#there also needs to be at least 5 scenes of him in civilian clothing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dorimena · 3 years

Note

Hi, I love your work and if your requests are open would you consider the following?

Monoma is on patrol with y/n and Monoma being well....Monoma, he was horny and was teasing y/n. Not having any of this shit, she proceeds to dom the fuck out of him during patrol. She takes him into an alleyway and fucks him with a strap that she had on her already (she was already planning on something but didn’t go through with it because work is work and she’s aware that Monoma and her could take their time when they got home). She pushes him into the wall and fucks him silly. Monoma is loving it and keeps begging “Mommy fuck me more, please!”. She gives him what he wants but she tells him to be quiet or else the bystanders would fine their great Phantom Thief in a puddle of his own cum while getting fucked by his mommy. At some point two civilians hear Monoma panting and hiccuping and get concerned. Y/n keeps fucking him and reassures them that Phantom Thief is fine. He cums then and there and she tells him to reassure the civilians that he’s ok. Monoma whimpers out that he’s fine and y/n cleans him up and cuddles him in the alleyway telling him how much of a good boy he was.

(I’ve been thinking about this ever since I read your shower blowjob story. This man makes the dom in me go crazy. He’s already a whining bitch, having him be like that in the bedroom just- 😫)

Let me say that I’ve had a scene in my head almost the same as this one you sent me and I am absolutely thrilled because yessss more attention to bratty baby Monoma ٩(♡ε♡)۶

And honestly, this man is just asking for it. Bet he wants to fucked anywhere, anytime, as long as he's put back into his place. That's his kink-

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; Monoma Neito

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 3.5k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; fem!reader, pegging, mommy kink, slight exhibitionism, public sex, mentioned sex toy (butt plug), implied overstimulation, multiple orgasms, implied after care, domme!reader, sub!character

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; begging, humiliation, Monoma being a little shit, because he wanted your attention, and to rile the fuck out of you, aged-up character: Monoma is 20+

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; I unknowingly kind of changed a few things from the ask, like the conversation between Monoma and the bystanders, but I hope you like it anon! The ending is kind of rushed, sorry about that!

𝕭𝖊𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆 𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍 𝖎𝖘 𝖒𝖞 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐

“Now, now, y/n, you know ignoring someone, specifically the love of your life, is a crime? How else are you to beg for my love if you go on and ignore my graceful presence? Are you listening to me? At least lend me your attention.”

He’s been like this for the past couple of hours since you’ve both been assigned together for patrol. You thought it’d be a good idea, and Monoma was also excited when your boss told you both to get ready and head to the neighborhood you’re meant to keep a watch over.

The neighborhood turned out not as empty or quiet as you expected, rather close to a busy street. Some stores and restaurants seem to align themselves around this area.

You thought things would go smoothly, go even better and much quicker now that you and your boyfriend are finally patrolling together, months since you’ve transferred to this agency from your old one.

But Monoma’s been leaving any and every snide remark since you two stepped foot into the area, teasing you for any small mistake he believes should be (loudly) called out for or simply trying to mess up your way of doing things.

You don’t even want to count how many times he’s criticized the way your hero outfit currently looks on you. And no, you’re not getting insecure, but rather more… cautious.

There’s a reason why the uniform seems a bit odd around your crotch, but he doesn’t need to know that, not here, not now. Maybe until you both get home-

You trip, almost falling flat on your face if it weren’t for your boyfriend quickly grabbing you, pulling you up to your feet as he looks at you with panic before it quickly dissipates to his stupid mockery.

“See? You cannot do anything right, not without me at least. You, my dear, cannot live without me yet you still ignored me. This is what I mean when you should listen to me. Anyone would truly be grateful for having me, Phantom Thief, as their beloved lover.”

That’s it. You usually can take so much of his weird comments, but right now he’s pulling anything out of his ass at this point. (Soon you’ll see what actually comes out.)

You don’t answer, just look around to make sure no one is watching as you grab him by his stupid tie, dragging him to the nearest alleyway you remember passing by, glad it’s still pretty empty and dark enough to hide your bodies in the shadows.

He isn’t even struggling, just letting you walk him as if he’s a dog, quietly following you. If you were to turn around, you’d see the way his eyes are wide yet full of lust, his pupils dilated as he mentally cheers, thanking the gods for listening to his horny prayers of being sucked in an alleyway.

Do you know how hard it was for him to not jump you and beg you to help him? All because of how sexy you look in your hero outfit, how the small fixes and modifications bring out more of your body, the body he loves, yearns, desires, every day and night. Hopefully you don’t find his surprise before he can debut it once you guys are back home. (But unintentionally came prepared.)

He’s a complete fool for you, but you can’t know that, or else it’ll be the end of-

“Monoma Neito. You have 5 seconds to tell me why the fuck you’re being a piece of shit tonight.”

He didn’t realize his back is against a cold wall or how you’ve trapped him between your arms, the way you’re glaring at him while counting down in such a low tone, it makes his legs feel weak and threaten to buckle..

“Horny.” He barely whispers, crazed eyes never leaving your face as he stays still, trying to control his breathing and heartbeat as you scan him from head to toe, eyes finally staying in place where his boner is visible, even with how poor the lighting is.

You grin, but not your usual friendly grin or familiar flirty grin, but the ‘I’m gonna fuck you till you die’ kind of grin.

And Monoma’s both terrified yet super, duper much more hornier than before. But, with what are you going to fuck him with?

In a flash, he’s suddenly turned around, his clothed-covered chest pressing against the wall as he feels your hands make quick work on his belt, on his pants, pulling them down to rest on his thighs. He hisses and shivers when the cold air hits every exposed part of him, yet makes his dick twitch in interest.

You also free your bottom half to finally let out the strap on you’ve luckily managed to hide until now, searching your pockets for the small tube of lube you brought with you, just in case.

But when you spread his butt cheeks, you gasp in surprise with the butt plug he’s wearing, going to grab the toy as you slowly pull it out in disbelief.

Did he know?

“I-I want you to know you’re not the, um, only one to be prepared for what they want.” Monoma speaks, but in such a soft tone that it has you wondering if he’s the same person who had pestered you since the beginning of the patrol, the same boyfriend you love who has a talent for being loved and hated simultaneously by various people.

But at least he didn’t know. He simply decided to take this extra mile.

Cute. No wonder he’s such a good boy for mommy… sometimes.

“Then I guess I shouldn’t prepare you, right?”

You don’t wait for his response, not when you dispose of the toy away from you both, and you make quick work to lube up your silicone cock.

Monoma doesn’t get to ask you about the wet sounds behind him, or ask where you threw his butt plug before you’re entering him. You felt how his body jolted, his back arching enough to push his ass back more towards you.

You land a smack against the smooth skin, listening how the impact echoes in the empty alleyway and the way he whimpers in pain.

“You’re such a slut for mommy, aren’t you Monoma?”

“Yes!”

No hesitation.

Monoma usually sounds hesitant whenever you two do something new, as if he evaluates the pros and cons from anything and everything, figuring out if he’ll come out benefitted or you.

But he sounds desperate, shameless. He sounds like he’s ready to cry.

New, but not too surprising. When he wants to, he’ll always be a good boy for his mommy.

“Want to tell mommy again why you were being a little bitch tonight?”

Never mind, his hesitation came back, his mouth pressed shut as you peek at him, trying to catch a glimpse at his periwinkle eyes, wondering what’s taking him so long to answer. He answered you so easily, so quickly a few minutes ago.

You hear a soft mumble, see his lips move but no sound gets to your ears. So you spank him once more, hearing his cute squeak and the way he fucks back.

“Louder.”

“I wanted mommy to fuck me! Fuck me until I can’t walk! Fuck me until I’m just your stupid little hole! Please? I’ll-I’ll be good now, I promise!”

If anyone were to ask you just how stupid Monoma gets when he’s completely horny and turned on, this is a prime example. His usual eloquent vocabulary? Gone. It doesn’t exist once mommy’s pleasing him.

But he’s also promising about being good? Let’s see how good he’ll be then.

No more words are exchanged, just the soft desperate pants of the pretty blond and some small airy whines that leave his mouth in anticipation for what you’ll do next.

You don’t even start slow, you go absolutely feral.

He barely gets to inhale one last deep breath until you’re fucking that out of his lungs, his head turning to look back at you as best he could as his body begins hitting the wall in front of him, his clothes rubbing against the roughness of the bricked exterior of the unknown building. He lifts head enough to not get itself hit against the wall and his hands are clawing at the bricks desperately, trying to find leverage to hold on tightly, his brain struggling to catch up with how vicious yet delicious you’re fucking him.

When he does remember he’s a human who can speak words, he cries out “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” in such high pitches, it sounds like he’s singing, probably trying to continue seducing you into such a horny haze. His pent-up sexual frustration must have been infectious, with how you find yourself being merciless with him and his ass, your hips slamming into the back of his in such a brutal pace you wonder if the skin will bruise, if he’ll be able to sit or walk properly.

Probably not, but that’s the point, isn’t it?

Your baby boy wanted you to fuck the living shit out of him, so that’s what you’ll do, it’s what you’re best at doing.

Fuck the annoyance out of him so that when you guys get home, he passes out.

You momentarily forget you guys are very much still in public and even if it’s night, civilians are very much still awake and walking, either going back home or going to work, maybe hang out with their friends or find themselves a sub to fuck.

Monoma doesn’t even warn you that he’s cumming, not even his loud, prolonged whine of your name gets your attention. But with how he’s spasming around your toy, how his hips are twitching quickly in between your hands, his eyes that never left from looking at you crossing…

Yeah, since you missed that orgasm and you’re not in the mood to exactly punish him, why not fuck him some more until he can’t remember his name and only yours?

You briefly pause, the tip of the toy the only thing still inside of him as one of your hands rubs circles on his lower back and the other remains on his hip.

Through the panting, Monoma lets out a whine, one that sounds almost disappointed. Probably because he came far quicker than what either of you two expected, or because it feels like you’re pulling out already and calling it a night.

No words are exchanged as you watch him catch his breath for a bit more, memorizing how rosy his cheeks and nose look, how the blush looks like it’s on his neck while his white pupils are fully dilated, oozing his adoration for you.

When you hear him suck in a breath, whether he’s preparing a sentence or to finish pulling himself off the toy, you slam back into him, grinning like a maniac upon feeling how his whole body jumped, going back into action and having blood pump everywhere in him, mostly towards his reawakening dick.

And you slam, slam, slam, slamming into him at such a steady pace, making sure to roll your hips the way you know will make him start squealing in such a girly tone, or like a dirty pig he sometimes becomes.

And once you feel him begin to push back on you and one of his hands leave the wall, you lean forward, pushing his body more up on the wall. He’s bent too much, it’s obvious you’re fucking him doggy style. What if people decide to go through this alley?

He obeys but whines in complaint, not wanting you to stop your ministrations as he pulls himself together, standing up as much as he could as to leave his lower back still bent for you.

“Keep your hands on the wall or else I’ll leave you here like this.”

He loves it when you speak to him in such a low voice, in such a way that you know makes him want to suck your cock for days until his jaw hurts. He puts his hands back on the wall, both placed where his face is at, acting as support as he rests his forehead there. His neck hurts a bit from how long he’s been straining to look at you.

You go back to fucking him, going back to what you were doing, moaning his name repeatedly to keep riling him up, arouse him and make him start begging for you to go faster, harder, deeper, make him dirty.

And he does with loud wails, ones that have you freezing and stopping all together, slapping a hand on his mouth and whispering how he should quiet down, unless he wants to be whored to other people.

“Be mommy’s good boy and keep quiet. Unless you want someone else’s cock.”

“No! No muh-mommy! Only y-yours~ Please!” He moans, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he impatiently grinds against you, feeling how sticky his thighs are getting with sweat and some of his cum and precum, somehow.

“Mommy, fuck me more, please!” He whimpers so cutely, so pathetically, so melodically you’re sure he somehow copied someone’s siren quirk, because your head feels dizzy, your heart is beating erratically and your hips sync with the pulse, forgetting about being consistent with speed, with roughness, with how deep you reach inside of him.

Fucking him silly until he’s trying his best to muffle his screams and cries into the back of his hands pressed on the wall, his fingers trying so hard to find solace on them, to grasp the reality of him being defiled in an empty, dirty alleyway, pressed so ruthlessly against a wall he doesn’t know how exactly dirty it could be.

Monoma’s hiccuping your name until you spank him, growling softly how that’s not who you are, making him wail out “Mommy! Cumming!” in such an erotic way, you wonder if you’re fucking your boyfriend or a girl with how he’s managed to reach such an incredible pitch.

You keep going, and even when he’s done cumming, you don’t stop impaling him, and a hand goes to wrap itself around his dick, trying your best to match this chaotic fucking, hearing how he’s struggling to breath, to comprehend this painful yet electrifying pleasure.

His toes are curling in his shoes, his knees don’t stop buckling, his hips never stop trying to meet with yours, the burn of overstimulation flowing through his veins yet motivating his dick to keep going, to keep obeying, to not disappoint mommy.

Monoma’s speaking gibberish, babbling whatever nonsense and begging he could think of or come to make up, the tips of his fingers turning white with how hard they’re pressing against the bricks as he tries to not fall. He’s not sure how or why he’d fall, but with how you’re touching him, squeezing him, stroking him, playing with him, he’s ready to give into the inquiry of whether being a househusband would have you fucking him like this everyday.

It’s a weird thought, one he’s never had before, one that’s still early to even care about-

Oh my god you’re abusing his prostate!

He’s seeing stars, planets, flashing strobe lights and envisioning his uproaring third orgasm, mouth hung open stupidly as whiny sobs and strangled cries escape him, trying his best to keep quiet like you said but he can’t!

“Feels s’ good!” He slurs, once again turning his head to look at you, eyes completely wet as tears fall in graceful droplets, hair messed up and drool staining a bit of his chin.

And just as you were going to respond, you heard footsteps.

You both freeze: you’re halfway out of him while Monoma’s struggling to not let his coughing fit be heard, having swallowed his saliva far too quickly with the scare.

The sounds stop, but now you both can hear a female voice.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

Monoma whimpers, embarrassed.

So this is how he’ll get caught and shamed.

This is the end of his career.

But you’re not having it, not with how his dick has stopped twitching and is starting to soften.

You’re not done yet, and neither is he.

“Answer, Monoma.” You harshly whisper, wiping your thumb over his hypersensitive tip, making him hiccup loudly before composing himself as best he could.

“Y-yes? It-It is I, Phantom Thief- ooh~”

Another voice pitches in.

“Phantom Thief? The Phantom Thief?!”

“Y-Yes!” Monoma squeaks out, trying to cover up his gasp as you begin to slowly fuck him, making sure to keep hitting him straight to the prostate, amused how he’s gripping his jaw, muffling his hiccups while frantically shaking his head, begging you with his eyes to no, no, please!

The two bystanders gasp, seemingly walking more towards where you and Monoma are, making you press him more into the wall, hoping the angle you’re both in and the small hiding spot is enough to keep you hidden.

“We’re huge fans of yours! But, um, are you alright? We heard someone crying.”

“Fuck!” Monoma whimpers, struggling to keep his breathing in check as you continue to move, even rolling your palm all over his tip, your other hand going to pull at one of his nipples.

“What was that?”

“N-nothing! I’m fin- ugh~”

“You… sure?”

“YES!”

Monoma yells, back arching as his head touches your shoulder, eyes rolling up this head as he’s torn between pushing back or bucking forwards, feeling his body submerged in such an intense heat, in such shame, in such pathetic desperation to cum, he’s begging you in quick hushed moans to please, pretty please, make him cum, he wants to cum, needs to cum again.

“And your fans?” You whisper teasingly, feeling how he shivers with how close your breath is near his ear.

“Fu-uck my fans-”

“Now now, that’s something you never said before. Did I fuck Monoma Neito out of you?”

And you go back with the brutal pace, not caring if the other two bystanders can hear what’s going on, not caring if they come out traumatized or probably aroused with how obvious it is that their dear Phantom Thief is getting fucked in a shady place, in a nasty place, yet he’s silently wailing and convulsing with everything you’re giving him.

Your hand soon enough gets sticky with what little cum his poor, weak body produced, his hole clenching tightly around your strap-on while his hands fly back to grasp any part of you that he could reach, which ended up being your head.

The bystanders speak again while Monoma’s busy wheezing his gratitude.

“Are you sure you’re alright? We could call the police-”

“I’m alright! ‘m fine~” He managed to sing-song, but if you heard a bit of his whimper seep from the last word, you don’t say anything, simply slow down your stroking before pausing.

You hear their footsteps slowly go back towards where they probably came from, making Monoma let out shaky exhales of relief and satisfaction, small giggles slipping from time to time as you kiss his neck, his cheek, his jawline.

And once you are certain you’re both alone again, you slowly pull out of him, helping him to turn around so that his back presses against the wall.

Until he grimaces.

“My essence is, from my deduction, splattered on this disgusting wall.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you point down to where his pants are, laughing harder when you see how his grimace turns into a face of disgust, horror, shame, surprise, arousal- wait what?

You don’t question the last one, simply letting out the last of your giggles while you search for the disinfectant wipes you tend to carry with you in your utility belt. And once they’ve been found, you make him lick your cum-covered hand first before properly passing a wipe. You hand Monoma one so that he cleans his face if needed, disinfect his hands, his thighs, anywhere he thought he needed to clean.

No, that's a lie. You took care of his thighs and pelvis, trying your best to clean the spots where his cum reached his pants before peppering a few gentle kisses around his exposed skin.

Pulling his briefs and pants up, buttoning, zipping, fasting his belts. You let out a happy sigh, fixing his hair and tie.

You then fix yourself.

“Who’s mommy’s good boy, Monoma?”

He somehow managed to chirp. “I am, mommy.”

“Then, you’ll stop being a bitch tonight, right? Mommy made sure to fuck it out of you.”

“Oh, um,” aw, he’s blushing. “I suppose…”

When you both walk away from the much-more defiled wall, you hold back an amused snort with how Monoma seems too unstable with his feet, how his legs seem to shake with every step he tries to take and how frustrated he looks with how uncooperative his body is.

You decide that chilling and cuddling in that corner wouldn’t be so bad, and considering how your shift ended minutes ago, you doubt either you or Monoma will get into trouble.

#✿; impurity #⏱ Monoma brain rot #bnha smut #monoma neito smut #monoma smut #sub monoma neito #sub bnha #mha smut #ლ; blasphemy #𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖒𝖆

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wordsfromthesol · 3 years

Text

Hunted

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: togasbetch malfoys-demigod pricetagofficial Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader Summary: You're a detective at Bludhaven PD with Dick Grayson and when a serial killer your after starts hunting you down, you have no choice but to ask for his help. Warnings: Kidnapping, stalking Word Count: 2.3k

You had been working at Bludhaven PD for about 2 years before the hotshot Dick Grayson came on the scene. Though you had grown into friends or at least friendly coworkers…he annoyed the shit out of you. After all, everything seemed to come so easy to the pretty boy Grayson and you could count the number of times you had actually seen him at the station on one hand. Thankfully this happened to be one of those times because you had run out of options.

"Dick, can I get your eyes on this case? I'm been staring at these files for hours and can't find the pattern. Yeah, they've obviously got a type. But that's not enough to go on."

Dick briefly runs through the file before staring blankly up at you. "You can't be serious, right? You need to take yourself off this case."

"People are dying, Dick." You had already assumed you would get some pushback from the star detective.

"I can't let you go after this guy. You're an exact match to all 5 people they've killed." Dick attempted to reason with you, to no avail.

"Then I'm the exact person who should go after this guy. Rather it be me than some civilian." Finally, Dick relented and gave you some useful information.

"Well…everyone was taken near an abandoned subway line." He takes out a highlighter and marks up the map. You tried to mask your nervousness as the bright yellow line stopped a block from your apartment.

"Thanks…I didn't even notice that." He nodded, still apprehensive about giving you the information, as he handed the file back to you. Tucking the papers away, you decided to finish up the research at home.

As you sauntered home, you were barely able to keep your eyes open. Stopping at the crosswalk, you noticed a man staring at you in your peripheral vision. You swore he was the same man from five blocks ago. Surely you were just paranoid…right? You began weaving in and out of the crowd, making a complete circle back to the crosswalk. Yet there he was in the corner of your eye. This wasn't paranoia. This was real. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and pressed Dick's contact card.

"Hey, uhm…remember that case we were talking about today?"

"You mean literally 20 minutes ago? Yeah, I remember."

A nervous chuckle escaped your lips, "Well you were probably right." Dick could hear the shakiness in your voice.

"He's following you, isn't he?"

Your current situation momentarily left your mind as the words tumbled out of your mouth, bypassing the brain. "How the fuck could you possibly know that?!"

"Don't go home. I'm coming to get you." You wanted to plead with him to stay on the line, but your stubbornness got the best of you. Slowing your pace, you attempted to stay in the crowd and walked straight. How was Dick even going to find you? As soon as the thought danced across your mind, there he was, as if you summoned him from thin air.

"Y/N!" The familiar voice called out from the street. A deep sigh of relief flooded over you as you trotted over to him. Crawling on the back of the motorcycle, you didn't bother asking where he was taking you. Anywhere was better than here.

"Wow. Just wow." Dick shook his head in awe as he climbed off the bike, ushering you into the apartment building.

"It's not like I planned it." You tried to force the uneasiness from your voice.

"Right, of course not. You realize he had to have been following you for days now, right? He knows where you live. You can't go back there." You hadn't really thought about that, yet where were you supposed to go? You looked at him pensively, unable to form a proper sentence. "Looks like you're staying here then." The alacrity of the statement caught you off guard.

"I can't just --"

"Right right. So let's go antagonize the serial killer. Genius." The sheer amount of sarcasm took you aback, this was a completely different side of the infamous Dick Grayson than you were used to.

You glared at him as he opened the door to his apartment. "So dramatic…besides, someone has to stop him. He's already after me, so I'm the perfect bait."

Dick's eyes went wide. He looked at you like you had three heads before bellowing, "ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT!"

"Do you have a better plan?" Part of you hoped he would begin rattling off some convoluted trap. One that didn't hold your life in the balance.

"Well…not yet. But I'm sure we can think of something. Give me a few days."

A few days came and went and you were losing your mind in Dick's apartment. The worst part was, you were never alone. Dick or one of his family members was always by your side. You weren't quite sure how some 14-year-old kid was supposed to do anything if said serial killer showed up, but Dick was insistent.

Finally, you caught a break. Jason, your latest babysitter got called away on some emergency and Dick wouldn’t be home for another hour. Of course, Jason informed you to tell Dick he left just moments ago, which actually worked in your favor. You dialed Captain Holt on your phone and began to strategize. The captain wasn't keen on using you for bait either, but eventually, you swayed him. Everything was planned to take place tomorrow afternoon, a time Dick just so happened to be testifying in court.

"Y/N?" The confusion spread across Dick's face as he opened the door.

"I'm here!" You called out from the bedroom before stepping into sight.

"Where's Jason?"

"Oh, family emergency. But he left like two minutes ago. Nothing to worry about."

"Okay…" Dick didn't sound convinced.

"I also got a call from the captain today. He wants to meet with me tomorrow at 2." You tried to play it off as a casual request, but you knew it wouldn't be that simple.

"What? Why? We still haven't caught the psychopath…plus I have court tomorrow."

"Dick, I'll be in a police station. You can drop me off on your way."

Dick let out an exasperated sigh, "Fine. But I don't like it."

You were absolutely terrified, but you tried your best not to let it show through. After all, you asked for this. Dick still seemed uneasy, even as he dropped you off at the precinct. You wondered if he could tell something was wrong. Though there wasn't much he could do at this point, considering he was due in court by noon.

"Y/N. Are you sure about this?" Captain Holt questioned as you walked into his office.

"No. But something needs to be done. This guy doesn't just give up. So either I'm bait and we have a chance at catching him, or I die a horrific death for no reason. Not the best of options."

Holt nodded in understanding, "Well everything is set up. We have snipers in position around the perimeter of your apartment and a dozen plain-clothed in the vicinity."

"So hopefully we have a chance. What about near the abandoned subway entrance? That's how Dick thinks he's staying out of sight."

"Covered. We are ready to go on your command. Though I still think Detective Grayson should be informed of the plan."

"He's in court. So he couldn't help out anyways. The fewer people that know, the better. Let's move."

You arrived at your apartment without any issues, though you could feel a million pairs of eyes on you. With everyone watching you, it would be hard to notice one more face. Nevertheless, you persisted, attempting to go about your day in your apartment. The apartment that now seemed so foreign to you, though you had only been unexpectedly ripped from it a week ago.

As the day went on you began to feel more and more lightheaded. Normally, you would chalk it up to stress, but given the situation, you decided otherwise.

"Captain…"

"There is still no sign of him," he ignored the strain in your voice.

"I think…he's already…here." A crashing sound was left ringing through the earpiece.

"I want everyone on her position now! Get me a visual!" Captain Holt's booming voice commanded those around him. "Where are my snipers?!" An eerie silence crept over the line. "Shit." He mumbled before pulling out his phone. The dial tone appeared to mock him until finally the other end picked up.

"What happened?" The stringent words reverberated in the air.

"He has her."

"Goddammit. How did he get her out of the precinct?" Dick didn't wait for an answer. "Because she wasn't in the precinct. How could you let her be bait? You've seen what this guy does!" The anger was bubbling up inside him. Out of everyone, why you. Why did he have to go after you?

"I know."

"How long? HOW LONG HAS HE HAD HER?!" Two cops turned towards Captain Holt as Dick's voice echoed from the speaker.

"About a minute. From her apartment." As soon as the word left his lips, the line went dead. Holt buried his head in his hands. If there was any hope of finding her, it was Dick Grayson.

You woke up in a cold, dark, concrete room. "Well, guess that didn't work out as planned…" You mumbled to yourself, or so you thought.

"Really? You thought a bunch of cops in blue jeans could stop me? I've been hunting you for months. Along with the others. But you. You were my challenge. I memorized everything about you. Your favorite breakfast, your confidants, what time you call your family. Lovely little folks, by the way. And then you thought you could hideaway in that pathetic little Richard Grayson's apartment. The only reason I didn't take you then is because I didn't want to. What kind of challenge would that be? That would have diminished everything!" He carefully stepped around your chair, weaving your hair in and out of his fingers, until he turned to face you. "But now, here you are! My masterpiece! My coup d'etat!" His lips forced their way to yours. "Don't worry, my sweet. I'll take my time with you. After all, the grand finale demands perfection!" The crazed man turned on his heel and sauntered out of the room, leaving you with your own horrific thoughts.

It felt like hours had gone by before he returned. When he walked in, his eyes went immediately to your wrists and fingernails, which were now bloodied beyond recognition. "Now I wish you hadn't done that. Blood does not make for a spectacular fossilization." He walked around and surveyed the damage. "I guess it was to be expected though. After all, it wouldn't be fun without the challenge."

"You know, you keep saying that this is some big challenge, yet you gassed me and then tied me up. That doesn't seem like you are really challenging yourself."

"Simple-minded fool! Challenges are not always those of brute force. It took planning and timing to get you here. Those 4 snipers set up on the surrounding roofs? Had to get them out of the way. A delay in your communication device? Truly a necessity. And though you had the foresight to add a few men to the abandoned subway tunnel, they neglected to surveil the associated maintenance hatches. So you see, your perfect encapsulation proves to be quite the…" You noticed a slight furrow of his brow as the sentence broke. "Challenge. Now to finish preparing the resin!" Off he galloped, but you swore something was off. A slight change in his mood.

You heard several loud bangs before your captor fell backward through the door. Nightwing loomed over his grisly body. Then his eyes shot up towards you.

"I'm okay." The words were forced from your throat. With those two small words, Nightwing glared down towards the man and began throwing punch after punch. "STOP! Please!" You screamed out the words, shocked at the vigilante's ferocity. Nightwing's eyes slowly shifted towards you. It was as if a twinge of pain ran its way through his body as he crept towards you. Once close enough, his hands carefully cradled your face until finally, he spoke.

"I don't know what I would have done without you. Why did you do something so stupid?" You could tell he wanted to say the words out of anger, yet a euphoric aura surrounded them instead.

Still confused, you began to answer as he unbound your wrists and ankles. "He wasn't going to give up. This was our chance to catch him…"

"I would've found another way!" The words burst out of him louder than expected. Nightwing let out a sigh as he helped you out of the chair.

"Alright, Dick, I'm sorry." You glanced at him for a reaction...nothing. Worried he didn't hear you, you pushed the point further. "Guess I should be glad you weren't in court long."

Dick stopped in his tracks, finally realizing his mistake. "I…uh…left early." As the two of you got outside, there were a dozen cop cars already swarming the area. Two of the officers came up to meet you.

"Detective! Are you alright? What happened?!" The first began to raddle off questions, but Dick quickly deflected.

"You can find out later. I'm taking her to the hospital. Your man is inside, unconscious."

"I can still talk ya'know…" You mumbled as the officer ran off to inform the others of the new information.

"Yeah, but then you'd try to convince me not to take you to the hospital. And that's not going to happen. But don't worry, the captain is on his way there now. You'll get to regale the entire course of events with him."

It was almost scary how well he knew you. "You'll stay too?" The simple question caused an oversize grin to spread across his face, but all he did was simply nod.

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dreamingofaizawa · 4 years

Text

Short Stack

Okay, so I recently started a series called Saving Her Sanity, and I had only gotten one part posted. But the more I reread it, the more I really hated the way I’d written it. So I’m postponing that and starting a different series. It’s gonna be a real rollercoaster ride of emotions, so buckle up.

Pro Hero! KiriBaku x ProHero! Fem! Reader

**18+ Fic**

Warnings: Angst, fluff, habitual self-harm, dissociation, swearing from obvious sources, alcohol. Coming up in later parts: smexy times, biting kink, double penetration, unprotected sex, more angst, traumatic past (but not super detailed cuz I can’t handle that shit my heart hurts already)

Word Count: 6.9k

Author’s Note: Alright folks, the reader is a fucking savage and stronger than the fucking hulk cause why the fuck not? Tbh body type isn’t discussed, the only thing is that she’s short af and the angry pomeranian and redhead boulder are freaking giants. Also, everyone’s in their mid-late twenties here.

Part 2 - Part 3

Enjoy the read!

You dove out of the way of chunks of concrete, barely making it behind the corner of the alleyway. You took off sprinting, hopefully drawing the villain away from civilian activity. Thankfully he chased after you, onto an abandoned street, out in the open where you had the upper hand. Twirling around, you materialized a scythe and swung it straight at the enormous arm coming at you, nearly chopping off the villain’s fist completely.

He stopped in his tracks and howled in pain, giving you the opening you needed. You charged him and dropped to the ground, taking his legs out as you slid under him. A chain materialized in place of the scythe and you wrapped it around his ankles and his undamaged hand, hog tying him in place. You’d only been fighting the villain for about five minutes, and backup wasn’t going to be there for at least another two, so you put a quirk cancelling cuff on him and began to wrap his bleeding wrist to keep him from bleeding out.

As you waited for backup, you sat down and leaned against the villain, who’d passed out from blood loss, and tended to your own wounds from the encounter. Backup arrived, but it wasn’t what you expected. Instead of police, stomping toward you was none other than the number two hero Ground Zero. His vermillion eyes glanced between you and the villain that was quite literally twice your size, and the expression on his face looked ever so slightly confused at the scene he was witnessing.

He stopped at your feet, glaring down at you for a few seconds, looked back at the villain, then back at you, and when he opened his mouth to speak the most absurd thing you’d ever heard came from his lips.

“How the hell did you do that?”

You looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, slightly irritated at the implication behind the question. Without a word, you stood up and dusted the dirt off your butt. You walked a few yards away, pulled out your phone and dialed the police, making sure they came with a vehicle that could fit the huge villain. When you turned back around to face Ground Zero, you didn’t expect him to be so close to you. He leaned down so you were face to face, narrowing his eyes at you and letting out what sounded like a growl. “I don’t like being ignored, dumbass.”

You rolled your eyes and glared right back at him. “Well I don’t like to be undermined, Ground Zero. I may be small but I can handle myself in a fight.” And it was true. You were very small, at a whopping 5 feet tall (152 cm). His eye twitched and jaw clenched, and you could almost see the steam coming from his ears. Before he could retort, you saw something being launched from behind him. You swung your leg under him and pinned him to the ground just in time to dodge a manhole cover as it whizzed above your heads.

Without hesitation you launched toward the second villain that appeared and quickly had him immobilized and cuffed on the ground next to the first. You turned back to the number two hero, who was still on the ground watching you with wide eyes. You walked over and held your hand out to him, offering to help him up. To your surprise he actually grabbed your hand and let you pull him to stand. He didn’t let go of your hand, instead looking at it, bewildered.

“Can I have my hand back?” you looked at him blankly. He blinked a few times before releasing his grip. Soon the police arrived to take the villains, and once they left, you began to walk back to the agency since your patrol had ended a little while ago. Ground Zero ran after you and grabbed you by the wrist, turning you around to face him.

“What’s your name?” You raised an eyebrow at the man. “My hero name is Inventory. Now If you don’t mind, I’ve got paperwork to fill out.” He let go of your arm and walked alongside you. You knew why he was walking with you, seeing as you worked as a hero at his agency. As you walked into the building he turned to you with a quizzical look. Without even glancing in his direction you gave a small sigh. “Why am I not surprised that you don’t even know I work under you?”

He seemed slightly shocked. He made it a point to know who was working for him. After all, he couldn’t have anybody screwing up his agency’s reputation. Somehow, though, you’d managed to slip under his radar. Though considering your stature, hero rank, and the fact that you hadn’t made a single mistake since your debut, he figured he’d just brushed you off.

After you filled out all your paperwork, you changed out of your hero costume and into workout clothes and hit the agency’s gym. Like you always did, you went straight to the separate room reserved for sparring, expecting to have to go back out and find a partner. Today, though, you didn’t. As you entered the room, there was a certain angry blonde and a very muscular red-haired man sitting against the wall.

“Well if it isn’t short stack” Ground Zero called out to you. Well that’s one way to get you mad. You tilted your head sharply to one side, then the other, your neck popping loudly as you took a deep breath to calm your anger. “Hello, Ground Zero. I didn’t expect you to be in here. I’ll just leave you to it then.” The irritation seeped into your voice as you turned around to leave the room.

Of course, the jackass had to go and say something else. “What? You too scared to spar against me? Am I too big for you to handle?” God damn it. You both knew you had taken down much larger opponents than him, and you knew it wasn’t very smart to fight your boss, but at this point you were pissed. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath through your nose.

He stood up and began stalking towards you, his heavy footsteps ringing in your ears. You dropped your duffel and whirled around, walking to him and meeting him in the middle of the room. At least sparring was only hand-to-hand combat, because you knew he’d easily overpower you if he could use his quirk. But you trained almost exclusively in hand-to-hand, because your quirk wasn’t combat related.

As you dropped into your fighting stance, he narrowed his eyes at you, clearly confused at the odd stance you were in. In all your years of training, you had developed your very own fighting style. He quickly shrugged off his confusion and put his arms up in front of his face, ready for whatever you were about to throw at him. The two of you stood there, waiting for the other to make the first move. As predicted, his patience ran out and you easily ducked and dodged the first few quick jabs he threw.

He kept throwing punches, each one a little more intense, and you could see he was getting irritated from how you were dodging every single one. Soon enough he was lunging at you with each punch he threw, his anger getting the best of him. Five minutes of him punching and you dodging had him fuming. You hadn’t even thrown a single punch. Still, it was a game of cat and mouse with you dodging everything he threw.

The whole time he’d been aiming at your face and shoulders, keeping his strikes high. But suddenly he launched at you and his right fist aimed straight for your stomach. Got him. You planted your right foot and spun counter-clockwise, grabbed his wrist with your left hand, grabbed his shoulder with your right, and used his own momentum to fling him over your head. He landed on his back with a thud, all the air pushed out of his lungs from the impact.

You knew he’d have to take a few seconds to get up from that, and that meant you won the match in a single move. You stood over his head, smirking down at him. He glared up at you with eyes wide as saucers, wheezing from the throw, and the redhead cackled from his spot against the wall. You kneeled down and hunched over, your noses inches apart, and said, “Still think you’re too big for me to handle?”

Staring down at him, you stood again and walked over to the redhead. “Hi, I’m (y/l/n) (y/n), hero name Inventory.” You introduced yourself and held your hand out for him to shake. He took it and introduced himself as Kirishima Eijirou, a.k.a. Red Riot. You walked back over to Ground Zero and once again held your hand out to help him up. This time, he slapped your hand away and got up himself. “The name’s Bakugou Katsuki,” he said, scowling at you.

Kirishima got up and came over, “Come on Bakugou, don’t be a jerk just cause you lost. Sorry about that (y/l/n), he’s just prideful.” You chuckled lightly, waving it off, “It’s fine. I’ve heard ALL about Ground Zero’s friendly personality and peppy attitude. Anyway, It’s been fun, but I should get going.” Kirishima stopped you before you could walk away. “Hey, (y/l/n), we were gonna go out for drinks after this, you wanna join us?” You looked over to Bakugou, who didn’t give any input, choosing instead to glare at the corner. “Sure I’ll meet you outside in ten.”

You picked up your duffel and went back to the locker room to change into your civilian clothes. The bar was only a couple blocks away, so you all left your stuff in your cars and walked over. Bakugou didn’t say anything the whole way there, still wallowing in his humiliating defeat. You, being the smartass you are, decided to poke the bear.

“Stop sulking Bakugou, I haven’t lost a sparring match since high school. Besides, if we were to use our quirks you’d most likely win the match. You don’t gotta be all depressed about it.” His head snapped toward you and his hands popped and crackled at his sides. It was probably meant to scare you, but you only put your hands up in mock surrender.

When you got to the bar you all ordered your drinks and sat down at a booth. Kirishima looked at you and started asking questions. “So, (y/l/n), if you’re so sure you’d lose to Bakugou’s quirk, what’s yours?” You answered him like you answered everyone else who’d asked you the same question. “Basically, it’s like an inventory in a video game, hence the hero name. I can “store” things in a pocket of space and materialize them whenever I need them,” then you held out your hand and materialized your car keys and cell phone.

His eyes went wide and he started gushing about how cool and convenient that is. Meanwhile, Bakugou just rolled his eyes and mumbled “showoff” under his breath. Kirishima elbowed him and told him to behave, making you giggle at the dynamic of the two. Despite being at a bar, the only one that drank any alcohol was Kirishima. What really shocked you was that he was a terrible lightweight, and getting him to walk back to the agency was proving extremely difficult, because he was leaning nearly all his weight on you and Bakugou didn’t bother to help.

In fact, Bakugou was busy snickering at the sight of you trying to keep Kirishima from stumbling out onto the road and taking you with him. You’d be lying if you said Kirishima wasn’t heavy, but years of weight training and hero work pays off cause you could easily squat over 200 lbs even if you were tiny. So about a block from the agency, you’d had enough of trying to keep Kirishima from falling over and you just stopped walking.

Kirishima was too out of it to notice. But Bakugou turned and started teasing you for not being able to handle the weight. You just rolled your eyes at him. Before Bakugou could move and take him off your hands, you took a deep breath, and hauled Kirishima onto your shoulders in a fireman carry. Bakugou’s jaw dropped, and he froze in place, just staring at the scene in front of him. That both annoyed you and made you extremely proud, cause you just impressed the number two hero. You were sure the scene was at least a little funny, a giant hanging off your tiny frame, but you ignored it.

Once you had Kirishima secured on your shoulders, you started the trek to the agency. Again, Bakugou was completely silent, but you could tell it wasn’t because he was sulking. Once you were back at the agency, Bakugo led you to his car and got Kirishima settled in the back seat while you stretched out your arms, popping your shoulders and neck. You were about to say bye and head back to your car when Bakugou stopped you.

“Thanks for carrying him. It was impressive. Unexpected,” he said, not making eye contact, “And the match earlier…You did good. I haven’t been beat that bad in a while.” It almost looked like he was blushing, but it was so subtle you couldn’t tell. You smiled softly at the compliments. “Thanks, Bakugou. I had fun. I’ll be going now.” You turned to walk to your car, but he stopped you again. “Oi, short stack!” You froze at the name, and turned around with a sickly sweet smile on your face, “Yes, Bakugou?” “What’s your number?” It was your turn to be shocked. But you got over it and recited your number to him as he punched it into his phone.

When you got home it was just after midnight, so you got ready for bed and lay down to sleep. The next few days passed relatively quickly, occasionally running into Kirishima or Bakugou. There wasn’t any villain activity in the area, and your gym time was productive. You got a couple of people to spar with you when you needed it, and spent any extra time weight training.

The next day you were off, just like every day you had off, you went straight to the agency and hit the gym. You spent a solid hour at the punching bag and went to go spar again. This time there were five others in the room, which was extremely rare. Normally the room was empty. Two pairs were already going at it, so you asked the fifth if she wanted to spar.

You’d already worked up a sweat at the punching bag, but you needed the spar, so instead of finishing quickly you made sure to take a couple punches and throw a few before ending the match. You kept the same partner for a few matches, winning each one, and soon the others were watching as you won two more rounds.

The partner you’d been sparring with tapped out to get water, and someone else quickly took her place. You immediately jumped into another match. And then another. And another. Soon they tapped out as well, and by then there were a few more people filing into the room to watch. It confused you, because you’d never seen more than ten people in the padded room, but you ignored it and began another match with yet another partner.

After another few rounds, your new partner tapped out, and you decided it was time to get some water. But it wasn’t until you stepped back out into the center of the room that you realised nobody else was starting a match. Nobody else was sparring with anybody, all their eyes locked on you. As you looked around the room, you noticed it was getting crowded with people, all your previous opponents had already left, and a new opponent stepped out to challenge you.

Now this was strange. Even with your opponent getting into his fighting stance, you looked around the room, confused as to why there were so many people. You dodged a jab, snapping your attention back to your opponent. Well that was a dirty move. At his next swing you ducked under his arm, lunged to his side and swept his legs out from underneath him, ending the match before he could even blink. Playing dirty gets you knocked the fuck out as far as sparring goes for you.

The crowd that had gathered cheered at the quick takedown, and yet another opponent stepped out. You lost track of time, sparring dozens of different opponents, never losing a single match. If you began to tire all you did was end the match quickly to regain energy. After you went to refill your water for what must have been the 20th time, you checked the clock. It was already noon. You’d been sparring for five hours.

When you went back into the room, another opponent waited in the middle. You apologized and said you had to leave, and the crowd dispersed within minutes. You showered and changed, and as you left the locker room you got a text from a number you didn’t recognize.

Oi short stack, what are you doing right now?

Correction, you knew EXACTLY who this was.

You:

Just got out of the gym. Why?

Bakugou:

Where?

You:

At the agency

Why?

You didn’t get a reply, but you didn’t need one, cause Bakugou was waiting for you outside the building, sitting in his car, with Kirishima in the passenger seat. “You haven’t had lunch yet right?” Bakugou asked. You shook your head no. Kirishima spoke this time, “Great! Let’s go eat, I’m starving!” Bakugou rolled his eyes and told you to get in, and you chuckled as you got into the back seat.

During the ride Kirishima asked about your day, and you told him about the strange occurrence while you sparred, with a crowd forming to watch and people popping out of nowhere to challenge your winning streak. “Wow (y/l/n)! You still haven’t lost? I should spar with you and see if I can win!” You giggled at that and agreed to spar with him next time. And you kept reiterating how strange it was that there’d be so many people in the room at once, when normally there’s only a handful at a time.

They both questioned it but soon shrugged it off as Bakugou parked the car in front of the sushi restaurant. Lunch was a whirlwind of Kirishima asking you questions, you asking them questions, and Bakugou bickering at Kirishima when he ignored Bakugou entirely. It was fun seeing the two so close. Eventually the conversation rounded back to your sparring matches earlier.

“So how long were you there? If a crowd formed you had to have been at it for a while.” Kirishima asked, trying to figure out how long you’d fought people. You answered sheepishly, a bit embarrassed that you’d lost track of time so easily, “Well...when I checked the clock it’d been about five hours.” Both of them froze, staring at you with wide eyes. Your face burned and you took a sip of your water. Bakugou was the first to talk. “You’re a fucking beast.” Kirishima’s expression went from shock to concern. “Are you ok? Like, how are you not passed out right now?”

You assured him you were fine, and explained how much time you spent in the gym nearly every day, even after patrol. Your gym time only seemed to surprise them more, and after they told you about their gym schedule, you realised just how much time you spent in the gym, and the more you thought about it, the more you realised how lonely you were.

Kirishima seemed to catch on to your stress and smoothly changed the subject. After lunch, Bakugou drove you back to the agency, and Kirishima asked if you wanted to go to their place for drinks. “Sure, as long as I don’t have to carry you again,” you laughed. Kirishima turned and looked at you, his cheeks nearly as red as his hair. “Wait...you carried me?”.

Bakugou barked out a laugh. “Yeah shitty hair, she threw you over her shoulders and hauled your wasted ass back to the car.” Kirishima’s face somehow burned brighter and apologized profusely, but you waved it off. “Nah, it’s fine! Besides, if Bakugou wasn’t being such an ass I wouldn’t have had to carry you. I just got sick of trying to keep you standing upright while he snickered at me being short.” Bakugo scoffed. “Well you’re definitely not tall.” “I don’t need to be to kick your sorry ass.”

At that Bakugou went silent and Kirishima exploded in a fit of laughter. “Put a sock in it shitty hair! And you!” Bakugou glared at you in the rearview mirror, “I’m gonna beat your stubby ass next time!” You looked at him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Is that a challenge, Ground Zero?” He growled at the mention of his hero name. “Yeah short stack, it’s a fucking challenge.”

Soon the car parked in the parking garage, and you all went up to their shared apartment. It was spacious, and very modern. Bakugou pointed out the bathroom and went to the kitchen to grab three bottles of beer. The three of you settled into the living room and the conversation went just like lunch did. Most of the questions were directed at you, and you answered honestly.

The questions were generic and friendly, what you like to do in your spare time (besides going to the gym), your favorite foods, colors, your likes and dislikes, your pet peeves. After the first round of questioning you’d only got through one bottle of beer. “Hey, what other kinds of alcohol you got?” you questioned Bakugou. He got up and listed his menu from the kitchen. You asked him for a glass of the cream liquor, and he returned with a glass filled with the liquid.

After hours of aimless conversation and a few more glasses, you found yourself slowing as the alcohol permeated your system. That was your signal to ask for a snack and water, and you stopped your intake of alcohol. Bakugou caught on to your self cut-off. “You don’t need to limit yourself. We’ve got a spare room if you need to stay the night, and if you need to call in tomorrow the agency has plenty of people to take over your patrol.” His statement shocked you, and you looked at him like he was crazy.

He spoke again, “If you’re cautious about sharing a place with two guys, Kiri’s nearly wasted already, he can’t do shit, and if I were stupid enough to do anything I’m sure you’d kick my ass before I got within a foot of you. As for tomorrow, both of us are off, and like I said, the agency is not short-staffed. And i’ve got meds if you’re worried about a hangover, and I don’t mind lending you clothes if you need them.”

You were stunned. Completely and utterly bewildered. But he made good points, so you decided to take up his offer to spend the night. “You know what, I’ll stay. But I'm gonna slow down with the alcohol, because hangovers are a bitch to deal with even with painkillers.” And with that, the three of you continued talking. Soon Kirishima passed out and Bakugou hauled him into his room. Surprisingly enough, when he came back out he actually engaged the conversation.

He asked about your fighting style, how you developed it, how long you trained. Most of his questioning was about your physical strength and tenacity, nothing personal. But then he asked why you spent so much of your time in the gym instead of with friends. And you answered honestly and bluntly, probably mostly because of the alcohol. “To be honest, I’m not much of a social butterfly. I don’t really have friends, because I don’t ‘make friends’ with people. In fact, you could call me antisocial. I don’t really like talking to people. I don’t speak unless spoken to or unless speaking is necessary.”

And he only dove deeper. “Why not? The world too scary from down there?” he teased. You laughed darkly at the comment, choosing to drain your glass of alcohol in favor of answering the implied question. He looked at you and raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“What is what?”

“You avoided the question.”

“Well it wasn’t really a question, just a jab at my height again”

“Yeah, and you didn’t jab back.”

You huff, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think I know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about.”

“Just drop it Bakugou.”

“I won’t drop it. Not until you give me some kind of answer.”

“Are you always this insensitive or is it just the alcohol?”

“Spill it (y/l/n).”

“Ugh fine! But I’m not giving you any details.” You crack your knuckles, take a deep breath, and a long drink of water before you talk again. “I used to like making friends. But all the friends I made turned out to be liars and fakes. I was used. A lot. After a while I finally had enough, so I stopped approaching people. I decided if people want to be in my life they can approach me. I got good at reading people, and I shut them out fast if they weren’t good for me.” You sighed, praying that was enough to sate Bakugou’s drunken curiosity. It wasn’t.

“And if people approached you with the intention of using you? If you read them wrong?” he pried. Screw it. You already spilled this much right? Might as well get it out. “I got really good at pretty bad things. I don’t usually read wrong, because I’m suspicious of everyone that walks into my life.” Internally, you prayed that was enough for him. “What kinds of bad things?” Well that’s unfortunate.

“Things like eavesdropping. Spying. Hiding. Manipulation. Lying. Deceit. Long story short, I have trust issues. It’s easier to keep people at arm’s distance than make friends that could hurt you.” At that, Bakugou goes quiet, his eyes studying your face. And you stare back at him, waiting for the judgement that comes with opening up to people. Waiting for the ‘maybe you should openup more’ and ‘just give people a chance’. But his answer is unexpected. His face softens ever so slightly as his eyes lock onto yours, his voice low, soft and somewhat comforting. “Sounds rough.” You look away, trying to keep your breathing steady, not giving tears the chance to fall, “I’m gonna turn in. Good night, Bakugou.”

Moving quickly, you disappear into the spare room and curl up into the bed sheets. Why the hell are you crying? You’d talked about this before. So why now, of all times, are you suddenly sobbing into your hoodie, clinging to it like your lifeline? You try your best to keep quiet, hoping the only other person awake doesn’t hear you. You don’t know how long it’s been, but you hear the door handle turn, and you freeze, closing your eyes and steadying your breath, going completely silent in mock-sleep. It was a technique you’d perfected long ago, turning off your emotionsin order to avoid confrontation.

You hear heavy footsteps, knowing who it is that just stepped in. He was the only other one still awake. You feel the bed behind you dip, and strong arms curl around you and turn your body, burying your face into Bakugou’s solid chest. His deep voice rumbles softly in your ear. “I know you’re not sleeping shorty. I listened through the door and heard you crying. Just let it out.” And before you can stop them, the tears you’d willed to disappear begin to pour down your face. So you sob into his chest, his arms tightening around you as your entire body shakes.

Soon you’re drifting into sleep, your body giving in to exhaustion. You’re in a deep sleep, and Bakugou stays there, holding you, until the last hiccups subside. He leans away to look down at you, and brushes strands of hair away from your face. “How long has it been since you’ve cried, princess? How long since you bottled up those emotions inside you?” He questions your sleeping figure. He presses a soft kiss into your forehead, gets up and tucks you under the blanket before silently leaving the room and going to bed.

When you wake up, your eyelids are heavy and swollen, making it hard to open them. You tenderly massage them open, remembering the reason they’re so puffy and sore. Despite the discomfort of your eyes, you feel refreshed and light, a weight lifted off your chest that you didn’t know was there in the first place. No, it was more like it’s been there for so long you’d gotten used to the pressure. Slowly, you sit up and blink away sleep.

You check the clock and it’s 8 am, a couple hours later than you normally get up. At the foot of your bed is a set of folded clothes. You quickly change out of the clothes you slept in, and into the t-shirt and sweatpants that you assumed were Bakugou’s. As expected, they’re giant on you, but they’re comfortable, and they smell like Bakug-- NO. Stop. You shake the thought out of your head as quickly as it came and go out to see if either of the guys are up.

You quickly get your answer when you see Kirishima lounging -- freaking SHIRTLESS -- on the couch. Talk about eye candy, damn. Like sure, his hero costume doesn’t exactly hide anything, but it’s different when he’s laying across a couch in nothing but gray sweatpants. Again, you clear the thoughts before they screw you over, and greet him. “Hey (y/l/n) how’d you sleep?” “Pretty good, thanks. I’m surprised you’re up so early Kiri.” He laughs at the observation, “Yeah. Bakugou got me up a little while ago and I couldn’t go back to sleep.” Yeah, that makes sense. You nod and make your way into the kitchen, and as expected, Bakugo is there.

“Good morning Bakugou,” you greet him. “Morning shorty. How’d you sleep?” You answer with the same reply you gave Kirishima a few seconds ago. You lowered your voice a little and leaned slightly toward him, “Thank you, by the way. For last night. I really needed that.” He just nods, focusing his attention to the fridge to find breakfast. Satisfied with that, you turn and head back to the couch and chill with Kirishima until Bakugou calls you to the table to eat.

You ask them what they do on their days off, and today the plan was just to stay in and lounge around the house, not doing much of anything and just relaxing. So, that’s what you did. As the hours passed, you found yourself liking the company of the two men, despite their imposing size. You didn’t feel small with them. But the question lingering at the back of your mind was why? Why were you so comfortable around them?

Thoughts buzzed around in your head like a hurricane, mixing with the doubt that they were in any way comfortable with you, and the fear that they were only using you for what men always seem to want. Soon you were telling yourself all the bad scenarios that would end in them leaving you all alone again. You didn’t even know them all that well, but you had become attached and were already bracing yourself for the inevitable loss of the two. The memory of crying to Bakugou last night swirled into your mind and wouldn’t disappear.

You were spiraling into a panic like you always did when people got close. But it was hidden, suppressed, contained. Whenever you panicked it never showed, the only telltale sign being your sudden need to scratch the soft flesh on the inside of your elbow. You hadn’t scratched in so long that any previous wounds had completely healed over, the only evidence left were small patches of discoloration, only evident if you stare long enough. That was about to change as your nails dug furiously while you stared off into space.

Kirishima was the first to snap you out of your spiral, grabbing your wrists and shaking you out, calling your name frantically. Your senses began to drift back, and the next thing you noticed was the sting on your forearms and the light stain of blood on your nails and fingertips. Your eyes drifted from your wrist up to your inner elbow, and you winced at the sight of blood seeping out of the shredded welts. It looked like it should have hurt more than it did.

“Bakugou! Get the first aid kit from the bathroom! (y/l/n)’s bleeding!” Kirishima called out to him. You heard quick heavy stomps and a curse from the blonde before he came over to examine your arms. He looked at you, and you looked back at him, still dazed from your inner turmoil. He knew from that look you were out of it. Instead he questioned the redhead to ask what had happened while he was in the kitchen figuring out what to make for lunch.

“I don’t know! I was watching tv and when I turned to ask her something she was staring off into space and scratching at her arms! She was bleeding before I even turned and I grabbed her before it could get worse.” Bakugou clenched his jaw and went to get a wet washcloth to clean up the blood. You were watching this all unfold before you, still not quite attached to reality. When he returned, he put the cloth on his lap and grabbed your face in his hands, stroking your cheeks with calloused thumbs. He called your voice, attempting to ground you, and didn’t stop until you finally took a few quick breaths and blinked, answering him with a small ‘sorry’.

He grabbed your wrists, which Kirishima had already released, and spoke to you in a hushed tone, but still strong and intense. “(y/l/n) I need you to listen to me. Are you allergic to anything? Anything at all?” It took a few moments for you to regain your mental balance, but you shook your head. “No. Nothing.” He let out a soft breath and with that he began to clean and dress your arms, wiping away blood and cleaning your fingers and nails in silent concentration.

By the time the entire ordeal was over, the different sensations from the sting of the alcohol wipes to the cool ointment and the soft gauze had grounded you completely. As Bakugou went to put the first aid kit away, Kirishima reached out and gripped your shoulders, looking over your face and into your eyes with tender concern. “You okay little pebble?” He moved his large hands so they rested at the sides of your neck, his thumbs gently brushing at your jaw.

You blush lightly at the endearing nickname and the new sensation of his hands. Leaning slightly into one of his palms, you nod. “Yeah, I’m okay. I don’t really wanna talk about it, but I’ll be just fine. I just got distracted.” He looked at you with a face that said he didn’t believe your excuse, but he’d drop the subject because you asked him to. Letting his hand release you, he gives you a toothy, mischievous grin. He leans in closer to you and nearly whispers, like he was about to reveal the world’s biggest scandal.

“That was the most gentle I’ve ever seen Bakugou. Thanks for bringing that side out of him,” he says, flashing another smile. You giggle a little at the thought of the explosive male being gentle, not quite believing it if you hadn’t been subject to it. Then you remembered why he’d been there, tending to the wounds you’d subconsciously inflicted on yourself. Your eyebrows knitted together lightly, remembering the spiral and being shaken out of it by a panicked Kirishima. When Bakugou came back, you grabbed one of their hands in each of yours.

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” you say softly. After a few moments of silence, you decided you owed them an explanation of some kind. “And thank you for catching me. The scratching is a nervous habit when I’m stressed. I thought I got rid of it, but obviously I haven’t. It’s been a long time since it happened last, and it was triggered by my own drifting thoughts. It’s purely subconscious and I don’t realize what I’m doing until the pain becomes too unbearable and snaps me back to reality.”

By the end of your explanation, the two were looking at you with concern and understanding. Kirishima gently smiled, and Bakugou’s features relaxed, when you squeezed their hands appreciatively. The comfortable silence was suddenly broken by a low growl. You laughed at the comedic timing of your stomach and glanced at the clock. It was just after 12:30, and Bakugou got up to go make lunch. After eating you asked to wash your clothes, and asked to use the shower. Kirishima got you a spare towel and plastic wrap to cover your newly dressed forearms. Five minutes under the hot water and you were already feeling suffocated. The steam clouded your lungs, making it harder and harder to breathe.

You knew you had a problem with hot water. You always have. Jacuzzis were never relaxing for you, and you loved the cool water of the ocean the deeper you dove toward inky blackness. You turned the handle in the shower, letting the water turn cold. Your body shivered slightly from the sudden temperature change, but quickly relaxed as the cold water washed away all the stress from a few hours ago.

When you had finished up you went to go relax on the couch again, settling into the space between the two. Now with your mind clear, you began to wonder something that you probably should have wondered a while ago. How tall were they, really? They stood over a foot taller than you, so they had to be at least 6 feet tall. You looked from one to the other, your head swiveling back and forth, before you decided to just ask them.

Bakugou barked out a deep laugh, “Why you wanna know shorty? Finally realizing how scary we look from down there?” You rolled your eyes at him, but he answered anyway. “I’m 6 foot 4 (193 cm).” Kirishima looked down at you and beamed, “I’m 6 foot 6 (198 cm).” Bakugou scoffed, and you giggled at the blonde getting upset over height. Suddenly you bounced up from the couch and turned to the two, barely containing the thought that suddenly popped into your mind. Out of the two, the redhead seemed like the more likely to carry out your request, so you turned to Kirishima with wide excited eyes and a lopsided grin like a kid in a candy store.

“Can you carry me?!” you blurted out a little too loud. Kirishima blushed hard, and then you realized how ridiculous the request sounded and rushed to explain. “Sorry! That sounded weird right? I just wanna know what life looks like from that high up! I’m only 5 feet tall so…” you rambled a little before Kirishima laughed and stood up. “Sure little pebble.” He turned you around and squatted down, put his left arm around your waist and right arm against your thighs just above your knees and told you to lean back and sit on his arm.

Once you were seated snugly, your back pressed against his chest, he stood up and you gasped a little from the new angle. The floor looked so far away, and you knew that if Kirishima decided to hold you by your armpits your feet would dangle a foot from the floor. Bakugou looked up at you from the couch and scoffed. “Alright shitty hair, put her down before you drop her and she breaks her legs from the fall.” Your hilariously rebellious brain took that as a challenge. You smirked at Bakugou, his eyes daring you to do exactly what you were thinking. But before you could move he looked at the redhead behind you, and the arm around your waist tightened as he reached to grab his right bicep. He slightly activated his quirk, locking you in place.

“Aw, c’mon! You’re no fun! I’ve jumped from buildings before and landed perfectly fine!” You whined as you squirmed in Kirishima’s arms. Both of them laughed at your struggle, and once again, your brain instantly settled on ‘challenge accepted’. You quickly surveyed your surroundings, going about the best way to escape Red Riot without damaging any of the heroes’ property.

Before either of them could react, you materialized quirk-cancelling handcuffs and clasped one side around Kirishima's left wrist. The instant it went into effect, you brought your foot up and back down into the redhead’s stomach just hard enough for his grip on you to loosen up. When his right arm dropped to grab his abdomen, you slipped down along his body, grabbed the free cuff on your way down and snapped it around the leg of the coffee table, Kirishima landing flat on his ass with an ‘oof’.

Once again, Bakugou just stared in shock. You crossed your arms and smirked at him, “What was that about dropping me, Bakugou?” He was silent. Kirishima chuckled from his spot on the ground. “Damn, you’re a sneaky one little pebble.” You turned back around and took a deep bow. You materialized the cuff’s key and released him, storing them back in your quirk’s storage space. Finally recovering from his shock, Bakugou looked at the time and said, “Alright, short stack. Let’s go spar.” You turned to him and spoke what your brain had thought only moments before. “Challenge accepted.”

#kiribaku x reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #kirishima bnha #bakugou bnha

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aceofwhump · 4 years

Text

The Weeping Monk’s attire- a summary

Okay so I may have just spent two days studiously researching medieval clothing and comparing it to images of the Weeping Monk (thanks to farfarawaysite and danielsharmanews.com for those great hd images!!), trying to figure what exactly he's wearing so I can accurately describe it in this very small scene in my Cursed wip in which Gawain has to take off some of his clothes in order to assess the man's injuries after he passed out from pain. #noregrets

I found out some interesting things (at least this history nerd found it interesting) so here it all is under the cut. (It’s more interesting than it sounds, bare with me. This got looooong.)

I apologize that this is not at all remotely whump related but I’ve been talking about him a lot on this blog and it’s related to the whump fic I’m writing so.... yeah.

Under a cut for the length

Note: I am by no means an expert so I apologize if anything is incorrect

First up is your base layer consisting of a linen undershirt, as seen in this on set photo of Daniel wearing the cloak and undershirt (photo courtesy of farfarawaysite.com), and historically linen underpants (called braies). This was typical “underwear” for the medieval period.

You can also see that undershirt in this photo (from danielsharmanews.com) if you look inside his sleeves

Next would the medieval equivalent to trousers, called hose, which would look something like this. The hose were attached to the braies with leather or cloth cords.

Sexy am I right? But because this is a tv show, he’s actually wearing trousers as seen clearly in this shot (from danielsharmanews.com)

And in the video where the weeping monk aka daniel sharman teaches us how to make a cup of coffee in medieval times

And this collage of him kicking the crap out of arthur and gawain (photos from danielsharmanews.com)

Then throw on a pair of boots over that.

Next up is the arming doublet/gambeson/aketon

This part was kind of tricky. At first I thought he was just wearing a tunic but upon closer inspection I could tell he wasn’t. The sleeves we can see appear to be thicker than a typical tunic. So I did some research and found these three garments (the names of which are debated on as they seem to be used synonymously at times)

I believe Lancelot is wearing an arming doublet over his linen undershirt instead of the gambeson or aketon.

What are those things you may be asking? Good question! Let me explain.

A gambeson was a thickly padded garment meant to be worn as standalone armor. It was made of either linen or wool and made with a quilting sewing technique so that fabric could be added in it to make it padded, usually 10-20 layers thick.

Meanwhile, an aketon was a thinner padded garment than the gambeson, about 5 layers thick, and was made to be worn under maille as padding against blunt trauma. An aketon might have also been worn under a gambeson and these two names are sometimes used interchangeably.

They look like this:

Since what Lancelot is wearing clearly isn’t that thick, I am under the impression that he is wearing an arming doublet which was much more popular in the 15th century while the gambeson and aketon were earlier.

Arming doublets were typically thinner and worn underneath plated armor. Arming doublets were not quilted like the gambeson or aketon and looked more like civillian tunics or jackets. Maille could be attached to most doublets or you could wear plate armor over it. It was also shorter than the gambeson or aketon. They weren’t too different from typical civillian tunics just made a bit thicker. That also meant that they didn’t provide too much protection without the plates attacked. Still, it was something.

An example of an arming doublet:

You can see Lancelot’s doublet better in this photo (from farfarawaysite.com). You can see the color difference and the thickness of the sleeves here.

And I’m posting this photo again because you can really see the thickness of the doublet sleeves in it

And with this one you can see the shoulder seams better (photo from danielsharmanews.com)

For comparison’s sake, Gawain wears an aketon, the type of quilted padding that goes on under your plate armor, with removable sleeves. You can see the thick padding, quilted sewing technique, and the difference in shape versus what Lancelot is wearing.

(photo from farfarawaysite.com)

Next up, Lancelot has on a surcoat (also spelled surcotte or surcote). A surcoat is a long sleeveless outer garment that goes over your head and reaches just below your knees. It also has slits in the bottom front and back so the wearer can move and ride easily. It is typically worn over your plate armor and depicts your coat of arms but it was also worn as civilian clothing.

Example of a surcoat:

Lancelot is clearly seen to be wearing a surcoat over his arming doublet.

(photo credit: danielsharmanews.com)

(photo credit: farfarawaysite.com)

And if you look close enough, you can see that there is a cross on his surcoat

And here’s a shot of the ties on the side:

And then, to finish up his ensemble, The Weeping Monk dons his signature cloak and straps on his swords (One long Paladin sword and a shorter dagger).

(photo credit danielsharmanews.com)

In summary, The Weeping Monk wears:

Linen undershirt and pants (called braies)

Hose/trousers

Boots

Arming doublet

Surcoat

Cloak

Swords

So the feels I got from all of this is that the surcoat and the arming clothing were most commonly worn not by your average dude and definitely not by monks. They were worn by.....

*drum roll*.....

KNIGHTS!

That's right! Knights are the ones who wore a surcoat over their armor and a gambeson/aketon/arming doublet went under your chainmail or plate armor. Most recognizably the knights during the crusades wore bright white surcoats with big red crosses in them on top of their plate armor. They are the ones who made them popular and afterwards knights began to wear them and had their device emblazoned on the front so people would be able to identify them. That's what led to the medieval coat of arms btw.

So the weeping monk is out here wearing garments that knights typically wore, with a cross emblazoned on the front so people could id him as the weeping monk as if the hood and eyes wouldn't already do that, instead of typcial monks robes. He’s wearing an outfit that

But if that's not foreshadowing I don't know what is.

THE WEEPING MONK IS WEARING THE TYPE OF GARMENTS THAT A KNIGHT WOULD WEAR AND I’VE GOT FEELS OVER IT!!!

It makes sense that he would wear something that offered a bit of protection since he's a master swordsman and needs to be able to move efficiently and be protected but come one. Knight’s garments. Lancelot. In knight’s garments.

And then I got to thinking about how he’s wearing a doublet but is not wearing any maille or armor which makes the doublet pretty ineffective and I got to wondering why. Like Father Carden gave him the doublet but nothing else because “If your enemy is able to land a blow then you deserve the pain from it” or something and then I got sad.

And thus concludes my extremely long and unnecessary ramble on clothing.

#long post #not whump #cursed #cursed netflix #the weeping monk #lancelot (cursed)#clothing #costume #the weeping monk's clothing #fic writing #writing research #mod post #mod rambles about her favs #adventures of fic writing #ace writes stuff #the weeping monk's attire #ace does research

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dholwrites · 3 years

Text

Little Heart

Notes: Moments between the Crystal Exarch and his son while the Warrior is away. Playing dress-up, eating meals, and telling bed time stories. For @blood--hunter and written for pre 5.3 patch! Relationship: G’raha Tia / Unnamed Warrior of Light Rating: G - General. (Very high fluff content)

Inspiration link Ao3 Link

“Do you have everything you need? Food, clothes, weapon?” G’raha shifts back and forth on his feet, eyes following the Warrior of Light. His Warrior of Light. The thought of it still sends butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. All his fussing is easily hushed with a simple ‘yes,’ your face twisted to barely suppress your smile at his fretting. You reach out to pet the child nestled to his chest, tiny kitten ears poking out of the hood of his onesie and wiggling constantly as his hands grasp at the decorations on his father’s robes.

You have left them both alone before; usually leaving to help the newly inspired Warriors of Light, or to the Source to check on the Scions. However, those trips were usually a day at most. This is the first time you have had to leave for a week, and it’s a test of how well everyone can handle the situation. Problems of the Source wait for no one, not even the Warrior of Light.

“Wey,” G’raha whispers, breaking into a smile when he gets his son’s attention. Wey’s innocent red eyes look back and forth between his parents, trying to figure out what is happening. “Do you want to say ‘See you soon’?” With an eager nod from him, G’raha easily sets the child on his feet and watches as he waddles up to you.

“Byebye, I love you.” His little voice barely reaches your ears as he squeezes you as hard as he can, trying to prevent you from leaving. G’wey then mashes the bottom half of his face against your cheek for a ‘kiss’ and waits for you to do the same. The pout on his face lightens when you press your lips to his chubby cheeks, giggling when your hair tickles his face.

G’raha smiles at the scene, wishing that he could take a picture and cherish the moment for the rest of his life. He steps up to press his own kiss onto your waiting lips, chest to chest, his hand reaching out to grip your shirt and his tail unconsciously wrapping itself around your leg. And just like that, you step through the portal and vanish.

Day 1

It’s the first breakfast without you there, and G’wey is already searching for you. The kitten has made a point to ignore the breakfast sitting in front of him; instead, he kicks his legs impatiently and attempts to look into the entryway to see if he could catch a peek of you coming down the hall.

“Where did they go?” G’wey looks up at his father from a high chair, clearly confused about why you haven’t left your room yet. He manages to wiggle himself from the confines of his chair; just as he stands on his seat, his balance starts to slip and he nearly topples over before G’raha catches him with a wave of magic. Unfazed, the child continues to grasp at the air for answers. “Dada? Where are they? They were here yesterday.”

G’raha couldn’t help but wonder if this is how he looked when he was still a baby, a red-haired kit with mismatched eyes asking every question under the sun. “They left yesterday, remember? So we’ll have to wait.” G’raha crouches down to give his beloved son a kiss on the top of his head. Gears turn in his mind on how to explain this issue - and a quick glance at the calendar reminds him of how long it will be before you come back - before his attention is brought back to the squirming child. “Do you remember your numbers, Wey?”

“Yes, Dada!” The kit raises his hands and wiggles all his fingers before counting them. “One, two, tree, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten!”

G’raha couldn’t help but feel proud when G’wey didn’t miss a single number. He reaches out and cups his hands to curl around the fingers. “They will be back in five breakfast, you will have to be a little patient, okay?”

“But that’s a really long time.”

“I know, but it’s going to be worth it. They might bring back a present.” The child instantly perks up at the mention of a new toy, eagerly nodding his head as G’raha picks up the bowl of cut chicken and spoons a small portion. He holds it up to G’wey’s mouth, urging him to take the bite. “Since they are away right now, we can also plan what we can do when they come back.”

“Then…” He hurries to eat the food, red eyes shining like jewels, it takes him a moment to find the right words to say what is on his mind. “Can I have a second breakfast? Then we will have… five more breakfasts before they come home... right?”

G’raha nearly keeled over at the suggestion, he let go of G’wey to cover the wide smile spread across his face. A burst of laughter tickles his throat while his heart flutters like a bird in his chest. Is it possible to love his son any more than he does now?

Day 3

“How about this one?” G’raha holds up another onesie. It was a present, from Dulia Chai and Chai Nuzz after they found out that the famed Exarch and Warrior of Light had a child. The onesie is fashioned into his own robed attire with the softest material available, with the metal details replaced with durable wooden ones for him to play with. G’wey lets out a happy squeal at the sight of it, running over and nearly tripping over his own feet in his hurry.

He had already spent a better part of the day changing his son from one onesie into another. Several of them were fashioned after outfits of their Warrior; a pure white attire with a matching cane, loose red far eastern robes with a wooden sword to match, and even a set of black robes with a pile of cards for him to play with. Each outfit is lovingly recreated with small alterations to make it safe.

He helps G’wey into this new outfit, even pulling the hood up to hide his bright red hair for good measure. The light laughter that erupts is infectious, G’raha unable to stop himself from letting out a chuckle as he pats his head.

“I look like you now!” The mi’kitten declares after he picks up a toy version of his staff. The toy is barely a forearm’s length, and G’wey waves it around like a wand while G’raha cleans up the mess they’ve made. The sight is almost too adorable to bear.

The hood has started to slip off, with one side barely hanging on by an ear while the other wiggles free from the hem. The long sleeves that replaced his armbands were long enough to cover everything but his fingers, and he had already rolled them up to properly grip the staff. The cut of the skirt is high enough to prevent him from tripping on it and they even cut a hole for the tail to poke out, the tuft wiggling without restraint.

Could his son be any cuter?

Day 5

“Crystal Exarch, sir!”

A Crystarium guard hurried over to him with a report from Lyna. There were reports of trade routes coming under attack, but nothing that he had never handled before. With the Lightwardens gone, the remaining sineaters have begun to attack recklessly, endangering travelers. Even the local wildlife has found it easier to pick off unsuspecting merchants when they’re too worried about other threats.

With his father distracted, G’wey moves to stand in front of his growing crowd of friends. He pulls the hood over his head and puffs out his chest, even tapping the end of the toy onto the ground twice as if to command them. Unknownst to him, the passing adults had taken notice of the tiny Exarch and even started to greet him as such. By the time G’raha finally turned his attention back to G’wey, he was immersed in a game of pretend.

“Begone, foul sin eater! I am the Crystal Exarch and the Crystarium is under my protection!” G’wey declares, brandishing his staff while a few of ‘civilians’ hide behind him. An elezen child prowls towards him on his tiptoes, hands reaching out to grab his costume.

“I am the greatest Sineater! And there is nothing you can do to stop me from eating everyone!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll summon heroes to come and save us!” G’wey steps up before G’raha had the chance to move from the sidelines. He swings his staff, careful not to hit anyone before slamming the end onto the ground. “Champions heed my call!”

With those words, G’raha’s face grows a shade closer to his hair. A mix of embarrassment and pride was enough for him to miss the other children running in to join the scene. The grin that broke out on his face could be seen a mile away. There’s no way, how could he have known those words? Unless… someone had told him the story of what happened down in the ruined city beneath the sea. But there is only a small handful that would know, and he’s yet to ask any of the Scions to babysit. That would leave...

His Warrior?

Day 6

“Wey, you need to eat your veggies.” He had already tried to combine different types of vegetables into soups and cream, attempted to dress them up to make them more appealing, and even hid them into meatballs. Most of his attempts have been successful, but he really wished to nurture a love for at least some vegetables. He’d find another way to convince G’wey to eat more later. Right now, his main concern is to get him to eat at least half of the popoto salad that he had prepared. “Just try to finish as much as you like, okay?”

G’wey looked reluctantly at the salad sitting in front of him before crossing his arms and turning the other way. “I don’t want to! I hate vegetables. I’m a big kid now, so I don’t need to eat them.”

G’raha lets out a defeated sigh, scratching his head over what to do in this situation. He picked up a small spoonful of the salad and held it up to G’wey’s mouth, only for the mi’kitten to turn his entire body to move away from the food. Just as he was about to give up, an idea occurred to him.

“Wey~” He coos softly as he casts a spell on himself. Within a blink of an eye, he’s gone. The Exarch had to stop the laughter creeping up his throat as he watched G’wey frantically look around the room to spot him in this sudden game of hide and seek.

G’raha nudged the spoon into his mouth, the magic dispelling only when G’wey started to eat. He watches as his red eyes light up the more he chews his food, his tail wagging with uncontainable excitement. A sign of relief escapes G’raha’s lips as he uses his free hand to brush aside some of his hair.

“It’s good for you to eat them even if you’re a big boy now.” G’raha sets the spoon back into his small hands before helping him eat another mouthful. This time the child is more than eager to inhale the salad, his tiny ears wiggling in delight at every bite. He reaches out to pat the child on the back, rubbing small soothing circles to prevent him from choking on himself. “Even Lyna still eats her vegetables. She eats both her meat and carrots everyday to be the captain of the guard.”

“T-then I’ll eat them!” G’wey declared, looking as intimidating as one could be with half of his face covered in eggs and mashed popotoes. “I’ll eat them so that I can be strong enough to protect everyone!”

Day 7

“Dada?” G’wey quietly asks as he is tucked into bed with a plushie next to him. The child kicks at the blanket to get his attention, staring up at him with bright and hopeful eyes. “Can you tell me a bedtime story?”

“Why, I never thought you would ask, Wey.” G’raha seats himself on the edge of the bed, leaning against the headrest. Tomes from the bookshelf gently glide across the room to hover before G’wey, who still marvels at the magic as if he’s seeing it for the first time. “What story do you want to hear about tonight?”

“Anything! All the stories you tell are good.” G’raha smiles as he decides to untuck some of the blanket to make himself comfortable beside his son. All but one book return to their rightful place, the last book’s magic pouring out into the room as the pages flip open. Parts of the room transform into a scenic mountain range with a snowy landscape, and the center sits the step towards the bridge that leads to the kingdom. The dark spiralling towers stand cold and alone as snow descends from the skies.

It’s a familiar sight to him now. Especially as he’s mastered the art of storytelling over the years; starting with Lyna, then the other children of the Crystarium, and finally presenting the polished experience to G’wey. He always enjoyed telling stories of everything that his warrier have done as the Warrior of Light. “Once upon a time, in a world different from ours, there was a kingdom that was friends with dragons. They lived in harmony, but one day, the knights of the kingdom decided to betray them and steal the dragons’ power.”

The scene shifts as he continues the tale, moving from the kingdom to a group of knights celebrating their victory over a still dragon. With G’wey tucked into his arms, G’raha continues his story and paints a tale of the Dragonsong War; of the struggle that the hero has gone through, the triumphs that they have achieved, and the people that once stood beside them.

As the story draws to a close, the Warrior of Light has defeated Nidhogg and saved their friend. The yawn that G’wey let out nearly stopped him in his tracks. The mi’kitten snuggles to his chest with tiny red eyes that he can barely keep open. With a wave of his hand, the magic is dispelled and the book is set on the nightstand beside the bed. The warm glow illuminating the room from the night lamp hanging from the wall, G’raha could hear and feel the loud purr rumbling from the kitten.

“Da? Will I ever be able to do magic like you?”

“Of course you can, G’wey.” G’raha answers right away, though G’wey didn’t stay awake long enough to hear the answer to his question. He pulls the sheets up to the child’s chin as he continues, “You can learn magic or how to use a sword. Whatever you do, as long as you’re safe, I will be there to support you.”

G’raha starts to hum under his breath an old lullaby that once cradled him into sweet dreams. Though a lot of the words have become muddled from his memory, he can feel it ease all the stress of the day off his shoulders. Beside one of his most precious treasures, G’raha slips into a peaceful rest, knowing that in the morning his family will be whole again.

#G'raha Tia #Crystal Exarch #ffxiv headcanon #ffxiv fanfic #ffxiv #fanfic #writing commission #commission #ffxiv g'raha tia

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GoT Re-Watch: Fine-Toothed Comb Edition

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8.06 – The Iron Throne

Or, A Close-Up of Tyrion Lannister.

(1:59) Right, now that the best part of the episode is over (RIP clockwork credits), who’s ready for lots of shots of people walking around the rubble? Figurative and literal rubble? Shot of Tyrion starts here! Close up on Peter Dinklage, hooooold that close up, keep the background out of focus so we’ve only got the suggestion of the devastation he’s reacting to in the background…

(2:32) After holding that shot for thirty fucking seconds, we get to see what it is Tyrion’s reacting to. Dead kid in the rubble, in this case. Let’s just keep following Tyrion’s walking tour of the ruins of King’s Landing in complete silence, Jon and Davos trailing behind him.

(3:41) Still following people through the rubble. Skeletons visible, charred child’s toy because we didn’t get the point yet…

(3:57) We have dialogue! Whooo! And then we go right back to Tyrion walking through King’s Landing.

(4:58) You know, it’s remarkable how Lannister soldiers got a lot more attractive once the narrative allowed ordinary Lannister soldiers to be the victims of main characters. Seriously, go back and compare this lot to, say, any of the ones Arya came across in the season two-four era.

(5:45) Now we see a little bit of a conflict between the Northern forces and the Unsullied over the appropriate handling of the prisoners in the aftermath. Hang on to the thought for just a few minutes more.

(6:28) Speaking of character derailment, Grey Worm is also just here for the war crimes. That tiny little bit at the start of last episode where Dany hands over Missandei’s only possession to Grey Worm and he chucks it into the fire is the last we saw of either of their internal state of mind prior to both of them getting on the civilian/prisoner massacre train. After multiple seasons of these characters holding strongly to some sense of ideals and ethics (even if they’re not ethics you agree with!), through a lot of messed up bullshit, they just chuck all those ethics out here in the last two episodes.

(6:33) Tyrion continues walking through ruins.

(7:36) Cut to Tyrion walking through the ruined ground level of the Red Keep to Tyrion walking through the ruined secret passages of the Red Keep. Yes, that took more than a minute. Does anyone get the feeling there’s not actually much plot to this plot? Anyone feeling like we’re largely substituting shots of Peter Dinklage emoting over the ruins of King’s Landing for writing how Tyrion Lannister would react to the burning of King’s Landing?

The man can act. But nobody can act enough to make up for this sucking black hole of plot vacuity. And it blunts the impact of what’s coming up.

(9:19) Tyrion finds Jaime’s golden hand in the rubble of the mostly-uncollapsed tunnel. Shortly thereafter, he uncovers both Jaime and Cersei. A few metres to one side and they would have been fine.

Here is where we need to hold on Tyrion as he breaks down over the discovery of his siblings’ dead bodies. Here is where those tight close ups are going to have most impact. Unfortunately, of the eight minutes of episode, we’ve already spent about five of them with only Tyrion and Tyrion’s emotions to engage us as he walked through King’s Landing.

(11:00) Speaking of people walking through rubble, it’s Arya! The main difference between her in this episode and her in last episode is that she slowed her pace down from a run. Where’d the white horse she was riding go? Who knows. Off with the symbolism, we’ve got more symbolism to jam in here and we are not going to be as subtle as a white horse.

(11:33) Jon walks through Dany’s forces. First the Dothraki, all on their horses, arakhs bared despite the conflict ending. Then through the Unsullied, lined up in perfect rows with perfect armour including helmets, despite having been in a fight a couple hours ago.

Have you spotted what’s missing here? Because I have.

(13:05) See, now that’s symbolism! As Dany approaches her armies (wearing all black, natch), we get a shot of Drogon behind her so that it looks like his wings are emerging from Dany’s back! I haven’t seen symbolism this delightfully subtle since Man of Steel. Her Satanic Majesty indeed.

(13:33) We’re getting long pans over Dany’s forces, and this is where I am going to say it.

This is racist as fuck. It’s out of some fucking propaganda booklet somewhere.

We all understood (at least I hope we all understood) that when Cersei was talking about “hordes of Dothraki savages” etc etc in season seven, that was an in-universe racist dogwhistle. She was appealing to the xenophobia and racism of Westerosi lords to rally support to her own cause. And here in season eight, we see that when Cersei was talking about savage hordes etc etc, she was actually correct. Completely, 100% correct. The in-universe racism was validated by the plot. We did not get “each side is bad, because that’s war in a feudal setting” (like we did when it was mostly white people in conflict with other white people). We got soft-looking Lannister soldiers and white civilians killed in the streets, and now we’re panning over the armies that did it, almost entirely PoC. The Dothraki cheering is the only background noise, so you can be sure that it’s meant to sound foreign and alarming. The Unsullied are damn well stormtroopers, dehumanised in their discipline and in their uniformity. The shots are denying them faces.

Meanwhile, the white Northerners (who absolutely participated in the slaughter last episode) are nowhere to be fucking seen. Now that we’re showing the eeeeeeeevil that is Dany’s cause fully unveiled, with the speeches in a “foreign language”, the black outfits, the black and red banners, the whole shebang, the white people other than Dany aren’t fully participating. We’re getting white people as victims, or mysteriously missing from shots of the bad guys, and the people of colour as the bad guys, their otherness emphasised through direction and mise en scene.

Even with the plot points the showrunners wanted (which are bad enough on their own), they did not have to do this like this. Depicting the Unsullied as battle-worn human beings as opposed to Stormtrooper Evil Robots was an option. Including the Northern forces in the shots of the new bad guys was an option. Reminding people that the Lannister army is not a war-crime-free zone was an option. Casting the King’s Landing crowds as more racially diverse was an option. Not introducing and contextualising this conflict with naked xenophobia and racism was an option.

They did not do any of this. There are so many ways they could have done something that did not vindicate the in-universe racists. Instead we’ve got this fucking lazy, fucking racist shortcut of “these guys are the bad guys and you can tell because they’re not white and European-coded.”

(13:54) The other thing to note here is that Dany is now perfectly put together. She’s brushed her hair. She’s wearing clean clothing. She’s perfectly serene. We’re no longer getting the way-too-close ups to indicate a precarious emotional state. In other words, the show has dropped the indications that Dany is insane even more abruptly than it introduced them. Hold the thought.

(14:57) The Unsullied are not allowed emotional expression anymore, because now they are evil robots who do war crimes. This goes for Gray Worm (addressed conspicuously with the translation of his name, rather than the immediately-audible reminder that ‘Gray Worm’ was a slave name) who gives half a smile, and the Unsullied at large, who tap their spear butts on the ground in lieu of cheering.

(15:33) Ah, the other sign that Dany is an irredeemable monster. She wants to liberate slaves. For fuck’s sake, the woman firebombed a major city without any sort of justification last episode, that’s the evil part. Not the bit where she wants everyone to live in freedom. And yet we’re getting the ominous music and the serious reaction shots from reasonable white men over this as well.

(17:20) Tyrion freed Jaime? Yeah, Dany, wait until you hear what Tyrion promised regarding Highgarden, it’s a bit of a plot hole.

(17:47) Tyrion tenders his resignation, effective immediately.

(18:29) He is also arrested.

(19:19) Arya, last seen at the back of the crowd, does a bit of mild teleporting to arrive next to Jon as he watches Dany walk away. Just so you know why Arya’s there and what she’s doing.

(20:09) Strong contender for the stupidest line of the series, right here. I know that I didn’t think I’d hear one to match the infamous “bad pussy” line. Arya, about Dany, after the latter burned down a city on her giant fire-breathing dragon, in full daylight and in front of three full armies: “I know a killer when I see one.”

(20:40) Oh. Joy. This scene. I have not been looking forward to recapping this scene. If that last line was stupid, this scene brings stupid and offensive to the table.

(21:10) Ah yes, Tyrion betrayed Varys. That pure, innocent angel Varys, who used children in his plots to murder monarchs. As we all know, Varys’ motives were noble, and so this excuses the fact that he risked a child’s life in an assassination attempt.

(21:28) Oh yeah! Remember when Jon was resurrected? That affected a lot of things, didn’t it? A major player in the metaphysical and political arenas, that’s Jon Snow!

(22:37) “She liberated the people of Slaver’s Bay. She liberated the people of King’s Landing. And she’ll go on liberating until the people of the world are free…and she rules them all.”

Okay, there’s a bit to unpack here, because the show is smushing some concepts together.

First up is the implied equation of Dany’s actions in Slaver’s Bay to her actions in King’s Landing. I mean, forgive me if I’m wrong, but I don’t recall Dany burning Meereen to the ground. When last we saw the Meereenese theatre, it was left with the implication that she’d left a reasonably stable outfit in charge. With the implication that the slaving powers in the region had been broken. (How plausible the depiction was is another matter.) Dany just fucking set fire to King’s Landing. These two things…really aren’t that much alike. Show!Dany liberated Slaver’s Bay. She murdered King’s Landing. We can make a pretty clear distinction between her actions in each respective place. They should not be lumped in the same category.

Nor do her actions in Slaver’s Bay logically lead to her actions in King’s Landing. We’ll get into the thinking behind this part of the line when the showrunners make this connection even more explicit and offensive.

Second, just chucking in that “world domination” thing at the end. Again we’re getting this core idea that because Dany is willing to use violence to achieve idealistic ends, she’s necessarily a power-hungry tyrant in her own right. To say nothing of the leap between “Dany wants to rule the Seven Kingdoms” to “Dany wants to take over the world.” Especially given the alleged basis for Dany’s desire for the Iron Throne, i.e. she considers it her birthright. Since she believes she’s entitled to one piece of pie (debateable), she will inevitably attempt to take the entire pie.

(23:02) “It was vanity to think that I could guide her. Our queen’s nature is fire and blood.” Oh, gag me with a spoon. What happened to the word “counsel” or “advise”? Because the use of the word “guide” is a lot more teacher-student dynamic, with Tyrion in the position of power. Dany’s a grown goddamn woman, a queen for years before Tyrion came along, who hired him to advise, not to teach. Hell yeah it’s vanity!

But more than that, it’s so fucking condescending. Oh, tragic little Daenerys, who needed a man’s guidance, but succumbed to her essential nature of uncontrolled violence. This doesn’t even frame Dany’s decision to burn a fucking city as her decision. News flash: there is no dark side of the force making a puppet out of show!Dany, show!Dany made her evil decisions independently. For shitty, poorly-explained, poorly-thought-out, poorly written reasons, yes, but there we go.

(23:07) Jon addresses the bullshit “we are definitely our parents” argument.

(23:23) Which Tyrion responds to by saying “dude, did you see how many people she killed?” Which doesn’t actually address the fucking issue. He’s still arguing that Dany = Mad Queen = totally a Targ thing. Remarkably, it’s like the characters in-universe can’t think of a convincing reason for this plot development either.

Speaking of, how many people did Cersei kill? It’s like she committed some sort of atrocity, perhaps at the end of season six, that by rights should have turned all of Westeros against her to the point that everyone should have been overjoyed to see an alternative ruler show up.

(23:45) But what the conversation as a whole drives towards is this central point: Dany is evil. Not crazy. Evil. Which makes the last two episodes, with their hysterical woman bullshit, even more purely gratuitous. And also emphasises just how abrupt that fucking heel turn was. Episode three, Dany, saving humanity! Episode five, Dany, burning down a whole city because she doesn’t think John Smith of 3 Main Street, King’s Landing, is woke enough!

(24:24) “What does it matter what I’d do?” Jon asks. Hey, a good question. What have Jon’s decisions mattered thus far this season?

(24:31) And here it is, maybe the lowest moment in the series, as far as I’m concerned, and it’s got some stiff competition.

“When she murdered the slavers of Astapor, I’m sure no one but the slavers complained. After all, they were evil men. When she crucified hundreds of Meereenese nobles, who could argue? They were evil men. The Dothraki khals she burned alive? They would have done worse to her. Everywhere she goes, evil men die, and we cheer her for it. And she grows more powerful and more sure that she is good and right.”

Where to even start? The echoes of Niemoller’s famous First they came…? Sure! Why not. First Daenerys came for the slavers, and the only people who spoke out were other slavers. Then Daenerys came for other slavers, and nobody spoke out, because they were slavers. Then Daenerys came for a third group of slavers who incidentally threatened to rape her, and nobody spoke out, because they were slavers, who incidentally threatened to rape her and in every instance we can see why someone might violently oppose slavers. Meanwhile, in a key difference from First they came…, the people who are being “come for” are persecuted parties (in the context to which the text refers, keep that in mind with the Communists). Not the oppressors. Portraying the slavers as the injured parties here, and not, like, the central problem in all thistakes some fucking nerve. Or some serious moral blindness.

Next, the attack on the audience. Shame on them for delighting in seeing evil fought! Successfully as well! Shame! Where’s my shame bell?

For the most part, the show framed most of Dany’s actions in Essos as just and positive. In later seasons, we saw Dany take violent actions. But at every step of the way to this point, the show did keep in sight that Dany was fighting fucking slavers. Her end goal was securing freedom for the former slaves. While the show from time to time questioned her means, up until oh, season eight episode four, her ends were portrayed as noble. So to start questioning those ends now, here in the final two episodes of the entire series, is a little jarring. Especially since, as mentioned beforehand, we haven’t seen any signs of Dany conflating “free people from tyranny” with “take over the world, mwahahaha” until her very scary speech just then. At most, she was conflating “free people from tyranny” with “defeat Cersei and assume rule of Westeros.” Which, given that Cersei blew up the Sept of Baelor with more than a hundred people inside, would seem, y’know. Fair enough to think that defeating Cersei would be freeing people from tyranny.

The viewer was not wrong to think that show!Daenerys had good intentions for the vast majority of this show. Yes, she also had personal ambitions and character flaws. The viewer was not wrong to think that the show wanted us to support Dany’s apparent ambitions of freeing people and overthrowing the dynamite-happy Cersei. Here in season eight, episode six, the show is trying to gaslight its own viewers with this “it was there all along!” horseshit.

Finally, the politics. Fighting evil makes you evil, don’t you know. Making an oppressor stop makes you just as bad as the oppressor, in the end. Do what show!Tyrion does, both in season six with the slavers and in seasons seven and eight with Cersei, and continue making futile appeals to an enemy who’s repeatedly taken advantage of peaceful processes. That’s how you stop injustice.

Even on what the show itself has shown us: that is some horse. shit.

In short, the writing here is bad and the politics are worse.

(25:25) “Wouldn’t you kill whoever stood between you and paradise?” What a wacky utopian notion Dany’s got in her head, a world without slavery.

Also, weird question, because no is a valid and reasonable answer to Tyrion’s question. Or perhaps not so weird, when you consider that the show has been pretty reliable in saying yes, the ends do justify the means. The exception is when someone gets one of the aforementioned wacky utopian notions in their head. You know. Killing children is bad, slavery is evil, feudal monarchy isn’t any great shakes…things like that.

(26:05) “I love her too,” Tyrion says. This was…kinda set up. Kinda. The staring as Jon went to Dany’s rooms at the end of season seven, the fact that Tyrion’s not patronising sex workers any more – that equals love. First, though, I’m not feeling it, because Tyrion’s spent very little personal time with Dany. Most of his interactions with her have been all business, and most of his business has been disagreeing with her about serious moral and ethical issues. Staring is not a substitute for character interaction.

I also find this pretty superfluous. Like, it’s not enough that Tyrion’s boss went nuts and killed an entire city, including his siblings, he has to be in love with her as well. He couldn’t have just genuinely believed in Dany’s good intentions and her ideals, he had to be in love with her. And again, Dinklage can act, but nobody can act well enough to make up for a script that just hasn’t done the work.

(27:13) What I’m noticing at this point is that in a scene that is all about suggesting to Jon that he may need to put down his girlfriend, Jon’s barely said a damn thing. He got in a few lines about people not being their parents, but mostly he’s just let Tyrion exposit about his philosophy and his emotions. The scene gets across how Tyrion feels…but not Jon.

(27:43) So just to confirm, yes, Tyrion is asking Jon to kill Dany.

(28:41) “And your sisters?” Tyrion asks Jon as he’s halfway out the door. Bran who?

(28:57) Another reminder that the only logical reason Sansa told Tyrion about Jon’s parentage is to put him forward as a Dany-alternative, despite telling her because it mattered a lot to him that he could be open with his family (a sign of how much he values their relationship), despite his requests for her to keep it secret for political reasons, and despite his personal opposition to becoming king. Show!Sansa…is not a very nice person.

(29:23) Jon walks down a corridor.

(29:43) Oh, thank goodness, that was only twenty seconds of Jon walking places before we saw something different and interesting. Remarkable restraint. Incidentally, I’m pretty sure this is supposed to be snow and not ash.

(31:04) Dany approaches the Iron Throne, fulfilling the show’s take on the House of the Undying prophecies. No, that does not mean the show was always headed for Dany becoming the ultimate villain. It’s just a better retcon than Arya killing the Night’s King.

(31:44) Now this is a better use of people-walking-places shots. It’s not just the one shot of a person walking down a hall, it’s watching someone walk towards an object with significance in a setting which has recently changed dramatically. The time we spend watching Dany walk towards a a chair here lets us see those changes and process the culmination of her ambitions.

Or continue screaming in outrage, take your pick.

(33:41) Jon Snow, finally emoting! Finally expressing an opinion! About bloody time, mate.

(34:56) In this scene, Dany is worlds away from the angry, dishevelled, heavy-breathing figure she’s been for the last two episodes. She’s back to perfect grooming. She’s smiling. She shared a story about her childhood with Jon. Much like with Cersei, we’re spending the final moments of Dany’s life emphasising Dany as a woman, just happy to be spending some time with her boyfriend. Ha ha, joke’s on her, her boyfriend is going to kill her. More on this in just a second.

By the way, it would still have been offensive if Dany was in mwa-ha-ha, burn them all mode, or in the same state she was in at the start of episode five. This is because the central decision here, to make Dany a villain due to her idealism (in some fucked up notion that fighting for a better world is itself a slippery slope), was offensive. Also poor writing.

(35:11) “How do you know it’ll be a good world?” Jon asks, and Dany replies “Because I know what is good.”

(35:33) Plus “They don’t get to choose,” Dany says, in a way too perfect echo of the conversation Tyrion just had with Jon. Okay, joke’s over, who replaced Dany with Tyrion’s straw man? We need to get on with the actual finale now.

(36:17) Dany basically proposes to Jon. They start kissing.

(36:33) Then Jon stabs her. While they’re making out.

This is so many terrible, misogynistic storytelling devices rolled into one. Again before we hit the issue of shitty writing decisions. Dany’s gone mad with power! Her reasonable boyfriend must save her from herself. If only she were in her right mind, she would doubtlessly agree. Dany was killed by her boyfriend in a moment of physical intimacy! Oh, uh, wow, that might not look so great huh – better justify it with her mass murder of civilians. The real tragedy here is how it affects the men who love Daenerys! Not the woman who got fucking murdered.

(36:41) And Dany dies without a hair out of place, a trickle of blood from her mouth and another from her nose. No inconvenient protesting, either. Very neat, very clean. 10/10 for tidiness.

So I’m on to the thing about gendered character deaths! So many female characters killed off in ways meant to emphasise some aspect or another of their femininity. Melisandre is a good, recent exception. Margaery and Olenna Tyrell, Obara and Nymeria Sand, they escaped gendered deaths.

Cersei died begging for her boyfriend’s comfort. Catelyn, Selyse Baratheon, and Ellaria Sand all died with trauma over the deaths of their children. Myrcella Baratheon died just as she accepted that she was Jaime’s daughter. Tyene Sand was killed to cause her mother pain. Talisa Maegyr was graphically stabbed in her stomach to emphasise that her unborn child was being killed as well. Shae was killed by her ex-boyfriend, focus on him as he mourned the fact that he had to kill her. Ygritte died in Jon’s arms – and now Daenerys does the same. That is a lengthy list of dead female characters dead in ways connected to their familial and/or romantic relationships. This is what we call a pattern. A pattern that repeatedly emphasises that a woman’s death isn’t her own death. It recalls the value she had for others, but not her value in and of herself.

Finally, a note on Dany’s characterisation. Because in amongst all the misogyny, there was also some character writing that would have been shitty whether or not it was also sexist.

Most of Dany’s character has been subject to a giant retcon. Daenerys was a good and caring ruler when it suited the plot, freeing slaves, deciding to fight the Others. And she was a ruthless tyrant when it suited the plot, going from “fighting the Others” to “becoming fantasy Hitler” in the space of two episodes. The wildly divergent and contradictory aspects of this character were not reconciled through any sort of internal journey, but cherry-picked according to the external plot circumstances, the gaps in characterisation covered by “but she’s crazy! Don’t expect consistency!” Until she was evil instead of crazy, here at the end, despite what came before.

(37:16) Shockingly, we’re focusing on Jon as he cries over the body of his girlfriend, who he just murdered in an intimate moment. This moment brought to you by the writers who focused on Tyrion as he killed Shae and on Theon as Sansa was raped. This is also a thing we call a pattern.

Jon hasn’t even had the character writing to sustain this moment. He’s barely said anything but “she’s my queen” all season. He’s barely had a character all season. So the sexism in this entire narrative can’t even be somewhat ameliorated (YMMV) by a successfully-executed tragedy. Jon’s interiority has been pretty well ignored, which means that the conflict here is that “Jon loves Dany, but Dany is very evil.” Ignoring Jon’s interiority here means that this plot point has nothing at all to say about right and wrong or the meaning of family in order to distract us from the misogyny of eeeeeeevil woman loses control and must be killed by her boyfriend for the good of everyone. There’s no garnish of quality execution on this fundamentally messed up plot.

I suppose in some ways that’s a relief. In others…the writers can’t even do wrong, right.

(37:41) Drogon approaches Jon, who’s still crying over Dany’s body.

(38:30) The moment as Drogon nudges at Daenerys’ body is actually sad.

(38:58) Drogon rears back, roaring. Jon’s not going anywhere.

(39:17) Psych! Drogon’s not burning Jon, he’s burning the Iron Throne! If you thought the dragon wings behind Dany were subtle and artful, you haven’t seen anything yet.

(39:42) So Drogon melts down the Iron Throne entirely. Doesn’t do anything to Jon. Leaves Jon alone entirely. Just slags the throne.

(41:06) Then takes Dany’s body and flies the hell out of there. Hopefully to a story with more respect for its female characters. Or, indeed, the concept of characters, characterisation, character development…the list goes on…

(41:51) Cut to Tyrion lying on a floor. It’s a very close shot. We’ve only got his face. We don’t know when this is, or where he is.

(42:17) After nearly thirty seconds of this, Tyrion lifts his head. Nearly thirty seconds!

(42:34) Why we didn’t start the scene here, with Tyrion actually going places, is beyond me. Because the chains around Tyrion’s wrists weren’t enough of a clue that he was still imprisoned, we had to see him lying on the floor for thirty seconds, and then Grey Worm come and get him?

Mind you, it’s a bit of a nostalgia trip. How many more shots of Tyrion walking places are we going to get in this series? We’re nearly at the end here, folks.

(42:50) Or here! Here’s a good place to pick up as well, as Tyrion and Grey Worm arrive places! The Dragonpit, incidentally. Call back to 7.07 with lots of people walking around and not actually doing much plot stuff.

(43:11) Quick pan over the people here, including a bunch of blasts from the past. Aside from the Stark delegation, we’ve got Edmure Tully! Who’s still a guy who exists in this show! Brienne and Davos are here too, mostly because they are named characters, I think! Gendry’s come down and is not sitting next to or otherwise interacting with Arya, because now that Arya rejected his proposal there’s no actual characterisation involved in his appearance. There are a few more randoms. Yara Greyjoy! Someone in Dornish clothes, not that the integrity of the Dornish plot mattered at any point! The gang is all here!

(43:34) “Where’s Jon?” Sansa asks. Pssst, girl, this is a meeting for characters with consequence. Jon’s got no business here.

(43:39) So Jon’s a prisoner, Tyrion’s a prisoner, but Tyrion is here and Jon is not. For reasons that are no more than “because reasons.” Sansa, stop pointing out the inconsistencies, artificialities, and writing decisions made at the direct expense of other characters and logical plotting all involved in giving Tyrion one last monologue! You’re ruining it!

(43:58) Now that Grey Worm points out that the Unsullied, who have had custody of Jon and Tyrion both for an undetermined but presumably multi-week period of time, wish to harm Jon and Tyrion for their actions towards Dany…why haven’t the Unsullied done anything about Jon and Tyrion?

(44:29) Once again we get Grey Worm addressed by the foreign language version of his name, because we are dehumanising the Unsullied and keeping their slave pasts out of view!

(44:44) “The people who used to live [in the Reach] are gone.” I mean, what the fuck do you even say to this? It’s just – there’s no worldbuilding to it. In the entirety of the show, there’s been like one battle in the Reach – the telefrag stomping Jaime delivered last season. That’s it. That’s all. Bam, the people are gone, because that’s what’s most convenient for this particular scene.

(45:11) “You are not here to speak,” Grey Worm yells at Tyrion. Because Tyrion is a prisoner. This is not going to stop anyone, least of all the writers. They have a monologue, they have a favourite character, and this is their last fucking chance.

(45:34) A shot over at the Vale delegation shows us Lord Royce and Sweetrobin Arryn, the latter of whom is also still a guy who exists in this show. Anyhow, Tyrion’s redirected the conversation to the fact that Westeros is currently leaderless.

(45:44) It apparently has not occurred to this group of feudal lords and ladies, all of whom are upset in some way, shape, or form by the King in the North killing Queen Daenerys Targaryen, that they should at some point get around to working out who’s going to be in charge.

This is such unbelievably terrible writing and plotting. After eight seasons of people fighting over power, we’ve got a roomful of people who have been intimately involved in that struggle for power, and they have to be reminded about the leadership vacuum in the only form of government any of them are willing to accept and reminded of their own agency. None of these characters are behaving like people in this scene, informed by their past experiences and their society. They are walking, talking props for Tyrion’s/the writers’ monologue.

It doesn’t matter how good the central monologue is. If every other fucking character in the entire fucking scene has to cease being a character – something in the writing has to change.

If, of course, your aim was to write a good story.

(45:54) “Make your choice, then,” Grey Worm says, referring to ‘who should rule’, and none of these people apparently have any opinions.

(46:14) Still got time for a joke at Edmure’s expense! Sorry, man, you are amongst the many, many characters who the show did real dirty.

(47:04) Sam Tarly, also here because he’s a named character.

(47:18) A full minute gag at Edmure’s expense. Seriously, there’s hardly any plot here.

(47:30) Now that we’ve seen Sam, he speaks up, and proposes another wacky idealistic notion. Democracy, am I right? But Sam’s fine, morally speaking, because he’s not actually going to fightfor it. He’s just going to put it out there as an idea, have it be laughed at, and make no follow up.

(48:24) The first person to be asked if he wants the crown is Tyrion. Why. Again, worldbuilding! The show hasn’t done much discussion of who inherits Tywin’s lands and titles. The title “Lord of Casterly Rock” is going to go unmentioned. We’re still ignoring the fact that Tyrion’s a prisoner accused of treason. No matter how nice it is to see that this group of lords and ladies aren’t going to hold Tyrion’s disability against him, it does run a bit counter to the established prejudice he faced in earlier seasons.

(48:37) The next thing that happens is someone asking Tyrion for his opinion on who should rule. Because again, this is a thing that nobody present has opinions on. “Who should rule?” is one of those obscure points of law that you can only expect a nerd to deep-dive into the archives and come back with some heavily footnoted proposal, and not a pressing and present concern for a group of feudal nobles trying to rebuild in the midst of a devastating winter and following the conclusion of equally devastating years-long war over that exact goddamned question.

It also bears repeating: why are they asking Tyrion? Tyrion, who is a prisoner (Grey Worm totally having forgotten that he’s not here to speak), and whose advice to Dany was spectacularly useless at its best.

This isn’t even Tyrion taking over through force of personality. Literally every other character present has been silenced by the writers to provide Tyrion with this one last chance to monologue.

This has been a recurring problem in this series. Over the course of the show, the showrunners have brought in some incredibly talented people! Yay! There’s some meaty stuff in this series which talented actors can do a lot with! Unfortunately, the showrunners started giving certain actors too much opportunity to show off. They gave us too much of a good thing. The desire to keep, say, Lena Headey or Iwan Rheon around another season opened up plot holes. The screen time given over for Jerome Flynn or Diana Rigg to banter cut from time that could have been used to develop the world and the story. And now, we’re resolving one of the central questions of the series – who should rule – not with a dialogue arising from the developed perspectives of the surviving cast over eight season, but with a monologue from a character and actor the writers have already heavily favoured. At the expense of every other character in the scene, and therefore every other actor.

(48:45) Tyrion confirms that it has been weeks since Dany was killed. Weeks. And nobody has an opinion about who should rule. Nobody’s done anything about it. Complete paralysis. For weeks.

(49:27) “What unites people? […] Stories.” So it’s not just a monologue, it’s an incredibly on-the-nose, self-congratulatory monologue. Is this Tyrion Lannister speaking, or David Benioff and Dan Weiss?

(49:45) “And who has a better story than Bran the Broken?”

Is this a rhetorical question?

Also, “the Broken”, ugh, seriously? Must we?

(49:52) Anyway, Tyrion continues on, proving to us for the purposes of the scene that it was not actually a rhetorical question. Bran’s story in the show as a whole was so compelling that he got booted from an entire season and his supporting cast was killed off or unceremoniously seen off home mid-season. Bran’s characterisation for the last two seasons has been so flat the the character says he doesn’t want anything and this is entirely believable. Bran’s such a presence in the narrative that when Tyrion himself begged Jon to think of what he stood to lose if the Starks opposed Dany, he didn’t even mention Bran.

What have we been told here, and what have we been shown?

(50:30) “Who better to lead us into the future?” Again, is this a rhetorical question? Just because the characters got their brains forcibly shut off doesn’t mean same happened to the viewers.

(50:49) “That is the wheel our queen wanted us to break.” Was it, though? Was it really? I wasn’t hearing much about hereditary monarchies from Dany, and a bit more about people living in peace and freedom. Not much more, but mostly I’ve been putting that down to a failure in the writing to portray Dany’s agenda, rather than the narrative intentionally depicting a character whose agenda was poorly-developed.

(51:01) Somehow, this gets even more outrageous when Tyrion, who people are still listening towithout so much as a squeak of protest, says that rulers will no longer be born but elected by the nobility. Hey, we have someone here familiar with that form of governance – Yara Greyjoy, any opinions? What did you think about the last elected king of the Iron Islands? Edmure, Lord Royce, you compared letting peasants vote on rulers to be like letting animals vote, what do you think about Davos having a say in the monarchy? Or people like the recently-legitimised and ennobled Gendry?

(51:25) Tyrion approaches Bran and here we see Bran’s true worthiness to rule – he doesn’t want to, and he doesn’t care about power. So he’s definitely someone who will be careful with the power he has. We’ve seen this when Bran was so very sensitive in bringing up Sansa’s rape to her, and so very kind when telling Meera to go home because their paths had diverged. He was very careful in using his omniscience in those cases.

(51:37) Bran, who is being nominated to be king apparently against his wishes, sits there and listens to Tyrion’s speech without batting an eyelid. That’s how indifferent to power he is. And apparently how indifferent to human emotion he is.

(51:49) Unbelievably, it gets worse. Bran says, “Why do you think I came all this way?” Which implies that he foresaw these events. Which implies he foresaw the burning of King’s Landing. We don’t know when exactly he foresaw it, but with what we know about the extent of show!Bran’s powers, I think it’s a pretty solid implication that he saw the whole fucking thing.

Which means he a) saw the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people and did nothing to even try and stop it, and b) saw his brother murder someone he loved, from what he believed was genuine need (go with it) and did nothing to even try and stop it. If this is so, how is Bran not an absolutely terrible human being, both on the micro scale (refusing to step in to try and spare his brother pain) and the macro scale (how many people died in King’s Landing)?

Moreover, how is such a fatalist fit to rule? Bran foresees a flood that will strike a populated area and affect a great deal of a harvest. What does he do about it?

(52:02) Tyrion votes for Bran to be king. On what grounds does Tyrion vote? He’s a bound prisoner! Nobody’s even said yes to voting!

(52:14) Sam Tarly starts off the round of inexplicable agreement.

(52:34) It’s interesting how Tyrion’s in the centre of the shot, here. What’s actually being judged here is not Bran’s worth as king, but Tyrion’s proposal.

(53:18) Sansa here says that she still wants Northern independence. Even though it’s her brother on the throne. So again, we see that she’s not after national agency (which the North could probably expect with a Northerner on the throne) but personal agency and national separatism. I’m sympathetic to Sansa’s desire for personal agency. I’m less sympathetic to the separatists who were happy to accept southern and Essosi help when they needed it and unwilling to give back even common courtesy.

We’ve got people from regions with historical and current reasons for desiring independence present – do Yara Greyjoy and the Guy of Dorne have any opinions on Sansa’s actions? Hell, does anyone else here have any opinions on putting a Stark on the throne when the rest of the Starks are taking their bat and ball and going home, leaving the collective family with the perks of rule and none of the responsibilities or shared duties? Grey Worm, any thoughts?

(53:56) No, stop, fuck this “broken” shit. Of all the people who should fucking well understand what it is to be defined by derogatory terms for one’s disability. Tyrion Lannister, folks. Tyrion Lannister.

(54:28) Tyrion is rewarded with the Handship, because this scene was not about Bran. It wasn’t even about Westeros. It was about Tyrion.

(54:55) Now Grey Worm has an opinion.

(55:21) Hello, Jon! Remember when you were relevant? Remember when you were a character? Tyrion comes in with the news that Jon’s been exiled to the Night’s Watch. How poetic, he’s going full circle.

But…what’s changed, here? Jon originally went to the Watch because he felt distanced from his family, acutely aware of how his very existence was an inconvenience to others, intending to make his own place in the world. Now, Jon’s being actually exiled to the Watch, distanced from his own family, because his existence is an inconvenience to others. He still doesn’t have that place in the world that he wanted. At best he’s got a second chance, but man, what a half-assed conclusion.

It also just cements in how fucking irrelevant everything about his character was. What was the point of his parentage? What was the point of his death and resurrection? What was the point of his relationships with his siblings? What was the point of his social class? What was the point of his promotion to king? What was the point of the things he learned beyond the Wall? I’ll have a few final words on some of that in a bit.

(56:02) Grey Worm wanted more than just exile for Jon, but accepted the justice of Jon’s exile. And kept him in a dungeon for weeks beforehand, despite being the man in charge, without harming a hair on his head…why?

(57:39) Once again we’re changing it up and watching Jon Snow walk places.

(58:09) Thankfully, we’re changing up the angles. We see Jon pass a few other Watchmen, we see a shot of Dany’s fleet departing Westeros. We follow Jon on the docks as he passes Dothraki. This is way better walking-places shots, because it’s not just a picture of a man walking, it’s a picture of a man walking through a setting. For these shots, the showrunners have thought about what they wanted to say about the setting as well as the person walking through it.

(58:48) Grey Worm looks down at Jon.

(59:08) The Unsullied are heading to Naath, like Grey Worm promised Missandei. Nice that the Unsullied get faces again, though.

(59:44) Jon’s siblings head out to see him off. First Sansa, who confirms she’s staying in the North. There are hugs as the Winterfell theme plays.

(1:00:41) Then we get confirmation that Arya’s not staying in the north, to the point where she does not expect to see Jon again. This is…aaaaaargh.

(1:00:57) Arya wants to find out what’s west of Westeros. Okay. That’s a thing she’s mentioned once. Compared to her seasons-long effort to get home. I said it earlier, I think the showrunners lost sight of Arya’s motivations. They saw the things she didn’t want – to be forced into various manifestations of patriarchal society, mostly – and didn’t end up tracking the things that the book version of her character very much does want. Namely, her home and her family. Even her desire for revenge is based in how much she wants her home and her family.

Having a character not tethered strongly by motivation is convenient, because you can find an excuse to put her anywhere and make her do anything. Much like Bran! But it comes at the cost of the character. Here at the end, when the Starks are splitting up, it doesn’t feel like their life ambitions are logically leading them to different places, but like the writers are intervening. This decision to go west of Westeros, this thing Arya has mentioned once, doesn’t seem like something she wants so much that she’d forfeit any chance of seeing Jon again.

(1:02:02) Bran tells Jon that he was exactly where he needed to be. I’m reading this as that Jon was needed to kill Dany. That was the point of him as a character in the show. Killing Dany. Everything was in service of killing Dany.

One, this looks like another retcon. Two, man, what a fucking cruel retcon! Destiny’s grand plan here involves them falling in love only for Jon to fucking murder her! And I’m still not seeing how Jon’s death and resurrection was a crucial step in this plan, so it’s not even a quality retcon making sense of disparate plot points.

(1:02:54) Here’s Brienne’s resolution. She’s leafing through the White Book (props to the props folk; you can see the different handwriting from page to page).

(1:03:47) We see Brienne adding to Jaime’s entry. This shows a change in Jaime’s character development and arc from earlier – where back in ASoS, Jaime writes his captures and maiming “in an awkward hand that might have done credit to a six-year-old being taught his first letters,” complete with the acknowledgement that it was Brienne who returned him to King’s Landing, in the show apparently he recounted the first capture and his ransom only. Brienne adds Jaime’s latter-season deeds in the most flattering light before finishing “died protecting his queen.”

Note how this resolution to Brienne’s story is mostly about Jaime. With bonus romanticisation of the Jaime/Cersei relationship. The show never got how messed up that dynamic was.

(1:04:56) Tyrion walks through what’s presumably the Red Keep and approaches the Hand’s chair at the Small Council’s table. It’s great that the Red Keep got rebuilt so fast! Like nothing ever happened. Continuity schmontinuity.

(1:05:29) We’ve got time for one more take of rearranging the chairs. Another case of too much of a good thing. Both in the sense that we get thirty seconds of Tyrion fiddling with the chairs, and in that this joke made its point the first time and the second time.

(1:06:09) The new look Small Council enters to Tyrion at the head of the table. Tyrion’s in charge, here. At this point I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to say that Game of Thrones is centrally a story about Tyrion Lannister’s rise to power. Which is certainly a decision that the adaptation made. Just one that doesn’t look all that much like A Song of Ice and Fire.

(1:06:15) Bronn’s back, re-emerging from his plot hole one final time. Like he never threatened to kill Tyrion at all.

(1:06:17) Sam’s in a maester’s robes. Like he’s even a maester. What about his Watch position? Who knows?

(1:06:27) Sam presents Tyrion with a book entitled “A Song of Ice and Fire.” Hey, that’s the name of the books! Apparently it’s a history of the wars following the death of King Robert. Which is…not actually the A Song of Ice and Fire we’re following, which is about a bit more than the War of Five Kings.

(1:08:04) No word of Drogon. So Bran leaves the business of ruling to Tyrion while he goes looking for dragons. He wasn’t kidding about not caring about power. This is getting off to a great start that will in no way result in the same Robert Baratheon-y indifference to running the country.

(1:08:22) Confirmation that Pod was knighted and is now a member of the Kingsguard, just tying up these loose ends.

(1:08:57) A bit of expositing about Bronn’s new title. He is indeed the Lord of Highgarden. Master of Coin, too. Makes sense, makes sense. Not.

(1:09:52) We back out of the meeting as the new Small Council starts on solving the problems of the realm (including its lack of brothels), for some bizarre reason everyone referring to themselves in the third person.

(1:10:13) The final line of dialogue in the entire series is “I once brought a jackass and a honeycomb into a brothel.” Call back! In the same fine taste as so much of the dialogue in this show. And we never do get to hear the punchline. (He asked for someone to lick honey off his ass.)

(1:10:19) Cut to Jon arriving at the Wall. There’s a bit of rubble around, but the order’s still functioning, the Wall’s still there. Where’s the fundamental change the events of the series wrought on the setting?

(1:11:03) Jon reunites with his truest friend, Tormund. Speaking of, it’s nice that someone has a buddy.

(1:11:37) Time for Ramin Djawadi’s last hurrah. It’s a Stark montage, as Jon, Sansa and Arya get ready to set out on their next adventures. I think there’s a significant structural change in evidence from the books here. In the books, Sansa, Arya and Bran are more closely in parallel. Jon’s got strong thematic connections to them, of course, but his primary parallels are with Dany.

Which isn’t necessarily a bad change until you recall how badly the show’s treated Dany. And how anemic the writing for Jon was, too.

What this final montage also emphasises is the atomisation of the Stark family, and that, that is fucking sad. This is not a montage of the Starks. This is a montage of Jon, Arya, and Sansa, starting their permanently separate lives.

Again, compared to the books, the love the Starks have for each other is one of the central themes running through their PoVs. The Starks love each other. The Starks love their home. It is grounding and centralising and helps bring out the best in each of them. This ending, where apparently these three get what they want at the cost of those familial relationships – it seems almost backwards. I’m not sure the book versions of these characters could get what they wanted out of life if it meant sacrificing the notion of their family unit.

It’s different, and it’s not a different I prefer. I have thought for a long time that the show did not show the bonds between the Starks well. I’m not surprised at the ending of the series those bonds are severed altogether.

Bran? Who’s Bran? Is he part of the family?

(1:13:40) What. Jon is paying attention to his direwolf. This is madness.

(1:14:45) It makes me very sad how alone Sansa is in this shot as she’s crowned queen. Show!Sansa isn’t a nice person by any means, but for the sake of her book counterpart…

(1:15:15) As Jon helps lead the Free Folk back north past the Wall, you can see grass starting to poke through the snow cover. The show finishes with him riding into a northern forest.

I asked this a bit more than a year ago, but what was the point of all this? What changed? I touched on it with Jon, but what is the difference in the setting? Some borders got rearranged, a different king’s on the throne, but the system remains fundamentally the same. The game of thrones goes on. The aspects of the plot that were supposed to be agents of major change, worthy of an eight-season series – Dany and her dragons, the Free Folk moving south, the Others– all got dealt with and removed from the ending with nice neat little bows and nice neat little deaths.

All that story and all it did was destroy a family.

Thus ends the recap, but I am trying to work on a wrap-up essay. A bit more looking at the forest instead of the trees, and trying to work out where the series went so, so badly wrong.

#anti got #fine toothed comb edition #cw: violence #cw: rape mention #season eight #long episode long post long face

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commanderrivercc-3628 · 4 years

Text

Rose Petal: Chapter 2

Previous : Next

pairing: Wolffe x fem!Reader

warnings: cursing, insecurity, FLUFF, angst, Wolffe being a good dad, mentions of not getting an abortion (IMPLIED, THE WORD IS NOT ACTUALLY USED)

word count: 2,188

notes: So I originally was going to post this Tuesday, but I finished it early and felt like posting it early so here it is... I hope you enjoy!!!

tags: @catsnkooks, @queenchaos-5

You gently rock Rose in your arms as you sat in the chair behind your desk. You looked to Wolffe, who was still sleeping peacefully on your bed. He was still in his civvies (a tight-fitting grey shirt, and a pair of dark jeans) that he had worn to the hospital when Sera went into labor. You were glad the 104th was on leave because it gave you and Wolffe more time to figure out what to do about Rose, seeing as Sera just abandoned Rose and Wolffe. You knew he’d never give her up, so that made things a bit more difficult seeing as it was illegal for him to have a child.

You looked back down at the baby and smiled sweetly at her. Rose was awake, which you didn’t figure was an issue. She looked up at you, lifted her hand, and made a grabbing gesture at you. You place your hand in front of Rose and she grabbed hold of your pointer finger. You silently giggled at the girl. As you looked at her you realized just how much she looked like Wolffe. Rose had his beautiful golden brown eyes and his dark tan skin. She was born with a full head of his black hair. The only thing she didn’t seem to inherit from Wolffe was her nose, which was a cute little button.

You sighed, thinking about how you and Wolffe were going to go about this. You promised to watch Rose when Wolffe couldn’t, and you would. But you couldn’t watch her all the time. More specifically when you had to tend to injured men.

‘I can’t just put the baby in a baby carrier and carry her around as I tend to the men. That’s not safe for them, nor is it safe for Rose.’ You thought.

You also thought about where she would sleep. Wolffe had his own private quarters, which helped that situation. There wasn’t that much space but you figured you could a least fit a crib in there. If not, you could try to convince Wolffe to switch quarters with you. Yours was significantly larger, which you didn’t find fair at all. If Wolffe did swap rooms with you he could fit a lot more that he’d need in there.

‘Yeah, that could work.’ You thought. ‘Though I doubt Wolffe would be okay with it. He’d probably just feel bad for taking my room.’

Now food, diapers, and clothes for little Rose. That was going to be more difficult. Campaigns can last weeks, months even. You groaned.

‘This is going to be harder than I thought.’

“(Y/N)?”

You looked up to see Wolffe getting up and sitting on the edge of the bunk. He yawned and stretched, the muscles in his arms and torso flexed. You caught yourself staring, but quickly blinked to push away any unwanted thoughts. Wolffe was your best friend, nothing more. Yeah sure you may have been in love with the clone commander, but you valued your friendship with him too much to ever act upon those feelings.

“Good morning Wolffe,” you said with a smile.

“Mornin’,” Wolffe smiled.

He stood up and walked over to you. Wolffe didn’t waste any time taking Rose from you, cradling her gently in his arms, it was as if the four hours of sleep he got were too many to be apart from his daughter. Wolffe lowered his head, gently placing his forehead on Rose’s. You smiled at the touching scene.

“So, we have a lot to figure out.” You began.

“I know,” Wolffe sighed. “First we should probably figure out food for Rose. She’ll probably be wanting something to eat soon.”

“The field medics have formula and diapers for a situation where they run into a civilian who needs them. I know where it is, I can go get some of both and meet you in the barracks.”

Wolffe’s brows furrowed.

“Why would we meet in the barracks? Couldn’t I just go with you to the medbay?” Wolffe inquired.

“Wolffe, you’re going to have to tell your brothers about Rose eventually.”

“I know, but what are they going to think of me. I’m their CO, I’m supposed to be smarter than accidentally getting someone pregnant, someone I never even loved. Hell, I felt so little towards her I didn’t even tell the boys who she was, they knew I was in a relationship, but they never even knew her name. Then I went and messed everything up. I got her pregnant, and I don’t even know how it could have happened. They’re going to think I’m a di’kut. A horny shiny who can’t keep it in his blacks.”

“Sera, we need to talk.”

“Yes, Wolffe we do.”

“You want to go first then, Sera?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Wolffe’s eyes doubled in size. His jaw dropped. He didn’t say anything for a while. Sera had yet to say anything else. She just stood there with a blank expression. Wolffe finally spoke.

“That’s, uh, that’s… you’re pregnant?”

“Yes, that is what I said. I have proof of that as well from my doctor if you don’t believe me.” Sera spat out.

“No! No, I-I believe you. I’m just shocked. I mean you’re on birth control. You went on it because you didn’t want to use biosheaths anymore. This shouldn’t have happened.”

“Well, it did,” Sera replied coldly.

‘But how?’ Wolffe thought.

“Wh-What do you want to do?” Wolffe asked.

“As much as I am not ready to have a child at the moment, I won’t get rid of the baby.”

Wolffe nodded. He was relieved to hear she was going to have the baby. As much as it scared him, he did want the baby. His baby. As much as he disliked Sera, he would stay with her. Not for Sera, but for his unborn child.

“I will be there as much as I can, Sera. I-I promise. I’ll be there for… you.”

You stared at Wolffe. Sure he had shown his more emotional side to you before, but never to this extent. You never knew Wolffe to be this insecure. The last time you saw him like this was when he lost his eye. He was downright scared then, and you couldn’t help but think he was scared now too. You were concerned about Sera getting pregnant despite being on birth control, but that wasn’t something the two of you should be talking about right now.

“Wolffe, they won’t think any less of you,” you started, drawing a scoff out of Wolffe. “I’m being serious, Wolffe. They aren’t going to see you as a horny shiny who can’t keep it in his pants. They’re going to see a dedicated father who would do anything for his daughter. They’re going to see their amazing brother who would do anything to keep them safe. Sure they might be a little upset you didn’t tell them sooner, but they won’t think any less of you.”

Wolffe didn’t say anything. He didn’t know why, but he believed you. Maybe it was the fact that he was deeply in love with you, but he would believe anything you told him.

“Thank you, (Y/N). I really don’t know what else to say. And I understand that I need to tell my brothers about Rose, but I’d much rather her eat first before we handle that. Plus I need caf.”

You nodded. You understood.

“Let me take a shower and get changed real quick. Feel free to use my caf maker.” You said, standing up and making your way into the refresher that was connected to your quarters.

Wolffe nodded and went to the caf maker. He turned the caf maker on and placed a mug under it, while carefully holding Rose. While waiting for the caf to be done he turned his attention back to Rose. He placed his hand on her belly and began tickling her. Rose giggled in delight and gave him a big toothless smile. He giggled along with her. Wolffe was so caught up in the cuteness that was his daughter that he didn’t notice you exiting the refresher.

“This is a good look for you Wolffe.” You smirked.

He quickly looked up at you, a scowl forming on his face.

“Shut up,” Wolffe growled out, grabbing cup of caf before making his way to the door. “Are you ready now?”

You rolled your eyes.

‘And the commander is back.’ You thought.

You made your way out of the room and down the corridor with Wolffe walking slightly in front of you. The halls were empty, seeing as no one really had anything to do other than to rest. It was the one time the troopers were actually allowed to sleep in, and they took advantage of that.

Your walk with Wolffe was quiet. The silence continued as they reached the medbay. Wolffe sat on one of the beds with Rose still in his arms, sipping on his caf, and you went into one of the storage rooms. You picked up a box and grabbed some diapers and formula. The formula was luckily water-activated, so you wouldn’t have to figure out where to find milk. You were just finishing packing the small box of supplies for Wolffe when you heard loud crying. You walked out of the closet to see a very panicked Wolffe and a very upset Rose. As you approached the pair, Wolffe looked up at you.

“I-I don’t know what happened. Sh-she was fine a second ago.” Wolffe panicked.

“Well, she’s most likely either hungry or went potty. So, unwrap her from the blanket and check her diaper.”

Wolffe got off the bed, then gently placed the crying baby back on the bed, carefully unwrapping the blanket around her. Wolffe took her out of her light pink onesie and moved to check her diaper and grimaced.

“It’s the diaper,” Wolffe said.

You nodded and told him to take the diaper off. Then, you set the box down and went to grab a cloth and wet it with warm water. You handed it to Wolffe, who took it and raised a brow. You rolled your eyes.

“You have to clean her, Wolffe. Use the cloth and wipe her.”

Wolffe groaned, but did as you instructed. Once he was done, he set the cloth down and looked back to you. You grabbed a diaper and stepped up next to Wolffe, and handed him the diaper. He took it and you began explaining how to put the diaper on Rose. Wolffe was able to successfully put the diaper on the first try, much to your surprise. When you tell him he did it correctly, a triumphant smirk appears on his face. You laughed quietly at how proud of himself he was. He made a face at you before looking back to his daughter, who was delightfully sticking her foot in her mouth. Wolffe smiled fondly and gently pulled her foot out of her mouth. You giggle at the sight. Wolffe put Rose back in her onesie and picked her up.

“So, what next?” He asked you.

“Well, I’d say let’s get Rose something to eat.”

Wolffe nodded in confirmation and you walked him through the steps of mixing the formula. After all that was done, she taught him how to clean the bottle. Wolffe picked up Rose and fed her. Then you taught him how to burp her, telling him to put a towel on his shoulder because babies often spit it back up, which Rose did. Wolffe cleaned her face, then pressed a light kiss to the tip of her nose.

“The men will be waking up soon,” Wolffe sighed. “I guess now’s as good a time as any.”

Wolffe looked concerned. You placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, causing him to look up at you. You gave him a soft smile, which he returned.

“It’ll be ok, but good luck anyway.”

“Wait, aren’t you coming with me?” Wolffe panicked.

“You’re a big boy, Wolffe, you can handle yourself. Besides this is more of a brother to brothers thing.”

Wolffe sighed and nodded before turning to leave the medbay. He clung tighter to his daughter to help ground himself. He made his way to the barracks trying to figure out what to say.

‘Men this is Rose, she’s my daughter and… no. Troopers, this is my daughter, her name is Rose… no.’

Wolffe groaned.

“How are we going to do this, huh?” He asked the baby, who tilted her head slightly in response.

Wolffe had been so lost in thought he hadn’t realized he was already outside the barracks. He stood outside the door, unable to move to enter. He could hear the laughter of his brothers on the other side of the door. Suddenly the doors to the barracks slid open, revealing Boost, Sinker, and Comet. Wolffe’s eyes went wide. The three brothers stopped at the sight of their commander and instantly stood straighter. Comet noticed the baby first and quickly spoke up about her.

“Uh, Wolffe? Why do you have a baby?”

#commander wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x you #commander wolffe #wolffe x reader #wolffe x you #wolffe #clone wars x reader #rose petal fic #wolffe learning how to be a dad #wolffe is the best dad #sinker #boost #clone trooper comet

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imjusthereforbatfam · 3 years

Text

Never-Ending Encore, ch 8

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Chapter Summary: Yes, this is Gotham City but helping people isn’t a CRIME, Red Hood! Eden’s not afraid of some crazy nutzos! Er, well… Okay, maybe she’s a little afraid of some crazy nutzos, but… But that’s not gonna stop her from helping people when she can! 😤

Warnings: minor swearing, very minor mentions of suic*de and previous suic*dal behavior, very minor mentions of previous abuse, abuse forgiven/excused by victim (which I personally don't care for but this is how Eden currently handles/perceives her trauma so...)

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Eden sat down at the table with a content sigh. The heavenly aroma of homemade garlic bread was more prominent now that the rolls were right in front of her. The scent, mixed with the expectation of company and the eagerness of having some Mad Mountain Fudge chilling in her fridge, made her feel incredibly at-home. Though, to be fair, it was more of a hope for company than an expectation.

Red Hood said he’d try to come this night or the next, but that didn’t necessarily mean he would. Admittedly, Eden's shier half – which vividly recalled Aaron’s earlier, uh… praises toward Red Hood’s… physique – wouldn’t entirely mind waiting a few days to see him. The rest of her was so excited, though, that she had to keep reminding herself it was okay if he didn’t come tonight. It wouldn’t be the end of the world. He was a busy man, after all, saving dumbasses like herself and doing… whatever an ex-mob boss might do to make a place like Gotham better.

Not that any of that stopped her from hoping he would come, of course. Nor would it stop her from being disappointed if he didn’t. Even so, Eden knew she was just one, very small person among a million other very small people in this city. She understood that visiting a random civilian like her, even with the world's greatest fudge in her fridge, couldn't rank very high on Red Hood’s to-do list. Especially in a city like this, filled with a thousand not-so-very-small people — many of whom were quite dangerous.

Still, taking in her surroundings, Eden couldn’t help but smile. She was excited for him to come visit. The entire one-roomed apartment – not just the kitchen space – was clean now. She was back in the habit of making her bed every morning, and— okay, fine, the chair by her closet still held her not-quite-clean clothes, but at least they were folded now! Which was an improvement from the misshapen pile of before!

The once-crowded coffee table had also been improved. Now, it only housed her laptop, headphones, and one book (and notebook) at a time. The rest of her books and notebooks – aside from the pair she kept on the kitchen table – had a new home, piled neatly along the wall dividing the kitchen from the main living/sleeping space. They still needed a proper shelf, but the current setup worked for now.

Two plants with tall, twisting stems stood guard on either side of her slow-growing book collection, while a small, mismatched assortment of baby foliage in tiny, colorful pots sat along the edge of her kitchen table near the window. It wasn’t anything compared to rows and rows of crops back on the farm, nor the nearby woods she dearly missed walking through, but it still felt good to be around some greenery again.

Biting into a roll, Eden continued penning ideas into the notebook she kept on the kitchen table; new ways to make her place even homier, things that needed her attention, different possibilities to look into. Though it was the mortifying thought of Red Hood coming back to her apartment in its previous state that had spurred her into action, Eden now found herself genuinely starting to enjoy the little space.

Now that she was putting in the effort, her apartment was actually starting to feel… pleasant. Welcoming, even. And even though her neighbors were still ridiculously loud at times, Eden was finding herself happy with her little home. Enjoying the fruits of her labor whenever she paused to take it in... It was a very nice feeling.

Eden suddenly stopped writing. Her heart leapt in excitement as she looked to the far window, the one that led to the fire escape. It could be nothing, but she could’ve sworn she’d heard— The soft tapping repeated itself.

Scrambling up from the table, Eden flew to the window – nearly slipping in her socks – and beamed at the sight of Red Hood on the other side. He greeted her with a short wave of his hand.

“Hi there, Mr. Hood!” she greeted the moment she had the window open. “It’s so nice to see you again! How are you? Your fudge is almost ready, but it needs another couple of minutes or so to finish chilling. I hope that’s alright? I remembered you said you might stop by tonight, but I didn’t think it would be until later on so I— oh! Where are my manners?” She moved out of the way, her cheeks warming. “Won’t you come in?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Eden smiled as he deftly climbed inside, pleased to find she could still easily recognize Red Hood’s humored tone.

“Smells good in here,” he said turning toward the kitchen.

She quirked a brow, glancing at his helmet. “You can smell with that thing on?”

“It has an automatic filtration system." He lifted his chin, apparently quite proud of it. "Keeps Fear Gas out, lets good-smelling food in.”

"Really?” She hummed, making a show of looking over his helmet. “It doesn’t look all that fancy to me, Mr. Hood."

He scoffed. “It’s a lot more high-tech than it looks, Cookie Girl.”

“Oh, yeah?” She turned up her nose, grinning, as she led him toward the kitchen table. “What kind of high-tech stuff does it have, then, hotshot?”

“All kinds,” he said unabashedly, not afraid to meet her teasing head-on. “There’s the obvious, like night vision, thermal imaging, incendiary devices, and high-frequency—”

“Hold on, wait.” She turned the words over in her head. “Incendiary devices? Isn’t that just fancy talk for bombs?"

“It might be,” he said confidently.

"You have a bomb in your helmet?" She made a humored face. “That doesn’t sound very high-tech, Mr. Hood. Or obvious.”

He hummed, leaning forward slightly, resting his hands on his hips. “You don’t believe me?” Eden could imagine him grinning at her.

She crossed her arms playfully. “No way. You’re just trying to get a rise out of me. There’s no way you have an actual bomb that close to your head. You’re not that crazy, Mr. Hood.”

He made an amused sound, tilting his head to one side.

Eden opened her mouth, then shut it. She looked him up and down, faltering. “Are… Are you? Mr. Hood, do you really have— Are you— Please tell me you’re joking. That’s— Do you?”

“Relax, Ede.” He said it comfortably, as if he called her that all the time. Eden blinked, trying to remember if he’d ever called her that before — or anything other than Cookie Girl. “It’s just for absolutely fucked situations where I don’t have any other options.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait— You don’t mean— You don’t mean—” She jabbed at her temples frantically, trying to sputter something out.

Red Hood watched her struggle until what she was trying to say finally clicked.

He jerked forward, his hands up. “Shit, not like that! It’s an escape thing, not a kill myself thing,” he explained. “I take it off and throw it like a grenade.”

“Oh. Cool. Okay. A grenade. That’s cool.”

“Breathe, Cookie Girl," he reminded her.

“I’m breathing! Totally breathing!” She took a huge breath for good measure. Then another. “Sorry, I just—” She shook her head, plopping into her seat. She looked at him, then, in realization, jolted right back up again. “Oh, sorry! Please,” she gestured to the spare chair in front of him, “have a seat.”

“I’m alright.” Red Hood leaned onto its back, watching her sit down again. Her face was red hot. “You okay?”

“Yes, fine, thank you.” She took a few slow breaths, her brows pulled together with worry. “Do you… end up in situations like that a lot? Where you have to blow up your helmet to get away?”

Just a few nights ago, there’d been an explosion on the Westward Bridge. One of her coworkers said a friend spotted Red Hood escaping the scene afterwards. Eden, becoming more accustomed to Gotham’s shenanigans than she cared to admit, hadn’t worried about him too much when she’d heard. In fact, oddly enough, she’d felt a bit proud. But maybe she shouldn’t have.

Maybe she was wrong to have assumed he was okay. Maybe he’d been in serious trouble. Maybe he’d needed help. Maybe she should’ve done something. Maybe she should’ve—

“Not really,” Red Hood answered, breaking her dizzying thoughts with a casual shrug. “It’s the last of my last resorts, and it’s pretty rare for me to be so off my game.”

“Oh. Oh, good. That's...” She sighed in relief, then smiled up at him. “I’m glad to hear it, Mr. Hood.”

Of course. What in the world was she thinking? Red Hood wasn’t some small-time, stumbling wannabe. Unlike her pitiful attempts at playing hero, he actually knew what he was doing. If she ever showed up to one of his firefights, she’d probably just end up causing him trouble and end up staggering home with a plethora of healing bullet holes and another encore under her belt. (Maybe two, if she was particularly unlucky.)

Red Hood pulled out his chair and turned it so that its back was nearly up against the wall beside them. When he sat down, angled the way he was, he had a clear line of sight of the entire apartment.

The move was familiar to Eden, but it surprised her to see it done so precisely and naturally. The only other person she’d seen do that – and do it like that – was Mama.

Mama always had to have an eye on her surroundings, so she rarely took a seat without her back against a wall or being tucked in a corner. The habit was one of many from her life before "Louanne Smith". They were so far ingrained into her psyche that if she ever tried to go against them the struggle was obvious to even the blindest fool. Though she feigned ignorance at having ever lived such a life, it had obviously taught her all the skills she now used to keep their “cousins” safe: how to observe and analyze even the smallest detail, how to fight and defend unflinchingly, how to disappear without a trace, how to… make other people disappear.

It made Eden curious to see Red Hood with a habit like that. On the bright side, it probably meant she didn’t have to worry about him the way she had been. If he was even half as capable as Mama was, chances were he could handle just about anything thrown at him — even in a place like Gotham.

But… on the not-so-bright side, she had to wonder...

Red Hood tilted his head slowly. “What?”

“Hm?” Eden blinked and realized she been staring. “Oh, sorry! I was just remembering my, uh… um… well, it doesn’t really matter, I guess. I just got lost in thought. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

“Right, sor— I mean, uh, thank you. I guess.” Cheeks warm, she glanced around quickly for something else to talk about. “Um, would you like some garlic rolls, Mr. Hood?” She picked up the plate and offered it to him. “They’re stuffed with cheese.”

He leaned closer to the food, inhaling it. “So that’s what smells so good.”

She smiled. “Try some!”

He started to grab one when his head turned toward the kitchen. He looked into it a moment then lowered his hand, sat back, and said, “On second thought, I’m okay.”

Eden lowered the plate slightly, surprised. She glanced into her kitchen, wondering what he’d seen to change his mind. The space was perfectly clean and tidy, as she always kept it. The only thing “out of place” was the baking sheet cooling on her stovetop. Any other dishes were already drying in the sink wrack.

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind… I’m happy to share.”

“I’m not interested in stealing your dinner. Besides,” he added in a lighter tone, “I need to save room for the fudge.”

Eden nodded slowly and set the plate down. Glancing toward the kitchen again, she wondered what had tipped him off that the rolls were her meal for the night. The empty baking sheet? The drying dishes?

Always have more than you think you’ll need, she remembered. That was a tried-and-true rule on the farm. They never knew when they were going to have company, so there was always more of things than Eden’s family could ever go through on their own — more blankets, more clothes, more toiletries, more food. Especially food. If there were seven people in the house, they made enough food for ten, and those extra servings came in handy more often than not.

“Can I get you something to drink, then, Mr. Hood?” she asked, picked up her pen and writing the old rule into her notebook. “I have sweet tea, orange juice… uh, water…” She paused, thinking. “Milk?”

He snorted. “I’m good.”

She quirked an impish brow. “Does your fancy, high-tech helmet even have a way for you to drink things? Some built-in twisty-straw component or something?”

He shook his head, edging forward. “Nope. Sorry. No twisty-straws.”

“Your helmet can be an emergency grenade, but it has no cool twisty-straw thingy?” She tsk-tsked, trading her pen for a roll. “I’m disappointed, Mr. Hood. It’s like you’re not even trying to impress me.”

He chuckled. “I’ll get right on that, Cookie Girl,” he assured, a smirk-like quality to his voice.

Eden shook her head at him, trying to hide her grin behind the roll.

He nodded to the notebook in front of her. “What are you working on?”

“Oh, just some ideas.” She pushed it toward him, inviting him to look. “I haven’t been treating this place right,” she explained, pulling apart the roll. “Acting like it’s a prison when it’s a home in need of as much tender loving care as any other.”

Red Hood hummed, going over her lists. “Hard to make a home in a neighborhood like this,” he muttered.

“Doesn’t mean I need to let it sit and rot like I was. It’s nice to have a place you’re at least a little proud of.”

He gave a half-shrug and nodded.

He flipped to a previous page in the notebook, glancing up to see if she minded. Eden shrugged, knowing most of the pages were haphazardly filled with everyday nonsense that likely wouldn’t mean much to him. He looked them over while she ate and she looked over him, a little embarrassed when he started reading out random thoughts.

“‘Mary: Superfluous, plain but extra, well-meaning but unaware’?”

“Uh, that’s a… That’s a thing for work.”

“What do you do for work? Evaluate assholes?”

She laughed. “No, no, I’m a…" She fixed her posture, feeling a bit proud. "I’m an actress, actually."

“A professional liar? Great.”

“Wha—? No! Lying and acting are two very different skill sets, Mr. Hood!”

“Uh-huh. Sure, Cookie Girl. Whatever you say.”

“No really! I’ll have you know I’m an awful liar but a really great— er, uh, well, okay, maybe not a really great actor— I mean, maybe not a great actor either, but, you know, I— Well, actually—”

He snickered, then moved on to the next blurb he could tease her with.

“Are all your notebooks filled like this?” he eventually asked, glancing at her collection against the wall.

She gave a half-shrug as she finished the last roll. “Some are more coherent. This one’s mostly for stuff that pops in my head while I’m eating or in the kitchen. It’s easier to have my thoughts written down where I can see them instead of fighting through them all in my head.”

“Makes sense.” He leaned forward brazenly. “Am I in any of those thoughts?”

“Not any of the written down ones,” she said with a laugh, assuming that was the real question. “I’m not that dumb, Mr. Hood.”

“Good to know,” he said with a nod. “Speaking of dumb, though…” He leaned back in his chair and fished out a cell phone from inside his leather jacket. “I was wondering if you could help me connect some dots here.”

“Me? I don’t know what you could possibly need my help sorting out, Mr. Hood," aside from an urgent, impromptu lesson on goat milking perhaps, "but I’ll certainly try.”

“Oh, you can help a lot more than you think, Edie.” Red Hood set the phone down on the table and pushed it toward her.

Eden blinked again at his sudden use of one of her everyday nicknames, suddenly nervous. She looked down at the phone, at the picture on its screen, and her brows lifted in surprise. She immediately recognized the sleek, minimalist decor of Café Très Boissons and the slightly hunched, unassuming man who’d been taking her picture earlier that day. But more than that, she recognized the angle the picture had been taken from.

Turning to Red Hood, wide-eyed, she faintly recalled the faces of the boys in the corner booth. The younger two were obviously out of the running, but between the smiling one and the one in the red hoodie… It wasn’t exactly a hard leap to make.

“Wait, were you the guy—?”

“I have contacts all over this city,” he told her. “They keep me informed.”

Eden’s brow furrowed. She worked her mouth to say something, not really sure she believed him, but he leaned over the table and swiped the screen to the right, moving the conversation forward before she could. The new picture was taken closer to the scout and clearer than the first, better showing his face and overall frame.

“So imagine my surprise,” Red Hood went on, “when I learn a small-time heiress has a look-alike who can clock up a potential threat in a heartbeat, and it turns out that look-alike—” he swiped right again, this time to a grainy, blown-up picture of Eden, Veronica, and Aaron crossing the street “—is you.”

Eden stared at the picture: she and Veronica arm-in-arm, Veronica’s purse over her shoulder, a flippant expression on her face that didn’t seem to fit quite right. The picture was from an entirely different viewpoint, somewhere up in the air looking down on them, and of a far poorer quality than the first two.

“Security camera?” she guessed glancing up at him. His permeating stare was hard to meet through the angry “eyes” of his helmet.

“Traffic cam.”

Eden sank a little lower. “You’re making me feel like I’m in trouble here, Mr. Hood,” she mumbled.

“Aren’t you?” he accused. “You’ve practically got a flashing neon sign on your forehead that says In Deep Shit.”

“No, I—!” She huffed and moved some hair out of her face. “I do not. I meant trouble like a kid with her hand caught in the cookie jar.”

“Funny.” He moved to rest his jaw on his fist. “I didn’t.”

Eden lowered her gaze, unable to meet the unbreakable scrutiny of his “eyes”. “I’m not in any trouble,” she muttered, rubbing her socked feet together under the table. “Not like that, anyway. I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Y’know,” he half-teased, “I think I’m starting to understand what you meant about being able to lie and being able to act.”

She struggled with a response to that. “What… What even makes you think I’m in that kind of trouble anyhow?”

“You want the short list or the long?”

She stared at him. His certainty was unshakable.

There’s no way it was that obvious she was in trouble… But it wasn’t deep trouble like he seemed to think. Just… ankle-deep trouble. That she was slowly sinking in. No big deal.

Besides, it wasn’t any of his business. Her “trouble” was just between her and her parents. And her siblings, sort of. And… probably the people Frank worked with... and for… But, like, at its core, it was mostly just her and her parents.

“It’s nothing big,” she promised. “Nothing vigilante worthy, anyway.”

Red Hood tilted his head, silently encouraging her to continue regardless.

“It’s just… family stuff.”

Just a looming fight between divorced parents; their adult child stuck in the middle and trying to put out the fire before it sparked. A totally normal thing for a totally normal "family".

Only, like… kicked up to a ten because Eden was a metahuman, her father was a superhero-obsessed farmer-turned-geneticist who basically stole samples of her DNA, and her mother was not afraid to get her hands dirty. Especially if she perceived something as a threat to her daughter’s well-being — which Frank’s recent work and actions could definitely be perceived as.

Plus, everyone in that facility seemed to know about her powers. Mama would not like that. That Eden regretted helping them – that she’d tried to rescind her consent, been denied, and her DNA taken anyway – just made the whole thing even messier.

The only way to hide any of it from her mother was to literally take the money Frank gave her for her "donation", run off, and hide away while she tried to string everything together. Because once Mama knew, Frank was a dead man. Unless Eden could figure out some way to cushion the information and keep her from digging deeper, there was no doubt in her mind that Mama would wipe every last trace of him – and his colleagues – off the face of the earth.

And Eden… Eden didn’t want that.

Despite everything he’d done and put her through, despite all the hurt and tears, part of her still thought of Frank as her father. As the man who read her stories every night and taught her to ride a bike and a horse. The one who called her “Champ” and always carried her up on his shoulders when they went into town. Who told her she was meant for great things, encouraged her compassion, always put her back on her feet… told her he loved her every morning and every night when she was young…

They were both older now, and him colder. He’d abused her trust and love in pursuit of his own goals. Again. This time with intent. But he was still the man who, above all else, wanted to help others. Eden knew that. He just… didn’t seem to mind hurting her in the process. And a part of her hated him for it, but she still loved him, too. She couldn't stand the thought of him getting hurt, or worse.

Which, you know, with her mama a hairpin trigger away from… removing him… sorta left Eden caught between a rock and a hard place. But, again, that wasn’t any of Red Hood’s business.

“It’s not that big a deal,” she stressed. “And anyway, Veronica’s the one with the scout right now, not me.” She swiped back to the picture of the man in the suit and pointed to him firmly. “He cared about getting her picture, not mine. Even if he mixed us up, it still means she’s the one in real trouble here.”

Red Hood hummed. The disharmony was hard to interpret, but she was willing to bet he was neither fooled by nor satisfied with her answer.

“What?” she shot back, crossing her arms, acting defensive to force the conversation forward. “It’s not my fault he confused me for Veronica.”

“No, but you wanted to keep him confused. In fact,” he reached over and swiped back to the traffic cam picture, “you did everything you could to make sure he thought he had the right girl.”

Eden lifted her chin, waiting for the real question. Red Hood studied her, possibly waiting to see if she’d answer it herself. Maybe blubber out something as she was wont to do. But she was determined to keep her mouth shut this time.

She tipped her head, politely prompting him to continue. When he didn’t, she huffed.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hood,” she said rubbing her forehead, “but I really don’t know what you’re trying to ask me here. I’m not a mind reader.”

He stayed quiet for a few more beats. His consideration shifted from her to the picture on his phone. “For now, I guess my biggest questions are why and how.”

Eden sat up a little. “Why?” she repeated, not sure she understood.

“Yeah. According to my source,” he said slowly, “you two,” he nodded toward her and Aaron in the picture, “figured out the scout was there for Veronica before she’d even entered the building and that he’d mixed the two of you up.”

“Right,” she agreed cautiously. “And?”

“And?” He gestured in front of him as though he’d clearly laid everything out on the table itself. “Didn’t it occur to you that if he saw the real Veronica, the scout would’ve pieced it all together and left you alone?”

Had that occurred to her? She couldn’t remember. Probably not.

But even if it had, Eden wouldn’t have wanted him to leave her alone if it meant throwing Veronica under the bus like that. Eden at least knew how she was supposed to act in that kind of situation, which was more than Veronica could probably say. And besides, no matter what might’ve happened, she would’ve been fine in the end. Veronica didn’t have that guarantee. Nobody did. Except Eden.

“It was better for him to bother me than her,” she said firmly. “At the very least it threw them off her scent for a bit. Hopefully, she can get some sort of security team or something before they get too wise.”

“They?”

“Whoever wanted those pictures in the first place,” she explained. “I seriously doubt that scout was taking them for his own sake, or he would’ve left the moment “Veronica” started noticing him.” She tilted her head at Red Hood and gave him a wicked smile. “Or did your source not mention that part of my theory?”

“He did,” he said simply. “All the more reason to want to stick your head in the sand, though, don’t you think? It’s what anyone else would’ve done.”

She frowned, finally realizing what he was saying. “You Gothamites are so weird. I’d have thought a vigilante would at least understand..."

“Uh, rude?”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be, but… It’s just I think I figured out what you’re really asking me, and Aaron and Veronica asked me the same thing earlier, too, and it’s just…" She shook her head, finding it hard to wrap her brain around. "Y’all…” She huffed. “Y’all’re just so weird to me.”

Red Hood didn’t say anything.

“Sorry,” she said again, more genuinely. “But you’re asking me why I helped her, right? Even if it wasn’t… oh, how did Veronica say it?” She turned her head, trying to remember. “Wasn’t my problem, I think? Something like that…” She refocused on him. “Anyway, my answer to you is the same as it was for them: because it was the right thing to do.”

Red Hood made a short, unamused noise. “The right thing was pretending to be that girl? Putting yourself in danger?"

“The right thing was helping her,” she corrected. “And that scout had already taken my picture anyway, so…” She swiped between the pictures. “At least I stopped him from taking the real Veronica’s picture, too.”

“But now he’s got your picture.” He sat back and crossed his arms. “Which means his employer’s going to have your picture. If they don’t already.”

“Which they probably do, since he was using a cell phone," she pointed out.

He threw his hands in the air. “Exactly! And he could be some sick, psycho fuck!"

"Well—"

"This is Gotham, Ede," he went on, imploring her to listen. "Even if they know you're not Veronica, they'll know you tried to fuck with their plans for her, whatever they are. People get themselves killed for way less here. You know that, right?”

“No, I... I guess I hadn’t really…”

So that was why a lot of Gothamites didn’t go out of their way to help others! Of course! There was no guarantee offering their hand to one person wouldn't put a huge target on their back with another. And nobody in their right mind would want to risk gaining the attention of one of Gotham’s scarier characters. It all made perfect sense now. Gothamites kept their heads down and only focused on their own problems because they had to. If they didn't, they could very well be signing their life away. And when people asked her why she was helping others, they weren't really asking her that; they were asking her why she was so willing to put her own life in danger for someone else.

But Eden wasn't like them. No matter what happened or what anyone did to her, she would be fine. She was always fine. It didn’t mean she had to throw on a cape and go looking for trouble every day like Frank had wanted her to, but it also meant she didn’t have the same excuse as everyone else. If she could step in and help somebody, she should. She was one of the few in this town who probably could. And, most importantly, she wanted to.

“I still would’ve helped her,” she decided. “Even if someone scary thinks I’m her for a little while, or gets mad at me, at least Veronica is safe for now.”

Red Hood stared at her, unmoving. It wasn’t clear what he was thinking or feeling, but Eden could imagine he might not like what he was hearing. After all, as far as he knew, Eden was just a totally normal, would-die-and-stay-dead civilian.

“I mean, if they have any brain cells at all, they should realize pretty quickly “Veronica” doesn’t look like she should, right?” she said trying to reassure him. “And even if they don’t, all they have to do is follow me home once and they’ll realize they’ve got the wrong girl.” She pointed out the window. “Even a total rock-for-brains moron would start scratching their head if Veronica Bradford came to a neighborhood like this.”

He followed her finger, seeming to consider her words. “Maybe,” he acknowledged. “But they’d probably just say fuck it and stick around anyway. Especially if it was some goon following orders.”

Eden bobbed her head from side to side, agreeing with the possibility. “They’d still figure it out eventually, though. Veronica’s a socialite. And I’m definitely not. Eventually, she’d post a Snapstagram story or go somewhere fancy while I’m hanging about here and things wouldn’t add up. And if they were still convinced I’m Veronica after something like that, then I don’t think they’re smart enough to be considered much of a threat to anybody but themselves.”

“Everybody is a threat in this city,” he warned her. “And the last thing you want is some twisted mother fucker knowing where you live. Especially if they think you messed with them.”

“I’d rather someone like that know where I live and make my life difficult than let someone else get hurt or killed because I didn’t help them,” she said stubbornly.

Red Hood let out a gruff, half-groaning sound as he sat back to stare up at the ceiling. "Of course you would," he grumbled. He stayed like that for a minute, perhaps trying to gauge how serious she was. He sighed, apparently finding his answer. "I don't get you. You freak out when a stranger shows up to warn you inside, but the idea of some asshole coming here and actually trying to fuck with you? That doesn't scare you?"

"In my defense, this is the ninth floor and it was my private fire escape. I had every right to freak out when some big stranger with guns and a mean-faced helmet suddenly showed up out of nowhere."

He huffed.

"And I'm not completely helpless, Mr. Hood," she told him. "I have a little fighting know-how under my belt."

"Uh-huh, yeah, sure. And how's your neck, again?"

"My...?" She blinked at him, then remembered the healed cut and frowned. "Hey, I'll have you know I was doing very well for myself until I got stabbed!" she said pointing at him.

He looked up again, this time as if asking a higher power for help. “So if someone broke in here with a gun or another knife, you think you'd be able to fight them off?"

“I'd be fine."

"So you do think you could."

"Not really, no."

He stared at her. “Y'know... a little lie might be nice right about now.”

"I could 100% fight them off no problem, Mr. Hood."

He groaned, covering his eyes. "God, you are an awful liar."

Eden tried very hard to suppress her giggles. “If it makes you feel any better," she offered, "I wasn’t planning on it. Pretending to be Veronica, I mean."

Red Hood sighed, but he lowered his hand and gave her his attention anyway.

"Veronica’s not very… Well, let’s say she’s not the most observant person around. And I know my foresight’s not exactly great in the heat of the moment, and I might end up paying for it eventually, but… I couldn’t just... not do something when that scout noticed her, you know? She needed someone to help her and she didn't even know it. So I just… did.”

Red Hood let out a sharp laugh, which sounded sharper with the distortion. He looked away, subtly shaking his head. “So you just did,” he muttered to himself. He turned to her again. “Didn’t you agree not to do anything stupid before I came by again, Cookie Girl?” he teased.

Eden smiled apologetically, then turned coy. “I did try, Mr. Hood,” she said sweetly. “And I promise that that was the stupidest of the stupid things I did. Which I’m willing to bet is still a million times better than the craziest thing you’ve done since the last time I saw you.”

He put a hand on his chest. “Who me? Do something crazy? Never.”

“Uh-huh. You sure about that? Because I’m pretty sure I heard someone say something about a red vigilante being involved with that big explosion Friday night.”

“Nope. Wasn’t me. Must’ve been Red Robin. I’m completely innocent.”

Eden nodded along, not admitting she only knew of the other vigilante because she’d thought Red Robin was just another of Red Hood’s names until somebody corrected her.

“Oh, completely innocent, I’m sure,” she goaded. “And what was it that you were doing oh-so-innocently while the bridge was blowing sky high, Mr. Hood?”

“Hey, the bridge is still standing, isn’t it? He made sure there wouldn’t be any structural damage. Just a little mess of things. He knows what he’s doing with shit like that.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah. I sure hope he does. Especially if he also has a helmet full of explosives.”

“Not to worry, Ede," he assured her. "I’m the crazy Red.”

“Oh. Good. I feel so much better now. Thanks."

He laughed.

“Wait.” She pointed at him. “Do you both go by Red?”

“We do," he nodded, "but Double R’s usually Red if we’re using shorthand,” he said crossing his arms. “They call me Hood to keep it simple.”

“Oh, well, that’s not confusing at all. Though I suppose y’all can’t exactly call him Robin. That’d be even more confusing.”

Red Hood scoffed. “Demon Spawn would have an absolute fit if we did that.” He looked to the side. “Then again…” He rubbed his chin, seeming to consider it.

“Um,” Eden lifted a tentative finger to catch his attention. “I’m sorry, but this is Gotham City, so I’m gonna need you to clarify: do you mean, like… a real demon spawn or…?”

“I mean I think he is,” Red Hood joked, “but, no, not really. That’s just what I call Robin ‘cause he’s a little shit.”

She perked up. “You mean Robin like… Batman's Robin?” He nodded and Eden scoffed with certainty. “Well, he can’t be that bad, then.”

Red Hood let out a short, sharp laugh. Something about it a bit painful. “Are you an expert on Robins now, Ede?”

“Well… no,” she mumbled, a little embarrassed. “But if he’s a Robin then… I dunno. He can’t be all that bad.”

“Have you ever met the brat?”

Eden shook her head slowly, fighting the urge to scowl.

No, she hadn’t met the boy Red Hood was talking about… But she’d met one of his predecessors. And that Robin? He’d saved her life. Not just from a fight or another encore. She could handle those things on her own. Poorly, sure. But she could.

No, what he’d saved her from was a life full of fights and encores. And pain. Endless, endless cycles of pain.

Without him, who knows where she’d be today. Who she’d be. Certainly not the person she was. Not the civilian trying to make the best of an awful situation by following her theatrical dreams. If he hadn’t knocked some sense into her, she would probably be what Frank wanted her to be. A… A hero. A constantly struggling, hurting, dying, pitiful attempt of a superhero.

Robin saved her from that. From a life of wishing every day, every death, would be her last.

As far as she was concerned, she owed that boy every good goddamn thing in her life. So to hear Red Hood call her hero a brat or a demon spawn, even if it was a completely different boy, even if Red Hood obviously knew him a thousand times better than Eden knew the one she’d met… Well, it upset her. In her heart, “Robin” was still the boy from her childhood.

Though, even she could admit it was hard to remember him clearly after so many years. She could remember the way he’d spoken to her and how it had impacted her, but not most of what he’d actually said. She could remember him joking and laughing with her, but not the way it sounded. She could remember the way he’d smiled and offered his hand before lifting her up into the air, but the scene was fuzzy.

“Sorry,” Red Hood grumbled, rubbing the jawline of his helmet. “I guess you’re more of a Gothamite than we thought.”

“Huh?” She squinted at him, confused. “No, I’m not. What do you mean?”

“Well...” He leaned back, spreading out slightly. “People these days tend to be pretty protective of their Robins. Even when this one first started out and was swinging his sword everywhere—”

“This one’s got a sword?” she blurted out, shocked.

“Yeah, a katana. He hacked up a couple of goons pretty good with it, too. Which I thought was great,” he said gesturing to himself, “but B didn’t.”

“B? As in… Batman?” she whispered.

He snorted at her. “He’s not the boogeyman, Ede. He’s not gonna jump out of your closet if you say his name too loud." Despite saying this, he was clearly doing a quick survey of her apartment.

“Wow. I feel so reassured,” she droned. “Anyway, no, I should be the one apologizing. You clearly know this Robin well, so if you think he’s a—” her mouth twitched slightly “—a brat then... you… probably have your reasons for it. I suppose. And I should... respect that,” she half-snarled.

Red Hood clapped slowly. “Wow. What a beautiful performance, Edie. How’s it feel to be such a great actor?”

“Oh—” she reached over the table and shoved him “—shut it, you!”

He just laughed her off.

“You better start being nice to me, Hood," she said standing and moving toward the fridge.

“Or what?” he asked confidently.

She grinned at him. “Or you’re not getting any Mad Mountain Fudge,” she teased right back.

---

Feedback always loved and appreciated! 🥰💕🥰

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#jason todd #red hood #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x oc #red hood x reader #red hood fanfiction #jason todd fluff #red hood fluff #silly #fluff #Never-Ending Encore #chapter 8 #oc: Eden Smith #red hood x oc #cross posted on ao3

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aasfandoms · 3 years

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Hiya, I feel like I've asked this before but I'll ask again. I'd like a bit of writing advice if that's alright with you? Just, how do you write thousands of words without making your story feel like it has too much going on or without making it super purple and wordy? Your fics always strike such a lovely balance between long and not overly detailed. I just struggle to write 1000 words without accidently writing the entire plot in one chapter, even if I try padding it out a bit, it's still too short for my taste.

This is tough to answer because honestly most of it comes with practice, which isn't always fun but is necessary. I find that I can strike a decent balance by including descriptions of the scene or items/people in it (but don't OVER describe, or describe every little thing; you want to mainly give the general vibe/description, the reader's brain will fill in details), what the characters thinks about those things, and their physical or emotional reaction to anything that sticks out.

It also helps to just... add things. Add a tiny thing that happens here and there, doesn't have to be plot relevant, just a little thing that the characters notices then moves past, or a small detail that just expands your length a little. Or something a little bigger that better reveals the characters personality or thoughts.

Here are maybe some examples that might help (featuring BkDK A/B/O);

Instead of saying something like;

"He went to the club right after work and hurried inside. After paying the entrance fee he slipped through a crowd to get to the main stage, where he waited eagerly."

Try expanding and adding some little things;

"After work Katsuki rushed home to change into something nicer than his plain civilian clothes. He chose a plain black shirt with a purple button-up over it and black pants. There was an attempt to do something with his hair, but it did not work. Oh well. He brushed his teeth, hastily wrapped his gifts, and hurried out the door. Maybe, just maybe, he sped a little too.

It was 5:45 by the time he got to the club. He left the gifts in the car and hurried inside. “Has Zuzu danced yet?” He asked the lady behind the counter who took his cash and marked his hand.

“No, but he’s up next.”

“Thanks,” he scurried inside.

It was busier than two nights ago, but that made sense. It was Friday. Every pervert in the city was rushing to the strip clubs to spend their evening getting trashed and watching sexy dancers.

Technically, he was now part of that demographic, but he chose to ignore that fact.

The bar was busy but he didn’t give two shits about getting a drink or snack anyway. Instead, he pushed his way through the crowd to get to the main stage. A pretty female Omega was finishing up her dance, so he stood back until she was done. No sense taking up space that a paying customer could occupy. Wouldn't be fair to her at all. Once her song ended and she strutted off, he pushed forward and planted himself firmly against the stage.

His heart was racing. All he could think about was seeing Izuku again."

So we've added a detour to the house to change and get ready. We added a short conversation with the lady behind the counter. We've added his thoughts/observations about the club. We added a dancing lady that created more realism and lengthened our word count.

Additionally, by mentioning the counter lady and dancing lady, we've reminded the reader that there are other people in this world that effect it (instead of hyper-focusing on our two main characters) and we've shown how our character reacted to them and thereby gave him a little more depth.

We can tell he's eager and worried about being late by the convo with the counter lady. He was polite to wait and allow the dancing lady to make more tips instead of being rude and taking a spot from someone else, showing that even though he'd very focused/eager right now he still considers others and reacts to them, rather than ignoring them.

We also didn't over-describe the club. We know it's busy, we know there's a bar, we know there's a stage. Granted, this particular bar was described a little more in a previous chapter, but the general vibe was the same; we don't need details or the layout, just the important bits.

Here is an example of showing emotion through actions, not words;

Rather than saying;

"He finally received a text back. He stopped punching the bag to check his phone. He was eager to see what it said."

Let's do this;

"The text went unanswered for a few hours. Katsuki nearly forgot about it, so lost in showing this free-standing bag who was boss. He punched it hard enough to knock it over, then used his foot to force it back up. Just as he went for another swing he heard his phone chime. He nearly tripped over his own feet hurrying over to it."

It's a little longer, has a bit more character, has a bit of humor, and we've displayed that he's so excited to receive that text that he nearly fell over to see it. I like to include small, almost silly details like that because it feels human and it tells us what kind of emotions that person is feeling without actually just stating the emotion.

Another thing I like to do is bleed the real world or certain actions with characters thoughts. Here's an example;

"Hideki was standing outside, but his attention was on the dancer. Katsuki probably could have slipped right in past him, but he opted to just lean against the wall nearby and wait. His erection had, thankfully, disappeared, and these few moments alone allowed him to ground himself a little more. Stop exuding horny pheromones, exude some neutral or pleasant ones instead, straighten his clothes, check his hair, make sure he didn’t actually have any droll on his face, look presentable goddamnit."

Katsuki is taking a moment to gather himself and make sure he looks okay and we can tell he's nervous about it by the last 3 words, in which his inner dialogue has bled into what was real-world description.

We can combine these two things as well! Example:

"His schedule was next. It was the same as usual. Patrol started at eight. Lunch from noon to one. Patrol done by five. Same shit different day-

His phone chimed and he nearly dropped his coffee in the scramble to get it out of his pocket.

“The heck? You okay?” Eijiro asked.

“Shut up,” came the venomless bite. A text. From Izuku. Exactly what he’d been hoping for. His heart hammered in his chest."

His inner thoughts were cut-off my real world events and he reacted in a mild panic. By using very short sentences we can also show that his thoughts are racing and he's anxious to see what the text says.

When it comes to writing there are a lot of little tricks you can use to both lengthen your work and make it more fun to read. These are the ones I use most. Hopefully, it was helpful, or at least readable. I'm always happy to expand on something too or offer critiques!

Don't beat yourself up about not being as good as you want to be right now either. Like I said, it takes practice. My writing style now is very different from ten years ago and significantly better, but I've written and LOT of fics since then, read a lot of fics since then, and taken in writing advice I've gotten from others. It takes time to improve but that's no reason to stress! Have fun with your writing, you created it from nothing!

#a lot of little advice adds up #i hope this helps you out #let me know if you want more details or clarification!

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sandersstudies · 5 years

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Quirky - Chapter 5

A High School Superhero AU - Sanders Sides

(Will add tag list in a reblog! If I miss you, please let me know ASAP - As always, asks, comments, messages, reblogs, and keysmashes are more than welcome.)

-> Chapter Six

<- Chapter Four

<<- Chapter One

You can now also find the fic with the same username and title on AO3 :)

Virgil kicked a stone in front of him as the class walked toward the bus. Next to him, Logan was going on about the history of U.S.J., their destination for Hero Studies class. Virgil wasn’t a fan of field trips. He almost envied Terrence, who had stayed home sick from school.

“Pick up the pace, gang,” Mr. Picani said. “Last I checked, none of you had lead feet as a quirk.” There had been no updates on Mr. Sanders, but Virgil and many of the other students had been watching the news religiously. All that had been released to the public was that Mr. Sanders had encountered an unnamed retired pro hero at the site of a recent vandalism, attacked him using his quirk, and fled the scene. Police officers had pursued, but initially lost the trail until Mr. Sanders was arrested in the early hours of the morning in his apartment. The date of his trial had not yet been announced.

“Am I boring you?” Logan asked, stopping mid-sentence.

“Oh, no, no,” Virgil said, spasmodically grabbing Logan’s wrist and then dropping it immediately. “Sorry, guess I’m a little caught up in my own head. What were you saying?”

“U.S.J. is a fascinating location, that is all,” Logan said. Mr. Picani checked their names off his list as they got on board the bus. “Think: a single building containing several ecosystems and terrains to prepare heroes for work in any field at all! Especially useful for disaster intervention, search-and-rescue...but I won’t go on.” He took one of the few remaining open seats, and Virgil sat beside him, on the aisle side. “What were you thinking about?”

“Mr. Sanders again,” Virgil said, lowering his voice and leaning toward Logan. He felt exposed sitting near the aisle. “Do you really think he attacked another hero?”

“Rumor has it the other hero was the Flying Falcon,” Logan said in an even lower voice. “But I don’t like spreading inconclusive evidence.”

“The Flying-” Logan shushed him. “The Flying Falcon?” Virgil whispered. “Roman’s dad?”

“Inconclusive evidence.”

Virgil craned over the back of his seat as the bus started. Roman was several seats back reading a comic book, the seat next to him empty.

His posse not hanging out with him anymore? Roman had seemed a little quieter than usual yesterday. Then again, everyone had. Roman was dwelling an awfully long time on his page. He’s no genius, Virgil thought, But I’m pretty sure he can read. Roman’s eyes did look a little glazed over, come to think of it—

Logan pulled gently on Virgil’s sleeve, and Virgil came back to himself as he slid back into the seat.

“It’s rude to stare,” Logan said. Virgil felt his neck flush hot as he bounced his leg. Logan must think he was a real ass. He stared down at his hands, and then toward the front window of the bus, watching for U.S.J. to appear on the horizon. Another disadvantage of sitting on the aisle side of the seat was limited window access.

“There it is,” Rafaela said a few minutes later, pointing. Students craned their necks to get a first glance at the dome.

“Please stay in your seats,” Mr. Picani said from the front of the bus. Students sulked back down.

U.S.J. didn’t look like much to Virgil. He’d gone on vacation once with his mom and visited the Omaha zoo, and the huge glass building reminded him of the desert dome that housed things like Fennec foxes and meerkats. He had a vague idea that once he entered U.S.J. he would be pounced on by a bobcat.

“The hero Glass runs the U.S.J.,” Kai whispered to Kenny from behind Virgil. “They’re so cool.”

Virgil vaguely recalled seeing Glass on television before. The hero could turn things they touched into glass, and also transform into a glass figure which, when damaged, could regenerate almost instantly. That cheesy action figure, Virgil remembered. The little clear plastic arm that shot off and could “regrow with the power of their Quirk!” (that is, be replaced and reused). How many millions did heroes make off of dumb things like that?

Kai was bouncing up and down, grasping the back of Virgil’s seat and shaking it back and forth as the bus pulled up to the building. Virgil winced. He’d noticed that when Kai was overexcited, his quirk goo could leak from his nose and ears.

“Let’s go!” Kai said.

“Just a minute,” Mr. Picani said. “Your names must be checked off the list as you get off the bus, so don’t rush, now.”

“You checked us on off when we got on!” Kai whined, draping himself over his seat. Roman was instructed to check off names so Mr. Picani could lead the students into the building, and the students started to file into the aisle. Virgil wondered for a moment if Roman would be petty enough to leave Virgil’s name unchecked, but the class president’s face was serious as the other students got off the bus.

“Are you thinking again?” Logan asked, alighting just behind Virgil.

“A little,” Virgil admitted. At least Logan wasn’t embarrassed by Virgil’s awkward staring anymore.

“I do find the construction of U.S.J. compelling,” Logan said again. “The ecosystems…” He was staring at the building with barely-contained delight. “I’ve read about their systems of environment regulation for the six main zones. It’s fascinating. Do let me know if I go on about them too long.”

Virgil felt his lips contort irresistibly into a smile. Logan sure was a nerd, but it was kind of funny how excited he got. “You’re fine.”

Logan continued, rejuvenated by Virgil’s consent. “The main zones are the Ruins, the Landslide, the Mountain, the Flood, the Downpour, and the Conflagration zones. As their names suggest, each is related to a different environmental factor.”

Logan sounded almost like he was reciting from a book. His quirk isn’t a photographic memory, Virgil thought. In fact, Logan was liable to forget things that didn’t interest him. But it might as well be when it comes to this stuff.

“The Conflagration Zone is perhaps most impressive,” Logan went on. “Designed to simulate a city on fire, a blaze is kept constant within the zone, maintained by the environmental factors which prevent it from spreading into the other zones. It’s actually a very delicate balance, the design took years to perfect.” He spoke as proudly as if he’d designed it himself. The class began to move toward the entrance of the building where there was a large sign with U.S.J. emblazoned above it in gold letters.

“Glass is the official caretaker and one of the head designers, along with Multi-Man himself.” Logan’s arms moved emphatically. “Glass’ quirk is quite astonishing. I would be very interested in seeing it in person. Of course, they are also a faculty member. Perhaps they would prefer to be referred to by their civilian name.”

Other students were also commenting on the structure and its caretaker, but none in such technical terms as Logan, who had paused to take a breath after a particularly long paragraph.

“We’re going to process into the front entrance,” Mr. Picani said. “We’ll stop there and you’ll be directed into the next location.”

The students jostled a bit, and Virgil shrunk into his oversized hoodie. Logan, on the other hand, seemed to have grown two inches taller since they’d left the main campus. He was scanning each part of the building as they went through the front double doors, and Virgil imagined once again that he could hear Logan’s synapses firing.

The class oohed and ahhed as they entered the building. The raised platform they entered onto let them see across the entire space, which was more massive than a stadium. From their height, it reminded Virgil of an arena. In front of them was a blue arch leading to the stairs that descended into the rest of the building, which had a dirt floor. Smaller domes encased two of the environmental zones, but a real miniature mountain rose to the ceiling on their right, with a landslide arching down to its base where rested a mock town, small but with everything to real scale. It was so realistic Virgil expected to see people peering out of the windows to watch their arrival. At the edge of the town was a series of collapsed buildings which came almost up to the edge of the raised platform, and across from those was a lake to the students’ right; Virgil had anticipated a pool, a simulated lake, but the body of water had grass and even small trees at the edge, growing happily inside the pavilion with a healthy diet of lake water and sunshine.

The building seemed all sunshine, in fact. Even the mountain was contained inside the massive glass ceiling, and on this sunny day no artificial lights were needed. A few metal beams around the edge were the only reminder that they were not really outside.

Forgetting Mr. Picani’s instructions in their excitement, a couple students began to rush for the stairs that led down into the zones, but stopped suddenly, as if prevented by an invisible barrier.

“Woah there,” said a new voice. In their astonishment at seeing the building, none of the students had noticed the figure standing before him. The person had outstretched their hands to stop Kai with one arm and Rafaela with the other. They were not invisible, but clear through their entire body, and it was only as they began to return to their ordinary form that Virgil could make them out.

They wore ordinary black clothing that looked casual and modern. In place of the mask that usually covered the whole round face was a smile under dark eyes and hair. Virgil realized that the action figure had exaggerated the hero’s age: Glass could not be much older than some of the UA upperclassmen. A few students muttered the name in awe and surprise.

“Here, I’d ask that you refer to me as Mx. Stokes,” Glass said. “Glass is for field work and going on Ellen and things like that.”

Kai was staring up at Mx. Stokes in astonishment, mouth slightly agape. Mr. Picani walked up to the other hero.

“Mx. Stokes is going to begin by giving you all a bit of a tour, and then you’ll be prepared when you start using this place for rescue training,” he said

“That’s right,” Mx. Stokes agreed. “Do any of you know how many zones are in U.S.J.?”

Logan’s hand shot up so fast he almost smacked Virgil in the face.

“Yes?” Mx. Stokes said. “And your name is?”

Logan had begun after the teacher’s first word, so the response went something like “U.S.J-contains-eight-zones-six-of-which—Logan—six-of-which-contain-specific-environmental-factors.”

“Thank you, Logan,” Mx. Stokes said. “That’s correct. All of you are actually standing in the first zone now. The entrance is itself one of the zones, and if you’ll look down those steps you can see into the central plaza, which connects the entrance to the six environmental zones.”

Virgil stared past the other students down the massive flights of steps, lined with guardrails and wide enough that the whole class could have walked down side-by-side. At the base of the steps was the plaza, in the center of which was a circular green space. Virgil hadn’t noticed it at first; it had been dwarfed in size by the other zones. It was little more than a fountain surrounded by plants, a typical park centerpiece. It looked out of place only because it was framed by fallen buildings, a mountain, and a lake.

“Let’s start walking toward the plaza,” Mx. Stokes said, turning for the stairs. The students began to follow, Kai leading the way. Virgil grumbled at the thought of having to go back up the stairs again before they left. He envied Patton, who Mr. Picani was directing to a small elevator — too small for the whole class, but Virgil could dream.

“Now, when lots of people think of hero work,” Mx. Stokes went on. “They think first of TV stuff like punching people and blowing stuff up, right?” A few students muttered agreement. “Right! But the most important part of being a hero isn’t that stuff. Even more important than knocking the shit out of villains—”

“Glass,” Mr. Picani warned from the top of the steps.

“Knocking the stuffing out of villains is caring for the people we serve, and that often means search-and-rescue operations. Plenty of heroes are known for this kind of work.”

There was a beat of glances among the students. Rescue was Multi-Man’s speciality.

If he wasn’t in jail, would he be giving us this speech? Virgil wondered.

“Now,” Mx. Stokes said, breaking the moment. “If the entrance is noon, we’re going to move around the zones clockwise. Does anybody know what the zone immediately to our left is called?” The students were halfway down the stairs, and the collapsed buildings began to loom to one side.

Logan’s hand shot up in the air again, but Mx. Stokes glanced over the students and called on Kai’s much shorter raised arm instead.

“The Ruined Zone,” Kai said.

“Ruins Zone,” Logan corrected in a whisper.

“Right, the Ruins Zone,” Mx. Stokes said. “Or the Collapse Zone. It probably looks a lot like the place where you guys had your heroes vs. villains exercise, and where you took your entrance exam.”

Virgil shuddered at the memory.

“However, the Ruins Zone is meant to simulate an urban environment in the middle of a disaster like an earthquake or tornado, and some of the buildings are not very stable.” They’d finally reached the base of the stairs and had landed almost among the buildings where Patton, just coming off the elevator, was waiting for them. Virgil was startled by the level of detail in the fallen city. Real road signs lay bent at the side of cracked roads. He could see inside individual broken windows and into the rooms inside. He could imagine himself, perched on top of a building in his mask. He could swoop inside the windows and rescue...who was inside the building? He imagined a crouched figure inside. Perhaps it was—

He cut off his daydream halfway. Unrealistic.

“Could...could one of the buildings collapse now?” Kai asked nervously.

“Nope,” Mx. Stokes said, hands on their hips. “The entire building is currently in safety mode. Nothing can hurt you right now so long as nobody goes messing around. But some of the beams and stones are very unstable and are liable to collapse if tampered with, so it’s not a good place to experiment if you don’t know it very well. Anybody know the name of this next zone?”

Since they’d reached the bottom of the stairs, Logan had edged closer to the front of the class and was directly in Mx. Stokes line of sight when he raised his hand.

“Logan.”

“The Landslide Zone,” Logan enunciated.

“That’s right,” Mx. Stokes said, turning around to lead then away from the buildings and toward the small town, surrounded by forest and half-buried under the edge of the mountain with mud and rocks. “I think the name is pretty self-explanatory.”

Virgil was astonished with how long it took to walk first to the Landslide Zone and then all the way to the Mountain Zone, around five or six o’clock on Mx. Stokes’ imaginary map. Surely the building didn’t look this big from the outside? If he kept his gaze focused on the mountain, he found he could almost forget he was inside a building.

“Quite a lot of cliffs there,” Mx. Stokes declared after ignoring Logan’s hand to allow Remy to say “Mountain Zone.”

“Here’s a question,” Mr. Picani said, coming to stand beside Mx. Stokes. “I want each of you to think about your quirk strengths and weaknesses for a moment, and when we get back to the entrance, I’d like to hear which zones you feel work to your advantage and which would be most difficult for you.”

“Does this count as homework?” Remy asked.

Mr. Picani pointed a joking finger at the students. “Be lucky this is Hero Studies and not Literature or I’d have you write an essay on it.” A few students chuckled good-naturedly.

“We’ll take a quick break here,” Mx. Stokes said. “You guys can think about that question and take a quick look around the base of the mountain. No climbing though, okay?”

Some of the students practically sprinted toward the rocks, while Virgil and several others fell gratefully into splayed sitting positions.

“I am going to investigate the rock face, would you like to come?” Logan asked, leaning over Virgil.

“No thanks,” Virgil said. “Think I’m just gonna chill out here.”

“Understood.” Logan sped-walked away, paused to examine a root, and vanished behind a small clump of trees at the base of the mountain.

It is cool, having all this stuff indoors, Virgil admitted to himself. But he was no geology student. He flopped onto his back. The ground felt like real dirt, and he stared through the ceiling’s metal beams to see the clouds drifting lazily overhead. He hadn’t slept well after the news about Mr. Sanders. It was silly but—

He was distracted from his thoughts as Mx. Stokes leaned in to say something to Mr. Picani, too quietly for Virgil to hear except as a mutter. The glass hero touched the other teacher on the arm, and the two took several steps away from the class, though Mr. Picani’s gaze still scanned the students, most of whom had run some distance away or were now chatting amongst themselves. Kai had made a bouncy ball using his goo quirk and he and Kenny were tossing it back and forth, occasionally sprinting after it when it managed to slip through their fingers.

What was Glass saying to Picani? Half-closing his eyes, Virgil rolled onto his side as casually as possible to see the pair better. With the arrest of Mr. Sanders, maybe it was better not to trust anyone, not even the other UA teachers.

From Virgil’s distance, Mx. Stokes’ furrowed brows looked almost sympathetic as he spoke. Picani shooed the younger teacher away after a moment, and Mx. Stokes took a respectful step back.

Something’s going on between those two, Virgil thought. He glanced around to see if any of the other students were watching, but the only one nearby was Patton who was—

Looking at him.

Virgil quickly rolled over and went back to half-closing his eyes. He probably didn’t see that, he tried to convince himself. It didn’t work. He really didn’t like Patton’s eyes. If Virgil had had the courage, he would have watched to see if Patton ever actually blinked, or if his eyes were always staring just a bit. He didn’t look back for several minutes, and was nearly drifting into a nap when Mx. Stokes’ voice broke out again.

“Okay, everybody come back!” Mx. Stokes called. “Roman, you’re class rep, aren’t you? Run around toward the mountain and make sure we’ve got everybody back.”

Virgil pushed himself back into a standing position and dusted himself up without checking to see whether Patton was looking at him.

“Enjoyed your rest?” Logan asked as he approached.

“Enjoyed your investigating?” Virgil responded.

“Thoroughly. They’ve used an ingenious mix of sedimentary rock and artificial materials to create an accurate imitation of a genuine landmass. The trees are growing via an irrigation system routed from the lake under the tile.”

“Who knows the name of the next zone?” Mx. Stokes asked. Logan’s delight at the discovery of sediment and irrigations had distracted him long enough that he had not raised his hand by the time the question was answered.

“The Conflagration or Fire Zone.”

“That’s right, Roman,” Mx. Stokes said. “Let’s start moving that way. And before any of you freak out—” The teacher raised their hands defensively. “The safety settings make the location totally secure.”

A few students scoffed, but Virgil stifled a grateful sigh. The Conflagration Zone, situated near seven o’clock, was the first of the zones covered completely in a dome, this one red instead of clear, with drawn-on flames rising along the sides. Ordinarily, Virgil would have thought of it as a large building, but dwarfed by the entire U.S.J. it was much less impressive. Virgil could almost feel Logan shaking with excitement next to him.

“How does the Conflagration Zone work?” Virgil said, deadpan.

“Very interesting that you would ask!” Logan almost burst out. “Actually, the fire in the space is maintained via a chemical balance, not by burning materials, which regulates it while simulating real fire. Many of the materials inside are actually functionally fireproof. A ventilation system maintains a regulated amount of smoke, and—”

“So,” Mx. Stokes began from the front of the group. Logan trailed off his lecture to listen. “We’re about to go inside the dome now. We are going to stop right inside the entrance, where there won’t be any fire, so don’t break off from the group or run around.”

The doors looked as if they might lead into an ordinary pavillion or museum, but Virgil shivered (ironically, he thought) at the prospect of going inside. He pulled his hood over his head.

“The Conflagration Zone is an environmentally controlled space—” The teacher’s voice changed as he crossed the threshold of the dome, and Virgil was pushed along as the students followed. It was a good thing Logan had already told him about the zone, because he couldn’t hear Mx. Stokes talking over the roaring in his ears.

Like the Ruins Zone, the space contained rubble and several collapsed structures, all engulfed in fire. Standing just inside the door was like facing a raging campfire, and Virgil flushed in the heat. There was no lighting inside the dome besides the flames, so the entire place was illuminated in red and orange. A few mock streets between buildings were the only places away from the entrance that seemed to be totally clear of fire. The class’ brief stay inside was mostly a blur for Virgil, and he breathed deeply when they turned and proceeded back outside. Outside, Virgil realized, was how he thought of the inside of U.S.J., despite the domed ceiling above them.

“Everybody really likes this next spot,” Mx. Stokes said. “Who knows what it’s called?”

“Flood Zone,” a few students said at once.

“Right, sometimes called the Shipwreck Zone,” Mx. Stokes went on. “Nice relief after that heat, huh?”

The students muttered agreement. Near nine o’clock arched the clear blue water of the artificial lake, a large yacht bobbing like a massive buoy two hundred yards from the shore. Behind the lake rose up a small mountain on which perched wooden scaffolding to support a amusement-park-style waterslide, funneling water into the lake. The main slide twisted around several times, reaching the height of an office building, and was wide enough that the entire yacht could have slid inside it. An offshoot from the slide did not come to rest in the water, but jutted out over the zone, spewing water to form a waterfall.

“Looks fun, right?” Mx. Stokes said. “You can’t see from here, but rock formations stab out of the belly of the slide, and the way down is pretty dangerous. The slide and boat are fully functional, though. You guys can check them out when you come back for your first session of rescue training.”

They’d reached the edge of the water, and Mx. Stokes bent down on the mossy shore to reach into the water and cup it in their hand.

“Lightly chlorinated,” they said. “To keep out bacteria and the like. You can even—” and they slurped the water from their hand like they were taking a shot. “Though I don’t necessarily recommend it. Go ahead and touch if you like.”

Several of the students plunged their hands into the water. Kai slipped off his sandles and dipped in his toes. Virgil slid down to sitting and felt the wet ground sink slightly under his weight. When he stuck his fingers into the lake, he could still see them clearly, if slightly distorted in shape and blued in color.

Logan plopped down next to Virgil and plunged his arm in all the way up to his shirt sleeve. When he pulled his hand back out, he’d grasped a fistful of soil from the edge of the water.

“Incredible,” he said, rubbing the grains of sandy dirt between his fingers. “They’ve actually incorporated the lake directly into the ground of the location. The irrigation of the water must be highly advanced.” When he sat back up, the front of his shirt was blurred with mud, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“The lake is connected directly to our next zone,” Mx. Stokes said, gesturing to the dome near ten o’clock. “The Downpour Zone’s ceiling and floor are routed with pipes to and from the lake to create the constant rain without wasting water. Now, I can see you’re all enjoying the lake, but I’m not sure you all would like to walk into the eye of a storm.”

Virgil suspected Logan would enjoy that very much, if it meant a chance to learn about irrigation or whatever it was.

“So, we’re going to walk along the dome and take a look through the doors, and we won’t be getting soaked,” Mx. Stokes said, beginning to walk around the edge of the lake toward the second dome at a brisk trot. Some of the students took an extra moment to get up from the shore, and Kai skipped several steps as he tried to put on his left sandal. Mr. Picani brought up the rear.

“You guys still with me?” Mx. Stokes called over their shoulder smilingly. “We’re almost done, I promise.”

As they approached the final dome, there was a faint sound of thunder from within, muffled by the walls, and Virgil had an image of the Downpour Zone as a snowglobe on Mx. Stokes’ mantlepiece. The dome was indigo and dappled with large painted clouds of blue and purple, intersected with large beams. When the teacher swung the double doors in to let the students peer inside, Virgil remained suspended near the back of the group. He’d seen storms before, and he only had to wait through a few minutes of oohs and ahhs before it was the time he’d been dreading: time to ascend back up all those massive stairs to the exit. Do you want to be a hero or not? he asked himself in an attempt at motivation.

Not that badly, he responded.

The entire group sans Patton and Mr. Picani, who had returned in the elevator, slugged up the stairs. The only students still apparently full of energy were Kai and Logan, who had sparked a conversation in their mutual admiration of the space and were now gibbering away to one another excitedly.

Too discouraged by the stairs to keep up, Virgil walked a few steps behind. It looked like Logan had found a new, more willing set of ears, even if those ears sometimes leaked goo. Virgil found he wasn’t relieved to be rid of Logan’s lecturing, and managed to catch a few snippets of their conversation.

“The production of the building was a direct result of…that’s why I find it so interesting....me too!”

Kai was several inches shorter than Logan, and did pant for breath about halfway up the stairs. Virgil slowed even further, but still caught up to the pair.

“Hello, Virgil,” Logan said. He was smiling. “Kai also knows a lot regarding the history of U.S.J.”

“I’m a big Glass fan,” Kai said, pausing to catch his breath. “I figured.” Virgil hadn’t meant to sound so cold, but Kai’s nose was leaking goo again. The shorter boy sniffed and then suddenly tensed. “Oh no, don’t—” Virgil didn’t get a chance to finish before Kai let out a massive sneeze, splattering Virgil with flecks of goo like smashed Jell-O.

“Oh, gross!” he said instinctively, shoving Kai away from him. Whether the other student was already thrown off balance or whether he’d pushed harder than he meant to Virgil was never quite sure, but Kai tumbled back and would have fallen onto his butt if Logan had not been directly behind him. Too surprised to catch Kai, Logan fell back against the railing of the stairs with an “oof,” Kai essentially in his lap. His glasses went flying.

Kai exclaimed and threw out one hand as if to catch the glasses, and they were enveloped suddenly by goo shot from his fingers before they flew past the safety rail and over the edge of the tall, tall staircase.

Kai almost screamed. “I’m really sorry!” he said, covering the noise of Virgil swearing.

Virgil leaned down to drag Kai to his feet — he was very light — and take Logan by the hand.

“I think my glasses…” Logan muttered.

“They went over the edge,” Virgil said. “Gosh, I’m so so sorry, will you need new ones? Can you see okay? Should I—”

“Oh, they’re not broken!” Kai insisted.

“What?” Logan got back to his feet.

“They’re not broken,” Kai said. “My goo is a shock absorber, they’ll be protected.”

“Everything okay back there?” Mx. Stokes had been leading the group, but paused when Kai shouted, and had now turned around to approach them. Mr. Picani appeared at the top of the steps after exiting the elevator with Patton and was also peering down to see why the group had paused.

“We’re so sorry, Mx. Stokes,” Virgil stuttered. “It was my fault. Logan’s glasses fell over the side of the stairs.”

“Well, that’s not good,” Mx. Stokes said after a beat. They leaned over the guardrail to peer into the Ruins Zone below. “Can’t see much from here, huh? Well, why don’t you — and what’s your name, kid?” They planted their left hand on Virgil’s shoulder.

“Virgil.”

“Okay, Virgil, I don’t think Logan here will be much help to you down there.”

Logan had, in fact, lost his depth perception and was experimentally walking up and down the nearest three steps with only minimal success.

“You...you want me to go down there?” Virgil asked. He was unsure how to put confused emphasis on every word in a sentence at once.

Mx. Stokes tapped their thumb against their lip. “Here, Virgil, why don’t you take your class rep, he’s a popular guy, right? His light quirk will be a big help down there.” Virgil had no time to protest before Mx. Stokes was waving. “Hey, Roman! Hop down here a minute!”

Roman was near the front of the group but trooped down the steps at the sound of his name. Mx. Stokes slapped their right hand onto his shoulder so they stood in a T-pose connecting the boys (albeit a crooked T, because Roman was taller than Virgil).

“You’re gonna take a jaunt with Virgil here to recover Logan’s glasses,” Mx. Stokes said. “Think of it like a real hero mission, boys.”

Roman looked unimpressed.

“Now,” Mx. Stokes went on. “Safety settings are still on in all zones, so there’s nothing dangerous down there so long as neither of you messes with anything. Just go ahead and run down there and right back up and we’ll hold the bus for you.” They lightly smacked both the boys’ shoulders and jogged away, gesturing for the rest of the class to follow.

“I really appreciate it, Virgil,” Logan said, touching Virgil’s arm lightly before walking away and leaving Virgil facing Roman on the middle of the stair.

The two stared at one another for a second before Roman huffed and started off down the steps. “Well, are we going or not?”

Virgil bit his tongue. He supposed putting up with Roman was enough of a punishment for sending Logan’s glasses spiraling into a collapsed city, and began to follow the other boy down, loath to think that he’d have to climb the stairs all over again.

When Virgil reached the base of the steps, Roman had wandered a few steps into the city and was staring around the ground, occasionally swearing under his breath.

“Thought you and Specs were buddies or something,” he said, peering under some fallen beams. “What’d you knock his glasses off for?”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Virgil snapped.

“Geez, chill out,” Roman said, straightening up. “Just a question. Where did the damn things go, anyhow?”

“They fell over there,” Virgil said, pointing deeper into the ruins. There were a number of beams arching above the walk and though a strong sunlight was coming through the ceiling, it was difficult to see underneath them. “Why don’t you just use your quirk?”

“I don’t need to use it for everything!” Roman said a little too loudly.

“Geez, just a question,” Virgil said, imitating Roman and sticking out his tongue. “What, jealous since you’re basically quirkless anyway?”

“Hey, fuck off!” Virgil said, bristling. “I didn’t drag you down here or anything.”

“You said it was your fault the stupid things fell.” Roman took a few steps toward Virgil, his hands balled into fists.

“Yeah, but it’s not my fault that you’re acting like a massive ass,” Virgil snarled.

“Oh, fuck off, I’ll get the stupid things myself.” Roman whirled around. He stalked away, shaking slightly at the shoulders. Just as he was about to round the corner of one of the collapsed buildings, he took a furious swing at a low hanging beam, the impact of which created a hollow groaning sound. Roman kept walking.

Virgil was about to follow him when suddenly the groaning grew instead of faded, and the beam shuddered and collapsed directly over Roman’s head.

#studywritesstuff #sanders sides #fanfiction #fanfic #fic

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steve0discusses · 4 years

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Yugioh S4 Ep6: Gozaburo Kaiba Just Casually Started WWIII And Only This One Guy Cares

Welcome to November, where we celebrate writing a 50,000 word book as if I don’t do that every single time I write about an episode of Yugioh. Hello, this is my season. It’s wordy season. I’m so freakin good at doing this. I can’t say most of what I’ve made is any good, but I CAN say at least I’m prolific. Do enough content to fill that bitter pit and walk right over it, that’s been my motto for the past 5 years.

Anyway, I had an awful flu this past week. (Everyone I live with had it so every bathroom was like ground zero) It was SO bad. I still can’t eat spicy food over a week later (Which is so hard for me because usually I can keep up with my Indian friends, that’s my spicy level--max spicy, please--but since this illness, my white taste genes went into overdrive and I tried putting pepperoncini slices in my sandwich and it set my mouth on fire. Pepperoncini. It’s v embarrassing.)

I did attempt to write this post. Unfortunately I never made it past this cap because I got VERY distracted by the emblem on Alister’s face, and how it isn’t proportionally adjusted to match the angle of his face, and it was like three paragraphs of just wanting to talk about it. And then at some point I got very distracted talking about how many empty glasses I was given at my place setting at this baby shower I went to during the flu epidemic, and it mattered a whole lot to me at the time, but I think, overall, was mostly just some sort of nonsense. The things I’ve spared you.

(bro has just informed me that the 4 gold-lipped crystal goblets I was given at this baby shower was actually very distressing and a very big deal and that I should absolutely talk to at least someone about it, but maybe he’s just saying that to make me feel better, but I have no idea. I am too sick for sarcasm at this time but my god why was I given so many glasses????)

I straight up have no memory of if I’ve made this joke before. Maybe.

(read more under the cut)

Since it feels like 8 years since the last time I could just eat chicken without feeling like I consumed an entire Thanksgiving meal, a little recap:

-Alister pretended he was Pegasus to lure Kaiba and then, off screen, murdered everyone in Pegasus’ castle

-Pegasus got murdered by I’m pretty sure Mai (which is like...OK then...)

-Yugi and Co went on vacation by driving directly through San Francisco and peeking out the window and saying “yeah that’s enough for me”

-No adults, not even Roland, bothered to come with their kids this time, so the only adult of the entire crew--Pegasus--is dead

-Rex and Weevil are luggage

-The Eye of Sauron showed up and it was the end of the world but Yugi threw a dragon at it so I guess everything is OK now

-Monsters are real but they are hard to animate so we’ll just pretend like they’re causing havoc everywhere although most of the planet seems basically unaffected by this.

-The Grim Reaper is a friendly monster that hangs out in a Japanese park and that feels fairly on brand.

And I think that was all that was happening so far.

In a weird twist of fate, Mokuba is the only one in this room that isn’t trapped which sort of...if you’re the only one NOT kidnapped wouldn’t that also be a type of being kidnapped?

And we finally get to figure out why Alister wants to Murder Kaiba so bad and, spoiler, it reaches.

???

I’m gonna get more to the obvious problems with Alister’s devotion to murdering all the Kaibas in a bit but yes, Alister is in fact going to try and Kill Kaiba on this kid’s show because of Kaiba’s Dad, who is such a horrible and abusive person that Kaiba essentially drove the bastard out of Japan and straight to the bottom of the ocean.

Just kinda feels like Alister has been living under a rock...which, I guess he has been. He has been living in some weird Atlantis structure so I guess he never got the memo that Gozaburo Kaiba is hella dead.

So that’s what they’re up to. How’s Sausalito?

Um.

Huh.

So the North Bay is a really classic scenery. It’s rolling hills. It’s NAPA. It’s like...definitely not Arizona. California has a couple of mesas but they’re no where near here and the Monument Valley style Mesas really only exist in Monument Valley.

And I know it’s because the background artist for Yugioh is all horny for horny rock structures but like...this couldn’t be farther from the Bay Area in the way that it is drawn and it is such a shock after all the work they did last episode to research that Bay Area lore. Once they crossed the Golden Gate they were like “well no one will care about this part” which is true not only of Yugioh but also of real life Californian politics.

Anyway, I have been making a map, but unfortunately my original file will not suffice. time to fix it.

There we go. Now they’re in the right place. Just smack dab in Monument Valley, Arizona, smack dab in the middle of the Navajo Nation and so hypothetically, not even in the United States anymore.

While in the car, Yugi has just been anxious as hell the entire time, and just going “y’all I have a bad feeling I’m uncomfortable I have a bad feeling” while Joey and Tea just patiently stared at him flipping out in the corner. So...kinda like a normal trip with someone who has high anxiety/possessed by a ghost. I kinda feel like this is every girls trip to Disneyland for me. There’s always one Yugi who’s like “no one said anything about CROWDS.” and you kinda just gotta let them do their thing. Just let them get it out of their system and hide in the bathroom when they need to hide in the bathroom and don’t fight it, they’ll be fine. Just hold their spot in line when they desperately look for a secret place to medicinally vape because there’s too many freakin children at Disneyland.

And it is HILARIOUS that Yugi is able to have this type of premonition but cannot figure out that they have somehow missed San Fransisco and have wandered into a DESERT.

Back in Pegasus’ California (an island that legitimately looks more like California than actual Yugioh California) Alister has decided to go completely off the rails and it happens so fast and without any warning.

the line is actually “This doll used to be my brother’s” which is a very different meaning but both are likely from weird ass Alister and this weird ass show, so I’ll leave the cap like this (although yes, this is what I thought Alister was saying for kind of a while until I recorded it for this blog and was like “oh shoot I heard the line wrong when I had the flu huh.”)

Man, RIP Noah, he would have been excellent this episode.

Honestly seems like just yesterday when Seto and Noah were pitted against eachother by a cyberdemon Dad-head floating in the sky, Mokuba was possessed for some reason and being used as a human shield, Tristan was a robot monkey, and Yugi was just shrugging at Kaiba from across the field like “Kaiba if you don’t play good you die--oh my gods, he died. Well that was bound to happen...again.” Man.

Alister should be their best friend, this is nonsense.

So lets do the math to 7 years before 2002.

I searched Wikipedia for wars during 1995 (they do have a list of 90′s wars) and looked for any that involved heavy use of tanks and their artillery fire (on big swatches of cities like this), inner city western architecture, temperate landscapes, and western clothing that match Alister and Mikey (AKA WWII vibes) and found out:

Nothing fits that description

UNLESS Alister and Mikey are time travelers from a WWII bombing in Europe. This is Yugioh. That could happen. Probably not, but youknow...it’s not too late for Yugioh to bring in time travel.

I mean if you don’t want to get super political in your cartoon just invent a world war I guess? We’ve already clarified that Gozaburo was Big Boss, so at this point I can easily see him inventing wars just to sell ships.

(I could probably add thousands of more deaths at this point but I have no idea where they are, if they’re on a tiny island or an entire country so I’ll just...leave the count alone but just now it’s implied that a hell ton of people died during this episode)

People going off about how Sesame Street is so amazing for talking about issues like you’re Dad going to prison while Yugioh was straight up talking about the intricacy of the War Economy. Yugioh being all “don’t forget kids, your good capitalist economy survives off of the undeserved bloodshed of civilians in other countries! Eat the poor!” and it’s like hot damn this heavy commentary came out of freakin no where.

Anyways, this is stuff most kid’s shows will delicately skip over but nah, Yugioh is going to go here, and they are going to steamroll directly through it with massive tanks.

So, lets kill this kid’s entire family and talk about the terrors of the World War of 1995 and all the war orphans who get recruited to become soldiers at the ripe old age of 9. Alister was 9 when he was recruited to be a child card soldier.

This kid’s show.

Alister is...basically Raiden, right? Like as long as we’re talking about Metal Gear, this kid is just one step away from cyborg implants and weird colored blood?

Better wear bright red when you visit the war crime scene, surprised Gozaburo didn’t invite like an entire photo -op crew to incriminate him even further.

Now we did look up “where the hell is Alister from Yugioh from?” (there is no answer) and we did find out a little factoid. In the Japanese version of the show, Gozaburo had bought the land and was just forcibly evicting Alister and his family from their home with tanks.

Which is wild.

He just straight up evicted an entire metropolitan city????

Like the dub did a way better job than the sub at this one, I’ll give them that.

It’s just so weird that Gozoboro just didn’t like...raise the rent like a normal bad landlord. Instead he was like “rather than gentrify my land and save me a ton of money, I’ll just destroy everything I just bought and murder everyone here” which is like...

...Seto did the world so many favors when he kicked out his Dad, right? Like Damn. I don't understand why Alister isn’t freakin worshiping Seto right now when his whole deal is “I must kill Gozaburo” and Seto’s like “yo I already did that. Twice. I didn’t even have to literally kill him either, I just embarrassed him so bad that he killed himself. His stupid tank company sells joke games now. I literally turned the man into a joke.”

Then again, Alister is on the green magic and like I think it alters your brain chemistry somewhat.

(How ripped did Alister get in this episode, by the way? The kid is like 16 years old or something so how did this happen? ...The perpetual horny line running straight through Yugioh, man. Look at it run. That 16 year old is drawn like he’s 28 and really into Crossfit and his crop top gets smaller and smaller like every scene.)

So like this is a very gray issue that I cannot believe they brought up in a kid’s show (like can you imagine if Scrooge McDuck had to face facts that his company murdered tons of people???), but also this is Seto Kaiba. Seto grew up in the system, so like he doesn’t need to be lectured to about dirty money because he was on the losing end of that not too long ago. Seto is himself basically a upscale war orphan since he was adopted by Gozaburo to continue the machine like a freakin maniac (a Solidus Snake, if you will) so of all the people on this show I don’t get why Seto would care about this. This is just how Seto views the entire world as either losing or winning and no reason to feel bad about it because he’s been both.

Also...Seto stopped the machine. Kind of. He was unaware that cards were the same thing as weapons, but at least he stopped the sale of huge child-stealing tanks.

So they play the game for a little while and Seto does kind of poorly as usual, and just when I thought this episode couldn’t get any weirder...

And just like that, Seto peaces out. Like he does almost every single time he has ever played a card game solo except for that one time he was playing Joey Wheeler. (Which was also one of the few times Seto ever won.)

Like I just want to remind you that this segment is in the same episode as WWIII and the tonal whiplash is pretty remarkable.

That’s right, we’re back in the Unnamed Monster World, which is not the Shadow Realm, and which I thought you could only access if you were dreaming and able to search through the puzzle maze.

Apparently this can just happen at any time and all that stuff with the guiding Kuriboh and Yugi and Pharaoh trying to find this place was just...them wasting time.

Again he ditches the legendary sword so freakin fast because who needs a sword when you have a dragon? Only this anime.

And that’s how Seto, who was absolutely going to lose this game, somehow just barely came to a draw.

So just to recap, Seto has yet to win a card game that he didn’t get prophetic help for via a hallucination or Yugi telling him what to do. Unless you count Joey and grandpa.

Then, the one last adult I forgot about, the driver of Yugi’s car, decides that it’s about time that he also died and left this show as adult free as possible.

THE HELL ARE THEY?

Also...maybe it’s the angle but the writing on that gas station looks a lot like kanji.

Yo, what if this is the backgrounds for a different show and they’re just sharing? I mean I doubt it because Yugioh had a good enough budget but...what if? What if that’s why they’re in Arizona?

Anyway, next time we’ll find out if this guy just drops dead or has been a Yugioh monster this whole time, and I think maybe both?

And if you just got here, this is a link to read all my Yugioh recaps in chrono order

#yugioh #ygo #photo recap #episode recap #yugi muto #seto kaiba #mokuba #alister #joey wheeler #tea gardner #tristan taylor #Arizona

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sailor-cresselia · 5 years

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Zi-O 48-2: In which I cry

Because RiderTime really needs to include a link to their twitter on their page, I was unaware that they’d uploaded their subs elsewhere due to technical difficulties.

Here’s to knowing what’s going on, and to the further suffering it’s going to lead me to!

(Warning for Decade endgame discussion within, because holy shit this really is Decade Season Two, existential crises and all.)

–––– ––––

Okay, opening with Tsukasa repeating that he’s going to destroy the world, even though he totally just says this to keep people from messing with him, but they’re a tad outnumbered right now, so they should withdraw.

“We’re outnumbered here, so let’s pull back.” No, you don’t say?!

––––

Woz’s recap turns out to have been pretty much on the nose for what I thought – previously defeated enemies are returning, Swartz is planning to destroy all the worlds, and there’s only two pages left until the world ends.

––––

Hey, so, you know how during the OP, when we get those individual shots of Sougo, Geiz, and Tsukuyomi, the background rotates behind them?

Remember what happens whenever someone transforms with a Ziku Driver for the first time?

NICE.

––––

Tsukasa’s exposition in 9-to-5… hng.

Okay, so he’s saying that originally, all the riders were on different time axis, which we’ll allow for the conceit of the plot, even though it hasn’t been quite true since 2009. But then the space time continuum converged. I’d like to point out that he’s looking directly at the camera when he says that particular bit.

When Sougo asks how Swartz brought all the worlds together, to destroy them all at once, Tsukasa says that it was by using Sougo. He came to young 8-year-old Sougo, gave him the latent power to manipulate time, and eventually set him on the path to needing to collect the watches. Once Sougo had all of those, the worlds were completely merged.

Sougo, Geiz, and Tsukuyomi are in shock. By fighting all of this time, they’ve played right into Swartz’s hand.

Woz points out that, to be fair, Swartz has been playing the long game here.

Geiz asks what they’re going to do now.

Tsukasa sets down his mug, saying he’d already told them. He’s going to destroy this world, and it’s already coming to an end. However… even if the world is a loss, the people still need to be saved.

Saying he’ll follow Tsukasa’s lead, Sougo mentions that Swartz said he had three choices. Those being Save Tsukuyomi, save himself, or go down the road to become Oma Zi-O. But those are all terrible options. Let’s take a fourth.

Tsukasa points out that he’ll be putting the fate of the world at risk. Nobody speaks up against that, so he starts detailing the plan to them. Not to us, though.

––––

… …

Ah.

This scene, between Sougo and Tsukasa in the lobby… this hurts so much more. Before, when I didn’t know what they were saying, I assumed Tsukasa was trying to warn Sougo of how risky it was.

And it is that, but not how I thought.

Tsukasa’s saying that there’s a drawback, one that he didn’t mention in front of anyone else. That Sougo-

Sougo’s already aware. He knows that… Sougo knows that he’s the only one who’s not going to make it out.

(Someone has to be there to close the door to the new world behind them, perhaps?)

Tsukasa’s sound of surprise? I don’t think he expected Sougo to have realized this. He definitely didn’t want to say it. After all, Tsukasa wasn’t willing to tell anyone during his own finale that there was one person who absolutely couldn’t make it out alive, if they wanted to really stop the worlds from ending.

Tsukasa’s been through all of this before.

He was the center of it, last time. Was ready to die, maybe wanted to, even, but refused to go gently, and was too strong – none of the prior Riders were able to stop him. None of them were able to kill him. Only the very newest rider, who had just gotten her powers then and there, was able to. The one he trusted the very most, Natsumi, the newly named Kamen Rider Kiva-la.

Tsukasa has been through all of this before, so he knows what may have to happen – what will have to happen. But he didn’t think Sougo would realize it.

Sougo’s well aware that he’ll be the only one not to survive. But he’s… he’s been prepared for that since he got the belt. Maybe since he was born, even.

Sougo obtained his Ziku Driver when faced with an opponent that couldn’t be killed normally, after being told that he was going to become a demon king.

And one of the things he has sworn to do over and over throughout this season is to not become Oma Zi-O, to stop him.

But time’s been on a relatively fixed course the entire… well, time. There was only really one way he could not become Oma Zi-O… and that’s to not be around to do it.

Tsukasa’s expression… Sougo only said the bit about ‘prepared since he got the belt, or maybe since he was born.’ Tsukasa… even after all that he, himself, has done, wasn’t willing to go out easily. But Sougo? Sougo is smiling. Not resigned, not happy, but… at least he’ll be saving people. And that’s something, right?

“But before I ‘go’, can I make one last stop?”

That’s when he picks up the note his uncle left.

––––

Oh my god, Woz was sulking because he’s supposed to be Tsukuyomi’s escort?! Woz. Woz, you’re being petty.

Tsukuyomi’s not even listening, just yells at him indignantly. I’m not sure if that “Did you say something?!” is an ‘I can’t hear you on account of all the screaming’ or a ‘Quit being a petty little asshole’ version. Either way, Woz, sarcastically, says it was nothing, and transforms, sighing as he goes off to fight.

––––

When Swartz comes up to Geiz, he’s saying that it’s absurd that he’s alone. Geiz’s reply is telling Swartz to shut up and fight him.

––––

Junichiro, sir, what’s in the box? Because that’s about the right size for a pile of broken watches. I’m just saying.

Regardless.

He knew it was Sougo just from hearing him say ‘look out’. That was all it took. He knows his nephew. There have been so many cases of Riders being able to hide their identieis from loved ones just because nobody recognized their voice, but here? One yelled phrase, not even while facing him, and he knew.

Sougo goes up to his uncle, detransforms, and immediately bows in apology. He’s been keeping this a secret, but he’s a Kamen Rider. He’s gotten great power, and he’s been fighting bad guys, and he’s been able to protect people.

And he’s so, so solemn during this.

He doesn’t respond when Junichiro says that he really is like a true king. The kind of king that Sougo’s always wanted to be – the one who uses his power to protect everyone.

He doesn’t respond, instead, he just looks down when he says that it’s why he has to go, and he won’t be able to protect him anymore.

There’s a moment of hesitation, of both of them knowing full well what’s not really being said. And then? Junichiro tells him to go. He has a clock to repair – that’s what his duty is, as a clocksmith. But Sougo has his own duty to fulfill.

He says that with one of those tight lipped, determined frowns. The type when someone is trying not to say something that everyone’s avoiding, when they’re trying not to cry.

Even as they give the standard goodbyes – they’re both trying not to cry. They both know that this is dangerous.

I guess he hasn’t known about the Kamen Rider situation, not fully, anyway. But he knows that things have gotten incredibly bad. And that Sougo may or may not be coming back from this fight.

That Sougo may or may not be planning to come back from this fight.

––––

One last round of time travel.

Off to 2068.

––––

… … OH MY GOD. I figured that Geiz might be putting up token resistance. He’s usually a better fighter than he is in the stairwell, definitely good enough not to get dogpiled just because he got thrown down the stairs.

When Decade shows up and tosses the mooks off? Geiz, hushed, says that Tsukasa’s not supposed to be up yet. As in ‘on stage.’

That meaning is made even clearer when Tsukasa’s ‘whispered’ reply is that Geiz’s acting was so bad that he couldn’t stand to watch, so go out there and get his attention already!

I mean, I know that one of Tsukasa’s whole things is filling a role in whatever world he winds up in, and Hat Woz had his whole scriptwriter/director aesthetic going on, but this is taking it a bit far.

(Also, my throwaway, pre-seeing-Decade joke about him ‘basically being stuck playing the bad guy again’ just became a whole lot funnier.)

––––

…Yeah, I’m never going to be over how Ginga just summons a bunch of mini-planets to rain down on the mooks. That’s beautiful.

So is Mashin Chaser as he comes in and decimates the rogue Roidmude.

Even without his memories, even lost and confused, Chase is Chase. He will not allow humans to come to harm. He wouldn’t as the reaper before, and he can’t now.

Back during Drive, at first, he didn’t remember being a Kamen Rider before becoming the roidmudes grim reaper. When he started remembering? It was an awful lot like his reactions right now.

Woz hops down, far too flippantly for this situation, saying that he was protecting a human because he is Chase, that he was, once, a Kamen Rider, in the original timeline.

Chase tries to deny it, but… his flash of memory says otherwise. His flash to his first transformation into Kamen Rider Chaser, instead of his original identity as Proto-Drive.

His flashback where you can just hear him saying “Henshin” underneath the sound of water.

He refuses, and starts attacking a startled Woz.

Chase can get sloppy when his emotions run high… or he can go into a berserker rage, like now.

––––

2058

Okay, here’s what they were yelling about.

Geiz and Tsukuyomi are part of the last line. She’s telling everyone to stand their ground, and he’s yelling that they need to stand their ground until the main troops evacuate.

Oma Zi-O sets off a series of explosions that knock everyone down, and Sougo goes to help Tsukuyomi up.

Geiz yells, asking what a civilian is doing here. Makes sense. Sougo’s still in normal clothes, he’s not carrying any weapons that they can see, he doesn’t look nearly beaten up enough to have been a soldier.

Also, Geiz has his ridewatch already. We can see it on his arm, when it comes out from under his cloak. Interesting.

Sougo stays firm. It must be hard, seeing his friends before they knew him. Before they came back in time to kill him.

He tells them to run, and that he’ll cover their escape.

Tsukuyomi and Geiz’s eyes widen as he strides forward, pulling out his driver and watch, and transforms into Kamen Rider Zi-O.

––––

Oma and Sougo stand a distance apart, as they always do at the start of a fight between them.

“Greetings, younger me. I don’t recall you having come back to this time.”

“History’s changed. For you, this is the past. For me, it’s the future.”

Sougo isn’t showing much, if any, emotion. Oma Zi-O is. Oma’s gesturing as he talks, but Sougo? He stands almost perfectly still.

“That’s interesting, but still futile.” Oma Zi-O sounds amused, but Sougo’s reply remains level and calm.

“Won’t know unless I try.”

He charges, shots firing, before switching to the sword mode and trying to slice Oma Zi-O, only to be thrown back. As he picks himself up, he pulls out the Trinity watch. “Will this work?”

I’m not sure if that’s him asking himself if it’ll actually bring Geiz and Woz forward, or if he’s almost taunting Oma Zi-O.

––––

Geiz and Tsukasa take out the mooks who were assisting Swartz. He seems amused by their efforts, at least. But it’s a useless resistance. This world is doomed, and there’s nothing they can do about it.

Geiz shakes his head. “Oh, we’ll prevent your world from disappearing, don’t worry. But it’s not you who’ll be saving it.”

Swartz appears taken aback. “What was that? Wait-”

Tsukasa, ever smug, says that it’s Tsukuyomi.

Geiz tosses Swartz’s own words right back at him. She’s going to save the world, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

This enrages the bastard, and he immediately starts yelling in rage, and wailing on the two riders. Just as his finisher is about to land, Geiz disappears in a beam of yellow light.

––––

Mashin Chaser tries to land a finisher of his own on Woz, but just as it was about to impale him, because that’s what whip-cord attacks do half of the time in Rider, Woz disappears in a beam of green light.

Chaser turns his growling gaze to Tsukuyomi, who very much does not have armor.

––––

Trinity Time!

Geiz and Woz ‘land’ in the Trinity cockpit, looking rather confused. Sougo, meanwhile, smiles. “Great, you’re here!”

Oh my god he didn’t know if that would work. Sougo, please, you’ve made it work between realities, I hardly think fifty years is that much different.

Woz’s line is basically “I guess we’re in 2058 now,” and Geiz’s is “and that’s Oma Zi-O…”

Sougo, ever the center, says that for the moment, they have to keep Oma Zi-O busy.

They charge.

––––

2019

Tsukasa dusts his hands off as he stands up. Time to finish this with some Decade versus Decade. That should be an even match.

Swartz is very amused. Even match? Tsukasa only has the power of Decade. He, on the other hand, has the strongest powers of his family.

As he says that, advancing on the frozen Tsukasa, he himself freezes.

Diend strolls up behind him. “I’m sorry, did you forget? You gave me some of that power.”

In all honestly, Swartz probably didn’t think he’d see you again, so he may actually have forgotten. Pity he didn’t know there’s a ‘dere’ half to the whole ‘tsundere’ thing.

Daiki whacks Swartz with his gun, which will never cease to amuse me.

Tsukasa says that it looks like they’ve got the stronger hand.

“Let’s go, Tsukasa.”

They really can work well together, when they feel like it.

––––

2068

Trinity versus Oma Zi-O. Oma appears to have the upper hand. Even though he’s not attacking, he’s not taking any damage, either, letting Trinity wear themselves out.

Or so he thinks, until they pull the sword away and point it at his chest, and let the finisher propel him into the cliffside.

“What is this? I didn’t have this power in my youth.”

“It’s not my power. It’s that of my comrades.” Cut from the battle to inside the Trinity cockpit, where they stand side by side, the glow of their respective colors occasionally brightening around each of them.

“You might be the me of the future, but there’s something different between us.” Sougo steels himself, trying to keep any emotions past determination and resolve off of his face. He doesn’t quite succeed, and you can see where he just barely hides a smile when he says what that one key difference is.

He has friends.

Oma seems impressed, actually. “I see. So you would sacrifice yourself for these ‘friends’ of yours.’

Geiz and Woz have those apparitions over their respective shoulders again.

“Wait, what was that?!”

“You didn’t say anything about that, Waga Maou!!”

Sougo cancels the transformation by will alone, not moving a muscle, and sends them back to 2019.

He stands in front of his future self – untransformed, not wearing his belt, not moving… except for the slight shaking of his shoulders as he stares straight at the evil him.

––––

Woz reappears, rising from a slight crouch, confused and worried about what just happened. His concern only grows when he sees that Tsukuyomi’s not here anymore.

––––

Geiz lands as he reappears, slightly crouched, seeming to have materialized a few inches off the ground. He turns and sees that Decade and Diend aren’t doing too great against Another Decade.

Swartz says that he’s off to kill Tsukuyomi himself, and pulls a wall around him to leave.

“Well, shit.”

––––

2068, and I am afraid. This is one of the sections I really couldn’t understand last time.

Oma Zi-O sounds either impressed or surprised that Sougo didn’t tell his friends. Didn’t tell them that he wasn’t planning on coming back.

Sougo stands his ground. “That, and there’s no point in fighting you. I don’t intend to kill you.”

“Because you’re me.”

Sougo doesn’t answer that non-question. Instead, he ‘asks’ what Oma Zi-O’s powers are.

Oma Zi-O’s answer? “The power to destroy space and time. Swartz doesn’t have the power to end the world. I intend to have you destroy space and time.”

Sougo doesn’t quite shake his head. “But I’m not going to become you.”

(Sougo’s not planning to become anyone at this point. The simplest way to not become someone is to not be there.)

Oma’s still not so sure about that ‘not becoming him’ thing, because Sougo is him. And he’s looking forward to it, to seeing which time he will destroy, and how.

A muscle in Sougo’s cheek twitches, and I’m not sure which direction his mouth was going to go. But he still doesn’t show an expression.

Not even as Oma opens a portal to 2019 and sends him through it.

Oma Zi-O looks to the sky. “It may be meaningless, but… I may as well help you.”

He raises a hand, and motes of golden light spread out.

––––

Geiz and Tsukuyomi stop, as the rest of their troop keeps going. And now I get to know what they said.

Geiz can’t believe that he saved them. They knew who Zi-O was, of course. There’s a statue of Sougo, after all. It may not have color, but the Ziku Driver is a distinct belt, and the ridewatch calls out the transformation.

Tsukuyomi realizes it means that a younger Oma Zi-O traveled here from the past.

Geiz realizes that if that’s possible, if that’s something they can do, then if they go back in time-

Golden motes of light drift around them, and a blank ridewatch sparks in Tsukuyomi’s pocket. She pulls it out, but doesn’t really know what it means.

––––

So...

Sougo has just given Geiz the idea that will lead to them meeting properly, and perpetuates the self-fulfilling prophecy of his life.

He would never have had the chance to become Kamen Rider Zi-O if Geiz and Tsukuyomi hadn’t gone back in time. He could never become the demon king if he never became Zi-O, and there wouldn’t be a reason for them to go back in time in the first place. But Geiz and Tsukuyomi didn’t even know time travel was possible until they saw him there.

So if they had never gone back, not only would they have never had a reason to go back, but even if he had become Oma Zi-O somehow anyway, they wouldn’t know they could. Not without him having come to see them in their present.

And this helps explain why he seemed so different from what either of them were expecting, back at the start of the show. The time-displaced Zi-O they briefly encountered was stoic, didn’t say much, and was kind of hardened. The Tokiwa Sougo they found was kind of dim, chatty, and had aspirations of being a king.

Everything just keeps circling around and around – he could never be that person without being Zi-O, but he wouldn’t become Zi-O without having been that person in the future.

––––

2019

Tsukuyomi tries to plead with Mashin Chaser, asking him to stop, he has a human heart!

He’s not listening, he’s a Roidmude, he has no heart- but he can’t move. Some part of him, some lingering remnant of the hero he was and should be, the cybernetic lifeform imbued with an infallible sense of justice, a Kamen Rider twice over, keeps him from moving.

“Thats enough, Chaser. I’ll take over from here.” Swartz shows up, and advances on Tsukuyomi. “Farewell, dear sister.”

You just called him Chaser. Not Mashin Chaser, as is his name in this form. You used his title as a Rider. No wonder he was able to break loose and grab you.

And Chase’s comment is wonderful, getting to the root of the ‘what measure is a non human’ that Drive could have touched on, but so frequently failed to. “Aren’t you human? Is that your human heart?!” He shoves Swartz back. “Human hearts should be much more beautiful!”

While this does sound far more like the phrasing that would have been used in Ghost as opposed than Drive, the point still holds true. What is it that makes an emotion, that makes a person? Sometimes humans are the real monsters here.

Not the living androids who were twisted by their creator or by each other, but the man who is so willing to kill his sister. He’s the real monster in this plaza.

Chase tries to attack, but fails. He could never have won like this. Swartz delivers a burning kick to Chases back, saying that he’s just a remnant of what a Kamen Rider is.

What’s even harsher is that it’s true, in multiple ways. This Chase is from a dead-end timeline, one where he couldn’t have become a Rider again. He started as one, but was reprogrammed and rewritten into working with the Roidmudes. He only became Kamen Rider Chaser after leaving them, after learning about his past, and becoming someone who was no longer Proto-Drive or Mashin Chaser.

He stumbles backward, his transformation breaking and purple arcs of electricity sparking across him, and falls.

Geiz catches him.

“It’s ironic… it appears that I, too, am a Kamen Rider…”

Geiz is… he’s afraid right now, isn’t he? He’s seen so many riders just forget, at this point. But they’re all still alive, and they gravitated towards the same people, even without their histories. He can’t let Chase die without knowing what was supposed to be. So… he tells him. “You… You have a friend. One who’s trying to save you.”

“I… have a friend?” …oh, gaia, Chase is just… shutting down. This hurts so much.

Geiz nods. “More than that, there’s – you have us, too. We’re your friends, too.”

…They’ve only just met. Geiz only knows Chase from today, and from whatever Gou might have told them in Over Quartzer. And Geiz, stubborn Geiz, who came back to before he was born to kill a man before he could be king, who has been fighting at the side of that man for almost a year…

Geiz already knows that Sougo, Tsukuyomi, and probably even Woz would agree with him. He’s comfortable enough, knows all of the quartet well enough, knows himself well enough to be able to say that.

“Humans are… such good beings.”

Chase dissolves into purple lights, and drifts into nothingness.

Geiz stares, shocked, at his now empty arms.

Swartz strolls forward, towards his intended target of Tsukuyomi. “Now that that absurdity is over, it’s time for you to die.”

Sougo runs, yelling. “TSUKUYOMI! THE WATCH! YOU ALREADY HAVE IT!!”

“Eh?!”

Woz throws her one of his apparent plethora of Ziku Drivers.

“Henshin!”

Rider time!

Ka-amen Ri-ider Tsuku-yomi! Tsu-ku-yo-mi!

––––

The preview… the scenes haven’t changed, of course, but now I can tell what they’re saying, so I’m just going to copy paste the visual descriptions from my last viewing, while editing in the actual sound bytes.

Grand Zi-O versus Another Decade.

A brief flash of Kamen Rider Tsukuyomi.

A splitscreen shot. Kamen Riders Grand Zi-O, Double CycloneJokerXtreme, Wizard Infinity Form, OOO Tajador, and Gaim Pineapple Arms are on the top.

On the bottom… okay, so, I have no idea who most of these villains are. There’s Gamedeus in the center, and Evolt to the far end, but the others? Not a clue.

Over top of that, and the two groups starting to fight, we hear Sougo practically growling, saying ‘My powers are the powers of all Riders’

Flashes of Tsukuyomi and Woz, as themselves, looking concerned. At this point, they add in a subtitle disclaimer saying that Zi-O is fiction. (Thank you, Google translate for my phone, which allows me to hold it up to a screen and get an idea of what’s written.)

A quick shot of Oma Zi-O on his throne, his face obscured. The text that appears just says “The King of Time, Oma Zi-O”

I still can’t tell if it’s Oma Zi-O or Swartz, because Another Decade!Swartz sounds a lot like Oma, but he says “So that’s your decision.”

It’s played over the previous two sequences, and a sequence of Sougo, openly weeping, holding a very injured Geiz, who’s going limp.

And that line could be either of them, still. They’ve both been in ‘get Sougo to make a choice’ mode – even though Oma is certain of every outcome leading to him, he still offered the idea of deserting the belt, way back in December.

Then, we come to Sougo standing up, furious… and him activating the belt that Oma Zi-O wears.

In a defeated voice, “I’ll become Oma Zi-O…” and then, in that same growl as earlier, “HENSHIN.”

The final shots are two angles of Oma Zi-O. In armor. And in the present day.

…Okay, so, Rider-Time translated that last line as just ‘become oma zi-o,’ which is fair. Japanese doesn’t always use pronouns, and these are just clips, after all, so it could be chopped up. But I’m fairly certain it’s Sougo saying that he will. At least… for the duration of this fight. This fight that he probably doesn’t plan to come out of.

#kamen rider zi o #kamen rider decade #sailorcressy says #kamen rider drive #drive tag is because of fangirling over chase #decade tag is because of decade getting pretty heavily mentioned

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manjuhitorie · 5 years

Video

Muro Festival, is a rock festival! Which invites newcomers, upcoming artists, veteran come-on-ers, and all hard song enthusiasts alike to celebrate. Named after Muro Kiyoto, who is the manager of a Shibuya concert venue. As an avid enforcer of music events he’s esteemed by many in the scene, so the event draws in people who are driven by the fuel of that pass. At least bands will comment “Muro fest is an adhesive (Arukara)” or “The number one trait of Murofes is that the performing bands have awesome strong connections even on the side, and that the essence of that friendship engulfs it (Wasure).“ or “Even if Murofest was hosted at a small park or a in the middle of the street or in Muro’s house or even in a public toilet, I would perform. I love Murofest (Mizuno Gii).”

Anyway the performances are full of power! Full of summer heat! Full of maudlinism to soar like Muninn! Full of a favorite: there’s Hitorie’s dead pan heartfelt bassist, ygarshy!

And you were able to watch it on a niconico livestream but...

IT’S ENDED NOW

I will preserve this post as a report.... Doubling as a source for various trivia.... I’m considering maybe if a fan makes a purchase of a Wasureranneyo album, or something of similar sentiment, and DM’s me a screenshot, I could share the recording... Even if you see this in a billion lightyears from now. Because sharing is caring, all around yeah!!!

You have to get niconico premium to watch it, which is only 540 yen. Nothing compared to the fest’s ticket fee of 10,000 yen (Plus airfare fee for us overseers). You can use foreign debit cards, or even Paypal… ! Much of the performances were locked up, only for Premium members originally even for those who were able to watch real-time, so there’s no regrets in seizing the now. Thumbs up. Live shows enhance a whole different essence, so more than listening to a J-rock playlist on Spotify I’d recommend taking a dive into this while you can!!

Not only can you upfront witness the air around their electric pickguards warp to their technique, you can see them hop and whomp and throwmp around! What chords they clench with their teeth, what lines they unleash from the pit of their lungs, what parts the band will huddle together for and what songs mean the world to them! Also the crowds reactions, I move when I see them move, in polysemy. If there’s any niche J-rock band names you’ve maybe been curious about, or just want to find some new indie J-rock, the artist line-up is here! LAMP ON TERREN: wowawawa’s best buddy ‘Dai-chan’ is in there… *Waves hand* TERREN were once scheduled for a joint live with perfect timing, so they brought a birthday cake for wowaka and they got friendly with Rie... or so they thought.. The next day SND was ready to beat the shit out of them on stage. But they’re all friendly now (I think)))) Arukara: They master the standard rock setup with wads of distortion, wah effects, while sometimes make instrumental songs with violin etc. even! They do podcasts! And they reinforce cats a lot. I recommend Chigirero. majiko: Village Man’s Store: Who are the band with bright red suits, bright firey songs, and bright red lips who kissed Shinoda that one time - In seriousness I could recommend them though, they’re sweet with only a little taste of the sleazy! KAKASHI are rejoiced by quite a few Hitorie fans I know. There’s CIVILIAN: A three-piece whom all graduated from the Tokyo School of Music Shibuya, the bonds roam, who also hosts Nanou HoehoeP, another past utaite like majiko. LEGO BIG MORL: Sukippara ni Sake: Who are swanky with Kachāshī-like dances to the stretches of never making a boring song. And so so many more! J-rock band names start to make more less sense the more I’m in here! Wahoo! A band named Hitorie performed two years ago, and there’s LEGO BIG MORL this year, which is hoisted up by the same manager as Hitorie, Mika Arara! The members separately will some participate in cooking shows(), some each do acoustic shows on their own accord, each ego-search, and their stoic songs together are bound to at least make your foot tap from their flavored textures. For this sake I’m eyeing up the band’s particularly memorable whiz named Hiroki Tanaka. Hiroki is not most notable for his #My ygarshy hashtag, but for the sake of this he is. Under the tag is either Hiroki posting a picture of him together with ygarshy or him commenting #My ygarshy on pictures ygarshy of himself with others. Or the “What? Are you a couple?” on ygarshy’s “It’s our 9th year anniversary” photo of him with SND… yg “Sorry.” In general ygarshy and Hiroki are friendly, they drink and vent together time to time.Also Hiroki and Shibata Takahiro, the character who comes in soon, have a unit called Takahiroki. Which is the two of them fused to make flurry, with only an acoustic guitar and a mic as their weapons even! Their concerts tend to break the norms of the non-flamboyant J-rock scene, as they screw around with their power with no real point, just a joint to a jollity! Where as many J-rock shows will use screens of music visualizers to engross, Takahiroki will use the crowd by galvanizing them raise their signature rainbow towels or make explosive call-outs towards the flames of reality. Where many will use subdued dance to party, Takahiroki will chit-chat about food and females as they swing their limbs like spinning amusement park rides or dress as bartenders and drink . Though all rock shows are have their unique tricks and spirit, it’s nice to see it super shaken up also… I introduce these two for good reason! It’s background for what’s feautured in the niconico livestream! The band Wasureranneyo! That Shibata is on vocals and guitar, that Hiroki is on main guitar, our ygarshy is on bass, and Takayuki Tomita is on drums! Tomita is from a band called THE LOVE NINGEN, whom I’m not sure how came into relation with Shibata, but Wasurerannee yo is constantly borrowing members to fill it’s blanks due to . ygarshy has been consistent for more than half a year now! Hiroki also bounces in whenever he can an ex. Wasurerannee yo member once filled in for Love Ningen. They themselves most likely meet at festivals like this! Where similar bands get together under a sonic medium and spend the crepuscle ball. But I’m going back to ygarshy! Him! His performance is a spotlight!

the important part THE SHOW highlights

Wasureraneeyo start at 1:27:28, end at 1:58:39. You can manually copy-paste, and it’s a whole 30 minutes action-packed. There's about 48 hours before a the single watch instance will expire, but it's possible to close the window and come back anytime between then.

The first 5+ minutes are rehearsal, they’re muted to give the live-goers an extra extra incentive. It’s still worth a peak to see how musicians will stroll as they test. They played their theme song and also a cover of Alexandros’ Wataridori there’s nothing worth hearing anyway right (*wails).

The rest is 100% worth the buck! ●Shibata starts off by whimpering over an urge he needs to burst out, he needs everybody to cheer him on. When he Says “Miyamoto - Ryou!”, you have to shout “You can do it!” Note: Miyamoto and Ryou are a comedian duo, who just days ago were revealed to the victims of a corrupted corporation, who was holding absolute control over them. People have cheering for them to win better circumstances in the case. Yet the apologies and the press conferences have been fantasy football battles.... Ugh... It's a riot for sure though! Official news reports are here or here or etc. ●He gets everyone to wiggle their arms 90° angles above their heads “like we’ve gone crazy!” and shout a nonsensical “Yossoi hoi hoi!” chant! With the heat as the beat! yga just plays bass! ●He makes noise for his mom, multiple times throughout! His T-shirt even has his mom on it! Specifically a picture of 2 year old himself being embraced by his mother printed on it, with the word “Mother” metallically written on the back… Source from his past diary entry of him expressing his maternal love. I can’t believe this ygarshy no wonder you can’t help but smile a lot during these shows. ●He complains about the shitty time he “went out drinking when he two cute girls walked through the door in, ‘Oh, oh, oh!’ he thought, only for them to start chit-chatting about how small their boyfriend’s dicks are! What kind of damnation is this bullshit!” ●The lyrics are about that stuff anyway!! ●There’s also a special appearance from Kanata Takehiro, the vocalist of LEGO BIG MORL. Shibata bitches at him mid-solo because “Fuck you! All the girls are staring at you now damn it!” *He is actually popular in the band due to being good and cooking and math and being an overall goofball behind the gallantries. The original of Odore Hikikomori features Hiroki and Sekihan, of Happy Head NANIYORI also he was in the niconico scene a long time ago, both dressed in clothes that you may find very unlikely but 100% plausible. ●ygarshy smiles and then recalibrates his hair over his eyes to look like a dark souls boss faceless again. He holds his bass with the neck upwards, he’s reviving his high school orchestra club bass playing sensibility. Virtuoso. The high tempo of Wasureraneeyo’s songs is definitely on par with Hitorie’s, Rie's irregular metres, swapping, interchanging and 456 metres are monstrous, but the sheer volume of tutti and strumming in Wasure’s punk songs seems to be something else as well…! yganbare!! ●Also don’t worry about those missed minutes because Shibata crowd-surfs again. This time with cash in his hand a mission! Saying “I’m glad to be here! Take me to the cute beer darling!”, as he is driven by the hands of the compliantly ecstatic crowd towards a staff member waiting in the middle of the crowd, holding up your average beer! Shibata trades the cash for the cup, he orders everyone to gather under him, “I can’t stand up if you’re pushing my ass! Oh now I can thank you”, and at last he gains the support to stand up! On top of a crowd for God's sake he rises. To glug the beer like a food chain top predator of the wild. Then to slide back to stage while crying for his mom again.

●Hiroki physically shoves ygarshy around while they have the stage to themselves. Ahh how the tables turn, the kicker to the pushee. ●In his black robes ygarshy is just such a trance to witness play throughout… It’s really great in motion and as a whole I love dirty rock concerts. Music has to be heard, my lumberous lumpy text can’t convey those sound waves… So give it a watch if you may have free time to do so! Only if you can please! Source for comments and some info: https://skream.jp/feature/2019/06/muro_festival_2019.php More photos and videos can be found on their official twitter! Photos by Suzuki Kouhei woah...

#Watching the scene change from day to night was cool I want to go #The other bands are interesting enough they all deserve to be highlighted but my favoritism keeps me sticking here #ヒトリエ #ygarshy #hitorie

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