#the only viewpoint he cares about is his own. and its my fault that i keep trying to fucking connect with such a brick wall of a man

[bloggirl8842]

Being me is so embarrassing like wahhh I’m Niku I’ve had a crush on the same guy for years I’m a painter I don’t believe in myself my dad’s an asshole wahhh girl pleaseee get something else going on 😭

#my dad IS an asshole we were lookinng at my blood test results and my hemoglobin n shit is low bc of anemia and he remarked that my cells #are physically smaller than theyre supposed to be and i went ‘’oh that must be why i feel sick all the time’’ and he goes ‘’you dont feel #sick ALL the TIME.’’ and my moms like yea she feels tired and weak and i go yes and i also get nauseous and he goes you get nauseous ALL th #TIME? and im like no i get nauseous often. why do i have to justify this to you youve SEEN ME feeling ill #and hes looking at my test tesults on my phone so when hes done i snatch it out of his hand and leave and he whines to my mom and #exaggerates the way i took it back. fucking sick of him #i genuinely dont have much affection for him he thinks hes better than all of us. characterizes my brother as a hustler and my mom & i as #disappointments #im just going to not talk about anything i genuinely care about or invested in around him bc since childhood he has shown over and over tha #the only viewpoint he cares about is his own. and its my fault that i keep trying to fucking connect with such a brick wall of a man #today though i showed him an in progress painting and asked him if he liked it and he said he wouldnt know til it was done.. i DO support #that he was right for that. i cant ask for ppl to like my shit b4 its finished bc then ill never finish it!

[danggirlronpa]

Hey mind telling me what the story behind Kiyo’s sister is? I’m kind of clueless and only heard one story of the whole thing😅

This got decently long, so I've put it under a cut. I'll add it to the FAQ tomorrow as well, since it's come up a few times!

I will also request that this post not be reblogged to hate blogs or blogs specifically dedicated to "bad" or "disliked" content. As someone who has been harassed as a result of content being circulated in those circles, it makes me very panicked and anxious to see my work on similar blogs. If you do so, I will need to block you for my own mental stability.

In V3 chapter three, Korekiyo admits to mass murder and takes on the guise of his sister to do so. As a result of being nearly beaten to death at one point, Korekiyo created a tulpa of his dead sister (who we'll call by her popular fan name, Miyadera, from here on). He believed Miyadera wanted him to murder 100 girls, and claimed that they were once lovers.

In general, fans seem to take Korekiyo's claims at face value. Which is...weird, considering how obviously the whole thing is a "mentally ill delusional sexually deviant serial killer" trope played completely straight. And that his worldview includes things like "I should kill people so my dead sister has friends." But let's set that aside, and say that, for the sake of explaining the popular fandom viewpoint, Korekiyo is a reliable narrator.

So in chapter 3, when he is on the brink of being cornered, Korekiyo begins to switch between his own identity and the identity of his sister's tulpa. These are the only potential looks we have into Miyadera's personality. To give you the gist, here are all of the quotes while Korekiyo takes on his sister's guise that are listed on the Wiki.

(Please note that the "Apologize" is directed at another student who challenges Korekiyo.)

I'm going to be honest. I have reread this a LOT trying to figure out what everyone else is apparently seeing here that I am not. At worst, this reads to me as a slightly stern etiquette teacher. But the popular fandom perception is that this dialogue implies that Miyadera was manipulating and abusing Korekiyo. I could not honestly tell you WHY people believe this, but they do.

And people ran with that. They ran with that so hard. Every sin Korekiyo commits is pinned down as being Miyadera's fault, and Korekiyo is absolved of his crimes as a result of being an abuse victim. It's similar to the effect you often see in the way people discuss Junko and Mukuro, except that Mukuro does not invoke nearly as much sympathy on a larger level, even though Junko's mockery and subsequent murder of her sister are explicit canon.

Now, to be clear: I don't buy into this. I think this is an extremely generous reading of Korekiyo's character, and that it removed his agency and the horror of his crimes to make him more sympathetic (particularly for shipping purposes - if you glance through the Miyadera tag, you see a LOT of Korekiyo/Rantaro fics with Miyadera as the evil abuser Rantaro must rescue Korekiyo from). I also think that people give too much credit to the canonicity of Miyadera's "possession" when it isn't clear, even in the universe of the game itself, whether Miyadera is actually a tulpa or if it's an identity that resulted from Korekiyo's trauma, like Syo/Jack.

But on its own, I don't care about it THAT much. People have headcanons I disagree with all the time. I don't really like a lot of people's thoughts about Nagito's backstory, either, but I don't think about it very often, and I certainly don't care enough to get mad about it. The problem is...

People are very, VERY violent about Miyadera.

I'm going to ask you to reread the quotes from Miyadera as a reminder of literally everything we know about her personality. And then I'll ask you to read this post.

This...is, in fact, despite all odds, the predominate opinion on Miyadera. If you go into her character tags, there are an endless number of posts like these, daydreaming about doing violence on her person, murdering her, torturing her, etc.

As a Grandparent (25, the age of spinsterhood), this sets off some alarm bells. This is how people used to treat female characters who got in the way of their favorite ships, like Kairi from Kingdom Hearts. Now, that is popularly understood to have been a result of misogyny. It is horrifying to see that it has survived.

Fantasizing about committing excessive violence against a woman...is misogyny. Making up crimes a woman did not canonically commit as an excuse to justify fantasizing about violence against her is misogyny. It is one thing to dislike a character based on headcanons. It is a totally separate matter to participate in and encourage this level of vitrol solely to make a male character more sympathetic.

To clarify: I do not think that misogyny is the sole reason for this interpretation. By nature, Danganronpa appeals to teenagers, who tend to fall into this type of fandom-wide trap more easily. But it is, in fact, more concerning to normalize this sort of thought process among teens and young people. And so I am very defensive of Miyadera's actual character as a result.

#miyadera shinguji #asks #anon #meta #talk to the mod #hope this doesnt come across as too biased! #ill reblog this again later when its not 4 am lmao #korekiyo's sister

[infinitewarden]

Osiris isn’t Savathun.

Great! Now that I have your attention:

Man you guys tire me out about Osiris. If you truly believe this is Osiris I don’t mean to sound like That Guy that’s like “you don’t know what you’re talking about” but... You don’t know what you’re talking about.

So.

Let’s talk about how much Osiris cares about the City and humanity and why the Osiris in Epilogue is not actually Osiris.

Alright. Let’s start off with context. I think it’s super important to see what we do know as Osiris’s views. From my heavy analyses of him since 2020 I can confidently say these are what he views as the most important things a person can do:

Keep promises

Speak their truths

Protect the City & Humanity

Know that the Vex are true Evil.

Now, I won’t be doing a breakdown of each one individually but I will be talking a great deal of how important honesty is to Osiris, the City, and his views of the Vex.

Speaking honestly and bluntly.

I don’t know how many of you were into Destiny before Beyond Light, so if you were unaware of this it’s not your fault. However I’ve seen a very strange change in tone when it comes to how people view Osiris. Before Season of Hunt people hated - and I mean hated - Osiris. Why? Because he was blunt. They viewed his bluntness as rudeness.

To see a sudden switch to him being secretive and scheming is... alarming, to say the least. (And to see people think that this is the norm is also alarming but in other ways.)

The Osiris before Hunt was not secretive and scheming. He sought knowledge openly. He sought, specifically, the truth. I must stress just how open he was about his plans. First I’ll give you a few in lore examples:

I admit, I found your questions divisive and disloyal, and I feared you might be capable of breaking our unity when the City's position had grown so tenuous. Why divert attention away from the Traveler, our only hope? And then it got worse, dabbling in thanatonautics, Ahamkara-lore, chasing after Xur and the tricks of the Nine. Launching expeditions into the Reef and beyond at a time when ships were irreplaceable. Your quest split Guardians along ideological lines. This was your greatest crime: Hunters chose to pursue your visions instead of protecting refugees, Titans assembled teams to chase the legendary Vault of Glass instead of striking the Fallen, and Warlocks turned away from the study of the Traveler in favor of  your  ultimate obsession... learning the exact nature of the Darkness. ... Perhaps what drives a Warlock to madness is truth.

Osiris.

"Do not romanticize this burden. We wield a weapon." The Speaker shakes his head. "The Light wields you, Osiris. You are what you make of it. A glorious extension of its majesty, in many directions." Osiris paces at cadence with his words. "Then it would do well to speak clearly. To better direct me." The Speaker cocks his head. "Without will? Then it would be no better than the Darkness." "I am asking only for guidance; it is a delicate game we are playing." Osiris's voice, distressed. Regal again, the Speaker motions to the stone garden. "Will you sit with me?"

13: Margins Part II.

And, while I don’t particularly like using the Fall of Osiris comic as a source, it does have very important lines on his viewpoints that I find relevant yet.

Fall of Osiris #1.

Hell he was open about his plans to fuck with time itself to bring Saint back.

Sagira narrowed her eye at the rogue Lightbearer and lowered herself to Osiris’s shoulder. “Why’s he here?” she asked quietly. “I asked him to consult on the engineering work,” Osiris replied, crossing his arms. “You sicko,” the other man declared, walking a circle around the Warlock, his eyes darting along every surface of the Sundial around them. ... “Just one more question, then. Why all the fuss?” “I owe him.” “I owe a lotta people, Warlock. You’re opening the gates of hell with a Vex key.” “When the Traveler brought me back, I had no friends. No family—” “No one had anything in the Dark Age.” “But Saint was always there. And I saw him grow from neophyte to demigod.”

The Sundial.

"You haven't left the Forest in years," Ikora said to Osiris, the only one to address him directly. "I need help," Osiris replied. "I know," Ikora responded, hands clasped behind her back. She stared intently at her former mentor. Back in her Crucible days, that uncompromising gaze was often the last thing her opponents saw. Aunor glanced sidelong at her superior. Harper coughed and looked down at his datapad. "Two years ago, Guardians entered the Infinite Forest," Osiris continued. "They aided me in defeating the Axis Mind Panoptes, preventing a Vex apocalypse from befalling this system. "In the process," he looked between each of them in turn, "Some Guardians reported a body they found in the Forest depths." Ikora sighed. "Saint-14 never came back from that last mission to Mercury. We finally knew why. I reacted to it the only way I knew how."

Desperate Times.

“I do not understand all of this code. This is Geppetto’s specialty,” Saint-14 says while standing bent over a wide desk covered in data tablets. Holographic images of the Lighthouse shimmer in the Hangar lights. “We could use the Crucible right now. Your trials. This will be very helpful. You mean to stay, yes?” “I will. Long enough to show you how to implement the simulation; but tonight, I must disembark,” Osiris says. “So soon?” Osiris tenses his jaw in forced silence. He twiddles with code. “I’m worried about what Vance found.” Saint places a heavy hand on Osiris’s chest. “Let go of your obsession. Do not leave chasing phantoms again.” “Phantoms… You think the Darkness is satisfied? This is just the first move. I need to know the next before it’s made.” “If there is something you fear, let me help you. We face this together.” Osiris’s mind drifts to the Dark anomalies. Saint doesn’t need another burden. “The safest place for you is the Tower, Saint. Time... tends to renege on its gifts.” “So, your mission is dangerous?” Osiris considers lying. “Potentially.”

Immolant I.

There are many more sources I could list on his bluntness and honesty but there’s honestly too much. What is important to extrapolate from all of it is this:

OSIRIS SPOKE THE TRUTH NO MATTER IF IT GOT HIM IN TROUBLE. IT IS ONE OF THE MAIN REASONS HE GOT EXILED.

Protecting the City & Humanity

Idk where people get the idea that he’s abandoned the City and humanity. And I don’t understand where people think it’s “typical Osiris behavior” to choose to put the City in danger.

I want to make something very clear here:

Osiris was exiled. He did not abandon the City. And though others view him as abandoning it, that wasn’t his intention. He never intentionally abandoned it. Everything he did was in pursuit of a brighter future for humanity. Let’s look at one of his lines from the Sundial activity during Dawn.

“By the time I left the City, many believed my practices to be sacrilege. But my methods have prevented countless futures not unlike the one you walk now. When it is laid out before you, would you not sacrifice anything to see this future shut?”

The Sundial.

He left because he weighed his options and he saw that humanity would have better use of him if he left. He cares A great deal about the City. He cares almost too much about it. He would never give Lakshmi the technology to cause it harm, especially knowing that she’s unstable. And I’ve seen some people think he’s playing 5D chess? In what world would he ever choose to bring harm upon humanity for some sort of... agenda; which I’ve already cleared up earlier, he’s open about his plans.

Let’s look at more known lore about Osiris’s feelings of the City & humanity.

"You've wrapped your mind around an idea of your own making. I have always tolerated this fawning 'movement' of yours, but this is a step too far." Osiris seethed. Brother Vance was awestruck. He stared blankly at Osiris, unsure of what he could say to quell his anger and dissolve his frustration. "What I have discovered…" "…is dangerous enough to destroy every man, woman, and child in existence. You're meddling with forces outside your grasp," Osiris reprimanded. "I warn you here and now, remove yourself from this Lighthouse. Find a simple life. Start a family. Write music. Leave Mercury and this fool's errand behind."

Chapter 8: Idolatry.

Osiris was furious to find out Vance was experimenting in his name by endangering people for his goals. And he was especially mad that he would dive into such dangerous areas so much so that it had the potential to destroy humanity.

"It's truth." Osiris considers this. "Truth seems subjective these days," Osiris says, finally observing his entourage for the first time. Among them, a small group of men and women, stand two wayward Guardians—Warlocks, it appears—and a child. Their forlorn faces resonate with him. Castaways and believers. The weeks since his departure from the Last City have worn on him. He was used to working alone, knowing he could fall back to the City's resources should he need them. Now, adrift in the expanse of purpose, he finds himself longing for a place he could return to. A sanctuary.

Chapter 2: Postexilic.

Here’s a few lines from Season of Dawn:

“The Traveler, mutilated. Mercury, a desolate warzone. This is the bleak future the Cabal wants for us all. We do not know what has become of humanity here. I hope we will not find out.”

.

“There are many terrible futures, but I have not grown numb to seeing them. The future the Cabal wish for is a nightmare for humanity.”

.

“If the Traveler fled the system, there is a chance that the Darkness would ignore our region of the galaxy entirely. It would sacrifice our second awakening, our ability to wield the Light, but potentially continue our Golden Age. There are too many variables at risk, but it's a variant path worth investigating in the Infinite Forest.”

.

“This battered Mercury is a blueprint for our system. Lightless, bowed, and nothing more than fuel for an endless war. It must never come to pass.”

The Sundial.

There are many. Many. More lines I could put here about how much Osiris doesn’t want to see humanity suffering. And especially how he doesn’t want the City to be at risk. But I think you get the picture.

Know that the Vex are true Evil.

So. We all know Osiris as “the Vex guy.” His whole thing is on fighting the Vex. However it seems people think that he’d be okay with using them for grounds of a higher purpose? Or something? I don’t know, everyone I see rebuffing Osiris’s actions with Lakshmi don’t seem to be interested in explaining this one.

So anyways. Let’s talk about how Osiris views the Vex as true evil compared to other species.

“The Fallen are not so different from us. How hard would you fight if the Light were taken from you?” “Those stories ring false to me,” said Saint. “They are not a noble people. I’ve fought them, and so have you.” “I have not fought them all,” the Warlock replied, pulling his hands apart to create an intricate web of hovering cubes and points of light. “They are nothing, no threat—not like the Vex. Not like the Darkness.”

Vanguard Commander.

[u.2:06] Have you spoken to the House of Light, like I asked? [u.1:07] I would rather not speak with Fallen. [u.2:07] They may need our help. Their cause is just. [u.1:08] What happened to “trust no one?” [u.2:08] What happened to your sense of right and wrong, hero?

Maintenance Operations Log 30037.

The unenlightened wonder at my so-called "fixation" upon the Vex. They believe our gravest existential threat is the Hive, for those beings have made a pact with the Darkness itself via the medium of the Worm Gods (according to Toland, at least, and I see no reason to doubt him in this). But Darkness is not merely absence of Light. Darkness is an entity unto itself. Put simply, Darkness is not Nothing. But the Vex? The Vex seek neither Light nor Darkness. They seek Convergence, the reduction of all life to its simplest, most meaningless form. An entelechy of zeros and ones. "Evil" is a word for sentimentalists and fools. But, in the ontology of the sentimental, the Vex are more deserving of the term than the Hive. Given a choice between Darkness and Convergence, I would choose Darkness. It is a logical choice. Yet for this they banish me.

Kairos Function (Hunter).

This one is important because Osiris doesn’t subscribe to the idea of “good” and “evil”, and that he would go so far to say that the Vex are Evil shows just how much of a threat he views them as.

It’s just. Mind boggling to me that people think that Osiris would be okay with a Vex invasion. That Osiris would encourage Lakshmi to open up a rift to “send the Fallen away” (Despite being one of the earliest sympathizers!) Osiris isn’t ineffable, he’s just a man trying to do his best to help humanity. His actions aren’t difficult to understand, they have been written to be very clear and with understanding his motives.

Saying that it’s natural for him to be secretive and have contradicting opinions and actions is just. Wrong. It’s not him. It’s not how he’s supposed to be understood. Even in Curse of Osiris I don’t think his actions didn’t make any sense.

This is going to sound very mean but I want to be 100% clear: If you think that Osiris would actively choose to put the City in danger of the Vex, if you think that he would actively choose to stand calmly and watch as his lover was about to die to the very things he spent millions of lives to save... You don’t understand Osiris. Go back and reread his lore.

I leave you with this:

The Vanguard is dubious of our intent and ability, fearing corruption and displacement. They do not trust me. You were held in similar contempt for speaking your truth and empowering free thought. You know what it feels like to be chastised and labeled a traitor. We are mere steps away from a disintegration of our institutions, and they cannot see destruction staring them in the face. ... For so long, we have clung to the Light, denying the strength offered by the Dark. By using Stasis, we will end this war. We see this contest for what it truly is: a game, played by our adversaries. And we have been the pawns. We are pawns no more. This is not a battle I want to wage without you, although we may not have a choice in the matter. Wherever you may be, please come back to us.

To Osiris.

#theus.exe #lore.exe #osiris #destiny osiris #osiris destiny #destiny spoilers #long post

[hermitreunited]

Give us the spicy Ben takes. You know you want to. Like putting too much Sriracha on your eggs, you want to tempt this fandom. Tell me, Roo

You are either the worst influence, or the best. You are both. Both of those things. 

Well shit, okay, it’s Spicy Ben Takes time!

So you know that thing in fandom where Ben gets credited as Klaus’ babysitter, the voice of reason that has managed to keep Klaus alive all these years? The viewpoint that Klaus is going to fall apart post-s2 without Ben there to help take care of him? I’m here to say that canon suggests the opposite is true.

Having someone watching you limits your freedom to make your own choices — or to put it another way, having someone watching you is an extra factor to weigh during the decision-making process. Unfortunately, people are complicated and messy and the Hargreeves are especially so, and so that extra factor is not always going to weigh in favor of making better choices.

And Ben and Klaus are siblings. 

There might be nothing more powerful than sibling-induced stubbornness. There was some musical artist that my older sister liked that I said was bad, and then when I realized they were good actually, I kept pretending to hate them until some time after we’d both graduated high school. In turn, because I listened mostly to movie scores, my little brother declared that any music without lyrics was bad and all sounded the same. He had to listen to Beethoven’s Symphony No. 6 and the opening track to The Dark Knight and tell us that they sounded so alike that he couldn’t tell them apart. 

He HAD TO do this. I don’t have a name as good as the Cain Instinct to describe it, but I submit that the inability to admit fault in front of a sibling runs as deep, if not deeper. It’s something to do with pride, probably, and more importantly the second part of this phrase: you can’t admit that you’re wrong or you’ll never hear the end of it. You aren’t going to fall out of touch when you graduate or whatever, this person will be around for the rest of your life reminding you of this fuckup whenever it benefits them, for forever.

(okay a read more because this is looooong sorrrrryyy)

So, to take a common fandom scenario, if Ben says Klaus should go to rehab and get clean? Klaus can’t just do that, especially if Ben has said it before and Klaus established that his side of issue was that he didn’t want to. If Klaus decides he does want to go to rehab after Ben has been on his case about it, then Ben can claim for the rest of forever that he’s the reason that Klaus is sober now, and that would be super fucking annoying when dealing with addiction is such deeply personal work. It’s a lose scenario however you slice it (which is very typical for sibling stupidity — it’s a fight that you lose as soon you decide it’s worth fighting over).

Now okay, let’s back up and be clear here. Klaus falling prey to sibling-induced stubbornness isn’t Ben’s fault. I’m not suggesting that Ben is actively standing in Klaus’ way, or that Klaus would have made the choice on his own to go to rehab had Ben not suggested it first. I’m saying that Ben’s presence simply makes it a harder thing to do, a larger mountain for Klaus to climb, on a journey that is already intimidating enough on its own.

And Ben is always there. There’s no space for Klaus to go off on his own and cool down and admit to himself that he is being stupid. Irritation can only build and build for years with no relief — irritation on both sides. 

So, yeah. Very unintentionally, Ben advocating for Klaus’ sobriety may in fact be a hinderance to that sobriety being achieved in actuality. Klaus might have more motivation to make good choices and less inclination to make bad choices when he doesn’t have a brother constantly watching over his shoulder.

But don’t just take my word for it! There are a few spots in canon that bear this interpretation out. I first got this in my head when I compared the ending of s1 and s2 — instead of leaving Vanya alone, Klaus comes out to join her in s2, which prompts the others to come as well and seems to turn out better than s1. No moons are exploded in the making of s2. Of course Ben is not the only difference in the situation, and of course we don’t know if Klaus would have made a similar choice if Ben was there advocating for it. What we do know for sure is that Klaus is capable of making good choices on his own.

We also see a couple of times that following Ben’s advice is not always a great choice. In s2, telling the cult the truth doesn’t do anything useful, and going after Luther in 1x07 gets Klaus killed. It seems like the time that Klaus was living his most well-adjusted healthiest life was when he was in Vietnam, without Ben. 

This is all to say that no, Klaus does not need Ben to be able to take care of himself. There’s more reasons to believe that Klaus will fare better without Ben’s constant presence. Surely there are aspects of his life that will be sadder, and emptier, without the brother that was such a fixture of his life for so long. But there will absolutely be parts of his life that are better, too. That’s one of those things that makes loss and grief so painful and guilty, isn’t it?

So actually maybe this is all to say, I would really love to see some more fandom takes that explore this complicated, flawed dynamic, and less of the one-dimensional ‘Babysitter Ben’ trope. Ben Is a Nuanced Individual With Flaws and Whose Actions Sometimes Cause Unintended and Unfortunate Consequences, and All of This Makes Him More Interesting and None of it Makes Him Evil 2k21!! (is that still a thing people do?)

#WOW see THIS is why I take uhhh. months??? #to answer asks #or to make any posts at all really #tua #tua discourse #ben and klaus #asked and answered #yeah it’s just that I am incapable of saying anything in less than 1000 words apparently #long post #anyway I’m ready to be cancelled #it’s not like I’m all that active on here anyway #unpopular opinion #SPICY takes #tua meta #you are a menace to society but mainly to me sunrise <3 #sunriseseance #oh okay additionally though yeah it's not actually a TRUE thing that a sibling will lord a win over you forever #it's something that COULD be true and you are grumpy and fighting so you take it as proven fact #what I'm saying is that it's stupid. I really really really want that to be clear. no one is the winner in these scenarios #and you are doing a bad behavior by engaging in it and allowing your stubbornness priority over healthy communication

[concussed-to-pieces]

Of Gorgons And Gardens

Fandom(s) : The Mandalorian and Prospect [2018]

Pairing: The Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader/Ezra

Rating: Holy shit uh. Explicit.

AN: That's right. I've done it. It's time for the sex pollen. This is a standalone that's not involved with either of my previous tales related to these fine boys, so we have a Death Watch-raised Mando that takes the Creed incredibly seriously and an Ezra that's well armed. Also I apologize for the constant viewpoint switches. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @hardcorewwetrash @helplessly-nonstop @lackofhonor @oloreaa @theocatkov @jackierey09 @zombiexbody @crookedmoonsaultpunk @pedrosbigdorkenergy @absurdthirst @culturalrebel

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: For obligatory dubious consent due to sex pollen, as well as threesome activities, breeding kink and gratuitous bodily fluids. Stay safe!]

The quarry was named Ezra. Not that their name mattered, the chain code was freshly generated. The strangest part was that there had been no image attached to the puck. 

Din had tipped his helmet to the side, narrowing his eyes and tapping the bounty puck curiously. "Somethin' wrong with this?"

Karga shook his head. "No, he's just too slick for us to have any holorecords on him. Somebody from Bakhroma wants him alive."

Undocumented quarry was exceptionally rare, and not usually something that one requested a Mandalorian for. It indicated green prey, a first-time offender. "Bakhroma, huh? Pretty far out." He wasn't an idiot. There had to be a reason why Karga had offered him this one specifically.

"Guy apparently walked off with a majority of someone's aurelac pull. Typical floater squabble, but one of them ponied up the mining points for credits and asked for a certified, card-carryin' Mando." Karga had leaned back in the booth. "How's the kid?"

Din had just grunted noncommittally in reply, gloved fingers scooping the puck off the table. "I have to get back to the Crest."

…

"The target has been on Bakhroma relatively recently. Not sure if he was in the Green or not, but either way he'll probably be a walking biohazard." Mando muttered, turning his head towards you. "So you're staying put."

"Until something happens to you and I have to pull you out of the fire again." You retorted with a smirk. 

"Hey, that was one time." You knew he was narrowing his eyes, though you weren't quite sure how you knew. Something about the way he tilted his head ever so slightly to the right clued you in.

"You were full of nexu quills."

"One. Time." The Mandalorian growled. "I even said thank you."

"You sure did," You replied, laughing. "Right before you passed out!"

He palmed over the side of your head roughly. "Brat." His grumble was fond, softening the edge of the insult. "Promise me you'll stay on the Crest, Senaar, otherwise I'll ask Omera to take you and the kid for an extended sleepover."

"Fine, I promise." You relented, huffing in annoyance.

He tinkered with his charts for a moment, then tilted his head again. "Where did you go earlier? I got done with Karga hours ago. Couldn't find you."

You stiffened, abruptly absorbed in checking the fuel levels. "Oh you know. Around." You said breezily. 

"Well in the future, when you feel like going around, at least let me know so I don't think you've been abducted." Mando grumbled, folding his arms over his chest. 

"Aw, you're cute when you care!" You cooed, making him scoff and return to his control panel. 

…

In hindsight, he wasn't sure what he was more pissed off about. The fact that this Ezra character had led him on a wild fucking chase over half of a suspiciously verdant moon, or the fact that his brain had apparently decided to shift into overdrive regarding you. He couldn't get you off…

Get you off his mind, that is. Stars, he was so confused. 

He felt like he had been walking in circles for hours, the only noise the steady beep of the tracker. He was too hot. Thirsty. His armor was chafing like it never had before; it was less like an extension of his body and more like a too-tight skin he needed to shed. Din finally bent over, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. 

"You look like shit," drawled an unfamiliar voice while a set of knuckles rapped on the back of his helmet. Djarin jerked upright and immediately staggered, fumbling to grip a tree trunk for support. His vision swam uncertainly, and he blinked several times in an effort to clear it. 

The man in front of him was clad in a utilitarian suit that bore an unfamiliar logo, maybe a mining corporation. No duraplast or durasteel visible, no unnecessary frills, old-fashioned rubber gaskets to seal where glove met sleeve. Din's gaze traveled upwards, past the man's chest to his large domed helmet. He kept his motions deliberate. He had been caught off-guard by this man, but he wouldn't--

What?!

"I'll assume you're encroaching upon my solitude to haul my undesirable personage back into civilized spaces?" The man inquired after Din had taken several long seconds to try and understand what he was seeing. "For monetary compensation, if I had to hazard a guess. There are few lures that tempt a man so far out into the uncharted."

Why does he have my face? Sure, the scars were different. Different facial hair, different hairstyle, and a wild little tuft of blond sprang from amidst the dark locks at his hairline. But it was him. Same brown eyes, same nose, same mouth curving into an infuriatingly benign smirk. Djarin was struck with the sudden urge to punch him, his belly writhing.

"I take it the dust has you firm in its grip. A real pity, that. I'd love to sympathize, but regrettably I am at an advanced state of the same condition." The quarry gestured at his right arm, where a bloodstain blooming on the fabric of his suit indicated a loss of the integrity of said suit. "I'm Ezra, though I'm certain you're already well aware. And you?"

"Irrelevant." Din grated out, clumsy fingers fumbling to get his binders off his belt. 

"A man of action, excellent! I shall acquiesce, but only because being removed from this Centaurian mass is infinitely better than being confined to it." Ezra replied with a sage nod, extending his wrists. "Whither to, my recalcitrant steerforth?" 

"Be quiet." The Mandalorian grunted, his mind still reeling. How does he have my face? Then, a new, far more troubling thought occurred to him.

If he turned Ezra in, people would inadvertently know what he looked like. They wouldn't know, but they would know. What would that mean for him? For his dedication to the Creed? Did things like that count against him? Had something like this ever happened before?

"Tell me you, at the bare minimum, have functional transport?" Ezra asked after Din had relieved him of his blaster, sounding hopeful. It was so strange hearing his own voice with such an odd, imprecise cadence to it. The Mandalorian had worked for years to improve his Basic so that anyone and everyone would be able to understand him through the coarse modulator, though he still ended up sounding hitchy or curt most of the time. 

"How else would I have gotten here?" Din snapped, gesturing the other man forward with the encouragement of his own weapon.

At least now he knew how to get back to the Crest, thank the Maker for his helmet and the tracking protocols he had. Now, observing his previous path of forward motion, he realized with a jolt how much it wound back and forth. He had been walking in circles.

Since when did he lose his sense of direction? Even in unknown territory, he usually had a damn good idea of which end was up. That concerned him.

And on top of everything else, Ezra wouldn't shut the hell up.

"Be quiet." Din muttered for what seemed like the thousandth time. How long had they been walking? Probably his own fault. With how much his head was spinning, he didn't dare deviate from the winding trail he had left. Even if a straight path would have been miles quicker.

Ezra continued to drone, "a toilsome marathon of carnage, I assure-"

"I said, be fucking quiet." 

The target huffed out a breath, but obliged Djarin's terse demand for the moment. Din's head was pounding, his already short fuse shrinking with every word out of the talkative man's mouth. Was this the Maker's hysterically ironic way of compensating for how little a solitary Mandalorian would speak? Making a doppelganger that was ceaselessly chatty?

Din talked a lot more these days, between you and the kid. Maker, you. His head swam again and a low, guilty heat throbbed in his belly. You talking to him, the way your mouth moved around your words-

No. No, stop, he told himself sternly, two fingers sliding idly between the gasket and gorget at his throat just so he could breathe a little easier. This planet's air felt thick, like breathing through tar. 

"I would not indulge that craving, were I you." Ezra spoke up, the man obviously watching him claw at his neck. "The less exposure you have, the better." 

Din wanted to snap at him because honestly how many times do I have to say shut the fuck up-

But then he stopped. Since when did he even do things like breach the seal of his own fucking helmet on an unfamiliar planet?! He flinched, tearing his hand away and hating the low, wry chuckle that issued from the quarry. The other man mused, "It's already too late for me, you know. I imagine I'll have an hour, perhaps two."

"What the hell are you talking about now."

"The dust, my armored associate. It permeates. Sludges the mental processes." Ezra shrugged with only one shoulder. "Among other things."

"How do you know so much about it?" Din gritted his teeth against the buzzing pain in his stomach. "Seems pretty stupid of you to hide out here." Especially if you know the flora is deadly.

"There is naught to do on a freighter slingback aside from read." Ezra's eyes narrowed. "And I could hardly pick and choose which moon my pod decided to give out on, you monosyllabic knuckle-dragger."

"Watch your mouth before I break it." Din snarled.

"Lo and behold, he comprehends! I assumed all you knew how to say was a stagnant variation on the theme of be fucking quiet." Ezra retorted with enraging cheer. 

Din's gloves creaked with the tension of his fists and he barely kept from slamming them into his temples. They were almost to the Crest. Almost. Once they got there, he would throw this mouthy nerf herder into the carbonite and…

And what? And turn him over? And inadvertently compromise his whole identity, possibly destroy decades of loyally obeying the Creed? 

All the deprivation, the loneliness, the weakness of his own heart...

"Be fucking quiet." The Mandalorian muttered, knowing full well that the other man hadn't said anything. Be fucking quiet. Be fucking quiet quiet quiet just fucking be quiet-- 

Din ground the heels of his palms against the curve of his helmet at his forehead, praying for some kind of relief.

Carbonite, he reminded himself.

…

Ezra grudgingly held his tongue, which even he had to admit was a rarity. Unlike the other floaters that had approached him before and met their swift demise, this particular bounty hunter was heavily kitted. The gleaming plate he sported didn't seem to hinder his motion in the slightest. 

Interesting.

Ezra knew when he had been outplayed, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't banking on the other man having a functional ship even before he decided to go peacefully. 

The hunter (mentally dubbed Steerforth, he rudely had not introduced himself) obviously had no idea about the pollen, for all his outward preparedness. Clearly Serpentia was not as well known as Ezra had wished. 

Regrettable. 

He could hope that the bounty hunter hadn't been exposed, he mused. After all, the man was wearing that positively arresting helmet, and his suit seemed of a sturdy (if unfamiliar) weave. Here was an individual that Ezra would have to tread carefully around, if he wished to escape with his life. 

His faith waned a bit as he recalled watching the man 'track' him, winding back and forth through the trees like a drunken mule until Ezra had taken pity on him and turned himself in. 

The hunter was terse in his speech, likely weary from the chase. Ezra could sympathize, he was weary from running. It had almost been a relief when that last hunter had attacked him and forced him to crash the pod on this moon. Though his relief had quickly turned to dismay when Ezra had done a full turn outside his pod and realized just what was making all the pollen in the air.

Serpentia, Serpent's Tongue. He had never encountered the plant in the proverbial flesh, but once upon a time he had been accidentally doused with the extract when a holding tank had burst while he was on a job site.

His skin crawled as he remembered the torment that followed during his solitary confinement. He had been nigh-certain he would not recover, clawing free of the haze that had gripped him with the barest vestiges of his mental faculties. 

This moon's Serpentia population seemed infinitely kinder than the concentrate he had encountered, if only for its soft, creeping approach. It lapped at the base of his brain, dulled the edge of his panic until he was nearly comfortable with the ache that licked hot in his groin. 

But thank Kevva for this bounty hunter lumbering through the brush! With a little luck, Ezra would be able to persuade him to accept a few pearls of aurelac in lieu of dragging him back to face that greatly-exaggerated justice.

...

According to the limited information from the Crest's scans, the air on this moon was perfectly safe to breathe. 

And if what Mando had said was right, he probably would need the ship to himself for a little while to decontaminate. So you had posted up beside the ramp once he had departed, occasionally wiping the sweat off your brow. The atmosphere was humid and you watched as breezes too delicate for you to even feel nudged the thick pollen in the air this way and that. 

The moon was liberally coated with lush vegetation; just finding a place to safely land the Razor Crest had been a Herculean effort. You wondered vaguely if there was a lake or spring nearby that you would be able to cool off in. The ship's fresher was functional, of course, but its water had been sitting in the holding tank for a few cycles now and it smelled rusty. 

The pollen covered everything, orange-red substance sticking to your already-damp skin. You grimaced, wondering if maybe you should have put on your suit. But no, the atmosphere was safe. The scans had said so, and you already spent so much of your time in your thick suit…

The sunshine felt wonderful after all the hyperspace travel, like a warm embrace from a friend. You caught yourself wondering what Mando's hug might feel like. Probably uncomfortable, what with all the beskar. You scoffed at your thoughts. You really needed to stop thinking about him like that, he was technically your boss even if he called you his partner. So what if he had passed out on top of you? That had been an infection thing.

It wasn't as if he had stroked your cheek before he dropped, his voice breaking when he called you Senaar... 

So what if you had solicited not one, but two Mandalorians during your last stop on Nevarro? 

It wasn't as if he noticed anything that you did, aside from when it had inconvenienced him. It wasn't as if you couldn't handle your little infatuation with him, even if it did result in you seeking out Mandos that would give you attention.

You propped your chin up on your hand, your eyes half-focusing on the dust floating in the air. It was nice to just relax for once, though there was a little guilty sensation in your stomach. Because Mando was out there working, while you...were lounging around, soaking up the sunlight.

You weren't sure how long you sat there, but you finally got up with a groan and a stretch that felt heavenly. You would investigate the surrounding area, you decided, maybe you could rustle up something fresh. If you couldn't be active on the hunt for the quarry, you could at least restock the larders.

After what only felt like a few steps, you quickly stumbled across thick vines that bore an unfamiliar, violet-hued fruit. The fruit was the size of your fist, and the skin had slight give to it. Light-colored flowers dotted the vine here and there, their tiny stamens crested with heavy crowns of thick pollen. Clearly you had located one of the many sources of the dust that choked the air. 

You picked one of the fruits and propped it up on a flat rock, using your trusty field knife to slice it open. It had orange pulp inside it, and a small hollow in the middle filled with pinkish fluid. The whole fruit reminded you of a sunset. Dimly, you thought that you probably shouldn't be touching this fruit with your bare skin, on the off chance that it might be caustic or toxic. But it looked delicious. 

Surely just a little taste wouldn't hurt?

The pinkish fluid was almost overwhelmingly sweet, and sticky. It dribbled down your chin when you tipped the fruit to slurp it up. You laughed at yourself, tugging your tunic to scrub at your face. 

Mando will love these.

You weren't sure where the thought came from, but obviously it was true. The idea of Mando being alone, slipping off his helmet to eat...the juice from the fruit glistening on his mouth…

Your breathing had quickened. You carefully harvested more of the round fruit, tucking the ripe produce into the makeshift cradle of your tunic. Once you decided you had enough, you turned on your heel and went to make your way back to the Crest. 

...

No.

No no no no no-

Din stared at the partially-ajar ramp on the Crest and he wanted to yell. 

"Oh dear." Ezra murmured faintly. "What a predicament." He had been getting quieter and quieter the closer they drew to the ship, so hearing him talk again sent a jolt down Din's spine. "You left your egress open? How careless of you."

"I didn't." Din snarled, wrapping his fingers around the binders on Ezra's wrists. You. The throbbing in his stomach lurched.

Ezra's eyes widened and he abruptly planted his feet. Din hadn't realized just how off-kilter he was, normally something like a shift in weight wouldn't be enough to make him stagger. But he almost toppled, barely getting his balance back in time. "Is there someone else on that ship?" Ezra asked sharply. 

"Of course." Din didn't even think to lie. "Partner."

"Would they have wandered? Exposed themselves?" The prospector-thief-quarry continued to quiz him and Din resented it just a little. 

"Be quiet," He grunted, tapping at his gauntlet to open the ramp, "and get in the fucking hold."

Ezra abruptly drew himself up to his full height. "I do not believe you actually want me to do that." He intoned with difficulty, his teeth gritted. "Putting myself, yourself and the potential of one more infected person into an enclosed space is a very…" His words faltered. "Oh."

Din whirled, visor traveling up the ramp into the dim hold. And just barely visible at the edge of the ramp, a small pile of what looked like fruit--was that your leg?! He lunged forward, his blaster ready. 

"I would not advise you to approach them!" Ezra barked.

"Fuck you!" Din snapped, striding up the ramp to kneel alongside your body. He crushed one of the fruits beneath his knee, lurid pink juice erupting to soak into his suit. The color was high in your cheeks, your body blotchy with flush. Pollen encrusted your neck and shoulders, drifted through your hair; something pink and shiny coated your lips like a strange gloss.

Din caught himself leaning in and jerked back at the urgency in Ezra's voice when the prospector called, "Do they breathe, man?"

"Be quiet!" Djarin roared. Why hadn't he checked that first? What was wrong with him? He shoved his vambrace against your mouth, his chest clenching in relief when your breath fogged the metal. Stars. 

"I'm afraid this complicates things quite significantly." Ezra said loudly, fidgeting at the base of the ramp. "I was unaware you had a partner of the...other biological persuasion. Had it just been you and I, two masculine-presenting bipeds, things would have been miles simpler."

"What the hell are you saying now?" Din was getting tired of this shit, tired of listening to the other man talk. 

"This plant is...shall we say, heteronormative." Ezra drawled, waving his bound hands in the air to illustrate the cloying pollen. Din cocked his head in confusion. "You know, masculine and feminine? Male and female? Different. Hetero."

Djarin scoffed derisively. "My people don't care about that shit." 

"A noble practice to be certain, very forward-thinking."

"This is the Way." The Mandalorian replied. 

Ezra soldiered on, "Unfortunately, the plant that infests this planet does indeed differentiate. Fruit for the female, pollen for the male." He added hurriedly, "in the biological sense, of course! I will not make any assumptions about your partner. The fruit is a...a catalyst. Are you familiar with the old-Earth religious writings, the ones that mention the Garden? Or perhaps the Greek pantheon may have been more your style?" When Djarin shook his head, Ezra sighed. "The genus name in Basic is slippin' my mind. But this particular iteration is known as Serpent's Tongue, Serpentia. It is Medusine in nature and it inspires feelings of…" Ezra paused, licking his lips nervously. "Heat."  

"Heat." Din repeated blankly, knowing that he must be missing something. 

Ezra ducked his head, breaking eye contact. "As in, being in heat." The man clarified after a moment. 

"Excuse me?" 

"I'm-"

"Excuse me?" Din snarled, running his fingers through the juices that coated his knee. It was thick, sticky like syrup, why was it warm--He bolted to his feet and stalked back down the ramp. Ezra took a step back, and then another, the quarry obviously wary of him. Good. The satisfied feeling took some of the edge off his frustrated panic. "So what the hell is wrong with my partner?" Din grated out.

"Er, to couch it in layman's terms…" Ezra hesitated, clearing his throat. "They are aroused."

Aroused. Aroused. Aroused. "Sexually?" Din hated the way the word came out, all breathy like he was a youngling that had just learned about the wonders of copulation. 

Ezra nodded, grimacing. "From the sound of your tone, I would hazard a guess that the two of you have not been intimate."

"Why would we have been?" Din retorted bluntly.

Ezra raised an eyebrow, seeming as if he was avoiding looking at you. Good. Mine. Din had no idea where the hell that thought came from. "Oh of course, I was foolish to assume so blatantly." The prospector muttered. "That does complicate your own matters further, however. Were you previously sexually intertwined, this would have been much more simple." He suddenly doubled over at the waist, a loud grunt forced from his mouth and a low exclamation of, "fuck, fuck-"

The curse sent a hot flicker down Din's spine and it took him a second to realize that you had made a noise in reply. You sounded dazed, scared. He whirled on the ramp and knelt again, taking your hand. "Senaar, you coming around?" Your eyes looked...wrong, blinking open slowly; your pupils were blown like you'd been spiced. 

You stared up at him for several long seconds before your mouth opened. "Wanted to make lunch." You managed to say. "I don't feel good." 

"Well, you don't look so great either." Din said gruffly. 

"Bastard." You groaned at him, trying to sit up. "Maker, I feel so hot, I...oh! Oh no, you smushed one." You appeared to have noticed the remains of the sticky fruit currently seeping into his knee. "I wanted you to try it. Tastes...tastes...it's so sweet Mando, s'like candy." You saying his name (even if it wasn't his actual name, shit) was like a lightning bolt to his groin. You dragged your hand over his knee, gathering up the remnants of the fruit and then sliding your fingers into your mouth. 

You brought him food. His lungs felt too full and not full enough. Stars, the idea of you feeding him that, smearing it all over his mouth with those pretty little fingers-

No, the helmet. The helmet. He couldn't take off the helmet. The Creed.

He jerked his head up, looking to Ezra. The other man was still doubled over, holding his midsection as best as he could with his hands bound. 

A dark, uncharacteristically evil thought wound its way into Din's mind, sweet and smokey like a good ne'tra gal. "Get in the ship." He grunted. Ezra glanced up and Din was a little startled by the level of emotion he displayed. He wasn't used to seeing expressions play out on his own face. The other man seemed wildly uncomfortable and Din found that grounding, for whatever reason. 

"I do not dare to." Ezra panted finally. "Just being this close is...immensely troubling. I am not the master of my own body at this moment, Steerforth."

"Is this the target?" You asked softly. Din nodded and he could almost feel your eyes raking over the other man. "What happened? He's hurt."

Shit, he had nearly forgotten. Ezra was still bleeding from his arm. The quarry had obviously forgotten as well, clearly dealing with a much more pressing matter. 

You beckoned to the other man and Din had to rein in the knee-jerk reaction to grab his blaster as Ezra reluctantly approached. He had never been territorial about you before, what the hell was the matter with him? 

Ezra halted a good five feet away from you, keeping his head down. "I am Ezra. I apologize in advance for my untoward behavior." He muttered, his voice gone so low and gravelly he actually did sound like Din. The Mandalorian's stomach pitched uncertainly. "I am not myself at this point in time."

"What happened to your arm?" Your tone was warm, concerned. Din's fists clenched. "Did Mando do that?"

"Oh, no! Of course not. Your compatriot has been nothing if not a complete gentleman." Ezra replied wryly. "I sustained this injury during a previous floater's quarrel."

…

You hummed and you saw Mando stiffen up out of the corner of your eye. What was wrong with him? One second he had been leaning over you, all worry and hand holding. The next, he was barking at the quarry. 

And the quarry was hurt. Ezra, Ezra, his slow drawl making your head swim and your chest tingle. Never mind Mando, what was wrong with you? You felt so strange, like you were hyper-fixated. 

Maker, maybe you shouldn't have eaten that fruit. "I'm sorry." You apologized to Mando, your lower lip beginning to quiver. "I just wanted to give-"

"Be quiet." He ordered, his voice startlingly gentle. A gloved thumb pressed to your lower lip and you stared up at him, opening your mouth automatically even though you knew he was just wiping the juice away. You were startled when he slid his thumb into your mouth, but you obligingly cleaned the juice from the leather with your tongue. Shouldn't this be strange? But Mando just did it, like it was normal. Maybe it was normal. 

Your mind flew back to your sultry encounter on Nevarro, how you had occupied yourself while Mando wrapped up his business with the Guild, and warmth lanced through your stomach as you recalled greedy gloved hands grasping and caressing your bare skin-

"Steerforth, if you are to carry on in that heated demonstration I must plead for the carbonite treatment that you were so hellbent on throwing myself into earlier." Ezra sounded like he was in pain. "I have only endured this once before and it was a torment that threatened my already-tenuous sanity. Have fucking mercy man, I implore-"

"Be quiet." Mando snapped, "we have to treat your arm, right?"

"Fuck." Ezra swore again, the sound writhing through your belly. "Hurry then."

"Get in the ship. I'll turn on the filters."

"Do not leave me alone with them, I implore you!" Ezra cried, that domed helmet finally tilting enough for you to catch a glimpse of his face. "I am not the master of my own body, Steerforth." 

His eyes were dark, impossibly dark, and frantic as he argued with Mando. His skin seemed tanned or olive through the sun-struck dome of his suit's helmet. Short brown hair was plastered flat to his forehead with sweat, and the lower half of his face was coated in a somewhat unkempt mess of facial scruff. Too long to be five o'clock shadow, but too bedraggled to be dubbed anything else.

Roguish, you decided, wanting to laugh at yourself. He looks roguish. What a ridiculous thought to have! Not obviously dangerous like Mando, but still dangerous. Was that your heartbeat throbbing in your ears? You sighed softly, taking a step towards the other man without meaning to. 

Mando's hand was suddenly on your arm. "Hold it. Treatment. We have to treat his wound." He said gruffly. 

You nodded. Of course. Who knew what he had been exposed to through the breach in his suit? "I was going to help him walk?"

Mando shook his head. "You get the kit. You've got no gear on. He's contaminated." He reasoned. "Get me the kit and then seal yourself into the cockpit so we can filter the hold." You nodded again and his hand found your cheek, gloved fingers grazing your neck before he jerked back. "S...Sorry." he apologized.

"It's okay." You whispered.

…

Ezra, helmet discarded and suit stripped to the waist, flinched away from Din's touch yet again. "Stop. This is a bad wound. It'll get infected if I do this wrong." Din snapped. He rarely encountered blaster wounds that didn't self-cauterize, even though that tended to come with its own set of problems.

"I do not mean to tear free." Ezra protested. "Blood flow has increased. I am…" He paused, biting his lower lip. "Sensitive. Surely you have a handheld? One of the burners? Just burn it shut man, Kevva, I cannot even endure the graze of your fingers." 

"If I give you a burner patch, it'll seal in the infection." Din reasoned, flushing the wound again. "Focus on something else."

"I cannot." Ezra said sharply. "There is only one matter my brain currently wishes to focus on, and it is not the dire straits of my wounded arm." 

"Them?" Din asked, keeping his voice low. 

Ezra shot him a guilty look from beneath his sweat-matted fringe of brown hair, finally nodding. "It is ludicrous, but I feel as though I can taste them." He confessed. "Gods, I wish I had never landed on this accursed moon. I wish I had never encountered the Serpentia."

"What will happen?" Din did his best to maintain his vocal level as he bandaged the other man's wound.

"Arousal. Sheer, unadulterated arousal. You ache, like the worst fever you've ever had. I've heard it is even more excruciatin' for those of the other human biological persuasion, due to their genitals being internal. Though it is Medusine in nature, so it has a...failsafe, of sorts. You are seized with the primal instinct to mate, conquer, claim. It does not stop until you have buried your...until you have sheathed yourself in an orifice." Ezra was gasping for air. Obviously just talking about it was enough to cause him distress, either that or Djarin was being rougher than he thought. "Steerforth please, I-"

"This will cause them pain?" Din asked slowly. 

Ezra nodded jerkily. "I have been told it's like a sickly, stabbing heat. Fingers are not enough to…er, extinguish the flames." His cheeks flushed. "The tongue soothes, but not overlong. Internals require certain length, and...rigidity." Din didn't miss the way his eyes flickered down to the beskar that covered his upper thighs. "When last I encountered this damned flora, I suffered the effects alone and I felt as if I would go mad."

Tongue. Fingers. Rigidity. Din's mind reeled. "Specifics." He gritted out, his body awash with heat in his armor when Ezra made a pitiful noise.

"Kevva, have mercy on me Steerforth."

"I said. Specifics." Din fisted a glove in the other man's hair, tilting his head back and forcing him to look up. Ezra moved, albeit reluctantly, the Adam's apple of his throat bobbing when he swallowed. "Specifics." Din repeated himself, a little softer this time.

Ezra shuddered all over. "They will seek you out. To be fucked." He said, cringing a bit as if he disliked using the word. "You must open them up with your tongue first, dissolve the Medusine barrier with saliva. That's the failsafe, you see, an individual of that biological persuasion who is suffering cannot be penetrated without tender effort. Ease into it and perhaps they will not loathe you when this madness has run its course-"

"I can't." Din interrupted. 

"What?" Ezra gawked at him. 

"I can't. T-Tongue. Not allowed. Forbidden." Din felt like he was drunk. "Helmet."

The other man's brow furrowed. "You can, I presume, take off other portions of your plate?"

Din shook his head, wishing that he could explain it better. "Technically yes, but it's frowned upon. Exceptions happen. And under no circumstances can I take the helmet off." 

"How in the Fringe have you ever-"

"I...inspire feelings in people." That was probably the most delicate way he could have said I cater exclusively to bipeds with a predator/prey fetish. Din grimaced. "I'm large and imposing. Usually that's...enough. No need for warm up." He said awkwardly. "Armor stays on."

"What a bewildering existence!" Ezra tilted his head in disbelief. "So you have never removed…?"

Din shook his head. "Not in the presence of others. The Creed forbids it."

"Your dedication is admirable, but unfortunately it leaves your partner twisting in the wind." The quarry pointed out. "I would offer my services, but I am an unknown and-"

"Yes." Din gritted out, that dark thought slithering back through his mind. 

"Yes?"

"Your services." Din took a deep breath. He didn't bargain with quarry, but this man had his face. He couldn't turn him in without jeopardizing everything he had sworn his life to. "In exchange, when this is...when they no longer require your services, I'll let you go."

Ezra's eyebrows bunched together. "I'm afraid I don't follow, Steerforth."

"I don't want them to be in pain." Din's voice grated in his throat and he watched Ezra's eyes widen in comprehension. "I don't want them to hurt."

"You...this is not just the Serpentia. You have a prior attachment to them."

"It doesn't matter what I do or don't have." Djarin muttered dismissively. "Because of the Creed, I...I can't. But you can."

"You can't give them your mouth, certainly, but there are-"

"If it's what makes it possible, you have to do it!" Din interjected sharply. "I don't want them to hurt."

"I need you to comprehend what you're askin' of me!" Ezra shot back, his bound fists clenched tight enough to whiten his knuckles. "They don't know me from Job, and you're all but demanding I violate their trust-"

"I don't want them to hurt!" Din roared, startling himself with his own furious reaction. Whatever else he was about to say was cut off by your staggering descent on the ladder. You looked unwell. Ezra skittered back a few steps, falling on his ass with a muffled swear. 

"Mando?" Your voice wavered and you swayed at the ladder. Din lurched forward, tucking you into his arms as you sniffled, "I don't feel so good. I think I'm sick." You were radiating heat that he could feel even through his suit. Your tunic was soaked with sweat.

"Osi'kyr." Din cursed under his breath after he swapped to his infrared and saw just how brilliant your signature was. "Listen to me, alright Senaar?" He murmured, simultaneously loving and hating the way you nodded in a docile manner. "We know what can fix this. But it's not…" he paused, searching for the right term. 

"Appropriate." Ezra supplied loudly. 

"I feel awful." Your whimper made Din's stomach ache. His cock rubbed against the confines of his compression leggings. 

Ignore it.

"I know you do." Din pressed his palm to your forehead. "Listen to me. We can fix this. You trust me, right?" Your nod was immediate and Din barely stifled his groan. "Ezra knows what's wrong. Ezra can help."

"He can help?" You echoed blearily, looking past Din. "Okay. He said something about the fruit before, right? I shouldn't have eaten it. M'sorry. Was it poison?"

"Poison may have been simpler to endure." Ezra muttered. "It is an aphrodisiac. Do not blame yourself. The fruit is visually appealing for a reason, otherwise the plant would not be able to propagate."

…

Aphrodisiac. Your mouth was flooded with that sweet taste at the sound of Ezra's drawling voice, the groan that followed burrowing into your blood. 

You had never felt this way before. Your body ached and twisted, arousal pooling uncomfortably in your pelvis. Everything felt like it was trapped, your tunic sticking to your skin with sweat. Aphrodisiac. 

"Please pay attention." Ezra sighed. "I understand this is incredibly distracting, but I have a limited window of coherence." He was trembling slightly, still avoiding your eyes. "Your partner has requested I aid you where he cannot. I will not harm you." He said with gravity. "This is a situation which bodes exceptionally poorly and I am...I am truly sorry for dragging you into this mess."

"Oh, it's okay. Mando gets me into messes all the time." You brushed off his apology and Ezra choked out a bitter laugh. 

"I fear you may change your tune once the pain truly starts." He remarked.

"He says it'll hurt." Mando murmured. "Like stabbing."

You knew your eyes widened with fear because Mando was quick to envelope you in his arms again. He had never been this touchy before. It was...strangely nice. The coolness of his armor felt wonderful on your skin and you moaned in relief. Mando went stiff at your noise, his gloved fingers clutching the nape of your neck. Up until this point, you had just felt some minor throbbing. Distracting, but negligible.

This was different.

...

Your breath hitched in your throat and your fists curled into his suit, knees buckling as a low, wavering cry left your lips. Din jerked at the sound. He had never heard you make that kind of noise before, not even when you had been shot--

Oh he was fucked. He was so fucked. Was he excited or terrified? "Easy, you're okay, you're okay," he soothed, clumsily brushing the hair back from your face. Who was he even trying to convince?! 

"Make your choice expediently, Steerforth. Am I to be thrown in carbonite or put to work?" Ezra queried through gritted teeth. 

"You know I would never do anything to hurt you." Din said to you, ignoring the other man for the moment. "I won't let anything happen to you. I need you to trust me for right now, alright? We can fix this."

Your grip on him tightened even further. "I don't like how this feels." You whispered. 

Din closed his eyes in a futile attempt to ward off his own self-loathing, pressing your cheek against his breastplate. "I know, Senaar. I'll be right here with you. I just...can't give you what you'll need." He stuttered, offering on a desperate whim, "I-I can hold you, if you want." You nodded frantically into his armor. 

"If you have a...a blanket. A sheet. Something for the floor, we are going to make a mess and I am uncertain if we will be able to protect your partner's modesty." Ezra muttered, his bound hands resting surreptitiously over his groin. "They may be more enthusiastic than one would anticipate."

Din patted your elbow, trying to gentle his voice. "Go get your pillow." 

"O-Okay." You gulped. 

Din tore into one of his many lockers once you released him, the armored man frantically digging around for his extra bedding. Ezra staggered to his feet, moving in close to Din. So that you wouldn't hear him speak, no doubt. 

"There is still time for you to freeze me, Steerforth. I am not a man without morality, tattered though it may be." He murmured, and Din noticed that his weary brown eyes were surrounded by the same deep lines and cracks that Djarin's own face sported. The Mandalorian hadn't ever paid much mind to just how many expressions he still made beneath the helmet, probably because he knew no one would see them.

Din grabbed the other man's shoulder, searching those eyes. Ezra stared at his impenetrable visor, probably confused by his silence. "I need your help." Din rasped seriously. He didn't trust this guy as far as he could throw him, but he could live with the uneasy truce if it would…if it meant that he could…

Stars, this was all so damn wrong. 

Ezra finally nodded. "I will do my best to assist with the...emotional aftermath. This is not your fault, or theirs. This is merely an unfortunate side effect of a hazardous occupation."

"Thank you."

Ezra's eyebrows shot up, but other than that he gave no indication of his surprise. Din elbowed him to the side, unfolding the thick blanket and spreading it out carefully on the floor of the hold.

…

This was certainly an odd predicament. 

Ezra could not say he had ever been in such a charged scenario, despite his checkered history. His jaw worked thoughtfully as he watched the armored man devote an obscene amount of care to smoothing the wrinkles out of his blanket. 

Arousal swirled around him like the thick pollen outside, but it was tempered by the terrible memory of that singular past experience where he had rubbed himself bloody on the inside of his suit. He knew he was worse off than Steerforth. No, what had you called him? Mando. 

Curious. 

A Creed that prevented the devout from showing the world their face.

Curious. And familiar, somehow. Ezra spooled his mind back, trying to recall why it was familiar. He couldn't focus however, his own breathing becoming too distracting. 

Mando hadn't gotten nearly as much of the pollen as him. The other man seemed unbearably, impossibly calm in the light of what was about to occur. Maybe it was an illusion afforded by that unreadable helm, or brought about by his lack of prior experience.

Ezra was wildly jealous all the same. "What is their name?" He asked softly. 

Mando fixed him with a look and Kevva, that helmet was indeed imposing. "I call them Senaar. It...it means bird." He sounded reluctant, like he didn't even want to give up that much. "Names are sacred in the Creed. I couldn't give them mine so they didn't give me theirs, but I had to call them something."

"No names in the Creed, either?" Ezra asked incredulously. 

The armored man shook his head. "To outsiders we are all Mando. To us, we are Mando'ade. This is the Way."

"A veritable legion of nameless, featureless warriors." Ezra muttered, mainly to himself. He rattled his restraints after a moment. "Am I to remain bound during this frotfest, Steerforth?"

"I'm not stupid enough to give you free range. Be grateful I didn't secure them behind your back instead." Mando snarked.

"I will not harm your little bird." Ezra protested.

"I know." Mando leaned in slightly, broad shoulders made even more intimidating by the blue-steel pauldrons that graced them. "I would kill you before you got the chance."

Oh, such confidence! Ezra wished he was in his right mind, he would obliterate this smug cretin--

His breath caught in his throat as you returned from your excursion. Gods, he had nearly forgotten what he was being called to do. He warred with the obscene urge that dragged his gaze to the crux of your thighs. "A divine sight." He murmured, not lying for once. This entire day had been remarkably truthful. 

You actually gave him a ribald wink, and that eased his conscience slightly. Perhaps you were not the unsullied, blushing virgin he had feared you might be. Obviously you had used the time you took to grab your pillow wisely, maybe even given yourself a bit of a pep talk. 

"Have you done this before?" Ezra asked, half-joking. He heard Mando audibly gulp in that damn bucket when you nodded, a pained smile curving your lips. "Not under the effects of such altering substances, I pray?" 

"Nah, nothing like that." You replied, shaking your head. "It was back on Nevarro, I-"

"Nevarro?" Mando hissed. "You disappeared on me for hours. That's what you were up to?!"

You shrugged weakly. "It doesn't really matter but...there were two Mandalorians, and I wanted, um, something that seemed familiar, I guess." You admitted, your tone remarkably cool for the subject matter. 

Ezra hid his grin. He was hardly immune to the allure of saucy gossip, and there was nothing quite like gossip that had no particular bearing on him. "Two?!" The armored man's voice squeaked even through the thick modulation and Ezra burst out laughing, the binders knocking his jaw when he tried to stifle his mirth. 

"I meant more whether you had engaged in copulation in general, but I suppose that would have been a pertinent question as well." He mused once he got himself under control, the low buzz in his stomach blossoming into an excited thrum. "How fortunate that you would be so generous when it comes to your partners, little bird."

"What do you mean, familiar?" Mando carried on over him, obviously agitated by the fresh knowledge that his partner may or may not have some...tendencies. Ezra almost wanted to laugh again; you were nothing if not painfully transparent. Seeking out others like the armored man to have their way with you? Clearly you harbored some sort of affection, kept secret and safe by the walls that humans build around themselves.

But Serpentia had a funny way of sliding that dastardly pink slick through all defenses, leaving the body raw and exposed.

"I mean familiar." You replied, your pillow like a shield between yourself and Mando. Ezra settled back to watch the show, well aware that his smirk was probably insufferable. "I have needs, you know." You continued primly. 

Mando's fists clenched on his thighs before he pointedly flattened them back out, fingers dragging over the plates. "I...I'm sorry. I shouldn't...I'm sorry." He mumbled, patting his leg. 

You wavered again and nearly fell. The armored man caught you, settling you down with a cautious tenderness that fired a thrower shot of arousal directly into Ezra's gut. He had always been a weak fool for chivalry, though he was able to display precious little of it in his own life. Oh, this was the best kind of story. 

...

Your face burned with embarrassment; why had you told him about your rendezvous with two other members of his Creed? It was like the words just fell out of your mouth, like your brain itself was against you. 

You could still remember the way the larger one had pressed his forehead to your own and then encouraged you down his chest to his groin, the way his helmet had tipped back--

A new flood of warmth swept into your cunt and you bit down on your hand to stifle your noise at the pain that followed. Mando paused, then laid your pillow between his open legs. "Lay down on your back." He muttered, patting his leg again. "This way you can see me. I'll be right here."

"I'm-"

"Don't apologize, please." Mando cut you off. "Once this is over, once everything is...over, I...listen, we'll operate as a sealed unit. This maneuver is scrubbed from the start. I never found the quarry. Nothing that we say or do here will ever be mentioned again. Understood?"

Your breath caught in your throat. He was giving you an out. Or himself, you were uncertain. You nodded slowly and his shoulders drooped a little, but whether he was relieved or disappointed…

Well, some secrets were meant to stay that way. 

Ezra nodded his own agreement. "It is best to have certain protocol already in place when engaging in uncharted waters." He muttered. "Decidedly militant, but I must surmise your Creed taught you that."

"This is the Way." Mando said firmly. 

"If we are operating under burner infantry orders, then I must voice my trepidation about this engagement," Ezra confessed to you. "I have endured this crisis once before and it was not a pleasant experience. I do not envy the pain I am certain you feel at this moment, but I also know that you are in a...compromised and sensitive position. I...if any advance is unwanted, I trust you will inform me. And if I do not respond, if I am too far gone, please have your associate rescind my invitation." He gestured at Mando with his bound hands. 

"Wh-What are you going to do to me?" You asked, your voice high in your ears even as you let Mando maneuver you down to the blanket.

"I am going to do for you what your companion cannot, little bird." Ezra's tongue dampened his lips nervously. "And only that, if I understand the situation correctly."

"What he…" you trailed off as a thought occurred to you. Ezra hummed quietly as if to confirm and the sound reverberated through your core, making you whine and squirm restlessly. "Oh, what, stars, you mean-"

"My mouth, little bird." He had a tiny section of blond hair on the right side of his head, the tuft residing rakishly just at his hairline. You hadn't noticed until now, but the whimsical little patch seemed to soften his stern features. "You will need the saliva, regrettably. I am certain that the idea of the mouth of a lowly aurelac harvester on you is a repulsive one, but it is the only way to get the proverbial ball rolling." 

"Wait, you have to eat me out?" You asked in confusion, trying to get back up. "Hang on, I should shower, I'll-" Agony raked down your spine and you spasmed, a breathy sound of pain forcing itself past your lips.

Ezra's incredulous chuckle soothed the sensation back down to a manageable level. "What an unexpected offer, little bird! I cannot recall the last time someone bathed specifically for me. You will wholly ensnare me if you continue such considerate behavior." 

…

Din's body felt like it was on fire in his armor. 

You had gone looking for people like him. 

You had gone looking for Mandos because you wanted familiarity. The idea of you sussing out more of his brothers or sisters because you had needs-

Din wasn't sure if he would survive this particular encounter. He was gripping his cuisses so tightly that the leather of his gloves burned against his fingertips. Mandalorians weren't celibate by any stretch of the imagination, but the Creed could make things...more difficult than they needed to be for a variety of species.

Ezra, despite his hands being bound, was remarkably capable. The man had coached you through the pain when you had tried to move, his voice obviously helping you somehow. Djarin wasn't sure if he was jealous or grateful. Maybe both.

The fact that this was causing you to suffer had him loathing how stiff his cock was in his compression leggings, even though from what he had gathered he couldn't actually help that particular reaction. 

"I must beg your assistance in disrobing." Ezra was saying softly, tugging at the overly-knotted waistband of your loose pants. "Please, little bird."

"Right, yeah, of course." You mumbled and Djarin could hear the pain in your voice, could feel the twitchy little flinches as you tried to follow Ezra's directions. 

Hesitantly, the Mandalorian moved his hands up until they rested on your shoulders. You exhaled a breathy little moan, nuzzling your cheek against his glove in what he had to assume was thanks.

"Better." You gasped, seeming more sure as you struggled to undo the sash at your waist. 

"Well done, Steerforth." Ezra praised, causing something warm and wet to pour into Din's abdomen. The armored man's breathing stuttered, was this what Ezra had been feeling the entire time they had been walking? Stars, how had he even managed-

His cock lurched against the tight hold of his leggings, precome dampening his stomach. Without meaning to, Din's fingers tightened on your shoulders and he grunted quietly. 

Your eyes shot up, locking with his visor. He knew you couldn't actually see him, but at that moment he felt exposed. "You alright?" You asked quietly, your breath hiccuping when Ezra brushed the stubble of his jaw against your naked thigh. Din ached to do that himself, Maker he wished-

"I'm fine." He choked, like he wasn't roasting alive from the double-edged heat of artificial arousal and jealousy. His left hand slid down, resting at the hollow of your throat. It soothed his ego a little to see that your eyes were still on him, despite what the quarry was about to do. 

Ezra, he reminded himself. This man wasn't prey anymore, for all that he was keeping the binders on. Din at least needed that level of control. He needed the stability.

That recurrent devious thought surged forward again, dark and heady. Utilizing Ezra, he could indulge vicariously in the hazy desires he had fought for cycles. The wish to bury his face between your legs and eat you out until you cried, like in the raunchy imagecasts he picked up on rare occasion. Putting his bare hands on you, stars-

Din Djarin was a man of extreme self-control. So far, he hadn't overstepped or shamed the Creed, unless you counted the time he was loaded out of his mind with bacteria-laden quills. He hadn't realized just how many of them were embedded in his back until his vision started getting blurry as he was standing over the nexu's dead body. Served him right for letting the feline get the drop on him before he put his backplate on.

You had been so worried when he returned. You were patched into his coms so you obviously heard the struggle he had dispatching the creature. Heard how ragged his breath got and how hard he had to actually fight. 

Din vaguely remembered flopping down on his belly with you hovering over him, pliers in one hand and bacta shot already buried in the meat of his shoulder. Stars, it was great to have a partner sometimes. If he had come back to just the kid like that, he'd probably be dead from an infection. You didn't even make him take off his suit, you just worked around it. 

You ended up removing thirty-seven quills of various lengths, most of them bearing nasty hooked barbs. The pain had hit different because of the infection, leaving Djarin trembling boneless and silent on the floor of the hold while you wriggled quills out of his back. He had never felt more helpless, more vulnerable, beskar be damned. 

"It's alright. I'm glad you made it back." You had said calmly. "I'm not letting you go alone next time, though."

"Thank you, Senaar…"

Din's face flushed when he recalled how badly his voice had cracked when saying the name he called you by, less speech and more a plaintive cry. The way his glove had slipped over the skin of your cheek, and how he had longed to remove that glove...

Maker, he sullied the Creed with his inability to reconcile over lack of touch. The hunger for skin-to-skin contact that reared its ugly head every time you were out of your heavy exosuit and durasteel served as a painful reminder, one much more poignant than the simple weight of his helm, that he was a Mandalorian.

But this doppelganger loophole was a gift to be thoroughly exploited and he wasn't about to waste that opportunity. 

Ezra buried his face between your legs and Din felt the way your entire body coiled up in anticipation, another trembling cry leaving your lips and your hands twisting frantically into the blanket beneath you. "Mando-!"

His name, his name, you were saying his name even with another man's mouth giving you pleasure. Djarin couldn't help the satisfied little growl that left his lips and made its way through his modulator. He heard Ezra chuckle, the other man pausing to shoot him a sly wink over the length of your body. Din nearly laughed.

"Ezra," He said instead, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. "Make them cry."

He stopped caring about how wrong it was.

…

You gasped at Mando's words, already inches from bursting into tears. Ezra's mouth was slowly coaxing you open, the stubble on his cheeks and jaw rubbing your thighs. Every pass of his tongue, every gentle press and suckle sought to untangle the knotted ball of heat in your belly, but you were certain you would lose your mind before you managed to disperse the agonizing feeling.

You were too full, almost too aroused to handle Ezra's mouth on your cunt but you were positive if he stopped licking at you, you would die. Heat felt like it was sloshing in your belly, there was so much of it...

Ezra placed a series of delicate kisses on your clit, each one lighter than the last. His hands, still secure in their binders, clutched your right thigh for purchase when he pulled back to gulp air. His expression was dazed, eyes managing to focus on the armored man that loomed over you after several long seconds. "Will you not indulge, Steerforth?" He sounded like he was almost begging Mando, voicing what you couldn't bring yourself to say. "They ask for you, how can you sit there so damned impassive?"

Your breath caught in your throat when you heard Mando exhale raggedly, the bounty hunter muttering, "M' not impassive. There's nothing I-"

"Touch them, for fuck's sake!" Ezra cried, pointedly rattling his cuffs. "I cannot do both. We must work together!"

The Mandalorian lurched suddenly up onto his knees, then sprawled over your body, slamming one hand down to support his weight before wrapping his fingers in the neck of Ezra's tattered thermal shirt. "You don't call the shots here, quarry." He snarled in That Voice, the one that he reserved for his bounties.

Your hands crept up to his hips, hyper aware of the sweet taste in your mouth and how good this would feel. 

…

Ezra stared at the pitch-black visor inches from his nose. Felt the strength in the gloved hand that threatened to do much more than stretch his shirt.

The prospector took a mental inventory of his body at this juncture, a bit surprised and entertained to find that he was thoroughly invested in this new direction the encounter had taken. Mando was no doubt glaring at him from the safety of that impregnable helm, the other man's hackles obviously raised by the jab from the prospector.

It mattered very little at this point in time, however, as Ezra heard a zipper fly open. Mando flinched so hard Ezra felt it in his back, and the sound you made was enough to get the devil to start sweating. "Seems that you may be outnumbered, Steerforth."

"Target rich--environment-" The armored man snarled. "Senaar, y-your--mouth, fuck-"

He stuttered. He stuttered. Ezra latched onto that weakness with a filthy grin, easily twisting out of the other man's grip to duck his head back down and taste you. Mando's other hand hit the blanket as you undulated your hips up to meet Ezra's mouth. Ezra could only imagine the noises you were making around the other man's cock. He knew you were making them by the way Mando's arms quivered. And wasn't that a sight, a man in full armor rendered helpless by the power of a warm, eager mouth on his cock. 

"Watch me now, Steerforth." Ezra crooned, tilting his face up to make presumed eye contact. "This is how you make them weep with pleasure." He was sure that his chin was dripping pink at this point and he knew, even without seeing the other man's face, that Mando was barely hanging on. He had to salute the armored man's dedication. A less devout individual would have given out before they made it to the floor.

The Medusine barrier that the Serpentia formed was slowly weakening under the gentle assault of his mouth, Ezra was pleased to notice. Of course, he wasn't exactly rushing, simply going at a steady pace to keep your pain to a bare minimum. You had begun to leak around the barrier, your arousal even warmer than he had expected. Ezra couldn't tell whether it was because he was under the effects of the pollen or whether it was reality that you tasted immaculate, but he reasoned that it didn't particularly matter. 

He was hungry enough to cope with either happenstance. 

"Little bird, fuck my face, won't you?" He requested sweetly, chuckling at your enthusiastic response. "Grind yourself to completion on my tongue, break the barrier so that your associate can sheathe himself balls deep in this delectable pussy and give you respite." 

...

"Fuck." Din rasped, his eyes wide behind the visor of his helmet. The way that Ezra spoke was like fucking music, the man wrapping filthy words in flowery, incomprehensible syntax. 

The Mandalorian's fingers tangled resolutely in the blanket, the armored man panting as you urged his aching dick even further down your throat. Your hands grappled with his thighs, shoving them wider and then taking two hungry handfuls of his rear to encourage him.

"Senaar-" he started to warn you off, but stopped dead when you moaned around him. Stars, he wondered how you could even breathe-- 

You pulled back, coughing and gasping. "You're doing so well, little bird." Ezra murmured from between your legs. Your only reply was to take Din's cock back into your mouth and oh fuck you weren't stopping-

Your hand found Djarin's in the blankets and you tugged on it, forcing him to try and figure out how to redistribute his weight so you could have the appendage. He managed it of course, he was a fucking Mandalorian after all, but there was a moment where he nearly lost his balance.

You guided his hand to your neck and Din couldn't fight back the groan he let out when he felt his cock bulging through your throat. Fuck, no one had ever been able to take this much of him into their mouth before, halfway was usually the stopping point. 

Djarin grunted and tilted his head down to watch you struggle, finally wrapping a hand around his cock and easing it back out of your mouth. Strands of saliva connected the engorged head of his dick to your lips. Din sighed stupidly at the sight, fisting his dick and coating his glove with your spit. "You're good at this, Senaar." He said gruffly, knowing that it wasn't really praise, not like how Ezra said it. But words had never been his forte. 

"Keep speaking to them Steerforth, they leak at every word out of your mouth." Ezra encouraged from between your legs. "That's right little bird, just a bit more…"

Din was startled, to say the least. You liked when he talked? "I…" he hesitated, then his brow furrowed. "Can't wait to fuck you, Senaar." You whimpered, your hips shuddering. "Fuck you until you don't remember your own fucking name." Din growled. "Breed you like a good Mando should, pump you full of my come just like my Creed-siblings did, right?"

You nodded against his thigh, your sweat seeping through his flight suit to meet his own liberal perspiration. He was so hot, his armor had never been this hot--

"Kevva, that's a kink I didn't anticipate." Ezra panted, pink slick smeared all over his nose and chin. "They certainly like it though, if I understand correctly."

Din could smell you, smell the sweet scent of that fruit mixed with your own arousal. His fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of Ezra's neck and he nearly headbutted him on reflex, barely reining the power back in time. Ezra seemed confused at first, the other man obviously dazed with heat and just sort of allowing Djarin to shove his face against his helmet. 

…

The helm was so cool, Ezra couldn't restrain a relieved sigh when he made contact. Mando appeared to be rubbing your essence all over his helmet, utilizing Ezra's face as a paintbrush. Unorthodox, but effective.

"Oh," Ezra realized, "you've got some sort of olfactory sensors in there, don't you. You lewd creature you!" He teased breathlessly. "If you think they smell sumptuous, I regret to inform you that their taste utterly puts that to shame." Words were heavy in his mouth, the prospector having to work harder and harder to put sentences together. It wouldn't be long before his senses wholly abandoned him, he was certain. "Release me, Steerforth, I must…I must carry out my end of the bargain." He groaned, struggling free. "We are almost at their climax."

Mando was nearly vibrating with anticipation, gloved fingers clawing at Ezra's hair. "Careful," was all the armored man said hoarsely. 

Ezra nodded, once again touched by the bounty hunter's surprising display of consideration for his partner. "When the barrier breaks, they will need your cock immediately, Steerforth. I will...not be coherent for much longer." He mumbled against your cunt, giving up on speech after Mando nodded.

With one last sweep of his tongue, the barrier dissolved. You sobbed out, your voice breaking as you writhed beneath your large companion and bucked your hips up against Ezra's eager mouth. Slick fairly poured out of you, leaking down your thighs and soaking the blanket beneath you. 

Ezra didn't remember wriggling his bound hands beneath your rear, simply returning to his senses with your legs over his shoulders and his lungs burning for air but you tasted so good, he felt raw with hunger. 

Mando's gloved hand covered nearly the entirety of his face, easing him back from his feast. Ezra watched the other man's chest heave in a daze until he suddenly remembered what he was doing. "I apologize, I...I am too far gone." He murmured in contrition, lowering your hips back to the floor. 

"Ask nicely to fuck their mouth." Mando ordered, his blunt words digging into Ezra's groin. "You said it hurt you last time because you were alone. You helped them not to hurt. If they don't want to let you to fuck their mouth though, I'll…" he hesitated, "I'll figure something else out. Nobody has to hurt."

"'Something else'?" Ezra repeated, stunned. What on earth could this armored man possibly be offering? Those gloves were remarkably soft, the leather worn smooth from a lifetime of use, no doubt- "Oh."

…

The pain had eased, only to be replaced by a searing emptiness. You squirmed beneath Mando, tangentially aware that he was engaged in a discussion with Ezra. Your hand flew to your pussy, the drenched area making an embarrassingly loud noise when you thrust two fingers into yourself in an effort to quell the ache. 

"Maker, please, please, Mando!" you begged, barely aware of what you were saying. The heat concentrated in your pelvis was burning you alive, desperate tears pouring down your face.

Mando stood to his full height, towering over you, just watching you quiver while you pleaded deliriously. He fairly ambled around your body, moving until he stood between your spread legs. His boot shoved your ankle, opening you even further, exposing every inch of you and the mess that covered the blanket under you. "Senaar." The low burr of modulation made you rock your hips up, whimpering and nodding when he stroked his cock like he was showing off.

Somewhere, deep in your soul, you prayed that he liked what he saw even without the strange pollen instigating. 

He knelt, gloved fingers curling beneath your chin to pull your eyes up from his thick, perfect cock and the puddle of precome it was currently weeping onto your pubic mound. His touch sent flickering trails of electricity through your body, and you could barely focus on what he was asking.

"Ezra...mouth?" 

You nodded rapidly, making Mando bark out what could have been a laugh. He cupped your jaw again, and then his hand stroked your hair in a way that was almost tender. 

"I'll make you feel better." He promised. Ezra was a mess, he looked like you felt. The quarry simply let Mando shove him down onto his knees, his eyes half-lidded. "Undo your suit." Mando ordered and Ezra shakily attempted to obey. He was having a difficult time with his hands still in the binders so you reached out, batting his hands away impatiently to unzip the lower portion of his exosuit.

His thermal leggings were threadbare like his shirt, the waffle-weave fabric soaked through. His cock visibly twitched when you exhaled sharply. "Do not tease me, little bird, I feel as if I am on death's doorstep." The man pleaded through his teeth, "I am raw and agony gnaws at my skin; please take me in your mouth." 

"I have to get your pants off." You tried to explain, fumbling with the article of clothing. The noise of despair he made had you frantically clawing at the pants, finally dragging them down low enough that his cock was freed. It slapped against his belly and he moaned, bound hands digging helplessly into your hair. 

"May I please have your mouth?" He requested raggedly. "I will not take it if you do not give it freely but please, little bird." 

After he had worked so hard to get you to come? You were nodding hurriedly before he finished speaking, and his deep, drawn-out groan of relief was like music to your ears when you swallowed him down. 

…

You were radiating warmth, your hips twitching and shifting restlessly even as you tried to get Ezra's dick out of his suit. Din had to hand it to the other man, he did ask nicely. 

But there were much more pressing matters to attend to. Mainly, your neglected cunt that was currently leaking all over the underside of his cock. Djarin took a steadying breath, and then slowly sank himself into your waiting heat.

Your cry of relief was fucking primal, a hungry, feral snarl that slithered hot and seething in his stomach under the beskar plate. Din was wholly, entirely lost, finding himself mentally shattered at the first stroke into your body. Your thighs trembled on either side of his hips and then your legs fell open, like you didn't have the strength to hold them up. 

Shit, he knew he should say something, he knew he should be reluctant about this, but it was like every cell of his body needed you to fucking survive. 

Maybe he always had. 

Din bared his teeth and growled back at you, his attention divided between watching you eagerly suck Ezra's cock and watching the way his own dick split you open. His passage was eased by the strange pink fluid that continued to ooze out of you, stars it was so hot-

Ezra's fingers tangled in your hair after a moment, the prospector cradling your head to his groin in a manner that could have almost been described as gentle.

"Is this how my Creed-siblings f-ucked you, Senaar?" Din's voice grated in his chest, the armored man barely aware of the heated words tumbling out of his mouth. "Filling you, claiming you, fucking your throat and pussy?"

"Kevva." Ezra breathed. "Your peculiar voice working in tandem with your cock appears to be the thing that turns them into a voracious harlot. I do not know if I have ever-" His sentence broke momentarily, "oh, fuck, very well little bird, take the whole of it then." He grunted, raking his fingers through your hair as you deepthroated him. "You are absolutely magnificent at that, you know." The other man praised shakily. 

Your cunt fluttered around Djarin's cock and he felt your arousal soak through his suit, hot fluid sliding down to coat his balls. "Stars, did you just come?" He groaned, unable to stop the filthy noise he made when you whined around Ezra's dick and nodded as best as you could. His fingers gripped your thigh, digging into the skin as he began to rut against you. The Mandalorian threw his head back, panting, "Feel so fucking--good around me, fuck, Senaar, so good-"

…

You felt like you were falling apart again and again. The taste, the sensations, the curling knot of heat in your belly that released inch by inch. Mando's hand on your thigh and Ezra's grip on your head were the things that allowed you to hold on to your sanity, but only just.

Mando was conquering you utterly, his dick driving into you with enough force that you knew you would be aching later, but in the moment you never wanted him to stop. You had craved him, wished for him for so long, to finally have him was total bliss. 

And Ezra, Ezra, his silky voice caressing your body as his bound hands carded through your hair. His cock choked you again and again and every time you had to pull back off of him for breath he praised you, talked about how good you were, how no one had ever taken him as deep as you…

You were in heaven. 

Ezra abruptly retreated, his cock smearing more precome across your lips. "If you continue on in this manner I will be undone, little bird." He muttered. "Your one-sided assault, while inescapably delicious, is rendering me wholly base. You wish for me to spill my seed on your face?" His hips twitched. "Or shall I fuck my come down your throat, request that you swallow every drop?" 

"Fuck it into them." Mando rasped before you could say anything in reply, a gloved hand grabbing your chin. "Fuck your load i-into that sweet little mouth of theirs. Give them what they fucking need, quarry." He demanded, and you nearly came again from how unhinged he sounded. 

"Well, little bird?" Ezra asked softly, his eyes dark with want. "Shall I take my pleasure from your lewd little mouth and let your beautiful throat milk me dry?"

"Please!" You begged, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue to encourage him. 

Ezra sighed blissfully at the sight, lacing his fingers through your hair and encouraging you to take his cock until your nose rested against his groin. "Fuc-king gods, you are positively celestial." He groaned, "Relegating yourself to a singular partner would be doing you a disservice, little bird. I highly encourage you to weaponize your talents in whatever field you wish."

Come flooded your mouth, his cock twitching heavily against your tongue. Your eyes rolled back, your lungs burning for air and you dimly heard Mando snarl, dropping his helm to rest on your sternum. The metal was blessedly cool even through your tunic, helping to anchor you to reality. 

"Fucking touch me, please." Mando's voice shook even with the modulator, his words buzzing through your body. "Senaar please, fuck, pl-please, touch me, fucking--"

Your palms crashed into his shoulders, hips bucking upwards to meet his next thrust and you came again. Mando made a noise that you could only liken to a roar, the armored man grappling at your hips and grinding himself against your dripping cunt. 

"Senaar, Senaar, Senaar--" The name he had given you punctuated every thrust, his rasping tone making your belly drop out. You weren't sure if you would ever stop coming, grasping blindly at Mando and Ezra while your cunt gripped down on Mando's cock.

…

If Ezra still had any doubts about being a blatant proxy for the armored man, that was obliterated in his post-orgasm daze. 

A gloved hand slid to the back of his neck and tugged him down to your mouth. Ezra went clumsily but willingly, the prospector humming when he tasted himself and the cloying sweetness of the Serpentia on your tongue. You sobbed against his lips and Ezra soothed you with his mouth, accepting all of your hungry whimpers and whines as he stroked your hair back off your forehead. 

"Little bird, little bird, you will want for nothing with this individual pummeling you so mercilessly." He breathed, relishing the soft cry that quivered against the skin of his neck. "I imagine you can feel every inch of that prodigious girth, burning like unquenchable quicksilver, threatening to breach your very womb." He moved his bound hands down, resting them on your stomach. "Steerforth, I trust you are punishin' their cervix with every thrust?" He queried, chuckling darkly when Mando just snarled in reply.

You threw your head back, hands fisted in the fabric between Mando's pauldrons and gorget. "Mando-!" You pleaded, "fuck!" 

Mando's hands dug beneath the small of your back and he canted your hips upwards, sheathing his cock in the cradle of your body over and over. Ezra envied the armored man's stamina, grunting when he felt his member trying to rise again. Whether he could blame the pollen for that, he was unsure, but the lovely company certainly did nothing to dissuade his arousal. Watching this large, almost knightly figure rail into you, your face still a mess of tears from when Ezra had fucked your mouth…

Kevva, he could not recall a time where he had been so content to simply play voyeur, pressing the occasional kiss to your lips at Mando's behest. "Such tenderness, what a dichotomous sensation for you," the prospector mused, "the contrast between armor and flesh." His mouth brushed against your ear when he continued, "However, I believe you're beginning to realize that there is an untapped wellspring of man beneath all that metal, am I correct little bird?"

...

You squeezed your eyes shut and Din's hand reached up, the bounty hunter unable to keep from cradling your cheek. "I always knew." You said, your voice barely audible. "I-I always...I always-"

"Be quiet." Din grunted. "Y-You...don't have to say it." His heart slamming in his chest had nothing to do with his current exertion. You knew. Shame reached him dimly through the haze of arousal. All the times he ached to touch you, all the times he battled with himself over his desire for contact…

Your hand gripped the back of his helmet and he flinched sharply. He hadn't noticed you move and you could pull his helmet off, shit, he was so stupid for doing this! His eyes flew to yours, even though he knew you couldn't see through his visor.

After a moment of him fighting back his panic, you just shook your head. "S-Sealed unit, ri-ght?" You asked, your words hitching with his thrusts. Djarin nodded warily. Your eyes half-lidded and you knocked your forehead into his helmet, the gesture unmistakable to a Mandalorian.

A kiss. 

Was his heart breaking, or just fucking giving out under the assault of this insane pollen? Was he overloaded? Was this all just some wild hallucination?

Din frantically shoved his helmet against your face, pinning your head back to the pillow. Shit, he needed to be careful, you didn't have armor. "Senaar, I--" Basic had always been so damn heavy on his tongue. Mando'a flowed, but it was secret. Sacred. Djarin hesitated and you reached up again, cradling the indents on his helmet.

"Always. Even with this." You whispered. 

His brain had short-circuited. The roaring in his ears was deafening and he knew he was making some kind of ugly, wounded noise, but he couldn't actually do anything about it. 

Always. Always. 

His heart must have blown, he reasoned desperately. That was the only explanation for what he was feeling right now.

…

The sound that Mando made after you assured him was heartwrenching, a guttural sob that seemed like a mixture of agony and ecstasy. He clawed at the blanket beneath you, gasping for breath as he all but broke you in half, his dick ripping yet another orgasm from your hungry cunt. 

You were lightheaded from his prolonged fucking, your pussy in spasm around his thick cock, but you refused to give out yet. "Did you feel me come, Mando?" You whimpered against the side of his helmet, wringing more feral noises out of him. "Is it good?"

"Fuck, incredible, s-so--" Mando gripped your thigh, hitching it up over his hip and then dragging his fingers hungrily through the pink slick that had pooled in the crease of your hip. "Never want to leave, fuck, m'sorry, I know I'm t-taking--forever-" 

"Only a fool apologizes for his length in the bedroom." Ezra remarked dryly, dipping down to kiss you when you laughed. "How do you fare, little bird?"

"So good." You sighed, feeling half-drunk on your orgasm high. The knot in your belly had finally gone slack, leaving you weak and trembling beneath Mando as he chased his own completion. You hummed and Ezra rumbled back, his touch remarkably careful when he cupped your chin. 

"You have done so well." Ezra murmured. "Serpentia is no simple storm to weather, yet you have endured." Mando wordlessly bumped his helmet against Ezra's temple, the metal rubbing over the blond tuft of hair the quarry sported. "You are most welcome, Steerforth." Ezra chuckled. "One is glad to be of service, but please. You threatened to fill them, didn't you?"

Mando's hips faltered in their rhythm and the armored man finally came with a shattered moan of relief. Stars, you weren't sure if you had the Serpentia to blame for the sheer volume that he came; you could feel it frothing out of you around his cock as he continued to shudder and writhe through his orgasm. 

"Holy shit, Mando." You said incredulously, unable to fight back the urge to slip a hand down between your bodies. "You told me Mandalorians were rare."

"We--are." Mando panted raggedly, his cock still twitching inside you.

"If you come like this, how?" You asked, your combined fluids soaking your questing fingers. Mando just stared at you for a moment, shoulders heaving while he struggled to catch his breath.

And then he started laughing, which was...not nearly as terrifying as you had expected, honestly. "Stars, you--" He wheezed, his helm thudding gently against your forehead. "Fuck you, Senaar." You could hear him grinning, his voice still warm with laughter. 

"Odd method of displaying affection. I take it your Creed is of a fraternitous bent?" Ezra commented, a quiet noise of surprise escaping him when you tugged him down for a kiss.

"Thank you." You mumbled drowsily into his mouth. 

"Hardly. I ought to thank you. When last I endured the Serpent's grasp, I was incarcerated and driven to gratify myself to ribbons on the inside of my gear." Ezra informed you, his tone nonchalant. "This experience was a rare moment of hedonistic bliss in my life. Believe me when I say I shall cherish it."

He straightened up before you could say anything in reply, extending his bound wrists to Mando.

"Whither to, my recalcitrant steerforth?"

Mando ignored him for another moment, stroking your forehead tenderly. He appeared to have noticed your weariness, because he sounded softer when he spoke. "Sleep, Senaar. It's over."

…

"I'll cut you loose on Sorgan." 

Ezra swiveled in the co-pilot chair, knowing that his expression must border on the befuddled. When the armored man had left you to sleep, hauled Ezra into the cockpit and secured his binders to the chair, the prospector had assumed that whatever agreement they struck previously was rendered null and void. "I would be...wholeheartedly grateful to you, Steerforth." He breathed.

"I never found you. Your pod malfunctioned and you burned alive in the atmosphere." Mando instructed him in that level, modulated voice. "Stop stealing shit and I won't have to hunt you down again."

"Those men stole from me!" Ezra retorted hotly, knocking his elbow down into the white case that hung off his hip. "I worked alone for stands and they came along right at the most opportune juncture, put a thrower to my head and robbed me! I simply reclaimed-"

Mando waved a hand, interrupting his self-righteous tirade. "You and I both know that it doesn't matter. I'm forfeiting the credits this time, but next time…" he trailed off pointedly. "Don't get caught again. If someone else from my Guild chapter picks up your bounty, Mandalorian or otherwise, they will catch you." 

Mando leaned in close, his elbows resting on his knees and helmet propped up on his folded hands. Ezra felt for all the world like a specimen underneath a microscope, barely suppressing the urge to squirm nervously. 

"The bounty specified that you be captured warm." The armored man said after a beat. "No promise of half-payment upon cold delivery or even proof of demise. So whoever you got into a pissing match with wants to be the one to put that last slug into your brain. You already heard my advice. For your own good, I suggest you lay low and be fucking quiet." He gestured out the cockpit viewport at the green sphere that hovered in the distance. "There's good people on that planet. Good people that I care about. If you bring hunters to their doorstep, I will find out. And then I will find you."

Kevva have mercy, this man was no joke. Ezra was having a difficult time just mustering up the breath to give him an affirmation! Was this truly the same Lancelot he had watched engage in lotus-eating debauchery with his Guinevere not two hours hence? Ezra's belly roiled uncertainly, arousal and fear a potent combination. This must be how the bounty hunter indulged himself without divesting his plate, the prospector reasoned dimly. Fear was a remarkably stimulating thing. "Of course." He finally answered, his voice a little reedy. "Your mercy is...unexpectedly generous, but no less appreciated for its spontaneity."

Mando grunted, seeming satisfied with his response. The armored man returned to the control panel after a moment, flipping a few switches. The entire ship appeared to be miles above what Ezra was used to. Even the Testin had a dog-eared manual that hung from a chain by the central dash, and the craft was such a rattling nightmare that she needed three bodies just to keep her straight. But this man, this...Mandalorian, he operated the whole blasted vessel with a fluid ease. 

His next words were so quiet Ezra nearly missed them. "Thank you."

"Pardon?" Ezra queried blankly.

Mando heaved a sigh that made his pauldrons visibly dip. "I said, thank you." He growled awkwardly. "I don't know what...I don't know if I would have hurt them because of--because of how I am." 

"It will do no good to ruminate on such dour subjects." Ezra hesitated, then continued, "but your Creed...would you have broken it for them, had you known about the requirements of the Medusine barrier?"

"I…" Mando tightened his hold on the directionals, those gloves creaking with his tension. "I'm not sure." He admitted, lapsing into silence afterwards.

"Your ship is marvelously responsive." Ezra murmured by way of changing the subject. "It reminds me of a diminutive Screamer-class that I endured a few stands on, oh, nearly fifteen cycles ago-"

"Be quiet."

…

Din watched Ezra until he vanished between the large trunks of Sorgan's conifers, the Mandalorian then dropping back into the pilot's seat with a groan. Maker, he hoped he was doing the right thing. Hoped he hadn't just unleashed some mass-murdering psychopath on the unsuspecting populace.

Djarin tilted his helmet back against the headrest of the seat, aimlessly staring up at the fuselage. 

What the hell was he going to say when you woke up? 

Din's heart sank. He knew that he couldn't believe anything that had come out of your mouth while you had been under the effects of that fruit. Serpent's Tongue. He chewed his lower lip meditatively. 

He could lie. 

He fucking cringed at the thought, then shook his head at himself. You would be embarrassed at best, but at worst…

Shit, he didn't want to lose you, even if you didn't feel the same way about him. And then there was the kid to worry about. No, a lie would be better. 

You had sought out other Mandos. His stomach lurched as he recalled that little fact. Fuck, fuck, was it hope that beat so insistently in his throat?

A sealed unit, he had said.

He just wouldn't bring it up. He was the one who had insisted that this whole maneuver was struck from the proverbial records in the first place, right? He just wouldn't mention it. Easy enough. If you said something, that was fine, but otherwise…

Din nodded firmly. This is the Way.

Part Two

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian imagine #ezra (prospect 2018) #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect #ezra prospect imagine #ezra x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal characters #trope: sex pollen #pining #touch starved #Mando acting like a Mandalorian #Ezra being an opportunistic fuck #i had a lot of fun #this is so indulgent

[crabbng]

🌼 for the whole cast :)

🌼- What’s your favorite thing about this oc?

hana: how genuinely he cares about other people, especially in contrast with how little he cares about himself (i.e., how defensive he gets when people are talking smack about someone he knows vs when they're talking smack about him), and how he's.. legitimately what some people would consider 'slow', he's EXTREMELY SMART! but it can take him a while to actually grasp new concepts, or to grasp if people start talking metaphorically for example, his memory for new things isn't always great but man if he cant name ten thousand different little gadgets he's played with in baile nan solais, how to build them, what their function is, the history of their use, etc etc, he can name every known constellation but he will forget what apricots are called. he has so much knowledge that he is the ONLY PERSON IN THE WORLD. WHO KNOWS THAT STUFF. and you could still tell him 'youre stupid and also a loser and you dont know anything and also youre ugly' and he's be like :( you're right bc he doesn't GET IT!!!! he's so far removed from the world he doesn't know how special he is. and how cute. i dont think he'd consider himself ugly just like.. on his own. but if told he was (which.. he has in comic lmao) he'd be like oh i guess that's another reason people didnt like me :( BUT ALSO!!! it's bons fault those people were on the mountain and its partially due to bon that they were so so so on edge about anything different which then caused them all to be like 'this little freak is a demon for sure' so not only is hana's loneliness and sort of exile from the people around him partially bon's fault, but bon will also view hana's bad castle time as his fault (which.. it partially is. you did put it in his head that there was suspicious things going on in there. had he jsut been sent there, he'd probably be totally enamored with the king and not really think to think about negative things perhaps going on). so. bon will view himself as a bringer of bad times to hana. hana won't. but that's just a fun thing isn't it.

bonic: how he is a villain in man people's eyes, and rightfully so, i don't think he's a terrible person but he has done terrible things that can never be fixed and instead of living with that and trying to move forward in some way, he's just stalled and become nothing. also how much he genuinely GENUINELY cares for children so much, due to his own.. let's say... below average childhood, he's got his deep rooted desire to protect kids like he wasn't protected and to make sure they're valued and cared for and listened to... he loves kids.. and its very sad. bc he is so worried for them. he is so worried they could turn out like him, which he sees as the worst possible option.

tera: the way her morals can get sidelined in order to gain knowledge, even now when she's recognized this is an issue, she still has that EXTREME drive to learn and to know and its great but it can lead to her viewing the world (and people) as objects of study instead of something or someone's life that she's actively participating in. tera voted mostly likely to die in weird crystal spire bc she wanted to figure out what was in there. she also will get jealous and pissy if someone knows something about her special interest that she does not know, like.. why didnt you tell me this sooner you KNOW magic is my thing, why did you not rattle off every thing you know that i didnt when we first met :// rude

chaar: i love that she is struggling so much with the viewpoint she's been taught that her mother is Not To Be Questioned, her mother is her MOTHER not her FRIEND, and struggling with breaking out of that viewpoint and recognizing that she has her OWN views is so difficult for her. i love that she's not naturally talented or great at anything really, and that her charisma value is -20, but she makes up for it with effort and kindness. also i love that she's chubby. i also love that she's a crybaby, but she's!!! she's great. she's strong. she will cry and that doesn't make her weak. i love her.

kii: the deep seed of hatred that has overshadowed most everything else in her heart, and how it's mostly from like.. misunderstandings. her own misunderstandings. she doesn't really understand healthy relationships (clearly) and she also doesn't have a great grip of her own emotions and that's led to her becoming upset by some benign thing or some perceived slight and then becoming more upset because she doesn't completely understand exactly what she's feeling and then ppl get upset with her cause she's being destructive to their relationship and she gets mad bc she perceived it as their fault and yeah. her tumultuous upbringing and then her being... generally unpleasant to most people leading them to not like her has led to her becoming extremely dependent on like. ONE PERSON. being HER PERSON. (maighstir rn lol) and not really understanding healthy relationships or relationship boundaries.

aoife: her desire to be completely honest with people even when it makes her a binch, her willingness to BE a binch, but not using honesty in the way actual mean people do with like.. the intention to be mean. if she's going to be honest with you she genuinely believes it is for your benefit, and it comes out when she talks to her siblings like, yeah, you're being rude right now little sibling but i'm not going to fall for that i know you better than that so i'm going to tell you that there's something else going on and then we're going to be honest with each other and figure out what is actually going on.

king: HE'S SOOOOO STUPID every panel when he is being genuine about something i'm like 'this stupid bitch' he is such a child still. he's had to grow up so fast but so much of him is still a child. i love his dynamic with the priomh where he's been shown like.. scolding her and the maighstir but she will turn around and be like hey actually i have the upper hand here in this house and he's like (pouts) whatever i hate you mom (shes not his mom but i gotta say he probably thinks of her kind of like a mother figure in a weird way) also i love his bubble butt. i love that he is here to be objectified. he's on the cover of fantasy playboy at least yearly.

#thanks for this i hope you enjoy these long answers with more than one favorite thing #i think i kind of went off the rails and just started talking about why i love them and not necessarily picking favorite things lmao #ask meme

[kabira]

09 | scientific inspiration

pairing — spider-man!vernon x ofc

featuring — joshua, yeji (itzy), felix (skz), yangyang (nct)

word count — 3.6k

genres — spider-man au, marvel au, fluff, action, angst, humor

warnings — none.

note — so here it is, the big Science Dump that will form the basis for one of the major arcs of the story. now, i don’t pretend to know too much of what i’m talking about, but hopefully all the hours of scrolling through obscure genetics articles will hold up. hell, they probably won’t, but this is superhero fiction about a sixteen-year-old man-spider vigilante, so please excuse it !!! a lot of this is borrowed from the ultimate spider-man comics lore by brian michael bendis.

Vernon was still thinking about Luce’s offer when he got to work later that day.

Normally, he would have tried to keep his head clear during his work, but since all he had to do that day was log data entries, it didn’t really matter. Doc hadn’t come back to the lab yet, so it was just him and the janitor, but from the open holograph display on his table, Vernon figured he’d be back pretty soon. Despite the state of his office, the doctor didn’t like messes, especially not in his workplace.

He hadn’t expected Luce to even consider inviting the others, even though she had been friendly with them. Movie night was something that belonged to just the four—three—of them, something sacred and untouched by outsiders. The thing that had surprised him even more was his own willingness. For someone who had been so acutely ticked off by their unannounced arrival, he sure had warmed up to his new teammates quickly.

Vernon was only a few entries in when Dr. Connors entered the lab, holding a cup of steaming coffee from the cafeteria. He smiled at Vernon when he came in, not bothering to glance at the screen to check what he was doing before making his way over to the work table. One of the things Vernon liked the most about this place was that despite being nothing more than a research assistant, he was still allowed to help out in more impactful ways than simply entering and saving data.

“You’re here early,” Dr. Connors said, setting down the Styrofoam cup on his table. He looked tired, Vernon noticed, probably why he had bought that cafeteria coffee despite it being a thick, dark color and tasting like tar. There were dark circles under his blue eyes, and his usually neatly combed brown hair was slightly disheveled.

“I came here directly after school was over,” Vernon said. “Figured I’d save a lot more time that way, and I don’t really have much left to do.”

“Hm?” The scientist faced the holographic model, hitting a few keys on the pad below it. His movements were listless, but his shoulders were still tense. Reminds me of seniors before finals, Vernon thought. It wasn’t exhaustion like he had assumed, but stress. “Then perhaps you’d like to help me out here.”

“Really?” Vernon tried to keep the excitement out of his voice, but failed. Probably for the better, because it sparked a small smile on Dr. Connors’s face. “What are you working on right now?”

He didn’t get an answer for a long moment. Vernon spun in his chair and pulled himself to his feet, ignoring the remains of exhaustion weighing his body down as he made his way over to the doctor’s table.

“It’s something your father and I were working on before…before this project was abandoned, almost a decade ago,” Dr. Connors said. He was looking at the display with a different kind of intensity in his eyes, like it was something to be defeated rather than discovered. “When I lost your father, I gave up all hope of ever getting back to it, but after all my recent failures, I think I need to revisit my roots.”

Vernon pursed his lips at failures, but said nothing. The hologram looked like a DNA strand—a double helix blown to the size of a poster tube. It shone with a dull blue light, lighting up Dr. Connor’s features, illuminating the creases around his mouth and eyes that Vernon wasn’t sure had been there before. Standing next to him made his own tiredness feel like a minor inconvenience.

“This was your father’s brainchild, after all,” the man said, still staring at the display. “A completely independent protoplasmic model based on the body’s own genetic edifice built to fortify the weaker structure of a sick body.”

“A protoplasmic model?” Vernon’s eyes widened. “I thought it was supposed to be controlled AI, like nanobots or something.”

“Imagine that, except a sentient being with the ability to detect and eradicate weaknesses in the body on its own, without any direction,” Dr. Connors said. “Something to cure everything—the right combinations of proteins able to use the body’s own natural resources to fight any infection, overcoming the problem of grafting and able to treat everything from neural atrophy to genetic diseases to cancer, contained in a small tubule.” His eyes shone. “The perfect cure.”

The perfect cure. Vernon glanced back at the holographic model, now seeing the inconsistencies in its structure when compared to normal human DNA. The idea was intoxicating and exhilarating, made even more amazing by the fact that it had been proposed by his father. It made his chest ache with longing, thinking of the possibilities of fulfillment if his father had been alive still—not just for the experiment, but for Vernon himself.

“He was way ahead of his time, Richard Parker—in that sense, you are a lot like him,” Dr. Connors murmured in a low, wistful voice, as if speaking to himself. “It had become almost impossible for us to receive any support or funding for our project, because of how wildly imaginative it was. We were ridiculed, discredited, called mad for our ideas before we finally got the deal with Oscorp. We had worked on the cure for so long, and just a couple of days before the deal’s signing, your father called me one night, sounding excited about a fresh prospect.” He shook his head. “But then…”

He didn’t need to complete his sentence. Vernon caught the drift of it, and turned away to hide the pained expression brought onto his face by the flood of emotions. He didn’t know if he felt good about being so close to his father’s work, or bad about being so far away from his father himself. Even the mere presence of his old colleague, still alive while he wasn’t, seemed to taunt Vernon.

Snap out of it, he told himself firmly. His father’s death hadn’t been Dr. Connors’s fault—he knew that, but still had to avoid even thinking of that idea, because once the seeds had been planted in his brain, Vernon knew he wouldn’t be able to work with Dr. Connors in harmony. Plus, watching him talk about the work he and his dad had done together, no one could say that the scientist didn’t care about his former partner.

“What did he discover?” Vernon prompted.

Dr. Connors’s eyes turned sad. “I never did get to find out,” he said. “Just two days after the call, he was finally going to come back to the state to share his discoveries with me, so we could compare notes and build on what was lacking. The first step to phase two, he called it.” His jaw tightened. “And just when we thought something was going to go right for once…”

Vernon hung his head. Maybe knowing his father had been on the verge of a breakthrough should have made him feel better about his achievements, but he only thing that Vernon could think about was what all the world had lost when he had lost his dad. A revolution in medicine. A father. He was almost a little uneasy thinking about which kind of loss affected him more. The world could have been a much better place, but all Vernon wanted was his dad back.

“I’ve been unfair to you, Vernon,” Dr. Connors said, breaking him out of his reverie. He straightened while keeping his eyes fixed on the DNA hologram, then faced Vernon with a sad look. “You should have had someone to help you come to terms with your father’s death, someone who could have told you about his great ideas and even greater work. I shouldn’t have left you alone to deal with everything, but I simply couldn’t bring myself to…”

His voice had lowered with every syllable until he trailed off, making Vernon think that his voice had finally become too small for anyone to hear. Vernon swallowed, unable to think of anything to say. He was usually good at talking to people, even heart-to-hearts, but when the subject touched his obscure past, words failed him.

“I understand,” he said, the first words that came to his blank mind. He tried for a reassuring smile, unsure of what the result actually looked like. “You shouldn’t blame yourself for it. And anyway, I am here now.”

Dr. Connors smiled a little. “That, you are,” he said. “I feel like I’ve been doing your genius intellect a great injustice by assigning you all these menial tasks.”

“Hey, someone’s gotta do the menial tasks, right?” He smiled back. “My experience with research is next to nothing compared to that of the other people in this lab, so I’m fine with where I am. And not all the tasks are exactly menial.”

“Still.” The man sighed. “Since it was your father’s genius that came up with this idea, it feels only right to have you develop it further—or at least play a role in its creation.”

“I’m here whenever you need me,” Vernon said, glad about the lightening of the atmosphere. He wasn’t sure how much more of that weight he could have taken. He cocked his head, studying the listed proteins. “What made you want to work on this ‘cure’ again after so long?”

“A lot of different reasons,” the scientist said. “I think I had been avoiding this project for so long because I couldn’t bear to continue it without Richard by my side, but meeting you, his son, and having you take up a position in my lab felt like a sign.” He gave the boy a sideways smile. “And from a scientific viewpoint—before this, I’d been working on a different kind of cure, a serum with a principle based in cross-species genetics. It was supposed to be give a person the ability to regenerate lost limbs like a lizard, but the premature human trials went off the rails.”

Vernon nodded, keeping his mouth clamped shut. “I see,” he said, not wanting to bring up the Lizard incident unless he was sure Dr. Connors was ready to address it.

“However, after someone helped…fix the problem by making an anti-serum, the new formula for it gave me an idea,” the man continued. “Scientific inspiration, I guess you could call it. There’s a lot to be done, but I still have the anti-serum here in the lab, and have been studying it for over a month now.”

The gears had already begun turning in Vernon’s head. He had been the one to create the anti-serum as Spider-Man, and no one knew the methodology better than the original creator. Most of it had stemmed from the original Lizard formula, and with a bit of recalibration and measured reversal, the formula had worked. That makes me wonder…

“Hey, doc,” he murmured, brow pinched into a thoughtful frown, “if you had a sample of perfectly bonded human and non-human cell structure, do you think you would be able to mimic it and engineer a matching structure for the cure?”

The man frowned. “How do you mean?”

“I mean…” Vernon hesitated. Because of the OZ formula transferred into his blood by the spider bite, his DNA was perfectly bonded to spider DNA, which gave him what they called in post-human-speak a ‘healing factor’. It wasn’t as effective as Wolverine’s, but it was still something—and it was based on the same principle as the cure. Like the OZ formula helped his body develop a natural cure for anything he could be hit by—be it a paper cut or a head wound—by using its own resources.

The only difference was that it heightened his facilities by combining human abilities with spider abilities, which gave him things like his spider sense. However, if Vernon could use his own blood to develop a kind of skeletal structure for the cure. If it did work, it would only work on enhanced spider/human DNA, but at least then he’d have a start. The possibilities after that were endless.

“If there already existed a perfect sample of blood which had an in-built system like the cure,” Vernon said, trying not to give away too many details.

“Like mutant DNA?” Dr. Connors asked. “They have a completely different genetic structure in place, though, Vernon. They have the X-Gene. Their nucleotide sequence itself is mutated.”

“No, not like that,” Vernon said. “Like human DNA, just…enhanced. Bonded with something like the cure, just not—not living.”

Dr. Connors raised his eyebrows. “Well, having a perfect sample would reduce the needed brainwork to a tenth,” he said. “But you couldn’t acquire a sample like that, because, well, it exists only in theory.”

“Right,” Vernon muttered, but already the beginnings of a smile had started to curve his lips. “Only in theory.”

Vernon’s mind was buzzing with so much excitement from his idea for the cure that even web-slinging hadn’t been able to distract him from it.

He and the rest of the S.H.I.E.L.D. team had spent the evening scouring the city for any signs of something that could substantiate Vernon’s theory, but had come up with nothing except a few petty criminals, who had been easily stopped. The other three had left early, telling him to use their new communication devices (which looked an awful lot like kitschy wrist bands, except for the fact that they could turn invisible) if anything came up.

Nothing did.

It was nine p.m. and Vernon had still not changed out of his Spidey suit, spending the free hour to swing around the city and try and clear his head. Too much had happened in one day, and his mood was seesawing between elation at his new project and trepidation because of the dreaded return of movie night. Funny that a high school hangout was a source of more nervousness for him than trying to imitate his own radioactive blood sample to finish his dad’s decades old design.

When I put it like that, it sounds even more absurd, he thought, scrolling through the usual evening homework-help texts on his phone as he waited in line to buy eggs and a carton of milk at the not-so-local grocery store. Even Spider-Man had to obey queues when he was out doing chores for Aunt May.

He paid for the eggs and milk without the tattooed cashier giving him a second glance, and stepped out into the street with the bags. Aunt May wouldn’t be back until ten; he had about an hour to kill until curfew, but he wanted to get home early to talk to her about movie night (yet another reaction to dread) and hopefully study his spidery OZ-bonded radioactive blood under the lens of his old microscope that Uncle Ben had gotten him over a year ago.

“Yo, Spidey!”

Vernon looked up to see a chubby, tanned guy in his late twenties beaming at him like an old friend as he jogged up to meet him. “Hey, I remember you,” he said, pointing at the guy. “You’re uhhh…” He squinted at him, trying to remember when he’d last seen him. “That pizza delivery guy who almost got abducted by aliens!”

“That’s me! Paulo!” the guy exclaimed, his wide smile widening even more upon being recognized. “You saved me from those killer robot aliens last month, remember? And I promised you free pizza in case you ever needed it,” he added. “How’s it going?”

“As usual.” He raised the bag containing the groceries he’d just bought.

“Running errands when you get a break from crime-fighting, eh?” Paulo asked, giving his thick dark curls a shake. His smile refused to dim even a bit, like someone had switched on a light bulb with a permanent power source. “Keeps the superheroes humble.”

“Tell that to Captain America.” Vernon checked the comm device on his wrist, almost groaning out loud when he saw it was almost half past nine already. “Great. Uh, Paulo, I’ll have to catch you later. It’s late, and I gotta get back well before curfew in case there are delays on the way.”

“Of course! Go do your Spider-Man thing.” Paulo lifted his hands, mimicking the thwip-thwip gesture of shooting webs, and grinned. “See you later, Spidey!” he called out from behind him as Vernon swung himself up to a lamppost before launching himself into the air. “Remember the offer with the free pizzas still stands!”

“I will!” Vernon yelled back as he swung away. And he wasn’t just saying that, either—free pizzas were free pizzas.

He had to change in an alleyway again, but thankfully this time it didn’t have an open dumpster or smell like someone had thrown out a decayed cheese slab in the trash. By the time he got back home, Aunt May was already back, as indicated by the lights in the kitchen. Just perfect, he thought miserably, as he unlocked the front door with his spare key and trudged into the hallway.

“Vernon! You’re back early,” a voice yelled from the kitchen when she heard the door shut behind him. A woman with short silver hair, clad in a comfortable t-shirt and yoga pants came out into the living room as he entered it, wiping her hands with a hand towel. “Did you get the milk and eggs like I asked you to?” Aunt May asked.

For an older lady, she sure has great hearing. “Yep,” he said, swinging his bag off his shoulders and unzipping it, internally praying he hadn’t squashed the milk carton from all his swinging like last time. Thankfully, they were undamaged. “Did you come back from yoga classes early?”

“Oh, Denise pulled a muscle in her back, poor thing,” May said. “I offered to bring her back home, but she refused to let me ice it for her, saying she’d get Mac to do it instead.” She disappeared into the kitchen once again, coming out without the hand towel this time. “Put the groceries in the fridge, won’t you?”

For an older lady, Aunt May also had a lot of things going for her. Yoga classes on Monday-alternating weekdays, squash sessions over the weekend, classes for baking and music and whatnot—she might even have been busier than Vernon himself.

“Will do,” he said, obeying. His mind was still swimming with all the older thoughts, but now that he was standing right in front of Aunt May, the worry about movie night had pushed itself to the forefront, demanding all of his nervous attention.

He stood at the fridge even after closing the door, chewing his lip and wondering how to bring it up. Words really had failed him today. “Aunt May?” he ventured, unable to keep the hint of nerves from his voice. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“What is it, honey?” she asked, poking her head out of the kitchen. Around her waist was an apron that said Don’t Kiss the Cook. “Vernon?”

He kissed his teeth, teetering back and forth on the balls of his feet. “It’s about movie night.”

She stilled. “What about movie night?”

Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, Vernon thought, pursing his lips. Aunt May hadn’t exactly been close with the Osborns, but he knew she had cared about Harry in her own way, the same way she cared about any neglected kid that Vernon brought home like an abandoned cat. She gave them as much comfort as she could, tried to give them the family they never really had, even if she knew she couldn’t completely replace them. It had happened before: Harry, and Luce—and now, Vernon thought with a little sigh, maybe even the team.

“Luce asked me to ask you if you were okay with us doing movie night this weekend,” he said slowly. “And there are these new kids, and she told me to ask them too, but if you’re busy we can always—”

“Vernon!” Aunt May smiled widely, coming out of the kitchen to rest her hands on his shoulders and give them a big squeeze. “Of course I’m okay with it! Oh, you don’t know how I wished you kids would do one of those again, I’m sure that’s what Harry would have wanted too.” She gave him a motherly smile, one that was soft and sad at the same time. “I’ll leave the house to you kids that day.”

“Oh, no, Aunt May, that’s not necessary—” he started, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand.

“Don’t be so formal with me, kiddo,” she said. “I know movie night means a lot to you, and if you have new friends coming over, I’m sure you don’t want a chaperone around.” She raised her eyebrows. “Although I would like to meet them before I go out.”

Vernon sighed, but there was a tiny smile on his face. “God, you’re the best.”

“And don’t you forget it.” She winked. “Besides, even an old woman like me needs to go out with her friends every once in a while, too. This might just turn out to be a good break for both of us.”

He nodded, feeling a welling of emotion in his chest that wouldn’t go down no matter how much he tried to push it away. One less thing to worry about, he thought half-heartedly, trying not to think about how Aunt May’s agreement meant movie night was on, which had the potential to be an even more worrying prospect. “I hope so.”

#kwritersworldnet #caratwritersclub #svtcreations #seventeen #svt #vernon #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #vernon imagines #vernon fluff #vernon scenarios #vernon fanfic #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt scenarios #svt fanfic #hansol fluff #hansol scenarios #hansol fanfic

[supernovaken]

Why I don’t like Vivi - One Piece Discussion | Supernova Ken

Where to begin with this one. I’ll start by saying I don't necessarily dislike Vivi, forgive the clickbait title. But I do find her character - very annoying.

As in, an unhealthy amount of frustration is directed at this very fictional character and there are a few reasons why, but it really all boils down to her representing a character trait that we see in many real life examples (as far as celebrity lives count as real life anyway). Vivi is hella entitled and I can't stand her.

Let me circle back to the things that make Vivi a great pseudo-Straw-Hat. Pseudo because her inherent character traits are also what make her quite unsuitable to sail with the rest of the crew.

What I Liked,

She knows how to take charge in important situations. One thing we need to remember about our fearless leader Monkey D. Luffy is in the beginning his role as Captain was definitely a position he had to mature into before the Usopp and Robin moments at Water 7 kick started his growth from charismatic ‘head of the line’ member of a ragtag bunch to a bonafide reliable chief on the dangerous high seas.

Many times with Luffy we’ve seen him fall short as someone able to be responsible for others, not his fault as he had an upbringing focused on strength and independence while all the loving characters around him like Ace, Sabo and Garp all had themselves a lot more put together than a young Luffy so he only ever had people to look up to rather than a crew to rely on him. In these gaps he’s always been ok with stronger characters taking over the leadership role de facto like Zoro’s directions against Oz in thriller Bark and Nami’s everyday orders on the ship.

Vivi displayed this trait almost adequately (emphasis on almost) when she conveyed the importance of a leader recognising the needs of their crew/followers and putting aside their own pride or personal viewpoints for the sake of those needs. In Drum Kingdom she scolds Luffy for acting impulsively against the townsfolk even though he knew Nami needed their help seeking emergency medical care.

Wonderful kingly trait there no doubt, but here’s my gripe with it. In displaying her kingly wisdom she undermines and belittles the Captain in what was meant to come across as a humbling moment for Luffy. Maybe i’m old fashioned or these many years since the Drum arc have warped the details a little for me but the citizens shot at their ship unprovoked, traumatised or not by the constant pirate assaults their actions just invite more danger to the village if these weren’t our protagonist they were shooting at while also putting the rest of the straw hats at risk, Vivi herself took a bullet in the process, not so noble when you consider if that were an island full of pirates or marines shooting at the crew, a quick curb stomping response would have been highly acceptable.

I’m not advocating beating up civilians so best not to get into the politics of how they should defend themselves, and Luffy was in the wrong for jumping the gun; Vivi however should not have chastised him by calling him a failure as a Captain, it’s natural for any Captain to defend their crew if attacked unduly - her judgement was unnecessary. The best way to show Luffy he’s in the wrong here isn’t to outdo him but to appeal to his emotional side, understanding and respecting the fears of the villagers while assertively acknowledging the needs of his crew.

A second thing i liked about Vivi was her relationship with Koza and how it shaped her morality and love for her people, But even with that she also showed how out of touch she was those same citizens of the Alabasta Kingdom, she wasn’t able to understand their day to day problems and the pain they felt in needing to rebel against the King in the first place. Koza was the perfect character for this as he represented the country's heart in spite of its monarchy. Although Crocodile and the Baroque Works were to blame for the life threatening drought in the regions, Vivi didn’t understand why it was so easy for him to sway the people's belief in the King or the turmoil involved in Kozas' decision to fight. Yes this was part of her character arc which Luffy helped her realise by literally knocking some sense into her, but the whole ordeal was telling of someone who thinks its easy to be a citizen as long as the King is kind and that entitled attitude really grinds my gears. Fortunately her naivety in terms of the strain on the Kingdom was addressed and growth shown when she decided to stay behind and help her country develop into something better for its people.

To sum up, Vivi does have some great qualities with her leadership skills standing above the average person and her strong moral compass that’s based on a foundation of love and empathy for the everyday man. But her naivety, arrogance, disrespectful entitled attitude on top of just being a pain in the ass throughout her arc was enough to have me rooting against her joining the crew as a permanent member. Not sure if i could deal with a longer exposure to a character who, for me, seemed very out of touch with the harsher realities of the world.

#one piece supernova #onepiece #vivi nefertari #monkey d luffy #roronoa zoro #trafalgar law #cat burglar nami #alabasta

[thecaffeinebookwarrior]

The Dos and Don’ts of Writing Smart Characters

Since I started this blog, one of the most common questions I’ve received has to do with the portrayal of intelligent characters.  This is also one of the most difficult to answer -- excluding questions about characters with specialized knowledge sets, which are fairly easy to answer with source compilations.  Most of the questions have to do with:  how do you portray a smart character believably?  How do you make the audience relate to them?  Can I still make them likable?  How do I avoid the pitfalls of popular media?

Well, I’m finally here to answer, utilizing examples from some of my favorite (and occasionally, not-so-favorite) media.  Let’s jump in to the dos and don’ts of smart characters!

1.  Do let the audience follow the character’s thought process.  

As demonstrated by:  Tommy Shelby from Peaky Blinders

Albert Einstein allegedly once said, “If you can’t explain it to a five-year-old, you don’t truly understand it.”  And the sentiment rings true:  true genius doesn’t need to dazzle with big words and technobabble.  Instead, it makes the complex appear simple.

The same rings true for brilliant characters.  BBC’s Sherlock (more on that later) ceased to satisfy in its later seasons because it began to rely too heavily on visual glitz to avoid actually explaining its mysteries and how they were solved.  Similarly, the biggest complaints with block buster franchises -- Star Wars, The Avengers, Game of Thrones -- is that they became obsessed with “subverting expectations” cleverly instead of leading the audiences to their most logical and satisfying conclusions.

Meanwhile, the smartest and most satisfying media dazzles not by staying over the audience’s head, but by illustrating how simplistic the solutions can be.

Let’s start with my boy Tommy Shelby, the charismatic, swaggering protagonist of the charismatic, swaggering crime drama Peaky Blinders.  Using only his intelligence (and complete disregard for his own life/suicidal tendencies, but that’s not the point here), Tommy claws his way up from the near-bottom of the social ladder (an impoverished Romani in early 20th century Birmingham) to being a decorated war hero, to being the leader of a feared razor gang, to dominating the race track business, to becoming a business mogul, to becoming a member of parliament and trying to assassinate the leader of the fascist party. He’s also one of the paramount reasons why I’m bisexual.

So how can such a drastic social climb be conveyed believably?  Because Tommy -- as the viewpoint character -- is placed in seemingly inescapable situations, and then proceeds to demonstrate that the solutions to those situations have been there the whole time.  I recently watched a brilliant video on how this is done, which can be viewed here.

Early in season one, for example, he responds to aggressive new methods by the police by organizing a mass-burning of paintings of the king, and uses the press this garners to publicly shame the methods of the chief inspector who’s been antagonizing him.  In the next season, he talks his way into a deal by bluffing that he planted a grenade in his rival’s distillery.  My personal favorite is in season four, when he responds to being outgunned by a larger, American gang by contacting their rival -- none other than an Alphonse Capone.

All of Tommy’s victories are satisfying, because they don’t come out of nowhere -- we have access to the same information he does, each victory is carefully foreshadowed, and we are reminded at every turn that failure is a very real possibility (more on that later.)  So when he wins, we’re cheering with him.

Other examples:  Mark Watney from The Martian, who explains science in its most simplistic terms and with infectious enthusiasm.  He would make every character on The Big Bang Theory cry.  

Also, Miss Fisher from the AMAZING Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries.  The dazzling, 1920s, female Sherlock Holmes of your dreams.  I cannot recommend it enough.

To apply this to your own writing:  Remember you won’t dazzle anyone if you smack them in the face with a “brilliant” plot twist.  They want to take a journey with your character, not be left in the dust.  

Also, for everyone in my askbox concerned that they’re not smart enough to write intelligent characters, just remember how simple the problems confronting smart characters can be.  Put them in a difficult situation, and provide them with a means of getting out.  Then, just let them find it. 

2.  Don’t assume the audience is too stupid to keep up (or try to make them feel too stupid to keep up.)

As demonstrated by:  Sherlock Holmes from BBC’s Sherlock.

Say what you will:  there were reasons why everyone was so captivated by this show during its first two seasons.  It felt fresh.  People had yet to become frustrated with the inescapable thirst for Benedict Cumberbatch.  The writing was sharp, and the editing clever.  And it wove a tantalizing web of mysteries that demanded solution.  The problem was, there weren’t any.

The most frustrating for many was how Sherlock faked his death at the end of season two, after which devoted fans spent two years creating intricate theories on how he might have pulled this off.  The creators responded by mocking this dedication in the opening episode of season three, by showing a fan club spinning outlandish theories (one of which included Sherlock and Moriarty kissing.)  This might have been laughed off -- at the time, many seemed to consider it quite funny -- if the creators had bothered to offer their own explanation of how Sherlock survived.  They didn’t.  And so began a seemingly endless loop of huge cliffhangers that promised -- and consistently failed to deliver -- satisfying answers.

The most egregious examples occur in season four, which provided answers to questions no one asked, and withheld answers for things everyone wanted to know.  For example, did you know that the real reason Moriarty engaged Sherlock is because he was hypnotized by Sherlock’s secret evil sister?  The same one who killed Sherlock’s best friend, whom Sherlock convinced himself was a dog?  Yes, that was a real plot point, in the climax of the series.  It’s an effort to befuddle the audience with brilliant and unexpected writing, but instead pulled them out of a story they were already invested in and made them far more critical of its pre-existing faults. 

It’s pointed out in the brilliant (if bluntly named) Sherlock Is Garbage, And Here’s Why that Moffat can be a great writer, but is a consistently terrible show runner, because he’s more interested in dazzling the audience with cleverness than actually telling a satisfying story.  The video also points out that the show often implied Sherlock’s brilliance, without ever letting the audience follow along with his actions or thought-process in a way that DEMONSTRATED his brilliance.  

I highly recommend giving the aforementioned video a watch, because it is not only a great explanation of how Sherlock Holmes can be best utilized, but about how writing itself can be best utilized.

Other examples:  The Big Bang Theory.  As Wisecrack points out in their wonderful video on the subject, the punchline of every joke is “oh look, these characters are smart nerds!” which is repetitious at best and downright insulting at worst.

How to avoid this in your writing:  Treat the audience as your equal.  You’re not trying to bedazzle them, you’re trying to take them on a journey with you.  Let them be delighted when you are.  Don’t constantly try to mislead them or hold intelligence over their head, and they will love you for it.  Also, cheap tricks do not yield a satisfying story:  readers will know when you went into a narrative without a plan, and they won’t appreciate it.

3.  Do remember that smart people can be kind and optimistic!

As demonstrated by:  Shuri from Black Panther.

Yes, brilliant people can be unhappy and isolated by their intelligence, or rejected by society.  But remember that intelligence isn’t synonymous with a cantankerous attitude, or an excuse to be a pugnacious ass to those around you!  

Part of the reason why Shuri of 2018′s Black Panther was such a breath of fresh air was the fact that she subverted almost all preconceptions about how a genius looks, acts, and regards the world.  And it’s not just the fact that she isn’t a sullen, middle-aged white man that makes her stand out:  Shuri has an effervescent attitude, and genuinely loves contributing to her country and family.  She referred to sound-proof boots as “sneakers” (and then explained the pun when her brother didn’t get it.)  She’s fashionable.  She teases her older brother, and cries when he is apparently killed.  She’s up on meme culture.  This makes her unlike pretty much every other genius portrayed in the MCU.

Except maybe the Hulk.  He can dab now.

Shuri is also allowed to take pride in her genius, and can be a bit insufferable about it, which makes her more enjoyable and rounded.  But she is an excellent example of how genius can be explored and portrayed in fiction, and I will forever be embittered that she was underutilized in Infinity War and Endgame.

Why, for example, are all geniuses portrayed as arrogant misanthropes?  Albert Einstein battled depression, but he is also said to have enjoyed blowing bubbles and watching puppet shows.  He was kind to those who knew him.  Similarly, Alan Turing behaved little like his fictional counterpart, described as “shy but outgoing,” with a love of being outdoors.  Nikola Tesla fell in love with a pigeon.  Why do we have to portray these people so damn gravely?

Other examples:  Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds.  Also an excellent portrayal of an intelligent person on the autism spectrum, as he struggles to interface socially but cares profusely for his fellow human beings.  He is brilliant, and completely precious.

Also, Sherlock Holmes -- the original version, and all faithful adaptations thereof.  Anyone who thinks Sherlock is an austere, antisocial jerk isn’t familiar with the original canon.  He blushed when Watson complimented his intelligence, for God’s sake. 

Then there’s Elle Woods from Legally Blonde and Marge from Fargo.  Brilliant, upbeat, optimistic geniuses.

To apply this to your own writing:  If you have a smart character who hates everyone around them for no identifiable reason, ask yourself why this is necessary and what this adds to the plot.  Are they angry about injustice, towards themselves or others?  Are they frustrated with an inability to relate to people?  Do they want to protect themselves or their family at all costs, including politeness?  If not, question why your brilliant character can’t also be kind to those around them.

4.  Don’t make your character perfect at everything they do.

As demonstrated by:  Wesley Crusher from Star Trek: The Next Generation.

Ah, Wesley.  Some call him the original Mary Sue, and it’s one of the only times I’ve seen the term applied with some accuracy.  He is somehow the most gifted and least qualified person on The Enterprise.  He’s Hermione Granger without the charm, jumping in to answer questions before any of the trained officers in the room have the chance to, always in the right.  His only obstacle?  Why, the boorish adults he’s surrounded with simply don’t understand his brilliance!

As early as the series’ very second episode, Wesley -- inebriated by an alien illness -- forcibly takes over the ship from Captain Picard, only to later save it from a threat with a reverse tractor beam of his own design.  

Wesley was obviously inserted as a means of attracting younger viewers, but failed egregiously, because he was too annoyingly perfect for kids to relate too, and not cool enough for them to be invested in.  I binge-watched the various Star Trek series in my youth for Spock, Data, and my wife Seven of Nine, not to watch seasoned military and scientific officers get lectured by an adolescent.  Even Wil Wheaton, who had the misfortune of portraying this character, expressed a dislike for him.  

Precocious children are great, if you get them right.  But get them wrong, and they can easily become your most annoying character, marring the face of otherwise great media.  The most important thing you can do for a brilliant character is endow them with weaknesses and flaws -- even something as small as Shuri’s fondness for teasing her older brother made her enjoyable, as anyone with siblings could relate to their dynamic.  

But, what if you want a supernaturally talented character who not only fails to be a ray of sunshine, but is something of an arrogant, antisocial jerk?  Can they still work, especially if they also happen to be a child? 

Yes, under one extremely important condition:

5.  Do keep your characters out of their depth!

As demonstrated by:  Number Five from Umbrella Academy.

Okay, he’s not exactly a child.  He’s a fifty-eight-year-old trapped in a child’s body, who’s traveled back in time from a post-apocalyptic future to warn his siblings of an incoming Armageddon.  In other news, Umbrella Academy is a weird show.  Unlike the comics, however, the apes don’t engage in prostitution. 

 The effect, however, remains the same:  a preternaturally talented child who talks down to everyone around him, including his (apparently) older siblings.  So why does he work while Wesley fails so egregiously?

For one thing, it’s demonstrated early on that Five has the skills to back up his sanctimonious attitude, with the delightfully ultraviolent Istanbul (Not Constantinople) sequence.  It also helps that he lacks Wesley’s squeaky-clean moral code, to the point at which he can get drunk in public or kill without remorse.  

But:  the element most vital to his success as a character is the fact that he’s kept completely, and consistently, out of his depth.  He knows the world will end in eight days, but he doesn’t know how this will transpire or how to stop it.  Ultimately, he fails again to stop the apocalypse, and must travel back in time with his siblings for another chance.  

Most authors have the impulse to demonstrate a character’s brilliance by allowing them to succeed against insurmountable odds, but the Umbrella Academy writers show tremendous wisdom in allowing Five to fail.  This allows the audience to empathize with him, and countermands the effects of his arrogant attitude.

This advice isn’t just true for pint-sized prodigies.  Look back over this list, and take notes of how often the most successful characters are allowed to fail, to have flaws, and to ascend past their comfort zone.  

Other examples:  Virtually every successful example on this list.

Tommy Shelby, a character of limitless ambition, conducts a new, perilous climb outside of his social rank each season, which almost always puts him in positions of mortal danger.  He faces threats both external (rival gangs, evil priests, and rising fascists) and internal (hello PTSD, suicidal tendencies, and crippling addiction) but either way, we understand that his fast-paced climb is not for the weak-willed or faint-hearted.  

Mark Watney is a brilliant scientist who has been stranded in an utterly impossible situation for which absolutely no one could be adequately prepared (spoilers:  it’s on Mars.)  We are drawn in by his plight, and how he could possibly escape from it, and there we come to admire him for his courage, optimism, and humor.

Shuri, though not the main character of Black Panther, is allowed to show off both tremendous gifts and vulnerability, as she is powerless to stop the apparent death of her beloved older brother.  She watches Wakanda’s takeover both as an innovator and a young woman, and a large reason for her success is that she is allowed to be both.  

How to apply this to your writing:  When portraying intelligent characters, take stock of how often they fail, their level of control over their surroundings, their vulnerability, and their flaws.  We don’t want to read about flawless deities.  We want to read about characters who embody and personify our humanity.  So remember they need to fall down in order to pull themselves up.

Happy writing, everybody! 

#long post for ts #writing tips #writing smart characters #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #mark watney #the martian #miss fisher's murder mysteries #shuri #black panther #spencer reid #criminal minds #legally blonde #fargo #number five #the umbrella academy #star trek #star trek: the next generation

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GoT Re-Watch: Fine-Toothed Comb Edition

This post is also available on my wordpress.

All right. We know what this episode is. We know what we’re digging into here. Only one more recap to go after this one…

8.05 – The Bells

(1:59) We open the episode with a bit of mild treason. Someone (Varys) is spilling the beans about Jon’s parentage.

(2:35) This isn’t spelled out in so many words, but the strong implication here is that Varys sent this little kid to go poison Dany. This didn’t come out of nowhere, but boy did it ever escalate quickly. Make one decision Varys disagrees with, even when he’s got no good alternatives, and bam you’re up for assassination.

Note how Varys’ actions here aren’t given much scrutiny. This is because it would reveal the hypocrisy in a second flat. When Varys says the ends justify the means, the narrative is silent. When Dany says the ends justify the means, the narrative goes out of its way to demonise her. I don’t believe the ends justify the means, but there is a fundamental lack of consistency here.

(3:52) Not to mention the goddamned fucking nerve of portraying Dany’s refusal to accept food as evidence that her mental state is deteriorating, when the show not one minute ago established that her food was poisoned. It’s the famous question – is it paranoia when they really are out to get you?

This is not a case of Dany harbouring the irrational and unfounded belief that her breakfast will coagulate into the Dread Brunchmonster and devour her. Given that Dany’s soldiers are watching the poisoner, this appears to be a case of Dany forming the belief that someone is trying to poison her and being justified in her belief. I gotta say, looking at the evidence and coming up with an accurate conclusion based on that evidence does not support narrative contentions of irrationality.

Unfortunately for Dany, the narrative’s out to get her as well. She cannot win. Eat the poisoned food and die, refuse the poisoned food and have Varys imply damaging things about her mental state.

(4:37) Varys is committing all the treason in his last scenes. This is the worst of the lot, in the sense that he’s soliciting Dany’s #1 fan for a coup on an open beach in plain view of her Hand, who knows that Varys can now be counted a political enemy. Square character pegs, round plot holes. Was Varys ever established to be this incompetent? But we’re getting close to the end here and he needs to die, so bye!

Notice also the competence flip. Varys is trying to do “the right thing,” so he sucks at it. Much like Jon’s ineffectual when he tries to do the right thing. Hell, pick a Stark, any Stark, and they were probably ineffectual when they tried to do the right thing. Compare Euron, who’s only out to kick shit down, and succeeds when he’s got no right to because he’s doing a shitty, plot-convenient thing. Now Dany’s in that Euron zone. She’s effortlessly detecting Varys’ treason because the narrative has decided she’s a bad guy now. We’ll get back to this when the fighting starts.

(5:19) If I was tempted to count one thing this season, one thing, it would be how many times Jon says “she’s my queen” or variation.

(6:03) We track Tyrion into this scene. It becomes quite noticeable at this point that we aren’t seeing much from Dany’s PoV, but approach her actions from the viewpoint of the men around her. We don’t get insight into why Dany thinks someone’s betrayed her or her emotional reaction to coming to this conclusion, we only get the scenes of Varys (absolutely positively 100% justifiably, for certain) betraying her, and Tyrion approaching her with the news. Keep that in mind for later.

It’s also worth mentioning the weather flip. Last season Dragonstone was perpetually sunny. Now it’s gone back to Stannis-in-charge weather.

(6:11) Oh my god! She’s not perfectly groomed! Flee for your lives, people, if she can leave her hair unbrushed she’s capable of anything!

Now, not taking care of your appearance and hygiene can be an indicator that someone’s got some mental issues going on. Depression, pretty commonly. But to understate the issue just a bit, depression does not automatically translate into mass murder. Not all mental disorders are the same. And sure as shit not all people with mental disorders are violent. Most aren’t. Nor is this a careful depiction of a character struggling with mental illness that does result in violent tendencies. This is just flat out crazy = violent, “madness” striking out of a clear blue sky because the writers said so.

(6:57) So, basically, this game of telephone worked exactly like Dany thought it would, for the exactly reasons she thought it would. Dany’s relationship with reality is still going strong.

Dany’s “madness,” right now, is basically the fact that she’s upset over being betrayed, and grieving and angry after recently witnessing the violent deaths of two close friends. The emotional reaction to this doesn’t even look disproportionate. The narrative is Very Concerned that Dany is crazy…but all they’ve shown us is a woman going through a real rough time.

Equating a woman experiencing turbulent emotions with insanity is sexist as fuck and does no favours for people experiencing mental illness, either. Hysterical women! They cannot be trusted to lead.

Mind you, it’s not an improvement when the writers apparently drop the insanity angle just as abruptly as they introduced it. Problems for later!

(7:44) “She trusted you to spread secrets that could destroy your own queen.” Now this, this isn’t so well-supported. Sansa hasn’t spent much time with Tyrion in season eight, and as far as we can tell, never observed his relationship with Varys. She’s been in the same scenes with them, but I think she’s only heard them exchange one line of dialogue, in a group setting. Why would Sansa think that Tyrion would immediately tell Varys without clearing it with Dany? Why would Dany think that Sansa would do this? (Undermine her in a general sense, yes, Dany’s got good reasons for suspecting that. Undermining her in this specific way…not so much.)

This, I think, is a case of the writers not keeping track of which characters have seen which interactions. Resulting in all characters knowing all the same things about their relationships.

If you’re going to hinge plot developments on this sort of thing, you have to set it up. If Sansa’s machinations are the starting point of the rumours about Jon’s parentage, leading to actual betrayals of Dany, you have to show how that plan worked. (See also: Littlefinger’s downfall.)

(9:25) It may have come about for stupid reasons, but Varys’ arrest is, I think, nicely understated. No dialogue, just Gray Worm entering Varys’ room with shackles.

(10:31) Varys nods his acceptance that Tyrion told on him to Dany. Seriously, though, what even was Varys’ plotting this episode? Show!Ned could have given him a few pointers.

Then he gets a few lines about how he hopes that he’s wrong about Dany, because Varys enlisting a small child into his assassination plot was only for the best. His desire for a better world was right and noble, despite the fact he was willing to use violence and treachery to achieve his ends. (Don’t think about it too much, okay?) Jon and Tyrion are clearly in denial over Dany’s mental decline.

(12:12) And that’s the end of Varys. Didn’t take long. Varys had to lose a lot of competence very quickly to enable that loose end to be wrapped up so quickly.

(12:58) This is a scene from Dany’s PoV, inviting the viewer to share her grief over Missandei’s death. I think this might actually be the last scene we get from Dany’s PoV.

(14:24) “This was a victory for [Sansa].” What’s also apparent at the end of the series is that we’re now at a point where we’ve got reasonable men trying to work together, and women pit against each other at every side. The surviving male protagonists have cordial relationships with each other, by and large – and the surviving female progatonists hate each other, by and large. The surviving female protagonists identify the other female protagonists as threats. The exception here is Sansa and Arya, but remember season seven? Oh boy, I sure do.

Forget the question of who’s more at fault for the Dany-Sansa conflict, because the answer is “the writers.” They’re the ones who can’t imagine that Dany and Sansa might be able to talk out their problems honestly, even if they don’t like each other, distinguishing each from Cersei’s inability to collaborate.

Again, for clarity – the problem isn’t that female characters are in conflict, the problem is that the majority of the female characters are in conflict, almost exclusively with other female characters, where the men are talking about their problems reasonably.

(15:56) Doubling down on completely awful ideas (yes, the bad ideas are increasing exponentially), we’re back to the idea that Dany is sad/insane over the fact that nobody loves her, and Jon’s romantic rejection furthers her mental decline and determination to kill her way to the top.

This is just…completely awful.

First, there’s the fact that Dany’s inability to win love in Westeros is a massive plot contrivance. Why hasn’t this character been able to gain affection? Because the writers haven’t been allowing the consequences of Cersei’s actions to play out (you know, the ones from the time she blew up the Sept of Baelor and murdered a lot of very popular political figures), making Dany look worse in comparison. Also because xenophobia, which for some reason the narrative is now actively supporting.

Second, after all the traumatic bullshit this character’s been through, it’s romantic rejection that sends her over the edge? Seriously? Rejection sucks, but come the fuck on. Is Dany going literally insane over rejection remotely in character, from what we’ve seen of her over the course of the seven previous seasons?

Thus far the dragon queen has needed a man like a fish needs a bicycle. This is flippin’ insulting.

Oh and it’s bad writing for Jon because we still don’t have the info that he’s squicked out by Dany being his aunt. No insight into his identity crisis whatsoever.

(16:07) We’re having the same argument yet again. We’ve been having this argument off and on for two seasons. Yes, Dany assaulting the city will cause a lot of casualties. This is bad. In-universe, however, the people who’ve been advocating for not assaulting the city directly have had their chance, and they failed. Dany gave their ideas a shot and they didn’t work. So what’s the greater evil here? Assaulting the city directly, or leaving Cersei in charge?

Note that the showrunners have ceased to talk about or show what makes Cersei in charge such a colossally bad idea in general. We’ve seen her actions against Dany, and they were bad, but we haven’t seen her going out and oppressing the population for a few seasons now. We get a line about the consequences of resisting Cersei, but when we’re told and not shown, this doesn’t have the same impact. We cannot even establish that this happened. Could’ve used a scene of that, instead of that garbage with Euron. Plus, over the course of the series, Tyrion has been quite consistently wrong about how willing his sister is to use violence and when she’s willing to use it.

Furthermore, we’ve got some double standards here! I know, I’m as surprised as you are. Dany is proposing a plan that will cause a lot of casualties, and this is used as justification for the men around her thinking she’s unfit to rule. When the series’ male leaders proposed and enacted plans that would kill a lot of people – including Tyrion, defending King’s Landing against Stannis! – that was not used to determine their fitness. Fitness for leadership was judged on other qualities.

(16:17) “You can’t expect them to be heroes, they’re hostages,” says Tyrion, apparently forgetting that his earlier advice to Dany relied on the people of King’s Landing rising up against Cersei.

(16:47) Now we’re turning a long-term argument, i.e. leaving Cersei in charge will cause more deaths over the long run than assaulting King’s Landing will in the short term (keeping in mind just who blew up the Sept of Baelor), into further evidence of Dany’s insanity and/or evil. You can think what you like about this argument, but it’s not an unreasonable argument to explore.

The showrunners have posed us a nasty ethical and moral problem in this plot. As wars tend to throw up. The only thing they seem to have to say about solutions, though, is “not this way.” Worse, they’re not actually addressing the counter-arguments, and basically going for the ad hom “but Dany is crazy and/or evil” instead.

(16:58) “If the city surrenders, they will ring the bells and raise the gates.” Continuity alert: back in S2, it was said outright that bells =/= surrender.

(18:04) Just establishing Jaime’s offscreen teleportation.

(18:14) Another undeniably crazy and/or evil moment from Dany: she puts Tyrion on a performance improvement plan. The madwoman. It’s not like he’s failed her before!

Oh, wait. He’s barely done anything but fail her.

(18:31) Scenes of overwhelmingly white civilians (over the course of the episode, I did spot a few people of colour amongst the King’s Landing extras), complete with vulnerable young children, continue pouring through the gates of King’s Landing. And yes, I do have to mention that they’re overwhelmingly white, given the subsequent depiction of Dany’s loyalist armies, who are overwhelmingly people of colour. We’ll talk about that then, when we’re fully dealing with Dany as a villain.

(19:54) Exhibit…what are we up to? I lost count…in “the writers kinda forgot Tyrion’s orders directly led to the death of Davos’ son, and they both know this.” Davos is fucking committing treason for Tyrion now.

(20:11) Oh, god, it’s Arya and Sandor encountering a nameless guard. This is going to be “witty,” isn’t it? Much like the writers have no way for Tyrion to elicit character-sensitive information but drinking games, they’ve got no way for Arya and Sandor to prove their likeability except random encounters with guards.

(21:15) Show!Tyrion’s shithouse Valyrian is basically Bella Swan’s clumsiness. It’s an endearing flaw that’s meant to show they aren’t perfect – but in its shallowness only shows that as conceived, this character was not given enough real flaws.

(22:24) Just confirming that Jaime’s here for Cersei, even believing her cause to be utterly futile. I really hope nobody was invested in Jaime/Brienne, because that’s just fucking brutal.

(22:36) Convince Cersei to change her course of action? To recap, Cersei’s lied about sending people north to help fight the zombie army, hired someone to kill the pair of these dunces, and rejected Dany’s most recent offer of peaceful surrender by murdering her BFF in front of her. Given the slightest opportunity to screw Team Let’s Not Get Turned Into Zombies over, she has screwed them over. What grounds do any of these characters have to think they’ve got even half a chance to convince her that this time, this time, she should really not screw them over? Fourthtime lucky?

At least Jaime’s got the excuse of a self-destructive co-dependent relationship. Tyrion’s just throwing Jaime’s life away here.

(22:49) “To be honest, I never really cared much for [the civilians of King’s Landing].” If it weren’t for, you know, the other thing, this might have been the worst characterisation thing this season and this series. This blatantly does not accord with the Jaime we saw develop over the course of season three. The reveal that Jaime gave up whatever good name he had in order to protect five hundred thousand people from burning to death calls for a substantial reevaluation of his character. It puts a lot of his actions and reactions into a very different context.

And now, in his last episode, the penultimate episode of the series, we get “lol no never mattered to me! All incest, all the time, baby!”

Flippin’ insulting. To any viewer who was remotely invested in Jaime’s storyline or character.

(23:02) Continuing to use Cersei’s pregnancy to humanise her. This just – I’m not sure if I can fully articulate how much this bugs me, and on how many levels. I’ll come back to the issue as the episode progresses, especially in her death scene, but for now…

Cersei’s pregnancy is not going to automatically radically change who she is as a person. I mean, it hypothetically could, it’s not outside the realms of possibility, but it’s by no means a given. She’s a grown-ass woman who’s already given birth to three children (possibly four, depending on retcons). She’s got a bunch of other strong life experiences and strongly-held beliefs. This pregnancy does not define her life. If she’s been saying “no, fuck off, I think I can win this and that will be best for my unborn child,” perhaps that’s worth paying attention to? Perhaps it’s her argument that needs to be addressed, rather than simply saying “but the baby”?

Note to characters: the issue you’re having with Cersei is that she mistakenly believes she can win the war, not that she’s hanging on to her position out of self-destructive spite. She might be deluding herself, but if anyone’s trying to convince her, they have to deal with that delusion. Not rely on appeals to emotion alone.

(23:50) Now it’s Tyrion committing some mild treason. To save Cersei. Who hired someone to kill him and Jaime both, in the last couple of episodes. Remember when Tyrion had actually complicated feelings about Cersei, back in the day? When he hated her for the shit she pulled and the way she treated him, but couldn’t totally give up on caring about her because she was his sister?

Yeah, I can’t help but notice that the more the show wants to demonise Daenerys for her actions in removing Cersei’s regime, the less complex Tyrion’s feelings about Cersei become.

(24:12) “Sail right past the Iron Fleet and into a new life?” Jaime asks, and Tyrion responds, “There isn’t going to be an Iron Fleet much longer.” And, what, Tyrion thinks that Jaime can sail right past Dany’s own forces, dragon included? Like finding Cersei won’t be real high up on Dany’s to-do list following gaining control of King’s Landing? Granted, if last episode is anything to go by, Dany’s field of vision while riding on Drogon is severely limited, but even so.

(25:39) So the brothers Lannister share their final farewell. Speaking of relationships that became less complex. This hits basically the same notes as their parting at the end of season four did. How has this relationship changed? How have the people involved changed? Where’s the progress? Where’s the journey? What is the story?

(25:54) The omissions from Tyrion’s book arc are rubbed in as he thanks Jaime for not treating him like a monster.

(26:37) Now here we have a shot of a bell tower, and I think I might be done with most of my substantive commentary for this episode. I’ll do a bit of narration so people can keep track of who’s going where and the like. We’ll try to keep the teleportation to the show and not the recap. There’ll be a few things of substance, and we’ll get to them, but most of the rest of this 77-minute episode is noisy destruction.

At least it’ll be well-lit noisy destruction. Ugh, and to think I asked for a daytime fight scene in my pre-S8 wishlist.

(27:03) Establishing the Iron Fleet with their ballistae, and Euron’s presence aboard.

(27:15) Establishing more Lannister forces on the walls, also with ballistae. The amount of hustling and bustling and locking and loading going on, this is shaping up to be a real fair fight.

(28:16) Arya and Sandor have made it inside the city.

(28:44) Jaime is also trying to make it inside the city. He took his glove off especially for this purpose. Meanwhile, the Golden Company march out.

(29:15) Here’s a nice detail – the Golden Company’s shields all have golden skulls painted on them.

(30:31) Cersei heads out onto the balcony, because that’s what she does these days, watch things from her balcony. She’s wearing a nice shade of red today, and it couldn’t possibly be coincidental that Cersei swaps back to the red outfits as Dany moves into all black outfits, could it? Huh, so weird. And extraordinarily subtle.

(31:30) We’ve got a bit of a subplot with this mother and daughter trying to enter the city. I sense heartstring-tugging…

(33:03) And now, establishing Daenerys’ location. On a dragon. In the sky. The music kicks in with her arrival.

(33:31) Daenerys starts doing what she should have done well over a season ago, and starts torching the Iron Fleet. Note that all aimbot tendencies have been turned off, today. Diabolus ex machina is no longer affecting Dany because she is the diabolus ex machina now, and nobody will be able to stop her. The forces of evil (as defined by the show, not me) will now be delivering an almighty curbstomping to the forces of also evil, and the innocent bystanders. It’s gritty. It’s real.

(33:58) It’s not too late for Euron to make his final miraculous escape from a ship just torched by Drogon, though. See you in half an hour, Euron! I’m sure you’ll make things worse when you show up.

(34:07) So that’s the Iron Fleet dealt with! Man, why didn’t Dany just do this back in 7.02 or 7.03? This is super easy! Could have saved a lot of lives amongst Dany’s Ironborn allies, Dornish allies, and Reach allies, too. Were their lives not worth preserving? Shortened the war, saved a lot of lives there. Increased resources available to deal with the ice zombies, possibly spread out the impact of those losses…

(34:47) So that’s the Lannister forces on the walls dealt with! Man, why didn’t Dany just do this back in 7.03 or 7.04? This is super easy!

I note that Dany’s attack on the Red Keep, while causing a lot of fatalities amongst the men on the walls, hasn’t caused any destruction in the city as yet. You wouldn’t want to rely on a fire not spreading, and anyone worried about the risks would be fucking right to do so, but it would seem to indicate that a bit of targeting can go on here. It’s not a case of “use fire in city = fwoosh!” Almost like risks can be managed, chances taken…

(36:20) So that’s the Golden Company dealt with! I’m glad they were in the story! They sure had an impact!

You know I’m looking at all this fire and destruction and thinking, wow, a character sure was set up to fail in multiple ways these past two seasons…and not very well, either.

(38:22) Dialogue! What a novelty! Anyhow, Qyburn tells us that all Cersei’s anti-dragon weapons have been destroyed.

(41:15) The Lannister soldiers defending the streets start to throw down their swords. Here is where the episode gets…nasty. Also the situation with Daenerys and her cause becomes narratively irretrievable. The fight is over.

We’ve got a lot of close up shots of Dany, but she hasn’t had any dialogue since…lemme check…about the seventeen-minute mark of the episode. We have not been tracking what she thinks of the city’s fall. The story decided she was a bad guy now at the end of the last episode, and we’re just cementing it now.

(43:07) The bells start ringing here, officially signifying surrender.

(43:31) But wait! Dany is listening to the bells and breathing heavily! She sobs, takes off towards the Red Keep –

(44:33) And starts randomly spraying fire on civilians. That’s right! No dialogue! No nothing! Dany hears bells and fucking snaps. Goes from liberator to mass murderer in a second. Starts killing thousands of people without a word. Because after everything, it’s the surrender she can’t handle.

This just doesn’t track. I’m sorry. It doesn’t. We spent all that time debating how much force Dany should use against legitimate military targets, even when the possibility of severe collateral damage was involved, and in this moment Dany starts going after civilians directly. Clearly a different sort of thing. Where is the connection? The logic? “Dany is willing to accept the risks of high collateral damage, therefore she’s just a bell ring away from murdering civilians deliberately and personally.” “Dany is willing to use extreme force against active military targets, therefore she’s willing to use extreme force against surrendered enemies and civilians.” What?

There are ways you can bridge those gaps. There’s the way I think the books may well go down in TWoW – Dany misjudges the risks out of aggression (and ignorance of the magical explosives in town), and her actions end up causing far more destruction than she was okay with. There’s the way where Dany believes that the civilians are a threat to her, out of paranoia or delusion (note: this requires more set-up than Dany not enjoying herself at a party and failing to brush her hair after her spymaster tried to poison her). The show’s done neither, leaving us no explanation for why Dany has crossed what’s a pretty clear moral and ethical line, above and beyond any moral ambiguity in using her dragon against a military target.

If we’re going for “her logic is twisted because she’s ~crazy~”, the viewer still needs that explanation. Why did she think this made sense? This is a huge, radical action in the story, whether Dany’s insane or whether she drank evil juice with her non-poisoned breakfast, so where’s the scaffolding around this decision? She couldn’t even shout down to Jon that it wasn’t over until Cersei is dead?

Also note that the close-ups on Dany’s face and the heavy breathing would indicate that this is an emotional decision for Dany. These close-ups have been used thus far this season to indicate her growing insanity/“insanity”. Another issue to discuss next episode.

Mostly, I think the showrunners have subbed Dany in for JonCon – who, unlike Dany, does have bell-related surrender trauma. Here’s the thing though, and I know this is a minor point easily missed in these thousand-page apiece books: JonCon isn’t Dany. Find/replace is not a good way to adapt cool storylines from the books.

In addition to this, it’s real fucking irksome that after all the song and dance a few seasons back about the strong female characters taking charge, we get this. Female characters in charge, yes, but female characters who are both crazy and/or evil, which we can see because they keep blowing up the same damn city. I hate that this is the final conflict of the series. What’s more dangerous than the humanity-obliterating ice zombies? Women being in charge of Westeros, because they keep blowing up the same damn city. I hate that this is how they decided to treat arguably the series’ most prominent female character, let’s make her Cersei at her evilest, but even eviller and more fiery. Isn’t it cool that we went back on what was thus far a pretty straightforwardly heroic narrative, blowing all her moments of moral ambiguity and ruthlessness far out of proportion to her arc as a whole to that point? I bet this will subvert everyone’s expectations!

I just – I just want to know why. Really I do. Why was this decision made? What did the writers think the connotations of their decisions were? How did the writers think this would play? Honestly, now.

This also marks the point where the episode starts to just fucking suck to watch, because it’s another half hour of previously sympathetic characters mass murdering civilians. Half a fucking hour. Mass slaughter of extras. It’s destruction porn, nothing more. It’s not designed to make the audience think about the moral hazards of war and power, it’s meant to hurt the audience.

Asshole storytelling – the story gave the audience something to want, in Daenerys, won over several seasons of seeing her overcome internal and external obstacles. It gave the audience Daenerys’ success. And then the story abruptly yanked it away by having Dany mass murder thousands upon thousands of innocent civilians, and told the audience they were stupid for not seeing it coming earlier.

*sigh* Let’s get the rest of this over with.

(45:05) Jon is mildly bemused by Grey Worm murdering a Lannister soldier unprovoked. Can we buy a reaction? Nor does he do anything you might expect a leader to do, such as exert authority over the situation on the ground.

I mean, I know that they’re going for Jon being shocked into numbness, and as a member of the audience I can relate to the emotion. But when everyone’s reaction to things is Dull Surprise, nobody’s reaction stands out.

(45:23) Okay. Crucial seconds after the fact, Jon starts reacting. What this scene also does is establish that the Northern armies are getting well into the sacking and slaughtering (as does the extended sequence of wanton slaughter afterwards). That’s yet another thing I’m going to be keeping in mind for next episode.

(46:42) Speaking of Dull Surprise. The problem’s not Peter Dinklage (nor Kit Harrington, actually), the problem’s the lack of variety in response.

(47:03) Davos here starts ushering civilians out of the line of fire and proves himself far more effective a leader in the moment than…well. Just about anyone else present, actually.

(47:43) Oh no! The Dull Surprise has taken over the extras, too!

(48:10) Jon Snow, still wandering around scenes of carnage as they just sort of occur around him.

(49:03) Lena Headey’s doing her best with this “keep the emoting minimal” instruction, but yeah, nobody thus far has been allowed to have a reaction to Dany burning a city down for funsies beyond maybe a slightly dropped jaw.

(49:29) Meanwhile, Jaime has made it all the way around the Red Keep.

(49:35) …where, quite coincidentally, Euron is hanging out. So I was wrong, it was twenty minutes until he showed up for his last diabolus ex machina.

(50:17) So this isn’t so much a climactic duel against an epic backdrop as a misplaced ego fight. Euron’s revolting and basically a plot device for bad things to happen to other people, Jaime’s burned all sympathy anyone may have ever had for him, they’re fighting over Cersei of all people, Euron’s only doing this to be fucking obnoxious one last time…what’s the audience supposed to hope for here, beyond “I hope you both die”?

(50:33) While Jaime and Euron fight, the Red Keep’s getting absolutely torched.

(51:51) Two minutes of Jaime and Euron flailing at each other, concluding with Jaime getting stabbed, nobody cares…

(52:08) Qyburn continues to give Cersei notifications on how fucked her situation is, and he convinces her to leave. Strange, he never once mentioned the fact that she’s pregnant to do so.

(52:48) Green fire is visible in the city, another thing which makes me think that the showrunners were lifting from the books. Badly, with key things out of context (like the order of events), but grabbing from planned book events nevertheless.

(53:33) Back at the Euron-Jaime dick-fighting contest, Jaime stabs Euron. Still don’t care.

(54:09) Euron dies insisting how awesome he is for stabbing Jaime. How nice for him.

(54:35) Arya and Sandor make it into the map room. They’re not even dusty.

(54:43) We get a close-up of Sandor, Arya fuzzy in the background, as Sandor tells Arya to go home. This, much like the scene they shared last episode, puts Sandor in the protagonist role. Not Arya.

For a while now, Arya has felt like an afterthought. Her skills built up to killing the Night’s King through the magic of hasty retcons, but as far as an internal character journey goes, she’s been a side character in other people’s development. First Sansa, now Sandor. Again, this is something I anticipate talking about in a bit more detail in the next episode’s recap, but I think the showrunners lost sight of Arya Stark as a character in the last few season, and started bouncing her between plot points they wanted her involved in.

(55:04) Sandor stops here to tell Arya the point of their respective stories. Somewhat belatedly, I might add, given that she’s already slaughtered most of House Frey. Just in case it wasn’t coming across, or was somehow undermined by the events that are about to transpire.

(55:32) After being informed of the futility of her quest, Arya remembers, “Oh hey! I have a few things to live for! Thanks for pointing that out!” She doesn’t come to this on her own, she has to be told this.

(56:53) Sandor appears on the stairs, ready for Cleganebowl.

(57:36) Gregor rather abruptly kills Qyburn (bye!) and Cersei excuses herself from a scene she clearly has no business in. Seriously, it’s like she alked onto the wrong set.

(57:59) So here we are for a far more hyped up duel, another fight to the death against an epic backdrop. And again: why should I, the viewer, care? Sandor just said that this was absolutely pointless, that they’re both going to die anyway. The stakes of this fight…aren’t real high. The emotional torque relies on people wanting Sandor to get revenge at the direct expense of finding some way to move on with his life – the very path he just told Arya was a better one.

(59:20) Ah, the true love of the series: Cersei and Jaime. Reunited at last. What even are the choices here. Never mind, let’s just enjoy Lena Headey’s Cersei.

(1:00:46) More Cleganebowl. It’s a fight. With a zombie.

(1:02:00) Arya heads out into a rapidly crumbling and burning King’s Landing.

(1:03:31) Swapping between Cleganebowl (still a fight with a zombie) and Arya (still in a city in the process of being destroyed).

(1:04:12) The woman who was trying to get through the gates earlier with her daughter helps Arya to her feet. Oh yeah, there’s definitely going to be some heartstring-yanking here. Back to Cleganebowl.

(1:06:05) Which ends when Sandor tackles Gregor out the collapsing walkway into the flames below. Again, I got nothing. This fight meant nothing. It did nothing. Except help contribute to the undermining of Arya’s story, such as it became (do as I say, not as I do!) and kill off some useless characters, uh, provide fanservice, uh, wrap up loose ends.

(1:06:20) Back to Jon, still just kinda existing in the devastation, now with greener fire. Clearly he needs a dragon to scream at.

(1:06:44) Fucking finally! Jon does something useful and effective, in starting to arrange for his own forces to leave the burning city. About twenty minutes after he should have, but he got there in the end.

(1:07:10) Back to Arya, who’s most definitely dusty now. Writers seem to be trying to fake out her death an awful lot this episode. How many buildings can fall on the poor woman?

(1:10:17) Sure enough, the woman who tried to help Arya, and her daughter, are tragically incinerated in front of Arya’s very eyes. Didn’t see that coming, did you?

(1:10:25) Back to Jaime and Cersei in the collapsing tunnels of the Red Keep.

(1:10:49) Only their escape route is blocked.

(1:11:15) Ramin Djawadi doing his best as per usual brings in an echo from “Light of the Seven,” aka the music that played when Cersei blasted the Sept of Baelor. She did that! Just in case people and/or characters can’t recall as far back as season six.

(1:11:28) Unfortunately, we get this bullshit for Cersei and Jaime’s respective deaths, which is all about how she wants to live because she’s got a wanted pregnancy. I’m not averse to showing that Cersei is human with human frailties, but the viewer is fundamentally being asked to feel bad for this woman because she is pregnant. Ignore the woman (and the entirety of her life), focus on the pregnancy. We also have some goddamned icky creator comments contextualising this scene as Cersei being just a girl seeking comfort from a man, or some such bullshit that infantilises Cersei and reduces Jaime’s range of appropriate emotions in this situation.

It also continues to be extremely gross that the writers are treating Cersei’s romantic relationship, and her motherhood and potential motherhood as her foremost humanising, sympathetic characteristic – while out there unloved, infertile, human-childless Dany has snapped and started murdering thousands of people because nobody loves her.

I’ll have more to say about gendered character death next episode. Yes, I’m keeping a list. It’s getting pretty long.

(1:12:42) The music switches back to “The Rains of Castamere” for the actual Lannister deaths. Rocks fall. Jaime and Cersei die in each other’s arms.

(1:13:15) Ash falls in King’s Landing, and Arya wakes up yet again. This is like the third time in the past twenty minutes. Would you believe she’s still in a burning city?

(1:14:59) A random blood-spattered white horse appears on the set for Arya to ride. The symbolism here would be anvilicious, if not for a) the next episode and b) the fact that this goes nowhere. In case you didn’t get the point, though, there’s been a lot of death this episode!

#anti got #fine toothed comb edition #cw: violence #season eight #now to crack open a bottle of red wine

[dreamwritesimagines]

Okay, I know this may sound bad but

I CANNOT...ABSOLUTELY CANNOT

STAND MINA OR PETAL'S MOM.

ABSOLUTELY CANNOT STAND THEM.

I find them condescending; I dont like how they are all up in her business in the worst way but make it seem like love...its manipulating.

I know their history makes them over-protecrive but they take it too far and then cover it with words of care and love and then Petal just lets it go. Like the P.I thing? She could have let her mom know that she didnt appreciate how she disregarded her feelings and instruction to throw the folder away (which caused a break up and hearache) - it was completely the moms fault. But she was still expected to go home, to eat with them, to go to things with them (with obligation and NOT willingness - that's not family love).

Mina, I feel, speaks for itself... She just doesnt seem to know when enough is enough. She is emotionally a child and cant seem to understand that her words have consequences (which I would love to see Petal show her what they are, just once). Sometimes you have to give loved ones space so they can heal a bit before running your mouth and causing more damage. (Kinda getting angry here lol).

They hurt her, stomp on her but she still has to do what they want and SHE DOES! (For the most part) but at least they apologize....OH WAIT! THEY DON'T

Sorry about the long rant but I couldnt take it anymore... I cringe every time I see their names or mentions. Ugh.

On a positive note: I love you and I love your writing; I know that it is a part of life to not like some one, even fictional. I am actually loving the story. I hope you can forgive me for my rant...trying to find words to end this on but am so awkward.

I do love you and the story, I hope I didnt cross a line here.......

Oh my goodness, honey you don’t need to apologize at all! I find the way we look at  characters and  situations/dynamics from different viewpoints very interesting, so it’s quite lovely, you can love some characters, you can hate some characters! ❤❤

This is in no way like an apology or “but this and this” kind of reply btw, I’m just going to explain the way I see the characters and of course we’re all free to disagree, that’s the best thing about fiction!❤ It makes us think and see things differently❤ If you see them in a different way or if you have another approach, please let me know! ❤

So in my mind, when it comes to their family -even if they tend not to talk about it- the dad’s arrest was a huge trauma for each of them, and they all had different reactions to it. Trauma unfortunately changes people, and what they went through -Petal was too young yes, but the mom wasn’t and Mina was a teenager, which means her personality still wasn’t exactly...fixed in a way- basically shifted not only the power dynamics, but the understanding of each other.

So their mother, when the dad was arrested was obviously very shaken, and the way that whole incident resonated on her personality was that....the first thing she felt was possibly guilt, and guilt can alter our whole personality. I’m not a mother obviously, but based on my interactions with my own mother and people who have children, it’s my understanding that the worst feeling in the world for them is not being able to protect their child. So, the way it goes in Petal’s mother’s mind is that their father clearly scarred Petal, that’s for sure  but the thing is, she had no idea what was happening and that put Petal in such a danger. Spencer keeps saying that his “profile” doesn’t fit into a killer that would harm his family, but the way her mother sees it, he could’ve killed Petal or Mina, and she wouldn’t even realize what was wrong until it was too late. This is the man who’s the father of her children, the man she put her trust in to protect her children and in doing so, she put them in danger. So in her mind, it goes like 1) survival 2) psychological wellbeing. Of course it’s important, but she feels like she can fix her mental state if Petal “survives” first, so that’s the first priority. That’s why the P.I is a huge part of their lives, and that’s why she’s so... the way she is 😂 

Which bring us to Mina, whose teenager years were shaped by the trauma of her father. As multiple people stated in the story, Mina is her mother’s daughter, like a small copy with small traces of her father, and she grew up witnessing how devastating that whole thing was to her mother. Seeing something like that also shifted her view on “protectiveness”, and also, Mina is the oldest daughter right? I think there are certain traits that are very visible in oldest daughters, because she feels like she needs to protect everyone and she somehow feels almost...responsible? She was ready to cover up actual murder for her family, and while she was growing up, as it is very common with a lot of parents, her parents raised her with “You’re Petal’s big sister, you need to protect her”. That’s a huge burden to put on a child or a teenager, and she can’t help but feel guilty that she somehow “failed” Petal by letting her father traumatize her like that.

And lastly we have Petal, whose whole understanding of “family” is....twisted at best. That whole thing with her father happened when she was very young, so she grew up thinking that the people in her family are the only people who she could trust, especially after what happened. She was close with her father, and when they arrested him and found out what he did, it basically pulled the rug from under her, so she clung to the nearest people, which were her family.

I mean is it healthy? God no, it is very unhealthy and very dysfunctional. But the thing is, I feel like a fictional work should be free to show the good and the bad at the same time, we can’t cower away from it if we want to...awaken something in our audience, at least in my opinion😁

That being said, my education also taught me that like 99.9 percent of the time, the reader can analyse the characters much better than the writer, so if you disagree with me, that’s absolutely alright! ❤❤❤ I  love exchanging ideas with you! Thank you so much for this, this is a very different viewpoint I will keep in mind ❤❤❤ 

[blacklister214]

Illusions

Having gotten absurdly obsessed with Julie and the Phantoms over the weekend, writing this seemed like the only option. 

This is a Caleb Covington POV fanfiction, and I’m writing it from the viewpoint that he isn’t quite the villain he appears to be. I have many theories about Caleb that I will be working into the story if I choose to continue it. This chapter covers the night that band plays the Orpheum, starting from around the time Julie returns home.    Weighing Options

L.A. 2020

Caleb stared into his dressing room mirror, barely noticing his own impossibly handsome reflection. They weren't coming. They really weren't coming. He glanced at the wall clock telling him it was ten minutes to midnight. Ten minutes before Luke, Reggie, and Alex would vanish into oblivion, or more accurately vanish into him.

The energy he'd been collecting from them for the past few days had had quite the effect. He wasn't sure he'd ever given such an electrified performance as the one he'd given this evening. The surges were coming rapidly now. Wherever the boys were, they were not enjoying themselves.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on the link he'd forged so long ago. It had been an invaluable source of information thus far, alerting Caleb to all manner of fascinating tidbits. Perhaps even now the boys were regretting their decision and calling out for rescue. Naturally he'd provide one...though at this point he might demand some penance on their parts. A little groveling never hurt anyone. It was a bit demeaning the way he'd bent over backwards for a trio of children. Special children, he freely acknowledged, but still children all the same.

"-now! Go join Caleb's club! Please! It's better than not existing at all! Just go! Poof out! Do something! Please! Do it for me!" He knew that voice. Julie. Caleb grimaced. His...rival. How the mighty had fallen that he, Caleb Covington, found himself in competition with a teenage girl. At least she seemed to be conceding their little tug of war.

"We're not going back there." That was Reggie. Reggie, who'd been so enchanted with his club and all its delights. He'd chosen nothingness over Caleb. That was more than a little insulting.

"No music is worth making, Julie, if we're not making it with you. No regrets." Luke, who craved applause and an audience with a fervor matched only by Caleb's, had willingly surrendered both rather than join him. An unpleasant surprise to be sure. What of Alex? Was his silence implied solidarity or had he lost the ability to speak, choked with pain? Surely one of them had been moved by his performance?

Caleb shook his head. Pathetic, that's what it was. Of course Alex was in agreement. The boys were a package deal. He'd always know that. Convince two and the third would follow. Too bad he'd failed with all three. A swell of something unpleasant which he refused to name rose within him. Caleb pushed the feeling back down. Locked it tight in a box with all the rest the emotions he'd rather not confront.

"I love you guys." Julie's saccharine words were immediately followed by a curious sensation within his chest. Almost as if a rubber band were being pulled outward with the other end anchored inside his ribcage.

"How can I feel you?" Caleb paused in the middle of rubbing his chest. Feel him? Luke? Julie felt Luke? Luke was corporeal?

"I don't know." There was awe in the boy's voice. This was too much. Caleb needed to see what was happening. He focused on the doors outside of the garage the band called home. In a moment he was there, just out of sight. A voice drifted through the door.

"Alex, Reggie, come." He risked a peak through the window. All four figures within were far too distracted to glimpse him, immersed as they were in their group hug. A hug. It had taken Caleb decades and an enormous amount of soul links to achieve that feat. How had the boys managed in a few weeks? And...were they glowing? Not just in the "I'm a healthy teenager" way. In the "slap a halo on me, I'm an angel" kind of way. Caleb stepped back from the window. What was going on here?

"I don't feel as weak anymore." How marvelous for Reggie. Caleb, on the hand, was really starting to become uncomfortable. The sensation in his chest was only getting tighter.

"Me either. Not that I was ever that weak." Caleb felt a snap and three puffs of purple air rose from his shirt. His marks. Somehow Julie had overrode his marks. Yes, he'd been planning on removing them himself, but that wasn't the point. It was supposed to be Caleb's decision. The boys were supposed to know that it had been Caleb who'd shown them mercy despite their willfulness and general ingratitude. Julie had bested him, again. Would his humiliation know no bounds?

Caleb took a deep and calming breath. Yes, the urge to unleash some of his magic on the teens was great, but his self control was greater. He would need to regroup. He forced a smile and pictured the basement of his club. He came through in front of William's cell exactly as he'd intended.

"Hello William. Enjoying your timeout?" The skater immediately leapt up and ran over to the magically enforced bars.

"Is Alex alright? Did he cross over?" Caleb rolled his eyes, refusing to be moved by William's puppy dog like devotion. Sweet as the boy may seem, he had a short memory when it came to whom he owed allegiance.

"You do know that if the latter were true, I wouldn't be able to tell you the former." He examined his cuticles waiting for William's slow mind to process his words.

"Huh?" Precisely the response he'd anticipated. At least he'd been able to predict something accurately this evening.

"My dear William, it is fortunate you are so handsome. If the boys crossed over then no one would have any way of knowing if they were 'alright.' Something perhaps you should have considered before leading them down that ill-advised path." At this he fixed the boy with his most baleful glare. The teenager winced slightly, proving Caleb hadn't completely lost his touch.

"So...did they cross over?" Caleb pursued his lip, slightly irked he failed to totally intimidate the boy into silence. He supposed it was true what people said about love making young men bold.

He contemplated ignoring the question. What right did William have to an answer, after all the withholding he'd done in the past few days? Still Caleb had always been fond of the skater, perhaps been too indulgent with him. In a way the boy's unruliness was Caleb's own fault. He'd given the boy far too long a leash.

"I'll tell you, but only because I am the soul of generosity. No, the boys did not cross over. They are well for the moment. Though goodness knows how long that will last." Perhaps he shouldn't have tossed that last bit, but he was feeling frustrated.

"If you do anything to them I'll-" Caleb apparated to close the ten feet between William and himself. The boy tripped backward in surprise and lay sprawled on the floor gazing up at him.

"You'll what, William? Run over me with your skateboard? Oh that's right, it's not in there with you is it?" The look on the boy's face turned from scared to mulish in less than three seconds.

"I'm not sorry." Caleb raised his eyebrow. William may be developing a bit of a backbone after all. What inconvenient timing.

"Why would you be? It's not as though you completely and utterly betrayed the man who took you in and gave you a home. Who taught you all manner of tricks and even let you grind down the rails of his club." William crossed his arms, but the hunch in his shoulders demonstrated the boy wasn't entirely without remorse. Perhaps there was hope for him yet.

"It wasn't like I was damaging them." Then again perhaps not. Lord spare him the antics of petulant teens.

"The point is after everything I've done for you, I deserved a little more loyalty than what you've shown me." William sprung to his feet as quickly as he'd fallen, something in Caleb's accusation striking a nerve.

"You cursed my new friends and my...Alex. And why? Because they didn't want to join your house band? Why couldn't you have just left them alone?!" Caleb felt his lips thin. He HAD already deigned to explain to William why he couldn't simply let the boys waste their talents as they saw fit.

"I already told you, they are too powerful." It may not have been the WHOLE truth, but it was part of the truth, which frankly was more than most people got from him.

"So because you're threatened by them-" Caleb cut William midstream with a snort.

"I am not threatened by them." It was simply too much to let stand. The idea that with all of Caleb's many abilities, he was intimidated by three teenagers was laughable. Yes, the boys could, if they worked at developing their talents, one day learn many of the tricks he'd mastered. However, they'd need to survive the next few decades first, and their stubbornness and recklessness all but ensured they would not. At least not without his help.

"Then why?" A more complicated question than the boy realized, touching on secrets Caleb did not care to reveal.

"You'll be in the cell for the rest of the week. After that you're confined to the club until further notice. No skateboard." A fairly lenient sentence as far as Caleb was concerned. He'd certainly been harsher to other spirits for less. William opened his mouth, either to protest or to restate his question, but Caleb quelled him with a single raised eyebrow. The boy's jaw snapped shut. That was more like it.

Caleb vanished and re-materialized his suite. He paused a moment before heading to his end table and decanting himself some brandy. Ordinarily wine was his preference, but tonight he needed something stronger.

When he finished pouring, Caleb lowered himself into his velvet armchair. He regarded the liquor in his glass a moment before taking a sip. Of all the many skills he'd acquired over the years, the ability to manifest food and drink that could be consumed by ghosts was one of his favorites.

With a sigh he turned his thoughts to more pressing matters. What to do about the children? They needed to be saved from themselves. That much was clear. First Youtube and now the Orpheum. In this day and age, with every lifer carrying a camera in their pocket, discretion was more necessary than ever.

Did it really not occur to the boys there were reasons ghosts, which had been around since the dawn of humanity, still were considered myths? Did it not dawn on them that someone kept things that way? Yes, they'd been passing themselves off as holograms, but how long until someone saw through that charade? He was frankly shocked it hadn't happened already. They were calling themselves "Julie and the Phantoms" for goodness sake!

Julie. Even thinking her name brought a sneer to his lips. How had she gotten the boys to choose her over him? He supposed Luke wasn't so surprising. The boy was besotted after all. Reggie, though, who found the scores young women and meatball subs so appealing? And Alex, whose infatuation with a certain young skater was so great? It was quite frankly unfathomable.

Still, Caleb had never been one to surrender without a fight. Short term he had but one goal: Break-up their band. Separate Julie from the Phantoms, preferably in a way that didn't implicate him. He settled in to consider his options. It was going to be a long night.

#julie and the phantoms #caleb covington #jatp #jatp netflix #jatp fanfiction #julie and the phantoms fanfiction

[petri808]

Fandom: Fairy Tail. Rating: Mature.  Nalu AU ANGST trigger warning.  Based on this post.  Just under 10k words

Lucy Heartfilia is diagnosed with a heart defect. Stuck in the hospital waiting on the transplant list, there is only one thing bringing any light to her dreary world; a volunteer named Natsu Dragneel who truly becomes her bittersweet savior.

@uzumaki2810 Here you go, I hope you like it :)  Also thank you to the angst queen @doginshoe IM SORRY I FORGOT TO ADD THIS MESSAGE ;-; she beta’d and bore the tears with me to make sure it was a good story :)

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

It all started back in her last year of middle school when puberty really kicked into overdrive and she developed a well-endowed chest.  She assumed the little pricks of pain related to the added weight cause they sure gave her a backache if she pushed herself too hard.  Exercise was overly exhausting, so there went any chances of making the cheer squad in high school.  Not that Lucy was really interested in sports, but by the start of high school she realized any physical activity needed to be avoided.  But she didn’t want to worry her father since it was a random pain that would only surface if she exerted herself; ergo it was her boob’s fault, and she kept the pain to herself.

As time passed, and her high school years carried on, Lucy did her best to ignore the symptoms, even when something new manifested itself.  Fatigue…  she was studying too hard.  Rapid heartbeat… well, there was that cute boy that just walked by.  Shortness of breath when she laid down…  it’s just from the weight of her chest.  Each and every time, Lucy found a rational explanation.  She buried her nose in her studies as an outlet, which she really didn’t mind so much.  Her favorite thing to do in the world was to write quick fantasy stories she’d make up, and she’d often spend her breaks holed up in the library researching some new topic of dragons or fairies or whatever had caught her attention.

“Ugghhhh,” Lucy flinches as the blinding white light breaks through the surface of her vision.  She shields her eyes and slowly opens them but can only manage a tiny squint.  Her mind was groggy, and she swore her limbs felt like dead weights.  “W-Where am I?”        

She hears the muffled sound of her father’s voice calling for a doctor.  Why was there a slight ringing in her ear?  Something about she’s awake now, hurry?  The rest had been too muffled to understand.  Had she been asleep?  Lucy was completely confused. But the light… the light was so bright!

“Ms. Heartfilia?  Ms. Heartfilia, can you hear me?”

It was a strange male voice talking to her.  Where did her father go?

“Yes,” she croaks out, flinching as her body is coming out of its slumber and suddenly a sharp pain hits her again.  Lucy winces, this was worse than before.

“Ms. Heartfilia, do you know where you are?”

She shakes her head.  

“You’re in the hospital, dear.”

Wait!  It was her father’s voice again.  What did he mean she was in a hospital!  Lucy forces herself to open her eyes fully, though, keeping her hand between her face and the overhead lights.  “Why am I in a hospital?!”

Lucy hears the doctor's voice again, seemingly at a distance because her viewpoint was limited, speaking to someone.  Fainted.  Temporary amnesia.  Congenital heat disease.  Wait what?!  “Hey what’s going on?!” she calls out then is hit by another spike of pain.  Damn it!  “Dad?   Hello?!”  But it’s like she was being ignored.  Birth defect.  Advanced case.  Surgery.  “Someone please talk to me!”  Tears prick at the corners of her eyes.  “Talk to me!!!”  A third, and now the largest stab of pain hits her.  Lucy cries out at the pain and curls in on herself.  More shouting and the voice returns, hands probing something near her chest, and machines starting to blare out warning beeps.

“Please calm down Ms. Heartfilia, calm down, don’t push yourself too much or the pain will get worse.”

How could this get any worse…

That was 3 years ago, and the sands of time were running low.

Her father had done all he could, dragging her to specialist after specialist, exhausting a chunk of his fortune on doctors from one coast to the other, only to be told Lucy would need a heart transplant or she may not see her twenty-first birthday.  The most they could do for her while she waited on the transplant list was implant a ventricular assist device into her body.  It gave her a small measure of freedom instead of being tied to a normal transcutaneous machine, but it was still uncomfortable.  Her movements were restricted, she had to be careful of catching a cold, and what ended up being the hardest part, was the breast reduction surgery they had her undergo at the same time of the VAD surgery to reduce the weight and strain it added to her heart.

For so long she’d blamed her large breasts for causing all her pains, but now that she knew they weren’t, it was sad to see them go.  They were a part of her after all, no matter how much of a headache they could be.  For weeks after the surgery, Lucy could barely look at herself in the mirror.  She didn’t recognize herself anymore.  This youthful woman with tubes sticking out of her stomach which attached to a device around her waist that helped her weakened heart muscles do their job to keep her alive.  That had been the diagnosis, a congenital birth defect that weakened her heart muscles, and as she aged, the muscles would continue to deteriorate.  Oh, her father was so furious when they were told she didn’t qualify for an artificial heart because death wasn’t imminent.  

It hadn’t taken long after completing high school that the depression had surfaced.  All of her friends were moving on to college, most to distant campuses so she had no one to talk to.  Lucy would hide away in her bedroom for days at a time as the internal struggle mounted.  Why continue to go through this pain and struggle… why not just end it quickly and painlessly.  It was tempting.  From the research she’d done on heart defects, the end wasn’t very pretty.  Her only hope was a donor, but people die every day on the transplant list waiting for a heart that never came, just growing weaker and weaker….

At least the VAD had given her two decent years, but her days of being an outpatient at the hospital had come to an end.  Even with the device assisting her heart, Lucy’s body was struggling to deal with the strain.  The smallest exertions required fuel from her heart to power her body, so even something as minimal as the fatigue of reading a book for too long could trigger an arrythmia or worse, and the pain that may accompany it.  She needed to stay in the hospital so that her heart could be constantly monitored and if there was any sudden change, they could address it quickly.

The doctors were doing their best to keep her alive in the hopes a donor would surface.  But you never knew when one would become available, and her time was running short.  The original prediction of not making it to twenty-one was fast approaching.  Frankly, Lucy felt like it was by the luck of the draw and the odds were better at a Las Vegas casino.  It was a lonely experience being cooped up in the hospital and thankfully there was one glimmer of happiness amongst the sterile white halls.

“Lucy!”      

“Hi Natsu.”

He smirks, “I brought you something.”  The young man was bouncing on the balls of his feet with his hands clasped behind his back.  

All the volunteers that visited the hospital were kind people, but there was one that made Lucy smile the most.  A young man named Natsu Dragneel.  She’d told herself at the beginning of her medical odyssey that she wouldn’t let anyone get too close to her, not only for her protection but there’s.  The pain of losing someone you care about was an emotion Lucy had borne at the tender age of five when her mother lost her own battle to cancer, and it was a feeling she didn’t wish upon her worst enemy.  But this man sure made that promise a tough one to keep.    

Natsu’s adoptive mother was a long-time surgery nurse at this hospital, who had had taught him the value of life.  It was because of seeing her kindness towards people that spurred his decision to be a volunteer.  Even at eighteen years of age he knew that volunteering would be difficult, and five years later, he would admit it never got any easier.  Many volunteers eventually burn out, especially when dealing with the terminal patients, but Natsu pushed through, reminding himself it was those very patients that needed their support the most.

“Oh,” she quirks an eyebrow, “what is it?”

“Tada!” he whips out a single yellow rose with pinkish-red tipped petals and hands it to her.  “My younger sister showed me how to dye the tips, isn’t it cool!”

Lucy takes the flower, “wow that is really beautiful!  The pink even matches your hair.” She lifts it to her nose and picks up on the light rosy fragrance it exuded.  “Smells nice too.”  She tries to hand it back to Natsu.

“Tch, my hair’s not pink, it’s salmon, and I made it for you,” he smiles, “something to brighten your day.”  Natsu then walks over to the small bathroom and fills a cup with water, brings it back and places it on the small windowsill next to her bed.  “For the flower.”

“Thank you,” Lucy blushes a little and hands him back the bloom since she couldn’t reach the cup herself. “It was really kind of you to bring me that Natsu.”

“Nah,” he places the flower in the cup for her, “I’d do anything to make you smile.”

It wasn’t every day, but Natsu would come to see her as often as he could.  His regular job as a construction worker wasn’t a regular 9 to 5 kind of thing.  Some weeks he might work five days straight, while on slower periods like the winter and early spring months it may only be a couple of days a week depending on weather.  He’d told her that working with his hands was something he enjoyed immensely, and the company was training him to be a carpenter.  

Natsu sure wasn’t what she’d expected of a construction guy.  Oh, his hands showed the roughened appearance of someone who worked hard for a living, but she thought they would be these rough and tumble kind of men.  Not Natsu, with his goofy and sweet personality.  She could only imagine how well such a line of work helped to keep the man in shape.  He always wore t-shirts and jeans, but his trim features hidden behind the fabric were easily discernable.        

The light of the sun brought the yellow rose to life along with a slight tremor in her heart, not of pain but of adoration.  Lucy smiles sweetly at his remark, her eyes crinkling, glinting with a tinge of moisture she had no control over.  She didn’t want to admit her growing affection for this man who always said the sweetest things or made the most charming gestures.  Natsu was always so compassionate and supportive, while never making it seem like it was just his job as a volunteer to comfort the patients.  It was easy to wish that maybe… he was doing it just for her?  

Lucy ducks her head, hiding the hint of jealousy coating her cheeks and tone, “I’m sure you make such kind gestures for the other patients too.”

“Oh, no,” Natsu sits beside her and takes her hand, “just you.”  He gently lifts her chin, forcing her to face him.  She averts her eyes, but he stares forward, softening his glare, almost wanting to chuckle that he’s had such an effect on her.  “You’re special to me.”

Of all the patients in this small hospital, Lucy Heartfilia was the one his heart grieved for the most.  It wasn’t fair, at only twenty years old, for this beautiful and intelligent woman to be tied to a hospital bed, watching her life flash by in the form of ridges and valley peaks.  The first time they had met was two years ago, but back then she would only come in for overnight monitoring’s or check-ups, and after her major surgery, she stayed for a few months during the recovery process.  By now, they were friends, but it had taken work on his part to get her to open up to him.      

“No, I’m not…” Lucy sucks the corner of her bottom lip in to stifle the tremor.  

His tone deepens in a comeback, “Yes, you are.”

Her eyes finally snap to his, and when she sees the determination behind them, reality kicks in.  He was telling the truth!  Oh, heaven help her.  It was cute to dream, but not for it to be real.  She feels a sting in her chest and pushes his hands away.  “Please don’t,” her voice is barely a whisper, trembling from the stinging pain in her heart and her soul.  “I-I shouldn’t be….”  ‘This is so wrong…  Because I’m dying and he deserves someone better.  I shouldn’t have said anything.’  Stupid little daggers of jealousy!  She clutches her chest, willing her heart to still, and pain to subside, ‘please go away!’

“Hey, hey!” Natsu immediately switches his concern from being flirty to concerned.  “Lucy please calm down, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you!”

“I-It’s okay, I-I’ll be okay.” She fights the tears back with all the strength she can muster.  Lucy didn’t want to cry in front of Natsu.  “Please, Natsu, I don’t want to get our hopes up l-like that…. If this… If things were different….”

“Shhh,” he cradles her face, “shhh, it’s okay Luce, I feel the same way.”

After a few moments, Lucy lets out a long exhale.  “I appreciate it, I really do.”  She looks up and cracks a pained smile.  “You’re the only thing keeping me going, but I-I just don’t even want to think about not being there for you…”

It was Natsu’s turn to crack.  “Please don’t finish that.”  He looks down, holding back the urge to cry or show how upset it makes him.  “I don’t want to think about that.”

“But it…”

“You don’t know that, no one knows that, and I,” his voice falters, seething with all the will of his soul placed behind it, “I will cling to hope till my dying breath.”

The sudden change in his demeanor, switches Lucy from feeling so self-absorbed in her own thoughts to realize, Natsu has had an effect on her, but she truly had an effect on him too.  It hurt even more now that his behaviors weren’t just a rouse to make her happy, and it killed her to think of what he will suffer when she goes.    

“I’m sorry, Natsu.  I didn’t realize.”  She grabs his hand, squeezing it hard.  “Natsu I’m sorry.  Let’s stop thinking about this then, hmm,” doing her best to keep her tone soft and comforting.  “Look at me, Natsu, please, I don’t want to keep fighting with you.”

He sighs, “you’re right.  That’s the last thing I wanna do with you.”  It was a surprise even to himself that he’d lost his cool, and for the first time the awareness of his growing infatuation became real.

“Good,” she squeezes his hand again.  “Hey, um, you know its lunch time, we could eat outside since it’s a nice day…” her voice grows tentative, “if you’ll join me.”

“Lucy Heartfilia, are you asking me out on a date?” He chuckles, ready to put all the sadness behind them.  “Because if that’s the case,” the sparkle in his eyes return, “I would be honored.”

For the next couple of months, Natsu and Lucy’s friendship flourishes, as her physical body slowly deteriorates.  It was hard, he couldn’t lie, to watch this happen, and if it wasn’t for the strength of his convictions or his plain stubborn attitude about it that kept him upbeat.  He knew that she needed him to be her strength, and that fueled his desire to make sure she smiles every day.  

Lucy didn’t know, but his mother would keep him updated on her condition.  Not that he needed to know all the technical jargon, for he could see it with his own eyes.  Lucy herself would tell him just enough information when she needed to, but he never pushed or pried for it, letting it always be on her terms.  The cardiomyopathy was getting worse, her heart muscles barely functioning on its own at this point.  She had her good days and bad days but walking around wasn’t really an option anymore aside from brief steps for a purpose.  It also meant that the muscles in her legs were weakening too.  Physical therapy once a week worked with Lucy on light stretches to keep them from completely atrophying, but it was all they could do for her at this point.  But no matter how much weight she lost, or that her hair didn’t hold its familiar luster, to Natsu she would always be the same radiant woman he adored.  

She’d resigned herself to this fate a lot better than Natsu would have thought a person could do.  When he tried to picture himself in her shoes, he was sure he wouldn’t have the strength to keep going, but that was what amazed him even more about her.  On her agreeable days, Natsu enjoyed getting her out of her room, even if for brief periods of time.  Lunch or dinner in the cafeteria, the grounds of the hospital on a sunny day, or even stargazing when the evening air was warm.  He’d bring a wheelchair, and off they’d go, talking about anything or nothing, avoiding the subject of her condition, just giving her a smidge of a normal existence for once.              

Lucy opens her eyes at the knock on her door to see a familiar face pop through.  “Hey Natsu,” she cracks a pained smile.  

“Hey Luce, how ya doin’ today?”

She starts to sit up in the hospital bed, but when it’s clear to Natsu the woman was struggling, he quickly rushes over and assists.  “Thanks,” another light smile.  “I’m sorry, I’ve been a little sore today.”

“Never apologize to me,” he smiles back warmly.  No matter what, he always did his best to appear upbeat for the patients despite his heart literally breaking for them.  He places his hand on hers, “so, tell me gorgeous, are ya hungry?  We could dinner date in the cafeteria if you’re up to it.  My treat,” he winks.

“Stop calling me gorgeous,” Lucy chides the sunny young man, despite the small rosy glow of her cheeks.  “I know I’m not, and that’s okay.”  With the help of a psychiatrist and over a year of therapy, Lucy had finally accepted her fate and kept moving forward as best she could.  If she will die someday, she will die with dignity.  Stress wasn’t very good on her heart, so once she made peace with her circumstances, even her physical ailments had benefitted.  

“Pfft,” Natsu pretends to be offended, “are you calling me a liar because I know I’m not blind.”  His grin growing along with the deepening of red along her cheeks.  “Besides, you know I won’t stop no matter how much you complain about it.”  

Lucy laughs and her eyes twinkle, “I know, so we’ll keep agreeing to disagree.”

It was in these moments, and why he did what he did, just to see this woman’s eyes light up, that sent his own heart into palpitations.  Deep down Natsu knew that the chances of Lucy making it out of this hospital were slim to none, but you’d never know it when he spoke to her.  He stifles the urge to sigh. Oh, how he wished the circumstances were different.  In a perfect world, Natsu would love nothing more than to walk this woman down the aisle.

He circles the topic back around, “so… dinner, on me?” he teases lightly with a wink.  “We can take a trip through pediatrics where there are a few recent arrivals.”

Her gaze lowers as she hides the seventh heaven emotions the young man stirs in her.  “I’d like that.”

Natsu squeezes her hand, “I’ll be right back, lemme grab your carriage milady.”

As Lucy waited the few minutes for Natsu to grab a wheelchair, she closes her eyes and does a breathing technique to calm her heart.  She hadn’t wanted to show the slight tinges of pain she was getting as they spoke, because she knew it would have worried him.  They’d been steadily increasing in frequency lately, and she fought to keep him from discovering that.  But she couldn’t help it.  Despite her condition, Lucy was still a young woman with an intact mind, she still had desires like any other, and when a handsome young man close to her age flirted with her, of course she would react to it!  She did her best not to let these thoughts sink in too deeply and told herself he was merely doing it to make her feel better.  It was a lie, but it was the best way to shield herself.

“Ready?”  Natsu extends his hand to help Lucy to her feet.

She nods and takes hold, gripping on while he maneuvers her around and onto the chair.  It weakened Lucy to where her muscles were slowly losing their strength because her heart was struggling to keep her body oxygenated and functioning properly.  With support she could stand for brief periods, but only with support.  At least with Natsu, she could put her faith in his hold that he’d never let her fall.  

After adjusting the foot plates and making sure Lucy was comfortable, Natsu takes off towards the cafeteria two floors down.  He’d already alerted dining when he’d gone out for the chair they were coming down, to prepare a meal within Lucy’s dietary needs.  It wasn’t a terribly restrictive diet, but there were some limits, such as no stimulants like caffeine, or anything with a high fat content.

Natsu loved these little dates as he called them.  On warm sunny days it may include a stroll outside for some fresh air, or if it was cold and rainy, merely sharing a cup of light hot chocolate in the visitor's lounge in front of the massive floor to ceiling windows.  But if Lucy wasn’t feeling well, he was content to sit by her side in her room, talking, telling stories, or doing anything just to cheer her up.  Sometimes he would fantasize during these events as if they were simply at home and relaxing like a normal couple.

“Oh yay, beef barley,” Lucy stirs and lifts a spoonful up before letting it flow back into the bowl.  “My fave.”  She knew why they gave it to her, but that didn’t make it anymore appetizing.  Barley was supposedly good for heart health, and the protein it contained was useful for her body.  She crunches up the soda crackers the meal came with and drops them into the soup, letting the pieces soak in.

“I don’t mind it,” Natsu shovels a spoonful into his mouth.  He always made it a point to eat the same thing they gave Lucy, so she felt more normal about it.  “But if you really don’t want it, I could ask them to make you a sandwich instead.”

“No, no,” she waves her hand, her voice oozing with a sense of longing mixed with frustration, “it’s okay, I’m fine with it.  I just would kill to eat a fatty, tasty, slathered in sauce cheeseburger with a side of waffle fries or something you know.”

Natsu snorts a laugh and almost chokes on his food as a mental picture of Lucy chomping down on a burger, with sauce dripping down her chin both amuses and arouses him.  “I-I can imagine,” he bangs his chest a couple times to dislodge some liquid that made it down the wrong pipe.  “Throw some sriracha sauce on that vision and you just named one of my favorite foods.”  Could this woman become any more of his dream girl?!

She giggles, “So, um…” Lucy hesitates for a second.  She didn’t want to sound desperate or anything, but loneliness was the quickest way to send her back into a depression and she cherished the time the man spent with her.  “How much time are you spending with me today?”    

“As long as you’d like,” he winks.  “I always do my rounds first and come to you last so I can stay as long as I want to.”

Ugh!  The flirty thing again!  Lucy wills her body to behave.  “Wow, that makes me pretty special, huh?”

“Extremely,” he leans in, letting his gaze grow half-lidded, and his tone mellowing into a soothing cadence. “I’m gonna steal your heart one day Luce, that’s a promise.”

“What?!  Pfft,” damn, she can feel the heat rising in her cheeks, “there’s no point in stealing a broken heart sir…”  Despite the desire to feel aroused over his comment, it also brought a sense of sadness to her she fought down the urge to let tears rise to the surface.  ‘He’s just teasing… he’s just being sweet, trying to make me feel normal… It’s not real Lucy, It’s not real!’  But oh, how she wished it was!  Natsu was the perfect man that any woman would kill for.  Sweet, strong, handsome, silly, she could go on and on with the list.  He was the one ray of sunshine in her dreary world now that she truly was all alone in it.  The stress of caring for her had driven her father into his own massive heart attack last year.  She had no one, except Natsu.

“I mean it Luce,” he reaches out and takes her hand, letting his thumb sweep over the skin.  “Broken or not, I want to steal it and have the person it’s attached to a—ll to myself.”

“Please don’t,” Lucy pulls her hand back.  She could feel the tears pooling and if she didn’t stop it now, they’d soon fall.  “You know I appreciate it, really I do Natsu.”  Lucy looks back up at him and cracks a pained smile.  “But you deserve someone who’s not broken.”

The absolute pain measured in Lucy’s eyes, and the sorrow in her voice was like a dagger straight through Natsu’s soul.  He could understand her desire of not wanting to believe in miracles or to shield herself from further pain, but that only killed him more.  She deserved so much more out of life. Ugh, if only he had a direct line to destiny so he could kick its ass and tell it to leave Lucy in peace!  He didn’t want to upset her anymore.  “Okay, I’ll stop pushing too hard.  But I promise you Luce, one day you will walk out of this hospital a healthy woman, and you can steal my heart instead.”

She sighs, “You can’t promise something like that.”

“I have faith,” Natsu gives her his wide, ear-to-ear grin and a wink.  “You’ll see.”

How could she stay upset after seeing that smile of his?  That damn ear-to-ear grin that lit up his eyes.  The eternal optimist, Natsu Dragneel trying so hard to keep her spirits up.  He and that smile may very well be the one thing keeping her going at this point.  “Okay, okay,” Lucy chuckles, “I give up, yes it's possible.”

“Woo Hoo!”  He pumps his fist in the air in an exaggerated victory, “that’s the spirit!  Now eat, so we can go check out the babies!”  

Lucy laughs again and nods with a smile, “okay.”

It was harder than she let on to him because she knew how much he enjoyed checking out all the new arrivals, but seeing those babies coming into this world while she would be leaving it shortly was painful.  All those hopeful, bright little lives….  They were a bittersweet reminder that a hospital holds two balances; the power to bring life into this world or take it away by not being able to heal a person.  She didn’t blame the doctors, for they were doing their best, because sometimes the sands of time runs its course and there is just nothing more they can do.  It was simply a part of life, to be born and die, never knowing when the grim reaper would come calling.  

“Look, look!  I was told three were born yesterday.” Natsu points excitedly as he parks her chair in front of the viewing window of the nursery.  He plasters his face against the clear glass.  “Two girls and one boy.  Awww, one already has some hair!”  Turning back to Lucy, “can you see okay, would you like me to help you stand up?”

“Thank you for the offer, but I can see just fine,” Lucy throws on a smile for effect.  “They are quite adorable, aren’t they?”

“Are you sure?  You know the doctors want you to stand sometimes so that your legs don’t atrophy as quickly.  I will gladly bear the weight.”

“Are you saying I’m heavy?!”  She was just teasing, but it was the perfect setup to do so.

“What?!” he waves his arms, “n-no way!  You’re not heavy, I meant I’m stronger so I can hold you up…”

“So, I’m weak?”

“Wait, what, no!”

Lucy giggles at how much the man was stepping all over his tongue.  “I’m just teasing you, Natsu.  I know I should, but I’m just a little tired today.”  That was partially true.

The man pouts, “so mean Luce,” he whines and throws on the saddest puppy dog expression he can muster, even a sniffle for effect.  “But it was an excuse to hold you in my arms.”

Oh, how quickly the tides can turn as his bold little statement sets her face ablaze.  He re—ally needed to stop with the flirting, or she was about to have an actual heart attack!  “All right,” Lucy groans, “just for a few minutes.”  It wasn’t the first time she’s allowed him to help her stand and maintain her balance, but before his little retort, she’d never thought twice about it.  

Natsu locks the chair and adjusts the foot plates out of the way so that Lucy can put her feet on the ground.  “Just take all the time you need,” his voice grows soft and soothing, “don’t rush.”

She tests her leg strength by pushing with the balls of her feet against the floor, rocking them and applying pressure to warm up the muscles.  Brief movements, like getting from the bed to the wheelchair were one thing, standing for a few minutes or walking a few feet were another.  It was frustrating and embarrassing, so she avoided it as much as possible, like when going to the bathroom.  Lucy didn’t mind when the nurses assisted her with that compromising predicament, but this was embarrassing in a different way.  

Once she feels her legs are ready, she holds out her hand which Natsu quickly takes hold of and braces her other on the arm of the chair to push herself up.  When she gets to a standing position, Natsu moves around her body, placing an arm around her waist as he gently guides her the two feet to the window.  He stays on constant alert, monitoring any change so if her legs decide to buckle, he can catch her.  As soon as she reaches the window, Lucy places her hands on the slight ledge of the sill.  Natsu then switches his position to stand directly behind her, wrapping both arms around her upper chest to hold her close, but above the tubes in her lower abdomen.  

Could he feel how much her body was heating up from the intimate contact?  Lucy fought her own emotions to keep from escalating and stressing her heart out, for she was keenly aware of how they would look to anyone passing by.  Dear heavens, it was hard to do with his chest pressed up against her back…. She wished they could stay like that forever.  ‘Breathe… just breathe, Lucy…. Look at the babies, just focus on the babies…’  That only made it worse.

The babies….  Just a day old. The little angels were like moldable clay.  They’ll grow… they’ll change…  Will they become teachers or astronauts some day?  Oh, look at the one, smiling in his sleep, how precious.  Someday, will they make their dreams come true?  What will they be like?  Good little kids or naughty, friendly, the life of the party or a shy introvert?  Like many young girls who dreamt of becoming a mother someday, Lucy had envisioned having a family of her own with the love of her life and the white picket fence.  A little girls fantasy.  She closes her eyes, praying that Natsu wasn’t paying attention to her.  The tears pool behind her eyelids and she stills the desire to sniffle.  That fantasy was now dashed like a shipwreck against the shoreline, never to sail the seven seas again.  Natsu would have made the perfect husband and father for such a fairytale, and he will one day, just not in her storybook ending.

She’d been so focused on fighting back her emotions, that Lucy hadn’t noticed Natsu’s head was now resting against her shoulder or how his face was curled against the nape.  

“It’s okay to cry sometimes Luce.”

His whispered voice, so close to her ear, breaks the dam.  Lucy squeezes her eyes tighter and fingertips curl, tensing against the windowsill.  Shit, he knew all along.  Her knees tremble as the tears flow freely, but she feels his hold tighten around her to keep her from falling.  It had been some time since she’d allowed herself to release the pain in this way.

Natsu hadn’t been certain of it until now, but in the last several times they’d come to the pediatric ward, he’d sensed a change in Lucy’s energy.  She always wore a smile with a hidden agenda and now he’s confirmed his suspicions.  Well, it was his mother really that pointed it out one day when he’d mentioned it to her.  The woman was great at understanding human emotions and after years of caring for patients, she’s learned to follow her intuition.  

“Lucy was a young woman who may not live to be a mother or have a family of her own, of course it might upset her to see the infants.”  His first inclination was to stop bringing the woman to this ward, but his mother gave him a second option.  “Help her grieve.”  Those three words coming out of his mother’s mouth stunned him briefly. What did she mean to help her grieve?!!  “If Lucy has no one to turn to, how can she process what is happening to her.  Show her it’s okay to be upset, help her let out the pain before it consumes her.”  

“I will hold you for as long as I need to Luce, just let the pain go.”

But it was killing him to do this!  Natsu had told his mother that he didn’t think he was strong enough. The woman simply smiled, patted his cheek and said, “I believe in you son.  If you truly care, then you’ll have the strength to move mountains for her.”  Damn his mother and her intuition, though Natsu realized only a fool couldn’t see how much he was falling for Lucy.  He’d sell his soul to a demon to get her a new heart.

Strangely, Lucy’s body wasn’t reacting like she thought it would.  Stress usually caused her blood pressure to rise and strain her heart muscles, but that wasn’t happening.  She couldn’t stop the tears from flowing like a broken spigot, and maybe that was the best thing, like a release of the pressure that had built up unbeknownst to her.  Her hands move from the windowsill to Natsu’s arms, clutching to and resting her head on them.  Lucy couldn’t look up, not yet, but she needed to let him know she heard his words, and they meant the world to her.  

She would have made an amazing mother, Natsu was sure of it, and it would be a lie to say he’s never thought of or imagined them staring through this viewing window at their own little boy or girl one day.  Would the child have Lucy’s beautiful golden waves or chocolate brown eyes?  Or maybe take Natsu’s salmon pink hair and onyx eyes.  No matter what, the child would be perfect and loved.  A child that as the day ticked down on the transplant list was losing hope of ever being born.  Crap!  Natsu squeezes his eyes closed tight.  He couldn’t let her see him struggling with this, but damn if those images didn’t just cut him deep.

Neither of them knew how long they were standing there or even if any of the other hospital staff had noticed.  They were in their own little world while time passed them by.  It was Lucy who finally let out a small exhale as a last release of all that had struck her today, and with that tension gone, the tears turned into exhaustion.  Ever cry so hard and for so long that your body became lethargic?  Lucy yawns wide and deep, her eyes growing heavy and clouded, a little lightheaded, ready to go to sleep.

Natsu kisses the crown of her head and without a word, maneuvers her so she can sit back down in her wheelchair.  He sets the foot panels in place and helps her feet onto them, then pushes her back to her room.  There is a companionable silence, as if all their wordless exchanges had communicated volumes that needed no explanation.  Once back in her own room, Natsu helps her onto the bed and set the wheelchair aside.

After helping to re-attach her heart monitors, Natsu checks, “is there anything else I can get you before I go?”  She shakes her head.  “In that case…”

Lucy motions for him to lean in closer and once he’s close enough, she hesitates briefly then places a kiss on his cheek.  “Thank you for everything Natsu.”

His eyes widen, shocked by what she’d just done.  “Luce?”

“I just felt like doing it,” she blushes.  “Tonight… I don’t know, I just feel so much better and it’s all because of you.”  Lucy closes her eyes as a yawn cuts through.  They were so tired…    

“You are very welcome,” Natsu smiles.  He moves to leave, but Lucy grabs his hand and squeezes.  When he turns back to look, her eyes are still closed, and there is a slight smile on her face which brings a swelling of his pride.  He leans down and kisses the back of her hand.  “Rest now, and I will see you again tomorrow.”

Mister Sandman beckoned to Lucy of mystical creatures bathed in glittering stars, calling upon father time to bring peace to a weary soul.  She didn’t know why, but though the pull was strong, she fought his dreamy reverie.  Today had been the most emotionally charged day in a long time.  All the tears Lucy had shed brought a new peace to her spirit, something in this entire experience not even a trained therapist could have given her.  The amount of love that Natsu provided, whether platonic or wishful yearnings, calmed her, and pushed away the emptiness she had felt for so long…. So long stuck in this pain.  She wanted to relive this day forever, safe in Natsu’s arms, drowning in the pool of his obsidian hues.  ‘… to steal his heart…’  Lucy knew she already had, just as he had stolen hers in a way.  A sense of warmth floods through her body, shielding her to the cool air-conditioned room.  Lucy’s smile widens as her mind slips into the abyss of dreams, of a pink-haired prince who’d finally set her soul free.

“Natsu wake up,” the voice repeats as the person attached to it shakes his sleeping form.  “Natsu wake up.”

“Huh?” His clouded mind hears the voice of his mother.  “What is it?”  He turns his head, his eyes temporarily pin-pointed from the harsh lamp light next to his bed.  “Mom, what are you doing in my room?”  Natsu pushes himself to a sitting position as his mother takes a seat next to him.  With his vision focusing better, he finally notices the moisture clouding his mother’s eyes.  “Mom, what is it?!”  

She takes his hand, squeezing it tightly with her head slightly lowered in pain.  “I-I’m sorry, son, but the hospital just called me…. Your friend, s-she had a massive heart attack.”

By the time his mother had finished the sentence, Natsu had stopped listening to anything she was saying. He knew, the moment she’d said I’m sorry… to wake him up in the middle of the night, it had to be….  All the blood drains from his face and his shoulders slump.  He felt dizzy, weak, like all of his strength were stripped away, leaving him an empty shell.  He turns his head slowly, the tears already flowing down his cheeks in an endless trickle to meet the woman’s sullen gaze.  This wasn’t happening!  Not yet!  Lucy was fine today!  Fine!!  He wanted to scream!  But his throat was closed up, choking back the sobs that wanted to break free.  

“Oh honey,” the woman wraps her arms around her son and pulls him tightly against her chest.  “I’m so sorry,” her own tears flowing freely and hitting his face.  “Don’t give up hope, they were able to save her, but she’s been placed in a medically induced coma.”

It couldn’t be true!  Why weren’t his cries coming out?!  Natsu’s voice refused to make a sound and all he could do was weep.  It hurt so much!  His fists clench at his stiffened sides.  This wasn’t fair!  

“Let it out son, don’t hold it in,” she coos, doing her best to soothe the pain.  “They believe she didn’t suffer because it happened while she was asleep, that should give you a bit of comfort.”

No, it doesn’t!  She was still in a coma!  He’d almost lost her!  And, “I-I never g-got to s-say good... good…” he couldn’t finish it.  What if she never woke up again?  Natsu’s heart ached at the thought he may never again hear her beautiful laughter or that silly snort she would sometimes make when he teased her.  This world was too cruel to do this to a woman who should be in college, starting the next stage of her life.  A fit of sobs racks his body, ‘I never got to tell her I love her…’

“Would you like me to drive you there, son?”

“Yes, please mom, i-if you don’t mind.”  

“Of course.”

Natsu paused in front of the closed door to Lucy’s new room, unsuccessfully preparing himself for what he knew he would find behind it.  On the way to the hospital, his mother had filled in a few more details that tore the man up and brought a wave of guilt flooding over him.  Had he caused the heart attack?

The heart monitor alarms had gone off only 30 minutes after he had left her for the evening, and the doctors wasted no time in implementing emergency resuscitative efforts.  They deemed it a miracle, but after 10 minutes of herculean efforts they were able to get her heart restarted.  Lucy was then moved to the ICU unit and placed on other machines such as a feeding tube and ventilator to keep her alive.

Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed her to see the infants after all.  Maybe the crying had stressed her out and neither of them had known it.  She seemed perfectly fine when he’d left!  Happy, in fact, happier than he’d seen in a long time.  Natsu’s fingers absentmindedly trail over the area she had kissed.  Lucy was at peace when he’d left.  His mom told him her sudden fatigue may have been a sign.  Or maybe he clenches his jaw, that kiss was her way of saying goodbye, like she knew something might happen once she’d closed her eyes.  The way she’d grabbed his hand when he tried to leave….  “Fuck!” he grits outs as the tears pool in his bloodshot eyes again.  “I shouldn’t have left her…”  

He pushes the door open and his knees buckle instantly at the sight.  Tubes… all the tubes, and monitors, the beeping and lights, bright flashing lights of the stat graphs, subcutaneous fluids hooked to her arms, the drips… slow drips of liquid and medicine flowing into Lucy’s body.  He wasn’t ready for it.  Her beautiful face partially hidden by the feeding tube running into her mouth and the breathing tubes entering her nostrils.  If it wasn’t for his mother standing at his side, Natsu would have collapsed to the floor when his legs lose all their strength and crumple.  The woman guides him to a chair placed beside the bed.  

“Oh god, Lucy!”  The tears pour out and sobs take control of his body.  He throws his upper body over hers, clutching desperately to the blanket covering her, and burying his face into its folds.  Natsu felt a part of his soul die right then and there.  “You don’t deserve this,” his muffled words stolen by the fabric.  Why couldn’t they find her a heart?!

“Son,” Natsu feels his mother’s hand resting on his shoulder, but he doesn’t respond.  “Son, there’s no telling how long Lucy will stay in this state, so it’s best you say your goodbyes now.  They say that people can hear you even if they are in a coma.”

But all he can do is shake his head fervently, denying it to the world and himself that Lucy wouldn’t come out of this.  He had hope, damn it!  Natsu refused to say goodbye because that meant he’d given up hope Lucy would recover somehow.  

The woman seemed to understand her son’s frustration and didn’t push.  “Then, just talk to her son, let her know you’re here.”  

“Mom, could you… I wanna be alone, please?”                

“I’ll come back in an hour to take you home.”  

Natsu just nods in response.  He hears the door open and close, the click of the lock like the final latch being set on a coffin, sealing them to their fate.  He’d known the dangers of giving his heart to Lucy and yet despite what was happening, still had no regrets.  She deserved the peace of knowing someone loved her, and if this really was the last moments, Natsu could have that tiny measure of satisfaction knowing he was the one who had provided it to her.

“But you’re not gonna die yet, Luce.  You can’t, do you hear me, you can’t!  It’s not your time yet, so you need to fight for me please…”  Oh, how his heart was shattering into a million pieces as if he was the one with the problem.  It fucking hurt!  Emotional daggers stabbing him in the chest repeatedly.  “You’re stronger than this, Lucy!  I know it, you’re gonna wake up from this!”

By the time his mother returns an hour later, the sheer exhaustion had consumed Natsu.  She finds him passed out, and it takes a bit of begrudging effort to get him to leave Lucy’s bedside.  He was so afraid to leave again in case she passed away, because he didn’t want her to die alone.  It was his mother that coaxed him into believing that she wasn’t alone as long as he kept her in his heart.    

Day after day, week after week, became a never-ending cycle of zombiesque activity.  Natsu’s body was there, trudging through routine, but his mind was broken, battling between keeping hope alive and giving up.  He went to work, did his job, then headed to the hospital.  It got to where the staff had placed a spare bed in the room, and he practically lived in the ICU with Lucy.  He was lucky that his mother was a long-time nurse and he a volunteer with an impeccable standing that the hospital allowed him to bend the visitor hour rules.  They knew the woman was alone in this world, so maybe they also felt a sense of duty to become that family for her, because nobody deserved to die alone.

He grew obsessed with anything to do with her condition and used the lonely hours to scour the internet for information.  Sure, much of the stories about coma patients being able to hear weren’t really solid or verifiable, but any glimmer of possibilities was worth the effort.  It couldn’t hurt to try.  Whether it was telling her about his day or what was happening in their town, Natsu would keep talking.  He bought a kindle and read stories he thought she would like, fantasies of princes saving princesses filled with mythical creatures.  He remembered her saying she used to write such stories and wished he had been able to read them.

When he was too tired to read, or his throat was too sore to continue, Natsu wrote her letters.  The staff and his family were getting worried about Natsu.  So, the hospital’s mental health service counselor had come in one day and spoke to him on the off chance that they could get through to him.  While he refused to listen to most of the advice, he found the writing to be helpful.  Maybe when Lucy awakens, she could read them. But for now, it was one way he could pour out some of his thoughts in silence.      

He was always tired and exhausted, pushing himself through this day-to-day routine, sometimes forgetting to eat.  Concerned staff would often pop their heads in to check on him to make sure he had or scolded him when the hours grew late and they knew he needed to work the next day.  His bloodshot eyes held dark bags under them, and his mother swore he was losing weight.  But he would always push them off saying he was fine.

“No, you are not son.  As a mother I am supremely proud to know I raised a son who cares this much, but I don’t want to lose you too.”

“And you’re not, I’m perfectly healthy.”

“You know as well as I stress is harmful to the body.”

Natsu sighs and runs a hand over his face, “mom, I’m fine, I even cut back on work hours to make you happy.”

“And I appreciate the gesture, but you’re still working, just here!”

“Mom, I’m fine!  Please, just leave me be, I-I don’t want to fight.  I just want… I’m not leaving her.  End of discussion.”

His mother sighs, knowing that her stubborn boy would not listen.  “Just please, Natsu, eat more, get more sleep, do it for me.”

“Okay, okay, I will.”        

“I love you, son.”

“I love you too, mom.”

She kisses his forehead and turns to leave, taking one last look at her boy, and to Lucy.  Grandeeney Dragneel pauses with a bittersweet smile as Natsu resumed reading quietly from his Kindle.  Somehow, she knew that young girl loved her son back, and it broke her heart to know they were like those star-crossed lovers from a long-lost folktale, never destined to truly be together.  She liked Lucy.  The girl was smart and sweet, very articulate whenever she visited during her rounds, and her strength through this all was remarkable.  Even after being dealt such a cruel hand by fate, she never grew bitter or resentful.  Her son couldn’t have fallen for a better girl.  Grandeeney slips away quietly before the moisture building in her eyes could be seen by Natsu, bracing against the closed door, and praying for a miracle.

Is this that tunnel people talk about?  Lucy wonders as all she could see through her eyelids is the brightest light that seemed just too brilliant to be normal.  Her eyes hurt a little from it, but if this was heaven, why is there still pain?  She forces her lids open and tries to shield them with her hand that… doesn’t seem to move, huh?  But it wasn’t just her arm, her entire body felt heavy.  The images filtering in through her vision were blurry, slowly gaining focus as her pupils adjust to the light to see, wait, ceiling tiles?  Why does heaven look so much like a hospital?

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

Lucy looks over and sees a doctor standing beside her.  “Where am I?”  Or more like why am I here?  

“Do you remember the heart attack?”  She shakes her head.  “You’ve been in a coma for two months after you suffered a massive heart attack.  But luckily, a local donor came through...”  He goes on to explain about the surgery telling her that the transplant surgery went well, her body was accepting the new heart, and while she’ll still be going through three to six months or rehabilitation and monitoring, she was on track to make a full recovery.  

“Oh-okay, thank you so much, doctor.”  It was a miracle to be alive again with a new heart.  But something felt wrong, missing?    

“I’ll be back in a couple hours to check on you again Ms. Heartfilia, but if anything feels off in the meantime, be sure to ring the nurses.”  He moves to leave, but she stops him.

“Doctor, the donor, can you tell me about them, please?”

The man hesitates for a moment.  “Well Ms. Heartfilia, privacy laws don’t allow me to….”

“You don’t have to tell me their name or anything.  Please, just a little information.  I’d like to know who saved my life.”

The man sighs and takes the seat next to the bed, clearly torn with what he was about to say.  “He was a young volunteer at the hospital who tragically fell asleep at the wheel and passed away from a car accident…”

The doctor's voice droned on for another minute as he tried to reassure her that the man didn’t suffer. It was quick and painless from a one-car crash.  As if that was supposed to make her feel any better.  Lucy didn’t need to be told the name as tears poured down her cheeks, because she knew.  She just knew.  That was what was missing, for she knew that if she’d had received the new heart, Natsu would have been the one by her side when she’d woken up… unless he could be there.  With all the wires attached to her arm, she could barely move them without the sting of the I.V. lines, but she didn’t care.  Lucy’s hands cover her lowered face as the tears continue to stream.

“I’m very sorry, Ms. Heartfilia.  Would you like me to have someone from mental health support to come see you?”

Lucy shakes her head. She couldn’t speak, she couldn’t even think.  

“Mrs. Dragneel would also like to speak to you when you’re up to it.”  

More tears and sobs choke out. Oh god that was Natsu’s mom, how could she face Natsu’s mother!  

Seeing the woman’s distress, the man nods and squeezes her shoulder, “Again, I’m truly sorry Ms. Heartfilia.  We all miss him very much.  Please try to get some rest,” and leaves the woman to grieve in her own way.  

Her head was spinning.  It wasn’t supposed to happen like this!  Why was destiny such a malicious bastard to take away the one person she had and leave her in this world all alone?  Lucy clasps a hand over her chest, recalling the last conversation, that last night with Natsu.  She squeezes her eyes to the pain of the memories…  He’d made her so happy… so very happy, and yes, she remembered thinking for the first time since her diagnosis; she didn’t feel alone anymore.  Fuck if she didn’t want to just keel over again, but that would mar the beautiful gift that she’s received.  Natsu believed with every fiber of his being that she would walk out of here one day and she will live on for him, that’s a promise.  “Our heart,” Lucy breathes out…  But how ironic that he was right all along.  She really did steal his heart in the cruelest of ways… 

#nalu #nalu angst #nalu au #natsu dragneel #Lucy heartfilia #fairytail #nalu fan fic #nalu fan fiction #bittersweet ending #story request #uzumaki2810 #natsu x lucy #au modern setting #hospital setting

[todomitoukei]

Sorry but in all honesty your answer really makes me feel angered. Cause not only you belittled me , when I was pointing out how Deku’s wishful thinking is ridiculous and that by teen I meant that he has room to grow up and being better and finally open his eyes instead of being bubbled in his dichotomic thinking.

No, you were just assuming I was accusing you, instead of reading that I was saying how childish the whole situation was. You think a teenager can handle a person who underwent abuses for years and most likely has a complex ptsd ? Good luck, even a pro in the field would have issues in picking the right word. Because they would know people like Dabi are so hurt that they could easily flip the table in full anger.

Deku is a teen, he’s scared and he go back in what he knows best. Am i saying Deku is right ? No. I started off with “I didn’t like what Deku said...” meaning I don’t stan for his behaviour.

Heroes vs villains is an ingroup vs outgroup battle pushed to total polaritation because heroes need this to keep on being heroes. And to never think “oh what that people endured, am I doing the right thing?” Constantly. Is this right ? No. It happens? Yes. Otherwise people would go insane. When Ingroup and outgroup happens people will always care more about their own ingroup. This is science. And it happens in everyday life. And it happens with you right here right now: you assumed I held a different position and just blindly attacked me when instead I share the same view on Dabi as yours (that’s why I started to follow you and reading your posts) but I was just providing another perspective on Deku. And about Dabi is right in his statement.

Because in real life many people doesn’t care if one was abused when they were young. People doesn’t care if they grew up in poor neighbourhood with 0 possibilities. Or if they had a severe mental illness never cured and resort to drugs to keep on living. Even with all of this, if said X person kills innocent (much like Dabi said he has done) is life long prison sentence or capital sentence. That’s how our world works, so why should Bnha’s work differently ? Deku is the product of society. He can gain critical thinking. But it’s not taken for granted that he has it. Because after all this is the society they were born into. Cool quirk= hero. No quirk / bad quirk = villain.

Deku just thought until now that encouraging and words could heal. They worked with Shinsou. They worked with Shoto. Why should he think he would fail? This is the reality he lived until now. And now FINALLY someone kicked him back into his place. But no. “Think-like” people ? Really? How dumb. How shortsighted. Basically you are answering like Deku did : protecting your ingroup without accepting or confronting with others perspective. It’s such a shame. I loved your post. Didn’t see that coming.

And about victims... if think you much like anyone else miss a point. Victim NEEDS validation. They are allowed to show their emotion. They are allowed to hold grudge. It they shouldn’t. And not because we are all saints. But because this hurts the victim. Forgiveness is correlated to wellbeing. When we forgive someone it’s us who benefits. That’s why many incredibly forgive even brutal murders of their beloved. What Dabi’s is doing it’s not right morally but more importantly isn’t good for his health. Saying “Dabi is right” implies that his behaviour is valid. It’s not . His pain is but in the end what did it cost to him ? He’s consumed by hate. He killed many people he considered innocents (aka he knows he did wrong and this is guilt).

His mental health is basically not there. He’s not happy at all. Yes he was abused, but neither the society and neither himself has done nothing to heal. To recover. Once dead he could have just put anything behind. Or just show up to his siblings. Leaving all of his hate behind because it’s toxic to him. He just go f you to his father and make his own life. But he can’t. He’s consumed by hate. And despite its not his fault, the fault he has it to never have tried to feel better , relying on someone (even inside the league why not) or just let all of it go. He could have just wait and totally ruin his father’s fame instead of all of this. But he just can’t. You think it’s good for a victim? Always living in the negative emotional state of their abusive even if they made it away?That’s not a good message at all. And no, in real life most likely abused victims are pushed to love on while recovering. Because all of this will make them suffer. Not their abusers. Imagine going on 10 years like this and now again say Dabi is a good example of victim validation. Or rather , say this to a pedo who was abused several times. Say this to a rapist who saw his mother raped day by day and interiorised this as a valid sexual approach. Tell this to the bully who grew up seeing a violent parent and gained that beating is a much more efficient way to make his voice to be heard.

Grow up in an household in which being an hero and make your father proud is everything and suddenly this is stripped away. A father who taught you must be great and always be on the top to even exists. A father who has incredibly high standard level i everything. And thus you translated to “well if I’m about to make him pay I’ll destroy the whole world who considered me dead. I’ll kill innocent, I’ll burn them alive, and lastly I’ll kill my family too”. And now tell me if you were to face this person who has no intention to stop and you’d say “yes, your pain is valid. You’re reasonable”. Would you see the person? Of the monster he became? Would you forgive him ? Or would you say what Deku said ? That Dabi is basically a villain? That’s he’s spitting on a man who’s trying to redeem ? Would you try to redeem Dabi and save him from his pain? Because no one did. And Deku is no different. No different by the people in his society. And no different by the people of OUR society.

If you’re are the person who could see the human beyond the action in the fore mentioned examples , hats of for you. But realistically what I said will happen. We are all Deku, who are willing to ignore others drama and to label villains as monsters to have no guilty at night. Because otherwise we would be the monsters.

I’m so disappointed. I really thought highly reading your posts and translations. I believed you could do better instead of rumbling and being annoyed.

I’m sorry you felt like I was belittling or attacking you - that wasn’t my intention.

You send me an ask with points that I disagree with, points that I’ve seen so much by now. You are allowed to have your opinions, but I am also allowed to voice mine and I simply am not interested in reading the same arguments used to justify D*ku’s behavior anymore. 

Yes, I understand that he would side with Shouto - that that is the natural thing for people to do - but that doesn’t mean that we are not allowed to judge the way he handles things after so much time has passed and after he has been given so many opportunities to start thinking critically.

Please understand that my blog mainly focuses on the Todoroki family and the League. I’m not a fan of D*ku and with that, avoid talking about his character where possible because I don’t see a point in spreading negativity for no reason. On the rare occasion that I do, my notifications get filled with people trying to change my mind, which can get pretty tiring because people are allowed to have their opinions and we don’t always have to discuss and argue about every single opinion.

I agree that it’s not healthy for Dabi - or any victim - to stay in a negative mind space. It’s important to get help and learn to move on from the past; but that doesn’t mean that victims like Dabi don’t exist and that we shouldn’t talk about them. I know it’s a lot more difficult to have compassion for people like that - especially in real life - but I think fictional stories are partially there to challenge our views. I’m not saying Dabi is right in hurting people, but I can also recognize the mental downfall that it took for him to arrive at a point where he thinks this is justifiable. I disagree that we are all like D*ku in this and there are, in fact, real-life situations where someone commits crimes and people have compassion because they are given the backstory that explains how the person in question ended up doing what they did.

It’s great that you have a different opinion about this and I encourage you to continue having your views, but if you take issue with me disagreeing with the points you sent my way, then feel free to unfollow. I want this blog to remain as positive as possible instead of becoming a place where I argue with people over my opinions. So please don’t feel like you need to continue to follow me if this blog doesn’t provide that positivity for you.

Again, I’m sorry if any of my replies came off as condescending to you - that was definitely not my intention. Your opinions are valid. But please also understand that when someone interacts with my posts or sends me an ask that I am entitled to disagree and give my viewpoint.

That being said, thank you for reading and enjoying my posts thus far.

#long post #ask #293 #bnha #bnha spoilers #bnha discourse #Anonymous

[common-blackbird]

it’s time... for a dragon age 2 playthrough post. scroll on!

The things i loved most:

1) the frame of the game - Cassandra interrogating Varric.

What a great way to get hook the player. Like, the opening of guards dragging this poor dwarf with cuts of the title, and then Cassandra demanding answers... Whoaaa! I have no idea if that’s usually done in games or not, but it’s definitely such an amazing intro with characters introducing themselves as well as the story so perfectly, it captivates instantly. The tutorial has a charm to it bc varric is messing around. Which serves to show more of his character. Cassandra’s personality was pretty much blank here but her presence is so powerful. Something happened, something huge and they know and i was about to find out. I can’t describe how excited that intro made me feel. Each time the scene cut to the interrogation scenes, my eyes were glued more than ever. Just GREAT.

Also it makes for a very convenient scapegoat for every plothole ever with the argument “it’s just his version of the story”.

2) The story.

It’s tragic. It’s amazing! The further you play, the more you can see that no matter what you do, everything leads to a disaster. Hawke doesn’t want to take sides, tries to mediate, does not want to get involved, but just can’t stop it. For every thing gained, Hawke loses two more. Your friends come with packages that get you involved in terrible stuff. Your good intentions result in disasters. The whole game you spent time climbing  the social ladder not only to reach the top hauntingly alone after losing all of your family, but also losing even that empty title and watching as the city you started to find your place in fall apart in blood. UGH! GAH! FEELS!

3) Kirkwall.

“ But, I beg you my dear readers, never forget that, no matter the subject of any story that might ever be explored between the cliffs of Kirkwall, She will find a way to steal the thunder of the protagonist. Or become the antagonist. Kirkwall is never a mere background. We could even understand it so: the challenge for you dear readers is to prevail against the smokescreens and observe to what extent our characters are players or played by the merciless black souled stone giant. Enjoy playing the dare of the ages between the lines of these humble memoirs. “

Memoirs from the Downfall - Act I. Mirage    by Pfefferminze on ao3 (fic rec!)

This paragraph summs up what Kirkwall is better than I ever could. This shrouded mystery that surrounds Kirkwall keeps you on toes. From the first intro when Varric describes it (paraphrasing from memory) “Kirkwall. The city of chains. It is a free city - keeping in mind i use the  the word loosely”. You already start seeing how dark Kirkwall gets. The name, that derives from its black walls (interestingly, the walls in the game aren’t black...), the history of slavery etched into every corner of that city  and its surroundings - the names (The Gallows, the Bone Pit, the Wounded Coast, the pub The Hanged Man), the scenery (sculptures of slaves, the sunken ships by the Wounded Coast, slums and underground of the Lowtown and the Darktown).

I was really digging the History of Kirkwall and it loved it. Kirkwall has a history of violence, from the times of slavery of the Tevinter Imperium, to Qunari conquests and liberation from Orlais. Many revolts and uprising. And though free now, it’s suggested that, seeing that the Templars hold the most influence, Kirkwall is in the hands of the Chantry.

It’s full of cultures mixing together. I love how not one of your companions is a native to Kirkwall, and it feels like a crossroads to every character’s life. a very tragic crossroads in their life, seeing there’s nothing ever good waiting for you in Kirkwall.

Also there’s these codex entries you look for about the Enigma of Kirkwall. It was when i started digging that up that i fell in love with the city and all. Combined with the History of Kirkwall and every codex entry for every place in and out of Kirkwall, I was pulling my hair out reading about the Enigma. I..i’m still not quite sure what happened. Did the magisters use blood of thousands upon thousands slaves to unbound a forgotten one? if so, is that corypheus? And around what time did that happen?? I get that part (or all?) of Kirkwall’s mysterious violent agency is owed to corypheus slumbering relatively close to the city, but is that all? or is there something more? In either case, the Band of Tree are my heroes.

4) The characters.

I’ll talk more about them later, but in general, i just love how they oppose each other, how complex they are, and there is just not pleasing everyone. They feel genuine. They are all deeply flawed. They all have a solid background that makes their beliefs and actions convincing. The friendship/rivalry points are shaky though, and sometimes really don’t fit the character, but i guess there must be someone hating/loving your bad choices for the sake of the game regardless of characterisation. But all in all, i really appreciated each and every character, and loved how their viewpoints challenged me.

First i want a disclaimer: i love each and every character in the game, whatever i say against them doesn’t diminish my liking of them. My issues really aren’t significant. Also, i might and probably will say smth wrong bc i’ve only played it once. I’m a baby.

let’s start with Family:

Mama Hawke:

i really loved mama hawke. after reading her codex entry and an excerpt of some book on this site, i really feel for her. I mean, imagine going back to your home city where you only remember being respected and wealthy only to find out everything you remember is gone, you are forced to live in poverty, your kids are doing dangerous jobs and you can’t stop them bc you do need that money, you write letters trying to get the old connections but keep failing (at least it was implied?), it’s really been hard for her. I get why she was so obsessed with her legacy. She wanted her childhood home back. She can’t feel like Kirkwall is her home until she is home.

Also loved her antagonism towards Hawke. It seems she can no longer treat him like a child, so she criticises him instead. and honestly, hawke is doing some crazy things so he defintiely deserves some criticism. And stopping Hawke from taking carver with him is just logical to me, idk. since she knows she can’t stop Hawke from going, she will at least attempt to prevent the last kid from going into mortal danger. I’d do the same. AND AFTER HAVING CARVER DYING IN DEEP ROADS I AGREE WITH HER

All in all, i don’t think she’s a perfect mom, but there is no perfect mom, and Leandra does care a lot for her kids. The All that remains killed me too :’(

Bethany

RIP :(

Her codex is not long, but i guess she wasn’t happy with her magic :(

CARVER

My favouritest bestest bro in the game. A secondary character with an inferiority complex towards his sibling, with no sense of humour, blaming everyone else for his inability to get a life? I see a lot of myself in him.  He is sooo bitter, but doesn’t even realise (or at least doesn’t admit) that he’s his biggest obstacle. He feels like it’s Hawke’s fault for Carver not getting his place in the sun, but honestly, it’s Carver’s devotion to Hawke that keeps him from getting a life. He’s just tied with that responsibility and can’t break from it unless forced to.

His interactions with other characters are so funny. Either he’s bitter or he’s awkward, i die every time ;;__;;

Anyways, he became a templar in my game and i thought it fits better thematically (throughout the game the grey wardens felt more like a fanservice material since they really aren’t connected to the story), but after reading that meta about carver and seeing the striking difference between warden!carver and templar!carver i wanna reload and redo everything ;;__;;

i mean... carver isn’t exactly a templar material. The codex entry for templars says that the wanted characteristics of templars are strong faith and utmost  obedience, none of which carver really has... . But that moment when he stands up against meredith was *chefs kiss* worth it. I’m just wondering what happens after, is he still a templar? is he with hawke? is he in Kirkwall or if not, where did he go?? so many questions ;A;

Uncle Gamlen

I feel bad for him. Mostly he’s mean but i like to think it’s bc he’s so ashamed that his sister sees what he’s become. And he’s bitter about his own life. I was so happy when i realised he has a personal mission ;__; I feel bad that he didn’t come to live in the hawke estate tho, especially since Hawke is also alone there :(

COMPANIONS!

Varric

There are no words that can properly convey the amount of love for this guy. He is simply flawless. He’s a charming godfather of the dwarven mafia. I wanna have a charming godfather of the dwarven mafia in my life... He already becomes interesting with the intro, and i gotta say, out of all ~storyteller~ types of characters, he is the best. he puts a disclaimer at the beginning with that game tutorial, and during the whole interrogation he’s like “well, how do you know i’m not lying? i could be.” Also, his voice is the second best voice in the game. 

As for his personal missions, oh wow, that thing with his big bro really hurt. I also gave him the red lyrium... was that a mistake? will i regret it? ;__; I know the true friend would prevent him, but i also trust that varric knows how to handle dangerous stuff...

On a side note, since i’ve read the comics (no self control whatsoever), i loved the beginning of the Until We Sleep, where varric mentions it’s easier to imagine all the people he had to kill were evil than to face the fact that those were normal people just doing their job or trying to survive. Man, it hurts TAT

*garret hawke’s voice when he looks a certain way at the family crest in the hawke estate* ISABELA!

Ok ok, so, i love Carver bc i relate,  i love Varric because he’s simply perfect. But I love Isabela because she’s the most intriguing.

She just crashed in Kirkwall and really didn’t sign up for all the trouble she got. She never likes to have deep conversations, she is always downgrading herself and you just wonder, what is it that happened in her life, and you know her past mistakes haunt her, and she’s doing her best to move on. Her arc was i think my favourite. I think the comic Those Who Speak really adds a lot to her arc in DA2 and makes some of her choices more understandable. Her whole story is about her internal conflict of whether to survive or do the right thing. Her story about freeing the slaves got her ship wrecked is great and all for making her be a pirate with a golden heart, but that story about her drowning all the slaves few years previous make this freeing of slaves a big character moment for her. She finally did the right thing. And she got for it was more trouble, because she’s a pirate which means she can’t afford to just do the right thing. And throughout the game, that same story is going back and forth. She runs off with the Relic bc she’s done the right thing before and it got her nowhere, so now she decided to put her own survival as a priority, but comes back bc she’s too kind to just leave Hawke standing like that. And again, with the slaver papers, it’s the same reasoning: it’s her or the higher cause. She needs that ship. She chooses herself. It’s her biggest flaw. But hey, between pros and antis in your party, it was really refreshing to have someone who, along with varric, just gives you a break with moral high-grounds.

I only wish we actually got to see her more as a captain in power in the game or that she showed me that amazing hat she saw in lowtown. It’s cool that it’s implied that her crew doesn’t like her and she also lost most of them during the crash while the others probably left her after.

I love it when she says she goes sometimes to the docks just to watch the ships. That there is no feeling like sailing. I just want a spin-off with captain isabela’s terrible adventures (´A`)

Also, isabela’s VA is my fave, she really did an amazing job. she voices so smoothly, i wouldn’t know if i was playing a game or watching a movie. And has such a pretty way of talking...

Aveline

I’m really neutral towards Aveline. I like her personality and i like that she’s found herself a purpose and advanced in the guards, and she’s always looking out for everybody. I just wish her personal missions went in the vein of the one in act 1... i feel it would have been more interesting to see her having trouble in her position and that you can’t just waltz into Kirkwall and take command. It’s implied she’s being pressured, so i guess she’s just dealing with it herself, but i just... eh. She’s ok.

Merrill

Merrill actually has one of the if not the most tragic story-line that really challenges you both morally and emotionally. 

Her cheerful and cute personality is dampened by her constant dark leitmotif of willingly practicing blood magic. And i think her story really showed well the indirect consequences of it.

Not in one instance was Merrill’s practice of blood magic an active culprit for all tragedy that surrounds her. First, it seems that blood magic is practiced in the clan, seeing there is no freeing Flemeth without it, but i’m guessing it’s seldom practiced and with great caution. So Merrill wasn’t in any danger of being prosecuted for her blood magic. It’s actually her wish to study it further with the help of the demon that makes her an outcast. That and the magic mirror that apparently is forgotten for a reason. Also, it’s made quite clear that Merrill would be welcomed back no questions asked if she at any point decided to ditch the demon and live without the study of magic mirror. She, on the other side, is driven by the higher cause, the idea that figuring out the forgotten purpose of some evil mirror might help her clan, and is willing to be an outcast if it means reaching her goal and helping her clan. Fast foward to act 3, the clan is still there when they should have moved away, and it’s only when you face the demon possessed Keeper, you realise why. She knew Merrill would sooner or later bargain with the demon again. And she sacrificed herself, trapping the demon within her, as to prevent it. And i think that is why the clan stayed so long there. She waited for Merrill because she wanted Merrill to kill her, and hopefully with her the demon. It didn’t go as planned, obviously, but i really think she had good intentions. When Merrill does manage to kill the Keeper she’s forced to face the clan and i chose the wrong option of telling the truth which resulted in a massacre. Merrill gets back and regrets everything. She, however resolves to help the alienage.

The thing is, there is no one to blame Everyone had the best intentions. Everyone is working for the safety of the clan. it’s a story of sacrifice and when sacrifice feels like the wrong choice (whether it truly is or isn’t depends on your worldview) and it’s really done well.

But here are my issues with Merrill. I love her as a character, but i don’t agree with her decisions.  It’s a personal issue. Merrill is giving up everything as to help her clan by learning history of the evil mirror. And while this is a game where old things are important and significant, her mission is always explained as this duty of preserving history. And while i agree that preserving history is very important, there is a limit to it. you should never put history before the present. If your research endangers the present, you give up on that line. The other is that you need to make peace with the fact that many, many things are forgotten and will be forgotten. It’s sad, but you gotta make peace with the fact that some things are just gone.

And Merrill, who is a magic historian, fails to see that. So that kinda irks my historian moral codex. And in the end, as far as i know, Merrill doesn’t succeed in reviving the evil mirror and dedicates herself to help the alienage. It was a terrible way to learn that some things aren’t worth it.

The other, less personal issue, is that none of this had to happen. I mean, the keeper obviously didn’t think Merrill was experienced enough to actually deal with demons and therefore distrusted her and warned the clan about it. So, if Merrill was a little bit more patient she could have just studied normally under the keeper, and when she herself becomes the keeper, she could have fraternize with that demon however she wanted without much complications. So yeah... i guess youth is made of idealism.

But as i said, minor issues. Her story is really, really great.

Fenris

Fenris and Anders are my “i love you but i am soo annoyed by you but i still love you” characters. Half of the time they’re just there to make you feel guilty for being a neutral party. Which sometimes has me rolling my eyes. If Fenris and Anders actually got along with each other, slavery and mage oppression would have ended in 2 days. Which makes it all the more frustrating that they do not.

Fenris.. his voice. What a nice voice colour. So elegant, but kinda rough, sometimes he talks like he’s 80 years old, sometimes like he’s a teenager. I love it.

As for the rest, i mean, i don’t agree with his methods, but very often, the guy’s got a point. I get his experience with mages colours his view on them, so while i symphatise, it’s really hard to have him on my “free mages” missions when he’s my best tank and i want him to be on friendly terms with Hawke so this makes things... difficult. That aside, it’s interesting that fenris doesn’t see mages as evil per se, but rather victims who, in his experience, will always, always going to succumb to a demon. It’s an inevitable reality to him. And this makes me wonder if he ultimately, despite being his friend or lover, is just waiting for the day he will be forced to kill Hawke too :(

As for his missions, they were ok, it led up to culmination and i didn’t let him kill his sister bc Hawke has just lost his mom, don’t do smth you’ll regret ;__;

also, somewhere around the end of act 2 i decided to romance fenris bc i love to suffer, so i worked the whole act 3 trying to get more aproval points and also wondering why are there no romance options when i talk to him... turns out that one night stand with isabela romanced her and canceled fenris. But i never even finished the romance with her so i’m just ??? about it all.

I wish it was more explained about the tattoos fenris has? I just thought the tattoos would play a big role somewhere in the game and it just never happened. There was a banter with Merrill about how his tattoos are similar to valaslin, so i thought, hmm, interesting, maybe the two are connected. But nah they just glow in the dark and make you pass through walls. Whatevs.

also dude just goes and kills without a second thought, i’m just “mate, you gotta calm down”. But that’s his thing. He’s constantly bitter and is very bad at anger management. I can’t blame him, considering he lacks around 10- 20 years of experience due to amnesia.

He’s the only one who left me when Hawke sided with mages, and i was like, “ok i getcha, it’s been nice knowing you”, but then when i asked him to join me 5 minutes later he just went “ok changed my mind” which was so funny, like, where did all that integrity dissappear??? It would have been more impactful if the dialogue went in the line of “i want to stand by my principals but you’re a living breathing proof that not all mages are weak to succumb to demons so i’ll join you in the end” (and then side-eye “i told you so” when orsino turns into a demon)

And i wanna read the fenris comic now bc my question for every character here is what is their fate after kirkwall. I only know that isabela & varric are working for alistair and merrill wants to help the alienage. Aveline is i guess either dismissed from her job or got a pass after cullen took  the command.  But Carver?? Fenris?? Anders?? They never talked about long term plans...

Anders

ooh boy, here we go. there are many questions i have for him and am generally just hmmmm. First, as for his pro-mage rights - it’s like opposite fenris so i just have the same feelings: you mean well, i don’t agree with your methods, your experiences define your worldview so i let some things slide, but other things i will not agree with. Though, question: in how many circles has Anders been? He knows the kirkwall circle, he knows the fereldan circle. Seeing he has excaped 7 times, did they send him to a different circle each time or was the fereldan the last one? or the first one? Or maybe it was his boyfriend they transferred? did i miss something?

I’ll just whisper: awakening!Anders >>> da2!Anders. I just miss the old anders. Which says a lot bc during the awakening i was just “shut up anders”. I miss his bad jokes, his terrible attempts at flirting, his enjoyment of freedom, nagging all the time, and generally being more moderate in pro-mage rights. Like, in awakening, because it was not the only thing he talked about, it felt more personal and intense. Here mage-rights are the only thing he ever talks about + justice. I mean, please correct me if i’m wrong, this was just general impression. But to defend da2!Anders here, it makes sense that merging with mixed both of their personality, and i like that they did that. It’s also very sad.

The thing is, when i’m thinking about anders, i love his story and character. Just as it’s terrible that Fenris, having no memory from before being Fenris, Anders can never go back to being just Anders. And this, people, is why you don’t fraternize with spirits. He’s obviously afraid of how justice is affecting him and there are some bare traces of his old personality and i guess he wouldn’t be as radical if he didn’t have justice personality that can’t stand the injustice. And in combination with anders quite selfish personality (form awakening, and i say that lovingly), it makes him do things that justice wouldn’t condone. Anders is literally a walking bomb.

Again, same problem as with fenris, i really thought that the justice glow would have a incredibly significant culmination, and it didn’t, it was just to show that anders and justice are very bitter. Eh, ok.

Also, i let anders join after he blew up the chantry, bc he started it, so might as well follow it through.

Some minor characters that i remember

Senechal Bran for the next Viscount! He hated hawke so much but still put up with him.

Feynriel is the coolest mage in Kirkwall. I think his missions were my favourite. Dude goes from “oh no i’m a mage” to “i will just dreamwalk to tevinter and learn control the reality” to “i dream-killed bad people from thousands of miles away”. Does he appear in the next game? I want him on my side. He’s so cool.

I think the Maker is sending Cullen signs to quit being a templar. First job: evil mages that tortured you. Instead of “this job will kill you” h took it as  a “never trusting mages again, got it”. Second job: your boss is evil possessed paranoid maniac. Man, talk about bad luck.

What is the story of the Lady Elegant?

Flemeth had that big great talk at the beginning of the game and i thought by the end of the game i’d realise what it meant, but nope, still no clue.

Ok so I defeated Corypheus, but there was this looong shot of Larius walking away. Corypheus possessed larius, didn’t he? He’s out there. In a madman’s body. I know he appears in inquisition.

Many thoughts

I gotta say, in Kirkwall, at least, it didn’t feel like much of a challenge to pick a side. Like, there was no mage who said “hey i actually really like it here in the circle, the templars aren’t so bad”, and having templars actually smuggling mages from the circle says a lot to say the least. Every time a mage talks to you, unless you go with “oh they’re 100% lying”, their stories invoke sympathy and of course you want to help them. And then in 99% cases they turn to blood magic bc there was no other way. Except that dude who always hanged out with the wrong people, he only did blood magic to save Carver. But yeah, that turning to blood magic was like having Fenris side-eye me with an unspoken “i told you so” bc every mage, whether in desperation or hunger for power, will turn sooner or later into a demon. Regardless, blood magic was always in the act of desperation and self-defense. The only times where magic was actually evil was the slavers and the serial killer, who is a madman.

When i was reading the Enigma of Kirkwall, there was a part that talks of a blood-mage conspiracy and i was all, oh shit, there is a reason why templars are mean to mages! maybe the conspirators are framing innocent mages on blood magic crimes that they actually commit, maybe Meredith is actually on trail of the conspirators, maybe there is a reason for animosity on both sides. After all, Kirkwall was known for having a bigger number of apostates, a bigger number of blood magic cases and far more ruthless templars. It added up.Thinking back now, i never even got any specific reason why meredith was so intensely anti-mage, other than going mad.

But yeah, no conspirators. Just sad mages and mean templars, and good templars that get screwed by desperate and mean mages.

While in Kirkwall it’s easy to be a pro-mage, i was thinking a lot about mage-rights in general so let me indulge myself: there are circles, but the mages aren’t oppressed. Rather, the circles would be educational centres and society in every larger city where one learns how to properly handle magic bc magic is dangerous. You can leave when you pass the final exam and also come back anytime to hang out with mages who decide to live there since the institution would support mages.

Also, when one gets possessed, i’d invest more into “walk into their head and free them of demons” specialists. It’d be cool if you could have a dreamer who does that bc no lyrium spent. Honestly, why don’t they ever do that? How did the keeper do that rite for Feynriel? Was it blood magic?

I guess, you’d still have to answer for your crimes, tho no death punishment and degradation allowed. Blood magic wouldn’t be punishable by death, but rather have specialists who study it, but practice with extreme caution and use of another person’s blood is strictly prohibited.

Templars would still exist but completely reformed. No more “mages are all potential disasters”, but i’d rather make it that mages can too be templars, since they both have abilities that prevents the others from casting magic. This way the control system would be much like the dalish: if the keeper(mage) is possessed, the clan (which means the non-mages and the first(mage)) need to kill them. You could argue that you don’t need templars as non-mages, since mages can do it too, but seeing that in general people fear magic and feel inferior to it (since there’s a collective memory of the great tevinter imperium), having non-magic specialists would make them feel like on equal ground. The extra-reformed templars would be under Circle, not under direct command of the chantry, and circle, depending of whether chantry is reformed, might or might not be under chantry.

(a side note, i was thinking about templars recently and i can’t recall an instance where it says who had the clever idea to chew lyrium first? i just wanna know)

I know that DA2 wasn’t about grey wardens and therefore not about darkspawn, but seeing as in legacy we get corypheus being... an evil version of the Architect(??), i was only wondering do we get more answers about the darkspawn? is there hope for them? is the Architect still alive?

And oh, to turn to the Anders question:

Is he a terrorist, or was that just activism? I mean, i don’t see why those two can’t go together. blasting a building with a symbolic significance killing and harming many innocent people to get a message of your radical activism across belongs into a schoolbook of terrorism. Does he have a good cause? He sure believes so, and i, too, agree that mages should not be oppressed for just being mages. But does that mean this is the right way to do it? Personally, i do not condone any act of violence in service of a political or religious cause. I know it’s sometimes inevitable, but i like to believe there are more diplomatic ways, or at least not including an attack on civilians.

That aside, the moment where anders goes in front and just announces that the church was gonna blow up in a minute was the best anders moment for me. Until that point i more or less just viewed his activism as a hobby since he just did it in his free time, but now he put his money where his mouth is and freaking went all out. Cool character moment. And incredibly heartwrenching. He was aware of how many innocents he killed, but just didn’t see other way to get the point across.

I still don’t agree with his idea of blowing up the church tho. Maybe if he told Hawke, they could have done something to empty the church previously and further people away from it and then blow it up?

But still, blowing up religious buildings isn’t the answer. If i was the radical mage activist, i would have gone for the open assassination. Seeing it worked in WW1, i don’t see why it couldn’t start a fantasy war.

Some random things i liked:

uniportant but lovable interractions in the house: it starts innocently with gamlen’s house, to see how you’re doing, and becomes really fun during act 2 when you see your friends have been here and left you things. In act 3, however, it feels melancholic. no more family to come back to, just ghosts of friends that have visited, Bodahn and Sandal being there for you, Orana still not getting some sunlight and your dog at the fireplace. The Hawke Family Suite is playing, and you feel older than you are, lonlier than you should be. just... ouch. I hope Bodahn adopted Orana and took her out of Kirkwall :(

t i named the dog “Maker” which is very funny to me bc every time i summon the dog i just imagine Hawke yelling “Maker help us”. Carver hates the name bc he needs to chase the dog often in the streets. Mama Hawke never ever calls the dog Maker, but she never has to call the dog anything: he’s super obedient towards her.

Fighting wasn’t as hard as in origins, i like that.

The haunted house mission was so cool.

When random people greet aveline in Hightown.

And that’s i think about it. There are probably plenty more things i loved, but i think this is already enough. if somebody told me i’d be playing so much this year, i’d laugh, but I already want to play the next game ;;___;;

#don't klick keep reading if you aren't ready to scroll endlessly #a very long post #in which i: #love everything #stan carver #cry over fictional characters #need a romance manual #form political opinions in a fictional game #give a random fic rec that is so worth your time #if you've read this you're a hero and i'm sorry #da2 #spoilers for those who plan to play #it took me a week to write this god