of coming directly on the heels of book 6, which is the one that really pissed me off, so I wasn't feeling particularly charitable.

My feelings are more positive this time, now that I'm rereading with the context of the whole work. Paying more deliberate attention to Alberto and Martha has also paid off in that regard.

The screenshot I chose at the top of Marida's section has a very particular bit of dialogue in the subtitle:

"This is the light that will save me. I won't let anyone steal it from me!"

While it still makes sense with the overall imagery used in Unicorn— it calls back to the church scene, where Marida talks about how people need a light to keep living— they otherwise removed all references to "the light" from this episode.

"The light" refers to a lot of different ideas, but the way it's invoked by Marida in this arc specifically represents both a general desire to erase the violence that was done to her, and a more specific longing for a child.

I am instinctively predisposed to roll my eyes at "infertile female character with a strong secret driving motivation centred around the ability to become pregnant," especially when it's written by a cis male author, double especially when the story also involves a child conceived by rape.

While Marida is fixating on her past, Martha is constantly talking about wombs. We also just had Loni in book 6, who told us she wants to have ten kids. If you're already reading with a pessimistic outlook, it's easy to start feeling like every major female character except Mineva has suddenly had their characterization re-centred around how they relate to motherhood.

I'm sure that Fukui probably has different opinions about gender than I do, but I've ultimately warmed up a lot to these elements of Marida's story. It's more thoughtful than I was originally willing to trust it to be.

It helps that the repetition is very much not unique to female characters and motherhood. Marida strongly mirrors Banagher, Alberto, Angelo, and Full Frontal. When the paralellism is so consistent across the board, it becomes clear that the similarities between female characters are more than just the narrative assuming all women have the same basic neuroses and drives.

Marida is also brainwashed, obviously. Her priorities have been artificially altered, even if they contain traces of her genuine thoughts and emotions.

Moreover, her reconditioning was explicitly based on Martha. The similarity isn't just intentional on a meta level as a storytelling device, it was intentionally cultivated in-universe.

"Light" as a theme for Marida first appears during the church scene in volume 4. It's usage is roughly analagous to Banagher's "Inner God." It comes up again in that same book, during Marida's backstory flashback.

Light is a repeated visual element that connects every scene we see from her past. It's very much not presented as something with purely positive associations. In these brief moments, light is frequently something sinister.

Light is the first thing Marida sees when she wakes up for the first time, shining behind the silhouette of Glemy. Light is the explosive deaths of her sisters. Light is the neon signs of the red light district, and light is the surgical lamp of the abortionist. Light is her baby, already gone by the time she understands what it was.

Light is the open doorway when Zinnerman comes to take her away. Light is a reason to live. Light is the desire for purification by death, and the glow of a beam rifle shot that never comes.

However, the girl could recognize this warmth. A long time ago, a hand reached out to her from the water surface. The warmth of the human hand she touched when she was pulled out from the capsule was about the same as [this hand.] The girl focused all her consciousness on the thick and hard hand of the man. Warmth flowed out from there, and as she felt the cells within her shaking, the girl looked up at the man’s eyes. The [damp eyes] reflected her black and dirty face. Who are you? The girl tried to ask. I’m me. The her present in the eyes answered. You’re not the 12th sister, but a one and only existence granted the name of Marida Cruz. You have a real master, so you must live for master. Don’t live on because you’re created this way, but give your all to serve your master. This warmth is the real ‘light’, the one and only ‘light’ that reached into this darkness. Don’t let go of this ‘light’. Go do what master hopes for you to do, fight master’s enemies until this body of yours get burned one day, and all your sins and guilt return to nothingness— Marida’s thoughts were calling out within Zinnerman’s eyes. That’s just a curse on yourself! Banagher’s thoughts interrupted at this point. That’s just a curse you set on yourself. The Captain doesn’t want you to do that in the first place. I know. You’re right. But I said it before, didn’t I? Righteousness might not be the only thing that can save humanity… Marida’s retorting thoughts merged into the light, surrounding the girl that was standing blankly in the underground room. The white light covered the entire room [...] and Banagher saw the light transform into heat as it evaporated the tears. Light. A purifying light that burned all sins and guilt—

[...]

Since where is there this kind of redemption? Banagher yelled in his thoughts with all he hand as he tried to make the rioting machine stop. I understand you, whether dream-wise or illusion-wise. When our thoughts overlapped and resonance in that sensation, I saw your existence. Humans can understand each other—and that is the real ‘light’. What you want to redeem you is to reveal the possibility that’s dormant and release the inner god within you. However, you only looked at your past—

Basically, "the light" is introduced as the thread that connects all of Marida's suffering and hopes, and connects her to others. The way it's used while she's brainwashed is a departure, redefining it to represent only a small part of her past.

Consider that two extremely important associations that Marida had with light— Zinnerman and Banagher— have been deliberately removed from her memories. The shift in meaning makes sense.

But the thread is still there. The belief that "the Gundam stole my light" doesn't really make sense if we're only talking about her baby, does it? It only makes sense when we see the totality of her suffering: the loss of her child is the same as the sexual abuse that created it in the first place, which is the same as the death of her sisters.

Marida has never belonged to herself, but now the few things that made the world make sense have been taken away. Something is missing, and she wants it back.

(…The “Gundam”, is the enemy.) The armor on the machine expanded, and the huddled black shadow expanded. “Miss Marida…!?” The “Banshee” did not respond to Banagher’s call as it lifted its head that was looking down, and the exposed Psycoframe started to radiate a golden glow. (You’re the enemy that killed us. You’re the enemy that robbed the “light” from within me. You, you’re the “Gundam”…!)

Character parallels: sexual violence, non-consensual medical procedures, and textual comparisons thereof

I could write an entire essay just on this theme in Unicorn. Maybe I will, eventually.

I'm going to try to avoid getting too in depth for now, since there's a ton of relevant information that only comes up in later books. Still, I want to at least go over some general points.

There are many places in the text where the comparison is drawn, both implicitly and explicitly, between sexual abuse and other non-sexual violations of the body and mind— particularly in medical or experimental contexts. Marida is the point where this comparison is made at its clearest, because she has experienced both.

The sexual abuse, the forced abortion, the reconditioning, even her original creation as a Cyber-Newtype clone— these are all framed as similar kinds of violations.

Not every character has the framework to understand how these experiences are related, but Marida makes the connection instinctively, sometimes even collapsing them together in her thoughts as if they were a singular continuous event.

Is she wrong? They're even related on a causal level: the abortion happened as a direct result of the sexual abuse, and it was performed to allow it to continue. The reconditioning deliberately drew on memories of sexual abuse to alter her behaviour, and the woman who ordered it was herself a sexual abuser of children.

Martha is another obvious demonstration of the comparison: she's the point of overlap between both categories of perpetrator. Her sexual abuse of Alberto and her brainwashing of Marida function similarly, and both serve the same purpose of controlling the victim.

It's unclear exactly how much Alberto knows about Marida's past, but it's not a huge leap to assume he sees himself in her. If he isn't consciously recognizing her as another csa victim— or realizing the similarity between that experience and Cyber-Newtype conditioning— he at least understands that they are both Martha's puppets. The tragedy is his inability to admit that as long as he continues acting as Marida's "Master" he is actively complicit in harming her, not merely a witness.

I want to talk about Angelo and Frontal here so badly, but it's probably best that I hold off until at least the next episode. For now, I'll just say that Angelo is the most blatant Marida paralell in the whole series, and he has his own symbolic fixation akin to Marida's "light."

Gundam is the enemy

In the original work, the moment where Marida processes that the Banshee is a Gundam and concludes that she is herself "the enemy" does not involve Riddhe. She already shot him down earlier, so he isn't even on the Garuda at all anymore. Instead, the realization happens when she mistakes the Banshee's shadow on the wall for the Unicorn.

I guess they swapped the shadow for Riddhe because... there just isn't fire in the hangar to cast a strong shadow. But why? Why not put a fire in the hangar? Many inexplicable choices in this one.

Marida isn't just breaking the logic of her brainwashing by realizing a fact about the robot. When she makes this connection, she's also forced to acknowledge feelings of self-blame and guilt that she had been repressing. That's the sentiment that ultimately causes her to collapse: I failed to protect my master. I broke formation rather than dying with my sisters. I was too weak to protect myself, and too weak to protect my child. The person I want to punish and destroy is me.

She let go of the control sticks and touched her face with her hands. The flames lit the “Banshee” and the shadow of the “Gundam” was reflected on the wall. This means that I’m on a “Gundam” too? I’m inside the enemy, and the enemy’s inside me? The enemy that killed my sisters, robbed me of my ‘light’, and continues to remain in it no matter how I tried to chase it or catch it? I’m my own, enemy— A snake was wriggling inside her mind, causing the seeds of pain to erupt. Her body and mind were breaking apart. [The] ideals that were once connected to her heart were severed [and] the flesh and blood [flowing through] the machine [gradually converged into the helpless] body. I’m my own enemy. The one I hated [and] wanted to kill is [myself, the person] who can’t protect my own ‘light’.

(Mineva actually calls this very early. In one of her scenes with Martha, she thinks to herself that Marida is not actually being animated by revenge on others like Martha believes.)

Here's how the encounter concludes:

Marida falls out of the cockpit. Notably, she is still conscious. Her inner monologue immediately identifies Zinnerman as her father when he reaches out to her; it's very sweet.

Alberto is still in the hangar. He panics, and tries to tell Marida to get back in the cockpit again. She doesn't recognize his voice.

One of the Anksha mobile suits from the battle outside flies into the hangar through the open hatch. It takes aim at the Unicorn, and Marida immediately realizes Zinnerman is in danger and will not be able to get out of the way. She calls out to the Banshee and wills it to move, and it does— it raises its Beam Magnum and fires.

The Anksha is hit by the Beam Magnum and explodes. The shot it fires goes wide, hitting the side of the Banshee. Marida is thrown by the force of the blast, and burnt by the wave of heat.

Banagher gets out of the Unicorn and helps Zinnerman and Marida into the cockpit. They're both a mess. Zinnerman is covered in ash, furious and crying with bloodshot eyes. He tells Banagher not to waste time— "I won't forgive you if your blunder ends up killing her."

When they're about to leave, Alberto stumbles over to the Unicorn in a daze. Banagher is shocked, having assumed that he had already left on the shuttle. He re-opens the cockpit and tells Alberto to get in.

Shaken from his daze, Alberto is infuriated by this offer. He pulls out his gun and fires at Banagher until he is forced to close the cockpit and leave.

Alberto goes down with the ship.

The Fate of the Garuda: Who Goes Where?

In the OVA, we see Martha and Alberto leave on a little aircraft shuttle together, directly from the Garuda.

The Banshee is still on the Garuda, where it is found by Riddhe after he regains consciousness. Mineva, Zinnerman, and Marida all make it back to the Garancieres, which is successfully picked up by the Argama.

The General Revil shows up at the end, as well as Full Frontal and Angelo. Banagher is still in the Unicorn.

In the novel, Alberto and Martha are separated. Martha boards the shuttle, but Alberto stays, because he's worried about Marida.

Banagher offers Alberto a ride in the Unicorn, but this enrages him, and he shoots at Banagher with his handgun until he retreats into the cockpit and leaves.

The Garuda crashes, with the Banshee and Alberto still on it.

Riddhe was shot out of the sky by Marida, after which he fell unconscious. When he wakes up, he retrieves the Banshee and Alberto from the wreck of the Garuda.

Zinnerman and Marida are not able to be brought back to the Garancieres in time, so they are still in the cockpit of the Unicorn when Banagher connects the tether.

The Garancieres and the Nahel Argama escape successfully and are not immediately pursued. Angelo and Frontal show up several days later, at the start of the eighth book.

So, there are quite a few differences, but I think Alberto's scenes are the most obviously significant that I haven't already discussed. I've mentioned this a few times in previous sections, but Alberto is a different type of character in the novels than he is in the anime. The novel takes him significantly more seriously and gives him a larger role, while the anime has kept him within the realm of comic relief.

I'm going to include a bunch of excerpts here, sorry. I think they're more illustrative than just me summarizing or listing character traits. I've tried to shorten them and fix the worst of the grammar.

Alberto with Zinnerman, refusing to leave on the shuttle:

“She’s no long a member of Neo Zeon. Give up and leave this place. The “Garuda” won’t last for long.” This person is Marida’s current master. Is his name Alberto? the blood surged up Zinnerman’s head as he growled, “What nonsense are you [spouting?]” ... “You’re the one who should scram. I’ll take Marida back. She’s not the tool you people think she is.” The gun held in both hands trembled even more. This [guy] isn’t used to [this kind of] situation. Zinnerman understood that it was not wise to agitate the other man, but he still finished his words. [However, he was taken aback by Alberto's agitated reply—] “I KNOW THAT!” “SHE’S NOT A TOOL! SHE’S…” Alberto was at a loss of words. [His lips twisted, and a bitter expression appeared] on his face. What’s going on? Zinnerman frowned for a moment, [then heard a yell—] “Master Alberto! Hurry! The shuttle’s leaving!” [— as an old man in white clothing] appeared from the side, [completely covered] in ash. “Oi, someone’s calling you.” Zinnerman pointed his chin, and Alberto glared back at him as he exerted more strength into his hands holding the handgun. ...

Alberto witnessing the Unicorn vs. Banshee fight and finding Bentner's horrible crushed corpse. Again he refuses to abandon Marida, even when Martha directly contacts him and tells him they're leaving:

... [The] flying high-heat particles [were] scattered [and rained down] as [a] powder of light. [They] landed between Alberto’s [thighs] and [made a sound as they melted into the floor], [and he scrambled] back [in fear]. As [his hand reached behind him, it] touched another person’s arm, and he gasped as he turned around. The [arm, wrapped in the sleeve of a torn labcoat, clearly] belonged to Bentner, but [there was no proof.] [Just like the white coat,] there was no body beyond the [severed] shoulder, [only a pool of blood like splattered red paint] ... The scattered particles of the beams dropped into the [pool], and [white steam rose from the mixture of blood and solid matter]. The smell of cooked meat entered his nose, and [all Alberto could do was] remain seated, [unable to feel anything]. [...] (What are you doing, Alberto!?) It was only [upon hearing Martha's hysterical yell] that he finally thought of bringing the wireless communicator to his ears. (We’re leaving. Forget about [the] specimen. We just need to find a replacement, whether it’s the machine or the pilot.) Alberto’s numb senses were jolted awake by this voice, and he looked down at the communicator in his hands. She doesn’t understand. Aunt [Martha] doesn’t understand, and she has no intention of understanding—no, maybe to her, everyone else is just something that can be replaced ... (There’s no time. Hurry—) Alberto ignored Martha’s call as he switched the frequency of the communicator. “Ple Twelve, it’s me, your Master. Do you hear me?” [...] “There’s no need to reclaim the machine ... Wreck the “Unicorn”. Hurry up and beat that guy and escape me with. You and I are the only ones left here.”

Alberto thinking about Cardeas, Banagher, and his childhood. Very brief / vague mention of incest:

“If it’s you, you’ll definitely be able to beat the “Unicorn���. This guy’s the cause of everything. As long as you destroy it, the path leading to the “Box” will remain sealed, and aunt will only give up. Even my father…” Can only give up, right? Alberto could not help but ask himself, and shut his mouth as he answered himself. Wrong, that man will never stop. [In this kind of situation,] Cardeas Vist [would simply take a proactive approach and plan his next move]. [Using his own strength as the standard], [he determined] that [the weak] were simply [lazy]. That willful foolish man ignored his own son and left the “Unicorn” to the [child of his mistress]. Why did things end up like this? Who let the gears spin out of control first? [...] He recalled the expression his father had when he died, that look of despair and pity ... [and] the [sudden rush of] emotions [dampened] his vision. No, I’m not the one at fault here. It’s his fault. ... Banagher Links took [my] dad away, and even took the machine he built, [without] even [realizing] that he [had stolen anything] at all. That guy [is the reason everything was] thrown [into chaos]. Just looking at [him] makes me anxious. [...] I feel inferior, like I’m being taunted for being useless. It [would be] good if he [had never been born]. If I could be as strong as him, I [wouldn't] have [had] a complete breakdown in relation with dad, I [wouldn't have ended up in] an abnormal relationship with [my] aunt, and I [couldn't have] possibly [harmed] dad— Tears swelled in his eyes and slid down his cheeks; he wiped them away and brought the communicator to his mouth.

...

I won’t let you take anything else away from me. Marida will beat you. This [unique] life that’s strong-willed [and] gentle, [who feels ephemeral and fragile like my mother,] [she'll] defeat you and settle all our debts. I don’t need aunt [Martha], and I don’t need dad. I’ll just wait here, until ... the “Banshee” [slices] you apart and [chases] away the [inescapable darkness.]

Mother comparison. Of course.

I'll skip Alberto rejecting Banagher's offer of help, since I already described it.

That brings us to the final scene of the novel, where Alberto wakes up in the cockpit of the Delta Plus with Riddhe. Interesting that it can still fly despite falling out of the sky earlier— maybe the shot Marida fired knocked him unconscious immediately, or it can only stay airborne in waverider mode?

This ending makes me lose my fucking mind every time I read it. Riddhe saves Alberto's life and then they literally fly off into the sunset while Alberto thinks about how much they have in common.

Alberto opened his eyes. The light in reality was too sharp, and he closed his eyes before opening them slowly again. What he saw first was the sea surface from the sky. [...] Is this some mobile suit cockpit? he touched the curved monitor panel at his feet and intended to look up at the linear seat beside him, but at this moment, a shadow appeared in a corner of the all-view monitor, and his heart jolted, beating his chest. There was a mobile suit riding on the “Anksha,” ... gliding diagonally below ... He realized that it was the “Banshee”, ... Alberto looked down at the machine lit by the [light reflecting off] the sea, and [he] thought of the name Marida, [when a voice rang out from just beside him.] “We can’t seem to find the pilot.” ... [Alberto] lifted his [gaze] and looked [back] at the linear seat to find Riddhe [Marcenas] there. Riddhe looked at him for a moment, before turning his somewhat forsaken expression forward as he activated the display board. He opened the expanded window to show the “Banshee” [up close] as it laid down on the disc, but Alberto’s face remained unmoved. How did things end up like this? Why is this guy—no, where is this place? Alberto could not clear the doubts rising [in] his heart [as] he [stared at Riddhe's face]. ... Riddhe turned around in an annoyed manner [and] removed his helmet, [running his hand through his blond hair.] “Since you’re awake, pull out the assistance chair yourself,” [he said curtly.] “I’m already out of breath [just from pulling] your unconscious [body] on board. You’re an Anaheim employee, so you should know the [layout] of a mobile suit, right?” ... Alberto looked around the inner wall of the cockpit again. Since he could see the sea surface, it meant that this mobile suit was not on a Base Jabber, which meant that it could fly in atmosphere on its own. This means that I’m on Riddhe’s machine, the transformable “Delta Plus” in its wave rider form? Upon realizing this, Alberto calmed down slightly as he exhaled. He searched his tattered clothes, [confirmed] that he had no [real] injuries, and turned towards Riddhe again. “Why did you save me?” he asked... [Riddhe didn't even make eye contact.] “That’s [just] how things are going now,” He answered with a sigh. “I [passed out] after I was shot down by the “Banshee”. By the time I woke up and got back to the sinking “Garuda”, you and the empty “Banshee” were the only ones [left.]” Riddhe looked over at the “Banshee”, lifeless like a puppet as it laid on the “Anksha”, and narrowed his eyes. “The “Unicorn” has vanished.” And Mineva too… some heartfelt words could be heard right after this mutter, and Alberto did not intend to ask further [...] His love affair may have ended, this understanding landed upon the cavity in Alberto’s chest and created ripples in his hollow body. Both of them were descendants of those cursed by [“Laplace's Box”,] and both [had] lost their fleeting love—[with skepticism, a sense of loss, and a touch of empathy,] the “Delta Plus” [flew] through the [twilight] sky. [Unsure of] where they were going or where they should go, [Alberto] looked [out] at the [amber-coloured] sky and sea. The “Anksha”, ferrying the unmanned “Banshee”, turned with the sea surface behind it as it pivoted its way through the crimson sky, [leaving behind] an empty trail of jet cloud.

Alberto/Riddhe real...?

The Escape: RGB Gamer Mode

The original text description of this phenomenon is a little more blatantly rainbow and less dominated by green, but these visuals are still very pretty.

The ghosts of Daguza and Gilboa do not appear during this scene in the novel. I think they're a sensible addition. It foreshadows exposition about "lingering thoughts" that we should be getting next time.

The biggest change here is that in the novel, Marida and Zinnerman are still in the cockpit with Banagher. There was no time for them to be transferred to the Garancieres while shaking off their pursuers. The trigger for Banagher's renewed determination, the Unicorn's strange glow, and the resulting miracle is Marida regaining consciousness for a moment and taking his hand.

I would have really liked to keep that... I think it's a strong way to end a conflict that had Marida as such a central figure, and the imagery ties directly into her fixation on "the light". Marida does have an inner light, and none of the terrible things that were done to her can ever take it away.

The General Revil: What????

They introduced the General Revil this episode, when Bright talked to Beltorchika. I was still incredibly taken aback when it showed up at the end. Especially since it immediately engaged in combat? This was very much not what happened in the original.

Bemused as I've been about it, it's easy enough to figure out why this was done. Again, they're cutting things for time, by making the path between locations and plot points more direct. I just really wasn't expecting it!

In the novel, the crew of the Garancieres and the Nahel Argama get away successfully, and it takes some time before anyone catches on to where they actually went. I'll probably get more into the details of all that next time, since it's the start of book 8.

I will say that the Federation ship that Angelo and Frontal attack like this in the novel gets destroyed. Surely they're not going to sink the General Revil... ???

Speaking of which,

THE BOYS ARE BACK IN TOWN

Do you have any idea how happy I am to have an excuse to put pictures of Frontal and Angelo in one of these again? Do you?

The Rozen Zulu is one of my favourite mobile suits. Stiletto heels, big metal claws, INCOMs, and character-focused visual theming? She has it all.

This is exactly the problem: this part was the coolest robot stuff in the whole thing to me. An exciting hook is never a bad thing, but I think the coolest robot moments should always try to be the ones at the emotional core of the episode.

Yes, I know I get excited every time Angelo and Frontal show up. I can distinguish that from this. Did you see those ReZELs get melted? Did you see Frontal's totally unnecessary bazooka twirl? So good.

I'm glad he's having fun. :)

So that's the end. It looks like we have quite an exciting setup for next time— which may or may not be a bit of a fakeout, depending on whether they're keeping or skipping certain scenes.

I'm not even going to try to make predictions at this point.

Haro, play Broken Mirror by Boom Boom Satellites.

#remibloggue #gundam #gundam unicorn