#took a gap year where i did absolutely NOTHING like i applied to jobs and didn’t get any so i tried a little bit. but i spent the entire | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thedreadvampy · 3 years

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after the cbt post I'm really unsure if I even want to apply for counselling now

the whole point of looking for therapy was to get help but if it makes things worse then maybe I should just carry on trying to do it myself?

I don't fuckin know

that was meant to be my out for feeling like this what the fuck do I do now

Like. First off this is about CBT, not about counseling generally, which has been really useful once I've found the right process. I don't know if you're in the UK or not, but while accessing NHS counseling hasn't always been easy and it took a while to find the right fit, when I did get a counselor and approach that fit my needs it jumped my healing forwards by miles, it really can be a lifesaver (plus tbh if you're really deep in the doldrums, it can help just by giving you some structure and space). Don't stop looking for counseling because it absolutely can make a huge positive difference, I don't know where I'd be without the counseling I got from the rape crisis center and the NHS. There's a lot of types of therapy/counselling out there and what works for you isn't something I can predict - for me what I've reacted to best is freeform talk therapy, but other people find that really hard to engage with and prefer more structured or theoretical therapies, and the NHS offer a lot of different ones (they just tend to jump to CBT first).

So, beyond that; some people do find CBT really helpful. But the way the NHS specifically uses CBT is outside its recommended use, which is treatment for OCD, BPD, anxiety and some PTSD symptoms (although not PTSD itself). The NHS basically uses it as a first stop for pretty much all mental health patients as far as I can tell (because, as I say, it's cheap and easy to apply) so, much like most people with MH problems I know have been on Citalopram (which is their first stop SSRI), most people I know with MH problems have been to CBT sessions. And with that range of problems, most of them won't find what they need in CBT, which, again, despite how it's currently used, is not designed as a general purpose treatment but specifically to help manage repetitive thought and behaviour patterns.

For some people, managing thought and behaviour patterns is what they need, at least temporarily. My partner found it very helpful to keep him out of breakdown territory during a hard time, and so have several friends I know (seems to have positive impacts particularly on friends diagnosed with BPD bc BPD diagnostic criteria, which focus on intense reaction and toxic thought spirals, line up really well with what CBT is designed to help with).

I think the way in which it's harmed me and others isn't the actual treatment, but the fact that it's treated as if it Should Work and that can make you feel way worse if everyone tells you 'CBT and mindfulness is a magic cure that fixes all your brain problems' and then it. doesn't. because your specific problem isn't what is designed to fix. and I think that harm is mitigated by knowing that a) what works for you is highly personal even within diagnoses, b) at the time you get CBT you probably don't have a concrete diagnosis beyond Something Ain't Right and c) CBT, even when it's right for you, isn't meant to be the end point.

CBT is, specifically, a stop-gap. It's meant to help you keep going with your life while you sort stuff out. Again, because of budget reasons the NHS kind of hope that your problems won't be too bad so that CBT will give you a good enough stable starting point to sort your own shit out without further support, which does work for some people, but for most of us CBT should be part of a larger treatment journey if used at all. CBT is a bandage - it doesn't close the wound, but where it works it stops you bleeding out long enough to either get to a hospital or for your body to heal itself.

I'm not going to lie to you - for a lot of us, getting through to the point where we're accessing the right treatment can be a slog. And because of how the NHS works, it can mean going to CBT, finding it doesn't work for you, and gritting your teeth through a six session course so you can go back to your doctor and say 'see, this didn't work for me and the CBT people agree, what else ya got?' My partner's just sat through 14 sessions of group therapy he found extremely stupidly designed specifically because sometimes that's what you gotta do to get referred on for one-on-one talk therapy, which is what he actually needs.

Like I say, the harm comes when you're made to feel like you're failing therapy. You don't fail therapy. Therapy that isn't working just isn't the right setup for you for whatever reason and that's not a flaw in you, there is no universal catchall therapeutic method. It's always going to be trial and error and if you are able to hold in mind that you're not Bad for finding a counseling style or methodology unhelpful, off-putting or alienating, then badly-fitted therapy shouldn't be nearly as harmful as trying to struggle on manfully alone.

The hardest but most rewarding part for me was the process of learning that I could just say 'this isn't working for me because XYZ, can we try a different approach' and...nothing bad would happen. I wouldn't lose my access to counseling and nobody shouted at me, and when I said 'this isn't working can we change it'...things got better. I was having an absolutely shit and frustrating time with my NHS counselor, I was finding going to counseling a huge stress, and after stewing for a couple of weeks I blew up and said 'I don't like this, this or this, I feel talked down to when you do this, I don't feel like you're listening to me about this, and this thing you're doing keeps making me feel worse' and he got defensive. but he also. changed his practise immediately. and we ended up having a really fantastic and productive 6 months of counseling and I am in private therapy now but I keep referring back to the work he and I did together because it was so useful for me.

So like the takeaways for me are a) know that the fact that this counseling might suck for you doesn't mean counseling in general won't be helpful, there's always going to be some trial and error to find the right fit, b) if it does suck, don't suffer in silence, tell them! if you're sitting there hating it, they're not getting anything out of that either so just let them know that you're uncomfortable, finding it hard to engage, etc (I know this can be really hard and I know for me I only started being able to push back when I was already a couple of years into my treatment journey but do what you can do to communicate your fears) and c) when it works it works.

Getting counseling that works is a journey. It can be wearing and esoteric and a pain in the ass, and sometimes you just don't click with a therapy and sometimes you just don't click with the counselor, but it is absolutely worth pushing through the bullshit because a) change often happens gradually while you're not looking and b) finding a concept who works for you absolutely can change your life super fast. It took me a couple of tries but when I found a counselor and approach that worked for me I managed within 16 sessions to get out of my house, to get a job I liked for the first time, to go out and meet people for the first time in a city I'd been in for 3 years, and to cut out a lot of the people who were making my life unsafe. It's so worth it but it is a journey that takes time and trial and error, so the sooner you start the sooner you're likely to get somewhere that helps you.

#sorry i went on a lot here i just #i need you to know that counseling is a really broad field and just because one form of counseling might not work for you #doesn't mean it's all useless #you just need to find the right fit for where you're at #and it's extremely worth doing #it doesn't feel like it's getting better all at once #I'm sorry but if you go in with that hope it'll hit you hard #when you find the right fit it'll feel like change is so painfully incremental and slow #but one day you'll suddenly realise you're happier than you've been in years #everyone i know who's been in counseling that's felt productive has had that experience in the first year or so of going #WAIT FUCK IS THIS WHAT NORMAL FEELS LIKE?#like idk if you have SAD but i get this feeling every spring 'wow have i just been miserable for six months wtf? is this what happy is?'#and the healing process feels like that on a larger scale like day to day you barely notice a difference but you look back after a year #and think 'i don't remember what it felt like to never feel like anything would be good again' and you go WAIT!#THAT WAS THE COUNSELING! TFW THERAPY HITS!!!#like there are times it can feel like a slog or like REALLY PAINFUL #the first 6 months i was in therapy i cracked open like an egg i went everywhere i basically had a full on breakdown #but after i came out the other side i was like WAIT FUCK I SEE SUNLIGHT I CAN FEEL JOY AGAIN #and the way you can tell imo is. do you dread counseling sessions? or are you desperate to get to them?#bc. some pain is getting punched and some is relocating a joint. it's needed pain and you know as it's happening that it's needed.#so if it sucks also. think about why it sucks and how you feel about it.#does counseling make you bored angry anxious or frustrated? might not be the right fit #does it feel like cracking open a dam and getting swamped? you might just be going through the pain phase of healing

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sarcastic-bubble · 4 years

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I’m Yours

Paring: Anakin Skywalker x Senator!Reader

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: Some mild agnst

Request: Jealous!Anakin - Anon

A/N: Ya’ll don’t know how much self-control it took to not turn the end of this into a total smutfest. Hope this is what you wanted Anon!

Masterlist

You carefully applied the finishing touches of blush leaving your cheeks naturally rosy; you couldn’t help but admire yourself in the vanity mirror. As a senator, you always had to look your best, but you couldn’t deny the joy you felt when you had an excuse to really dress up. You stood and softly walked to your large dresser eyeing one of the many perfume bottles that sat on top. You felt a pair of strong hands grab your waist from behind. “You look gorgeous,” your husband's compliment was punctuated by a loving kiss to the back of your neck. Anakin turned you to face him, “I can’t imagine this is all for me, do you have a meeting tonight?”

“Something like that,” you mused as your fingers delicately traced his jaw. He was quick to lean in and kiss you and as badly as you wanted nothing than to feel his soft lips against yours but you had work to do. A finger from your free hand gently pushed on his lips, “Can’t let you do that dear. I don’t want you to ruin my makeup.” You slipped free from his arms and made your way to the dresser.

You were sorting through the various perfumes when Anakin leaned against the edge of the piece of furniture; his arms crossed and his expression undoubtedly annoyed. “It’s another dinner, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and it’s the last one too,” you replied as you replaced the cap on a small jade glass bottle. As much as you loved your job as a Senator-- you truly felt like you were able to make a difference for once—there were a few downsides and most of those came in the form of a select few fellow senators. The man you were to visit that evening was Sarkin Rhysode; a rather handsy old Senator that you needed a vote from. You would have given up on his vote weeks ago if your people didn’t need the aid that would come from it so bad. “You know how I feel about that man (Y/N)” Anakin’s voice was quickly picking up a jealous edge. And he wasn’t wrong, you were well aware of Anakin’s feeling towards the senator, most of them being rather negative. You grabbed a small crystal bottle filled with an amber liquid; it had been a gift from Anakin and was easily one of your favourites.

“I know.” You gently worked the cap off and set it down on the dresser.

You were about to apply the fragrant liquid when Anakin stole the bottle from your hand. “That’s not for him.” He held the bottle out of your reach, and you didn’t bother to fight him for it. There was no reasoning with your husband when he started to act like this so why even try.

You turned your attention back to the jade bottle and carefully applied the perfume, “jealousy isn’t a good look on you Anakin.” You paused a moment before speaking anymore. “I thought Jedi weren’t supposed to get jealous.” You were trying to your growing frustration but failing miserably.

“And I thought Senators weren’t supposed to sell themselves for votes,” he spoke harshly causing you to flinch in response.

“That’s not what this is.” You turned sharply towards the closet and pushed various garments to the side until you found the long coat you were looking for.

Anakin cornered you against the closet door; on hand planted firmly on the wall. “Then why do you get so dressed up every time you have a meeting with him?” He leaned forward slowly closing the gap between your bodies. “That dress doesn’t leave a lot up to the imagination.” He wasn’t wrong. While it was still quite modest it was tight and hugged every curve of your body, it always drew the unwanted attention of men when you wore it and some evenings you used that to your advantage.

“It’s never more than dinner and you know that.” You slipped out underneath his arm and quickly made your way to the front door of your apartment before you could be stopped again. You picked up the small bag that rested next to the door and you looked over your shoulder long enough to see Anakin watching you from the door to the bedroom. “Are you coming Jedi escort?” You asked your words just as harsh as his had been. “Or do I need to request the council send someone else?”

The ride to the dinner appointed was filled with tension so thick even the droid driving the land speeder felt it and so did the staff that welcomed the two of you to the restaurant. You took the short walk to the private dining room to compose yourself. You weren’t going to win very many votes if you spent the entire night scowling in your husband’s direction.

“It’s a pleasure to meet with you again Senator Ryshode,” you greeted pleasantly. You pushed away everything you had previously and focused purely on exuding the calm and regal persona you had made for yourself.

“The pleasure is all mine.” He took your hand in his and placed a polite kiss on your knuckles. “You look absolutely ravishing tonight.” You hated the way he looked at you and evidently do did Anakin. You didn’t need to see him to know his hand had found a home gently resting on his lightsaber. You shot him a quick glare telling him to behave and it didn’t take a genius that he had no such intentions.

“Why don’t we skip the small talk and get straight to dinner, we are friends after all? There’s no need for the silly formalities.” You offered the other Senator a gentle smile as you spoke.

Senator Ryshode led you through the doors to the private dining area. He pulled out a chair for you at the lone table and then looked to Anakin. “Is your Jedi Knight joining us tonight?”

You shook your head dismissively as you sat down, “he’ll be fine waiting outside tonight.” You regretted saying that immediately, it had absolutely nothing to do with Anakin annoyed glare and all to do with that fact that even while mad at him you wanted him there. Just his presence was enough to inspire confidence in you but keeping him there would just make everything so much worse.

The senator sat across from you but not before letting his hand rest of your bare shoulder and linger there just a bit longer than necessary. You hated this.

He hated this; being stuck watching the door while being forced to listen to you and your “date” talk. Obviously, this didn’t mean anything to you, you had reassured Anakin of that fact many times, but he couldn’t stop the jealousy he felt every time he could hear your laugh or the surge of jealousy he felt every time he was able to make out the flirty comments. He knew it all meant nothing but that didn’t stop it from hurting.

Anakin looked out the window various land speeders speeding by, how long had you been in there and how much longer did you plan on staying? He was getting impatient, to say the least. His inpatients, and jealousy, were about to get the best of him when you and the other senator stepped out of the dining area.

“This evening has been lovely Senator (Y/L/N), how would you like to continue it for a bit longer in my quarters? They aren’t far from here.” Senator Ryshode glanced at Anakin smirking, “I’m sure I make much better company than your brooding Jedi.”

Anakin was ready to snap, but you worked fast. Your fingers brushed against his arm fast enough for it to look like a mistake to any on-looker, but he knew it was your way of attempting to reassure him. Whether it worked or not was debatable but none the less he appreciated the gesture.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to judge Master Skywalker, Senator Ryshode.” You were slowly walking away from the senator not wanting to seem impolite but eager to remove yourself from the situation. “He’s a very skilled Jedi and usually makes for wonderful company. He’s just had a long day, surely you understand.”

“Well—”

You cut the other senator off quickly but as politely as possible, you had a reputation to uphold after all. “Much like our dear Jedi knight I too have had a rather long day and I want nothing more than retire for the evening.” You linked your arm through Anakin’s and gently held his bicep. He lived these small public displays of affection; for the small things he could do without fear of you two being caught. “Thank you for dinner, Senator. I wish you safe travels home.” You waved with your freehand and followed Anakin out of the restaurant.

“Did you get the vote?” asked Anakin quietly. You already knew where this was going.

“No.”

His grumpy yet smug expression could only be read as “I told you so.”

Hardly half an hour later you found yourself sitting in front of your vanity once again. You slowly worked the mass of pins that had held your hair in an intricate style. “Do you want to talk about it?” You asked. Anakin hadn’t moved from his spot against the closed bedroom door since you had returned; he hadn’t stopped staring at you either.

“What’s there to talk about?” He tried to hide that immense jealousy that still burned inside him, but you knew him far too well.

You stood and your bare feet made no sound as you padded across the plush carpet. You stood in front of him for a moment before deciding how to proceed. “Anakin,” your voice was quiet as you placed your left hand on his shoulder and your right hand cupped his cheek; your thumb gently brushing over his cheekbone. “You’re obviously still upset.”

His posture relaxed quite noticeably from your touch, how had he not noticed how tired he was. “I’m not up—”

“Anakin, please…” you trailed off wanting to choose your next words carefully. Your husband wasn’t always the best at talking about the things that troubled him and trying to pry it out of him would just lead to another fight; you had to be gentle. “If we don’t talk about this, you’ll let the jealousy eat at you and consume you until you snap.”

It had happened before and you remembered that day, all those years ago, vividly and the way he had yelled at you. You had avoided him for well over a month after. It was something you never wanted to experience ever again. “Please, for me Ani.”

“I don’t like the way he looks at you, I don’t like the way any of them look at you; you’re mine.” He gripped your waist the silky fabric of your nightgown sliding under his hand. “And the way they shamelessly touch you, like they don’t care who sees.” He was looking at you so intently that you involuntarily shivered.

You stood in silence for a few moments making sure he was done speaking; the last thing you wanted to do was interrupt him. When you were positive, he had nothing else you say you spoke your voice still quiet, “Anakin, I am yours. You never need to worry about that. I love you, don’t doubt that.” The hand that had been on his shoulder slid to rest on his chest. You found yourself absentmindedly toying with his robes, “I wish we could be more open about our relationship; I really do. But we both knew what we were getting ourselves into when we started this.”

You leaned up onto your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his in a loving kiss. “I’m yours and only yours.”

Taglist: @psionicsnow @in-the-frap-of-the-gods

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #anakin skywalker

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bettsfic · 3 years

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1/ hi betts. i have kind of a specific resume question that i'm struggling with and was hoping if you have any extra time i could hear your thoughts on? right after i graduated undergrad, a lot of Things happened and then i ended up having a good old bona fide Mental Breakdown™ and spent the next two years just living at my mother's house just straight up doing nothing. like, crawling out of bed at 7 pm to get water from the kitchen and then going back to bed for 2 years straight type nothing

2/ now, a little over 2 years later, i'm finally approaching the place mentally realizing i can start partially digging myself out of this via employment and my own income, and am starting the whole job application process. my undergrad degree was a combo of history + media studies, i had gotten in to do my history phd at yale, Things Happened before i could get there, all combined with the realization that a phd is not something i can commit to right now given the dismal career opportunities

3/ thereafter, so now i'm floundering and ready to apply to anything across the board, just ANY type of position to hire me so i can at least get on my feet after a couple of years and figure out what the fuck to do. except now, my problem and query, is that i have an over 2 year gap in my resume, with absolutely nothing to show for it, other than just straight up going batshit insane. i have no idea how to go about explaining that gap in future interviews, other than lying, and i don't even

4/ really know how to go about doing that either. i would really really appreciate any of your input on the situation, or any general advice? thank you either way. btw, your writing and multi-chaptered fics were one of the only consistent and good things about those two years and gave me something to look forward to and think about, and i can't even put into words how much that Helped.

first of all, thank you, and i’m glad my fics could help a little. second, congratulations for beginning to get out of what seems to be a very dark place. i’m sorry you’ve had such a hard time these past couple years, and i hope things continue to get better for you.

keep in mind, i’ve never been on a hiring committee before, so i’ve never seen this situation from the other side. i’ve only applied to a lot of jobs, and i had the opposite experience -- how to explain juggling so many jobs at once, and why i felt i had to do that? it felt the same though in some ways, two years of my life where i couldn’t grow as a person or feel any emotion, because i was working every minute of every day.

so, you can only really do 3 things: tell the truth, lie, or don’t mention it.

if you tell the truth, you put yourself in a difficult position. even though it’s horribly ableist, hiring managers may hold a 2-year gap in your resume against you. i imagine they’re looking for any reason to deny your application. that said, you could also indicate that you took a long-term health leave and not say anything more. they’re not allowed to inquire further, and you never have to give more information than you’re willing to. i think sometimes there’s this assumption you have to explain the why of things in the working world, but you really don’t. you may have a manager that demands to know things, but if you work for a corporation, even if a manager demands information, you very likely will never have to give it. at work, you are a veneer of yourself. you do not have to be vulnerable or open. you only have to do a job. in the hiring process, all you have to do is prove that you can do a job. so, focus on that.

i don’t like lying, but it might not be a terrible idea to indicate in a cover letter that you’ve spent two years as, say, the primary caretaker for a sick/dying relative. it’s noble, sympathetic, sadly very common, and nobody would interrogate it because it’s such a sensitive topic. the trick is how you would sell it in an interview, i think -- you wouldn’t bring it up on your own, and if asked about it, you would have to put on a professional facade over grief, in other words a non-reaction, and politely side-step the question to indicate it’s too painful to talk about, and you understand why they have to ask but you’d really rather not get into it. while i don’t think anyone would catch onto the lie, i personally would be nervous about the karma that would invoke. (to this day i still feel guilty lying to my professors about skipping class and late work by telling them i had to take my dad to chemo appointments. my dad was actually dying but i only ever took him to one appointment. on one hand, i forgive myself because i was clearly suffering in ways i didn’t yet understand. on the other hand, i feel bad for using my dad’s cancer to my benefit [but less bad knowing my dad, a serial work-skipper himself, probably wouldn’t have cared]). also, you’d have to keep up that lie for the duration of your employment, especially if the fake relative passed away, and that’s your reason for seeking employment. the good news is, in my experience, when my dad actually did die on my first day of work, nobody brought it up, because it was a very uncomfortable situation.

lastly, you could just not mention it. especially if you’re applying for entry-level work, it’s very possible your interviewers or hiring managers just aren’t going to care. depending on the type of job, they may just be looking for a body and it doesn’t matter where you’ve come from or what you plan to do. in the grand scheme of things, two years isn’t a long time. it’s possible, if the hiring manager is older, “2018″ and “2020″ are not far enough apart to put up any red flags. especially having just graduated, there are lots of easy assumptions that can go there. looking for jobs, pandemic, applying to grad school, etc. but, you know, that’s a risk. you might default to this option and see what happens. if you’re not getting any calls for interviews, then try a different option.

personally, my belief when it comes to work is always, “it’s nobody’s fucking business.” i’m one of those people who only ever shows a very specific, narrow piece of myself to others that i think is most relevant to them, even in relationships.

(an aside -- one time i was complaining to my bff about money troubles, and keep in mind, we talk every day, and he was like, “well you could always get a job?” and that was when i realized, my best friend didn’t know i had a job. because i never told him i had a job. so he thought i just didn’t have a job. it’s definitely a consistent pattern, that i’ll say something about myself, and someone who thinks they’re close to me will go, “you WHAT” and i’ll shrug and be like, “i don’t know it just never seemed relevant.”)

which is all to say, in workplaces i’m even more of a closed book. whether or not that’s a good thing is debatable, considering how i’ve hated pretty much every job i’ve ever had (besides teaching). but the point is, professionalism is a performance, and the cover letter/resume is just a script. it’s a picture of you, not you, and you can choose how to portray yourself.

sorry this is such a long answer for what amounts to “i’m not sure.” any followers who have experience on the other side of the hiring process, do you have any advice for anon?

#writing advice #job advice #Anonymous

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universallywriting · 4 years

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Future

"I was thinking," Connie began casually, in such a casual way he knew in an instant that it wasn't casual at all. He was extra sure because it was coming during a fighting game. Connie regularly snuck in important things during fighting games, hoping he’d be too distracted to talk much about it.

Not today. He paused their game to look up at her from where she lay on his bed, very carefully avoiding his gaze. That couldn’t be good. "Since my gap year is ending, and I'm heading off to college, I had some thoughts about us. About you."

The announcement hit his belly like lead. He knew this was coming, after all. Connie had a career ahead of him and he still had, well… He had a better relationship with his family at twenty than he did at seventeen, and better mental health, even if he was doing absolutely nothing with it.

But Connie had a future, and he supported that. His voice stayed calm. "Oh yeah? What kind of thoughts?"

She looked at him then, sat up on his bed, took a deep breath, and spoke: "I know this is a lot, and I was going to drip it to you but I didn’t know how to start. So, I guess, the first thing I should say is that some college force you to live in the dorms for a year, but mine doesn't. Since it's a college town, there's all kinds of affordable housing, we could absolutely live together no matter what you choose, okay?"

He blinked, the weight on his chest suddenly gone and replaced with a lightness so intense he had to think about sad animal facts to keep himself from floating to the ceiling. "What?"

"No! You have to hear me out!" Connie dropped the controller and held up her hands frantically, and he gawked as she continued her panicked babble, "Okay, so, it's too late to apply, and I get why you didn't apply, and I maybe should have pushed, but I didn't want to push? That doesn't matter. The point is that most people get a degree to get a job, right? But you have lots of money, and there's literally a whole universe of stuff you could be doing, so you don't need a degree.”

Steven began, “I guess that’s-” but she cut him off, not done with her tirade.

"But you don't really know what you're doing right now, or what you want to do. And that's okay! Who even knows what they want to do for the rest of their lives at twenty?” She laughed nervously. “I’m a weirdo who figured out she likes art. Most people don’t! Most people actually change majors and spend more time in college. We’re all stupid, Steven. But college can be about figuring stuff out, too, and you don’t have to be accepted or waste money on that!"

“Breathe.” He laughed a little and put his hands on her shoulders. "What are you talking about?"

"You could audit classes. You could sit in on classes. I've been asking around." Her voice was still a little unsteady, words tumbling out, and Steven felt his throat starting to close up for a wholly different reason as she rambled off all the effort she had put in for him: "I've sent emails, done research, even reached out to professors about it. Basically everyone said they didn't care at all if someone just really wanted to learn and wanted to sit in the back of the class and not bother anyone!"

He shook his head. “You’re saying teachers would be okay with me hanging out in their classes because I can’t figure out what to do?”

She beamed and nodded eagerly. "Most of them were really flattered by it, actually. They love the idea of being so interesting someone would want to come to listen to them for free. Some college students already do that, just to learn about other majors for fun! You wouldn't do the assignments for grades or anything, but you could sit in and learn all kinds of stuff, see if something lights a fire in you, you know?"

"I don't get it. You're not... You don't want to take a break.” His eyes were burning, his lips slowly turning up into a smile. “You want me to come with you?"

"Of course I don't want to take a break!" she cried. Her eyes went wide and she rocked back from him, already starting to panic. "Do you want to take a break? Oh my gosh, and I've been going on about dragging you to college and living with you. Steven, I’m so-"

"No!" he yelped. His arms wrapped around her, hugging her close to his chest. Hearing her say it outloud, even in shock, was far worse than he had imagined. "No break. I don't want a break. Jam Buds forever."

She giggled, pulling back just enough for him to see her blushing face. "Okay. Good. Then what don't you get?"

"You asking me to come with you, doing all this research. I’m sorry I didn’t do any of it myself." Steven frowned and swallowed the lump in his throat. "You're about to start the rest of your life. Why are you wasting all this time on mine?"

"Because there's no version of the rest of my life that you're not in," she answered, calmly and matter of factly as his heart melted in his chest. Connie’s hand came up to push his forehead to hers, the casual embrace soft and warm as she reassured his doubts. "No matter what happens, we're together. Friends, daring, married, anything. If you're not a part of my future, it's not a future worth planning."

"You want me to come with you," he murmured in awe. "You really want me there."

Connie laughed. "Always. No matter what you pick, it's you and me, Steven. We’ve got a million futures ahead of us and in every single one, we're partners that do everything together. So, what do you say? Did any of that sound good?"

"It all sounded good," he said. But he would have to think it over. He'd have to carefully make a decision. And right then, his heart was full to bursting with love, so any decision he made would have been the one that let him nip at her heels like a puppy, lovesick and wandering wherever she decided to go.

But that wasn’t how things should work. She had followed his lead for years through gem stuff, and even if she took the lead on human things it was only to show him the possible paths. He couldn’t live his whole life for her, no matter how tempting that may have been in the quiet, intimate moments.

So, instead, he just climbed on top of the bed. He climbed on top of her, and she was warm and he was warm, and everything was the quiet melancholy that came with change, even when it was change for the better. They felt each other's heartbeats in the quiet beach house, the quiet two-beat sound whispering all the reassurances they needed to move ahead.

I love.

I live.

I'm here.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. As soothing as the tide rolling out below.

#jamweek #steven universe #connie maheswaran #connverse

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shihalyfie · 4 years

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The 02 epilogue and “realism”

While the following thoughts have been something I’ve been thinking about for a very long time, the official Kizuna Twitter posted some interesting tweets this morning about the 02 epilogue that made me feel very much like I wanted to talk about this in detail today, so I’ve written this up. Considering how historically controversial the 02 epilogue is (or having an opinion on the 02 epilogue at all, really), I’m probably standing on thin ice by even talking about it, but I’ll do my best.

I think there’s no way getting around the fact that the 02 epilogue was really sudden for pretty much everyone -- it pretty much jumps at you without warning at the end of episode 50, a sudden 25-year timeskip when we had just gotten out of Oikawa’s death (and a very chaotic finale in general). But there is another quirk about the epilogue, which is that a lot of what seems “illogical” out of it...is most certainly illogical to someone approaching it as a kid thinking in terms of media tropes, but gains a very different nuance when you become an adult and have a certain degree of life experience under your belt.

(Note: This post does not discuss Kizuna, despite being inspired by something from it, so no fear of spoilers.)

Before we begin for real, I just want to get it out of the way that I’m not trying to “defend” the epilogue in the sense of implying that people are unreasonable for being blindsided. Like I said, it was sudden, and it was a giant timeskip where a ton of incredibly massive changes happened, leaving the audience likely to be disoriented wondering what on earth happened in the middle there to lead up to that. On top of that, although the rest of this meta is basically dedicated to “analyzing the meaning behind the epilogue writing choices from the production perspective”, I will be very honest in that, yes, I do think that, regardless of good intent, it may not have been the best decision to go ahead and make these decisions in this degree of lack of thought as to how the audience (especially one that was expected to be largely comprised of children) would take it -- creativity is a two-way street, after all, and communicating with your audience and understanding how your work will come off is very important.

Still, nevertheless, I’m writing this meta because I think, well...now that we’re all adults, and now that we’ve gotten a plethora of development information over the past twenty years, especially in the light of Kizuna, it’s worth doing an analysis about why these kinds of writing choices were made, because even to this day you get a lot of people who feel completely blindsided about it.

Everyone’s careers

Actually, the reason I decided to make this post was that I was inspired a bit by this morning’s post from the Kizuna Twitter discussing why, despite being a lead-up to the 02 epilogue, some of the cast in Kizuna seems to be in careers or aspirations that are slightly off from the careers we saw them in during the actual epilogue. (Most notably, Sora still working in ikebana instead of fashion design, Mimi being into online shopping instead of her future cooking show, etc.) The official statement was that Seki Hiromi (producer for the original Adventure and 02) personally stepped in and warned them that, in real life, a lot of people will end up changing their career aspirations at this age, and that it wouldn’t hit close to home if everyone had it exactly figured out by this point.

Kizuna is a movie about the Sad Millennial Adult Experience, so of course it is very important that it be relatable to adults in the modern era. But, in all honesty, this principle applies to 02′s epilogue itself as well. Back when the epilogue first aired -- and for the last twenty years, really -- you got a lot of comments like “why didn’t Taichi become a professional soccer player? why didn’t Yamato go into music?” and such. The thing is, though...well, this is a personal anecdote, but I first got into Digimon when I was a preteen, and, having already had an experience where my childhood interests had changed completely, I actually severely disliked seeing people say that because it felt too straightforward. Even that early, that kind of thing felt unrelatable.

Kizuna as a movie, right now, would be impossible to make in the form it is now if it hadn’t been for the 02 epilogue setting that kind of precedent -- because of the idea of your childhood hobbies not feeling as appealing as they used to be and being very lost about what to do now, feeling that everyone lied to you about that whole “having things figured out by adulthood” thing, and maybe you’ll never really figure it out. But even taking out the fact that the 02 epilogue most likely wasn’t written with the idea they’d need to make an adult-relatable movie 20 real-life years later, I think it’s easy to glean that this philosophy was behind the 02 epilogue as well. Especially since, well...Adventure and 02 themselves were both famous for this kind of writing, for depicting the lives of children in surprisingly realistic and close-to-home ways that avoided generic anime tropes.

Actually, Kakudou said it straight-out:

There were a lot of anime normally made with the idea that a given rule must occur, but I decided to do them while having doubts about whether or not it was a good idea to take on such given rules without any detail. Even if we went on with these given rules, I tried to take appropriate steps in showing why such things had occurred through step-by-step arrangements and reasoning. That is why I tried to add a little bit of realness each time to the characters, despite the restrictions that they are from anime.

So yes, that actually was the point -- no using anime tropes unless they felt they could feasibly happen with these characters. Daisuke is commented on as having “the most anime-like” and idealistic personality, but as I commented in my earlier 02 meta, he still doesn’t quite hit all of the check marks on the shounen hero archetype. So after going for a whole series on the line of going into a grounded take on human mentalities and thought processes...it probably would be inappropriate to suddenly shift into an extremely idealized fictional trope-ish depiction of everyone just going into a more exaggerated version of their childhood hobbies.

Again, that doesn’t mean that some of these don’t come off as really sudden -- the most infamous being Yamato becoming an astronaut. This was eventually revealed in 2003 and several times later to be a holdover from the original beta concept for a third Adventure series, so in that light it makes a little more sense -- Yamato probably would be the most passionate about keeping up the fight as a Chosen -- but nevertheless, it’s ambiguous whether that actually still holds (especially since the actual, uh, “third series” was...a bit different), and since we live in a world where that hypothetical Digimon in Space series never happened, it still blindsides the viewer.

On the other hand, though, both the tri. stage play and the official Kizuna profiles only took less than a paragraph to explain the disparity of why Yamato isn’t doing music anymore: he wanted to keep it in the range of hobbies. Which, incidentally, is an extremely common thing for many who experiment with creative work in their youth -- many realize that if they make it into their job, they’ll actually start hating it. Conversely, while I haven’t talked to a lot of astronauts myself, I really do sometimes wonder how many of them actually knew they were going to get into it from childhood.

So that’s the thing. We have no idea what happened, we’re left with very little recourse as to bridging the gap (at least, until Kizuna came 20 years later and helped us out a bit), and that’s why it feels implausible to many -- especially for a kid in the audience who may not have had that experience of having their hobbies change or feel less appealing. In the end, like I said, I’m not sure that going about it this way was the best decision when the very target audience was likely to be confused about this, and since, after all, fiction does have to have some acceptable breaks from reality for the sake of being a followable story. But at the very least, it is very much in line with Adventure and 02′s philosophy towards writing and its characters -- that things would be the case based on what would be these characters’ likely trajectory as actual people, and not as what you might expect “because it’s fiction” or “because they’re this kind of character”.

That everyone has a Digimon partner

I have a very distinct memory of, as a preteen, going around the Internet and seeing a fansite where someone made their “better version” of the epilogue, where their favorite ships got married instead and everyone got the careers they thought they should have, but one major thing that stuck out was that it had the now-adult kids still keep the existence of Digimon a secret, and that it’s kind of a “secret club” that they still have. In general, one of the biggest arguments against the “everyone has a Digimon partner” thing is that this, allegedly, diminishes how “special” the Chosen are when they’re not the super-amazing sole people in the world to have a partner.

When you’re a kid, being the “Chosen One” sounds romantic. You’re a special selected hero with fated abilities to save the world. In the context of Adventure and 02, however, this would actually be very contradictory to the constant reminders given by both series that magical powers selecting you out of nowhere means absolutely nothing if you’re not the one with personal will and volition to do the right thing with what you’re given. In fact, I’d say it’s actually the opposite of what all of those people have said -- if you did something amazing because of fate or because some higher power said you should, it says a lot less about you than if you were given abilities and choices and actively made an attempt to do something good and change the world, by your own volition.

But the other very important thing about the epilogue is that people keep seeing this development of Digimon proliferating all over the world like it was completely out-of-nowhere, to the point I’ve even seen conspiracy theories that the epilogue was a last-minute decision. This is especially funny because the epilogue was one of the first things decided in the entire series -- “the entire series” in this case being not 02, but Adventure -- before they’d even finalized the characterizations for everyone! The 02 epilogue was, infamously, intended to be Adventure’s ending, before 02 was greenlighted and they postponed the plan there resulting in 02 ultimately taking the fall for it.

Because it was a new television series, without an original novel or manga to use as its reference, we had to cut back on the aspect of explaining the character to each voice actor, something that we would usually do under normal circumstances. We only described their basic personality during auditions because it was likely that those personalities would change drastically in the future depending on the plot’s developments. We did not omit the explanations because there were too many characters. I swear.

But in exchange, we began post-recording by saying just this: “This story is one that’s being reminisced on by one of the children in the group who becomes a novelist 28 years later. The narrator here is that child as an adult.” Those who watched the last episode of the continuation series “Digimon Adventure 02” would know that this was Takeru, but back then, that information was kept secret. At the time of the show, it was planned that the last episode of “Digimon Adventure” would end with ‘where are the characters now’ 28 years later. However, in mid-run, production for its sequel “02” was decided and its story contents were established to be juxtaposed to the previous show, so we carried over the 28 years later scene to the sequel series instead.

(From the afterword from Adventure novel #3, from director Kakudou Hiroyuki.)

25 years after 02. 28 years after Adventure. We calculated that very precisely. In 1999, there was Taichi’s group of eight, and there were also eight other people who didn’t appear in Adventure. Before that there were only eight total, and before that only four, and before that only two, and at the beginning, only one. If they were to double every year, then it would be 28 years until everyone in the world would be able to live alongside a Digimon. Threaded through both Adventure and 02 is a story about humanity’s evolution. For everyone to have their own Digimon partner is the final step of evolution. Because there’s not much left for our actual bodies to change in terms of evolution, it is a story about how the hidden parts of our souls use the powers of digital technology to manifest in the real world, resulting in humanity’s evolution.

Statement from Kakudou Hiroyuki, from the Digimon Series Memorial Book.)

About Digimon 10: The initial trigger for humanity receiving partner Digimon was the Hikarigaoka incident in 1996, but at the time the Internet network was not ready and it was too early for anything to happen. The following years resulted in two and then four people getting involved, and after that it doubled every year (twice, because digital and binary). About Digimon 11: Twenty years later, in the world depicted in the final episode of 02, all human beings have received a partner Digimon. This is the ultimate result of Digimon Adventure’s story of evolution.

Statement from Kakudou Hiroyuki, originating from Twitter and later moved to his blog.)

While the 02 epilogue taking place in the year it did sounds like it’s because they just wanted to add an arbitrary neat number of “25 years later” to 02′s finale, in actuality, the original goal was not for that 25 years but to specifically hit the year of 2028 (not 2027, actually), where, calculating the number of humans that could be partnered to a Digimon based on the global population, everyone would have a partner by exactly 2028. The “doubling every year” principle was only brought up in actual anime-centric canon in a drama CD, and even then it was in a context of speculation instead of being stated as hard fact, but it should be noted that even Kizuna is compliant with this principle, since To Sora states directly that the number of Chosen Children as of 2010 is over 30,000, which is the approximate correct amount you should be expecting by 2010 under this principle. (So yes, really, despite ostensibly not being compliant with his original concept, presumably thanks to the nail added by partnership dissolution and how that ties into his theory of Digimon being part of the soul, Kizuna actually goes out of its way to otherwise be compliant with even the more obscure parts of his lore.)

But the really interesting thing that this epilogue concept brings out is that “the adventure of the Tokyo Chosen Children” actually had nothing to do with the proliferation of Chosen Children around the world whatsoever. From the very beginning, even since the original conception of Adventure, the proliferation of Digimon was something that was going to happen whether anyone liked it or not.

In fact, let’s look at what Koushirou actually says in the aforementioned drama CD:

Yes. I’ve figured it out… The meaning behind the term “Chosen Child.” The number of “Chosen Children” has been growing at a steady rate. Having a partner Digimon isn’t really that special. Being a “Chosen Child” means… to cease the hostilities that break out and inconvenience the Digital World. In order to do so, that child gains a partner Digimon faster than another. In other words, we are children chosen to fight. That’s what it means, isn’t it? ... Oh, is that so? That’s surprising. I didn’t expect that not even you would know what countries the Chosen Children come from when they go to the Digital World… It’s Qinglongmon that’s helping you, is it, Gennai-san? Do the other Holy Beasts who have revived not know either? The Digital World is still so full of mysteries. I’ll do my best to look for them over here.

I think a lot of people tend to have misconceptions about the nature of a Chosen Child, and those who picked them, because the way everyone became “chosen ones” is actually very different from how most media usually would play the trope. In particular:

Homeostasis, the Agents, and the Holy Beasts are explicitly not gods nor omniscient. Homeostasis admits their own lack of abilities in Adventure episode 45, and there’s a recurring undercurrent of the “I don’t know” coming from them and the Agents not actually being because they’re deliberately cryptic, but because they really don’t know. In fact, the Digital World itself is depicted as being about as confused about this whole human contact thing as the human world is.

Note that Koushirou makes a distinction between “being a Chosen Child” and “having a Digimon partner”. If you’re deemed someone who might be able to do something important in this very early time when the Digital World is still trying to figure all of this stuff out, in a world where humans overall still don’t understand Digimon very well, you get first dibs because you’re someone who can be a valuable pioneer. In other words, just because everyone else will eventually get a partner doesn’t mean your contributions aren’t still historical, valuable, and important.

The Digital World was mentioned in Adventure episode 19 as being approximately as big in scale as the real-world Earth itself. That means the Digital World is huge. Of course, its time and space doesn’t exactly match up with the real world’s, as demonstrated multiple times in 02 when the kids abuse it to circumvent travel distance, but nevertheless, there is presumably a lot of the Digital World that neither the Adventure nor the 02 kids have seen in their lives. When they meet Qinglongmon in 02 episode 37, he introduces himself as being in charge of the Eastern side -- and we never meet the others. In effect, there’s probably a huge area of the Digital World that needs protecting that even twelve kids from Tokyo can’t cover by themselves. And that answers the question of what the international Chosen Children are there for -- what do you think they’re doing with those Digivices, twiddling their thumbs? The Tokyo Chosen’s adventures were the ones we were blessed with being able to bear witness to, but that absolutely does not exclude the idea that there were other kids going through their own tales of growth and adventure -- especially since, as I said, Homeostasis and the others protecting the Digital World are not omniscient, and there are a lot of known factors beyond their control.

On that note, you might notice that, by the doubling-every-year principle and by running a math calculation, in 1999, there were eight other Chosen Children besides Taichi’s group. This also tracks with the fact that Adventure episode 53 revealed that there were other Chosen Children prior to Taichi et al. who performed an incomplete seal on Apocalymon, ones that even Gennai wasn’t aware of (remember how I said that the Agents aren’t actually omniscient?). While the fact that such an ostensibly huge fact was dropped so casually is jarring for the viewer, in retrospect, the fact that this was dropped so casually was indicative of the idea of how...not very much of a big deal this was supposed to be. Taichi and his friends may have been instrumental in the selection process for Chosen Children back in 1995, but they weren’t the only ones who witnessed the Hikarigaoka incident nor to have contact with Digimon, and they weren’t even the first to save the Digital World, nor will they be the last. But the journey of personal growth they took was still important to themselves -- just because they weren’t the only ones who took it didn’t change the fact that such an important thing happened, nor that we got the benefit of being able to meet and resonate with these kids.

In fact, the Hikarigaoka incident wasn’t even the first point of contact with the Digital World. 02 episode 33 hinted very heavily that what humans have perceived as youkai and other spirits were actually Digital World contact, just not something actually noticeable until digital technology started connecting the worlds. Episode 47 revealed that Oikawa Yukio and Hida Hiroki had made contact sometime in the 80s via video games -- even though they weren’t Chosen Children themselves at the time. In short, the concept of the Digital World and its contact with the human one is something that spans throughout history, of which the Tokyo Chosen Children are only part of in very recent years.

And finally, one of the most important parts: the idea that the Digimon would stay a secret to the world for very long is inherently infeasible. The 1999 “Digimon in the sky” incident was international. It made international news. Everyone in Tokyo has clear memories of the “Odaiba fog” incident, and, as revealed in 02 episode 14, even a boy from America, Michael, has clear memory of seeing a Gorimon. Reporters like Ishida Hiroaki didn’t hesitate to get in on the scene and try to cover what was going on, and 02 episode 38 revealed that Takaishi Natsuko was doing intensive enough press coverage on the Digimon incidents that Oikawa actually sought her out for information on it. They’re probably not the only reporters around the world doing the same. One episode later, Gennai revealed that the government/military and scientific worlds had actually caught onto the existence of Digimon and did make active attempts to research it -- but, fearing that the world wasn’t quite ready to do that without exploiting Digimon for evil purposes, Gennai and the other Agents wiped out any data records so that they couldn’t do organized research or swap notes. But just wiping out data doesn’t wipe out the public memory, and, especially when the number of Chosen Children is proliferating, and with all of the Digimon-related disasters that happened around the world in 02 episodes 40-42, at some point the world is going to start becoming very aware of what’s going on with this whole thing.

And finally, about that thing where a lot of people claim that a world where everyone has a Digimon partner must be some kind of dystopia: I think this camp severely underestimates how adaptable the world is.

This is something that might not be as resonant to those who were very young at the time they aired, but Adventure and 02 were written in what was a very shocking and scary world for adults that were living at the time. The rate at which the world changed and adapted to digital technology in the late 80s and all of the 90s was ridiculous, and in some ways even terrifying. Many tech people have pointed out how much it feels like the entire structure of the world has changed in light of technological developments, AI, and the Internet in only the last few decades compared to centuries before. International policy has changed, daily life has changed, business structures have changed, in time much less than 25 years. Hell, I’m writing this post smack in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic; I think anyone reading this right now at this time can attest to how terrifyingly quickly the world changed itself in only a few months in response to such a thing.

Compared to that, a whole 25 years of slow burn where the Digimon partner rate at least had the decency to double every year and give people a chance to acclimate and make public policy seems practically luxurious. On top of that, while there will certainly be more people like the Kaiser out there abusing their power, Digimon evolution at least happens to be tied to human emotions (unlike many other weapons out there), and there is some stifling factor in less-than-pleasant people being a bit less likely to have the same access to overwhelming power as those who are more selfless and virtuous. That kind of limiter is something I wish modern technology could have sometimes.

So what is the Tokyo Chosen Children’s place in this narrative? At the forefront of such incredibly massive incoming changes were children who were living in a completely different world than that familiar to even people who were born five to ten years earlier -- much like the real children born in the world of technology in the late 90s. The Tokyo Chosen Children were some of the earliest pioneers in this regard, being the ones who had to figure out logistics and Digimon and the Digital World and what it meant to be a partner in a world that hadn’t figured any of this out yet, and arguably wasn’t ready yet.

Yet they did, and they saved both worlds with no precedent nor support on what to do. This, I think, is a massively more meaningful accomplishment than the idea that they were exclusively selected by some higher power.

On romance and marriage

I feel like this topic is one I’m setting myself up to end up with my head on a pike by daring to breach it -- there is pretty much no way I can cover this without setting myself up for some risk of this -- but I do want to talk about it. I really don’t want to make this post into a pro- or anti-shipping discourse post, so you’ll have to forgive me as I try to be about as diplomatic about this as I possibly can. For all it’s worth, I’m a firm believer in shipping and shipping headcanons being an integral part of the fan’s experience (heck, anyone who knows me knows that I often talk about my own ships more than I really should), and so, as I said before, I’m writing this largely from the perspective of elucidating “the most likely reason it was written this way”, and not “should it have been written this way” nor “how I think people should feel in spite of this”.

In any case, I’m going to start off this section by a statement from a friend that left a particular impression on me. I’d introduced them to Digimon recently, with both of us as adults, and one thing they commented was that the idea of shipping any of the characters felt a little too odd, because they were all elementary school kids. They, of course, understood quite naturally that I had been shipping some of these kids since I was their age (and that my current round of shipping usually was more about whether they’d get together later than whether they would during the time of the series), so it wasn’t an accusation of me being creepy or anything -- it’s just that, as an adult coming into this for the first time without a lot of preconceived attachments, it felt too weird for them to ship children at that young of an age, and it was something that made me think a lot about it.

As I said, shipping is often an integral part of the fan’s experience, even for those who don’t do “fandom” -- romance is such a huge priority that it permeates all of our media, and how it’s handled is often one of the first things deeply scrutinized. Part of the reason the 02 epilogue is so controversial is that it went pretty much against the face of the most popular ships in the fanbase, and the two that did go forward (Yamato/Sora and Ken/Miyako) weren’t ones that people would conventionally expect given what you’d generally look for when it comes to fictional relationship development.

But that’s kind of the issue here: remember when I pointed out earlier that Adventure and 02 were trying to stay away from anime tropes unless they found it to be particularly relevant to the characters’ arcs? In actuality, the way that people generally expect romance and romance tropes to happen in a series -- especially a not-particularly-romance-centric series like this one -- isn’t how romance generally works, and especially not for kids at the age we saw them in Adventure and 02. It doesn’t seem like coincidence that the first hard show of romance we get (Sora asking Yamato out during Christmas) is when the relevant characters were 14, which is around the earliest age you can imagine two kids actually taking a relationship seriously and having some depth of what they’re getting into. As if to drive this in further, Daisuke’s crush on Hikari is portrayed as a sign of him acting shallow and not having a good sense of priorities at the moment; the whole 02 main cast, as of 02, is probably still too young to entertain anything serious for at least a few more years.

If you look at actual couples, as romantic as “childhood friends to lovers” is as a trope, it’s actually not very common in real life, especially for “childhood” being defined as 8-12. There might be a slightly higher chance when it comes to the Tokyo Chosen Children, considering they’d gone through some shared experiences others might not understand, but even that gets slightly mitigated by the fact that more and more people around the world are becoming Chosen themselves. So while it can happen, and while it’s probably somewhat more likely for this group in particular, it’s not as likely as the average shipper would probably want it to be. Even those who support the canon ships don’t really favor the idea of them being in a continuous relationship all the way up to adulthood -- my personal experience as someone closely following Ken/Miyako fanfiction and comics in both the West and in Japan indicates a common thread of it being treated as a mutual pining ship until several years later, and the Yamato/Sora fans I’ve personally talked to have a very high rate of feeling that the two of them have experienced at least one breakup before getting back together. Or, in short, even people who like those ships have a hard time imagining a unbroken, continuous relationship all the way from elementary/middle school to adulthood, because of how much that generally doesn’t happen.

I promise I am not writing this as a treatise against the ship itself, I swear I’m just using this because it’s the best example I can pull out at the moment, but I’ll put it this way: I think the clearest example of this is Takeru and Hikari, the only pairing that has the unfortunate distinction of being explicitly confirmed as not being married (by Seki Hiromi in V-Jump), whereas everyone outside the scope of Yamato/Sora and Ken/Miyako is still technically in “believe whatever you want” territory. Takeru/Hikari is, depending on which scale of ranking you use, a ship that consistently ranks as one of the three most popular Digimon ships globally, and them not getting together is cited as one of the most common things disliked about the epilogue. But despite its overwhelming popularity to the point you’d think it’d be easy to cater to such a humongous fanbase by pairing them together -- and so few people would dispute it, really! -- not only were they not made an item, but they were explicitly confirmed as not being one.

Why?

Takeru and Hikari probably feel “baited” to anyone who’s looking at this from a romantic trope perspective. They’re constantly in each other’s company to the point where it almost feels like they like hanging out with each other more than they do others. Takeru is shown as having a particular investment in Hikari’s welfare in 02 episodes like 7, 13, and 31. They’re constantly associated with each other in promotional materials, too. But when you look at them in terms of their actual relationship as children...well, I’ll put it this way with another personal anecdote: I actually had multiple platonic friends like that back when I was their age in elementary and later middle school, and, uh...well, people did actually ask if we were in love with each other, and it genuinely, no-strings-attached, annoyed the hell out of me, because we weren’t, and I hated being pigeonholed into that.

In real life, platonic relationships happen a lot with kids in that age group, and it’s not actually all that surprising that 02 would have wanted to portray a healthy one without any strings attached -- the same way the series also portrayed other unconventional situations with kids, such as Iori being a nine-year-old who hangs out with kids much older than him (there are most certainly kids who can attest to being in that position!). I mentioned in my earlier 02 characterization meta that both Takeru and Hikari are actually rather inscrutable (especially in the first half of the series), and in fact, episode 13, usually quoted as a Takeru/Hikari episode, is actually centered around Takeru having difficulty reaching out to Hikari because, despite the fact he was closest to her at that point in time, she still was too closed-in to open up about anything. They almost never talk about what they actually think about each other, other than obviously having an investment in each other’s welfare and enjoying each other’s company, but, again -- this isn’t unusual for platonic friends at this age. And the fact that this is the one ship where there was actual official word putting a foot down and saying, no, this did not end up in marriage...everyone interprets this like it’s some kind of callous move made to make people miserable for no good reason, but I would say that, given the writing philosophy applied to the kids in nearly every other respect, the intent was likely to make a statement that this kind of relationship can exist without it ending up in inevitable marriage somewhere down the line.

We’re inclined to see “two people being emotionally close means a higher chance of being a couple” because this is how romance has been portrayed in media for as long as any of us have been consuming media, but in actuality, relationships are very multifaceted and complicated, and there are many ways to be “emotionally close” to someone in ways that don’t overlap with being “romantically attracted” to someone. This is especially once you start becoming an adult and end up needing to navigate the web of who’s a friend and whom you might have a crush on, and in actuality the person you start flirting with because you think they’re attractive might have been someone you just met last week, or at least someone you don’t know very emotionally intimately (which is why crushes can be intimidating, even in adulthood). This is also what I think fuels the disparity between why Taichi/Sora gained such a huge following and what actually happened with them, because many, many fans will testify that they felt baited by the ship, but if you look in the actual series in terms of what counts as “romantic attraction” and not just emotional closeness, there’s...not a lot; they happened to know each other before the events of the series (but so did Koushirou!), Taichi had a bit of a mental breakdown about saving her (because he’s not someone who abandons important friends), and in Our War Game! they had a bit of a spat with traces of tsundere (which, ultimately, are circumstantial and don’t necessarily indicate they actually have serious mutual feelings for each other). Official word implies that Yamato and Sora were planned since rather early in the series, and it doesn’t seem like coincidence that “pairing up the main hero and heroine” (Taichi and Sora) was given as an example of an avoided trope in an official booklet, so it lends further support to the idea that “not following typical romance tropes and expectations” was a significant priority.

Again, this isn’t me saying anything about those who ship it or those who have been able to figure out ways in which the relationship could work in some very wonderful headcanons I’ve had the benefit of reading over the past decades, nor those who are having a marvelous time with fanfic and headcanon and comics and being a bit more willing to indulge outside the scope of the series’s canon. (Nor the multitude of very good headcanons and meta I’ve seen about the possibility of Takeru/Hikari at least trying out dating somewhere along the line, even if it doesn’t end up anywhere permanent.) Nor does that mean I think that this was the best way for the writers to go about it -- as I’ve said in this meta already, there is an inherent fallacy of not paying enough attention to how writing will be taken and interpreted by people with certain reasonable expectations cultivated from years of media consumption, and especially by kids who aren’t going to pick up that nuance or don’t have the appropriate relationship life experience. Regardless of intent, there’s still a lot that can be criticized about its handling; in many ways, it could be considered a bit cruel that the series had things known to be considered romantic subtext in most other series that may not have been actually intended this way. But, nevertheless, I do feel very strongly that there’s a high likelihood that this is what they were at least going for, even if it didn’t come off that way to most of the audience.

Extrapolating this concept further, it’s also interesting to see how Adventure and 02 treat romance as a relatively insubstantial thing in the grand scope of things. I said earlier that it’s quite understandable that romance and shipping have become the main obsession for media -- and it’s probably been that way for as long as human civilization has even existed -- but when you really think about it, Adventure/02 treat romance as “a thing that is a big part of your life, but not the sole controlling factor”. Again, note how Daisuke’s precocious crush on Hikari manifests when he’s at his most shallow, and even after Yamato and Sora start dating in episode 38, we really don’t hear a lot about it -- granted, neither were in the lead protagonist cast by that point in the series, but whenever they do appear thereafter, it’s almost always about their work helping out as Chosen than it is about their relationship, which is presumably a private thing going on in the background. It’s a part of their lives, but it’s not the only thing going on with them. Of course, shounen anime with casts of these ages don’t tend to breach the topic of romance much at all, but it’s interesting how it touches on the topic and then leaves it in the background -- again, something probably frustrating and a bit too cavalier for those inclined to see shipping and romance as life or death, but from a real-life perspective, makes sense in the realm of friends’ relationships largely not being your business, even if it is significant.

(Ken and Miyako are a trickier matter because their pairing was allegedly based on their voice actors’ friendship, but considering that it has been cited multiple times across multiple Digimon series production notes that character outlines were often subject to change even mid-series based on impressions of the voice actors’ performance -- it happened in Tamers too, and it’s not even unusual for original anime in general -- it’s still ambiguous as to when in production this decision was made, and, considering the flip between Miyako having jealous pettiness over him in episode 3 to fantasizing over him and considering him exactly her type in 8, I would not be surprised if the decision were made somewhere in between there, especially since the fact the epilogue would eventually happen was already established in production over a year prior. Unlike with Yamato and Sora, we don’t get to see the two of them at a reasonable age to start doing anything serious within the scope of 02, which led to the unfortunate result of the reveal of them getting married in the epilogue being a very startling and sudden jump for many.)

In any case, I’m going to close this with yet another disclaimer -- I know I’m repeating myself too many times at this point, but I really, really want to make it clear that I am not, in any way, trying to imply that I don’t understand why people would be blindsided by the epilogue in any of the above ways (careers, the status of Digimon partnerships, shipping) because, as I said, I do think there is some merit to the philosophy that maybe they should have paid a bit more attention to how people -- especially kids -- would actually see the events rather than the writing philosophy behind why it should be written this way. (And, to be honest, I think I might have this complaint behind not just the epilogue, but both Adventure and 02 as a whole, for a multitude of different reasons.) Moreover, there are a million other cans of worms that could be feasibly discussed regarding the epilogue that I’ve only barely scratched the surface of here, because there are so many different topics to unpack when it comes to it, and I could go on forever (and further increase my risk of ending up with my head on a pike...). And of course there’s the wider issue of how to handle timeskip epilogues in general (they don’t really tend to be very popular, do they), so, really, there’s only so much I can cover in one post before dragging this on for too long. But in the end, even after writing all this, I understand that there are a lot of people who still won’t like it or don’t want to accept it, and that’s fine; it’s not my place to try and convince people to.

But, nevertheless, the reason why I made this post -- and what I hope the take-home can be -- is that, no, I don’t think this was made as a random off-their-rocker decision with the intent to make everyone miserable, nor some kind of fever dream that the writing staff must have pulled out while drunk, nor whatever accusations I’ve seen levied about it as a weird spontaneous idea (and the fact it really did come out very suddenly at people), but that -- regardless of how it landed -- there was some idea behind why it played out, and why, even 20 real-life years later, principles like “not everyone’s going to stick with the same career even in adulthood” continue to hold.

#digimon #digimon adventure 02 #shihameta

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miracul0us-multishipper · 4 years

Text

Lady Wifi (Part 2)

Marillion AU

- - -

“He can’t do that! It’s illegal! I'm a superhero, for gods sake!”

Alya was fuming. How dare they? Expulsion would go into her school record permanently, it would influence her future career forever!

“But he doesn’t know that.”, Tikki reasoned. “And it better stays that way.”

Alya was tempted to change that. But if it came down to it, being Ladybird would always rank higher than revenge on Damocles in her priorities.

“I'm going to get them for this!”, Alya swore under her breath. “The principle, Chloé and her Alter Ego Marillion!”

“Alya-“

“No! You don’t get this, you won’t have to apply for jobs with “Expulsion for Theft” written on your record!”

Tikki backed away a little and Alya immediately regretted her tone.

“I... Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.”

Tikki may be an insufferable know-it-all, but she was her friend. She cared for her and only ever wanted to help.

“It's okay, Alya.”, her Kwami calmed her worries. “I know how upset you are. But think of Marillion! We can’t risk that she gets to you, and you're in a vulnerable state of mind.“

Alya paled.

“Oh my gosh... What do I do? Tikki, what do I do now?”

“Stay calm! Marillion can only akumatize people who think there is no solution to their problems. You're Ladybird! You can think of something.”

Her jaw dropped. Of course! I'm Ladybird!

“Jesus! You're right, Tikki! I can do this!”

“Awesome! Maybe we should write a letter-“

“I'm going to confront Damocles as Ladybird! And then I'll kick Chloé's butt!”

“Wait, what?”

Alya jumped up and threw her hair back, revealing the white, pearly earrings.

“Tikki, spots on!”

“She's not answering her phone.”, Marinette fretted, turning her own off after the fifth attempt. “This is bad...”

“Oh no!”, Nooroo zoomed around her, just as anxious as herself. “Do you think something happened to her?”

Fear twisted her guts and she shook her head.

“I can’t think like that. I can’t... I have to... think clearly now.”

No time for her worst-case scenarios, she would only scare Nooroo. No, first she had to find some clarity about Alya's disappearance from her radar.

“You're the expert when it comes to your brooch’s emotion-radar.”, she mused and turned to her little friend. “Any idea what could cause her to just... vanish?”

Nooroo stilled, thinking.

“Well... if her mood had lightened up, we would have felt it. In order to completely disappear, she either lost consciousness, entered a meditative state, came in touch with a similar magic to mine, or... hm.”

“What?”

“I remember one instance where my... wielder set a trap to upset his victim. Their pain became so great it turned completely catatonic.”

He shuddered.

“He can speak of luck it happened before he could akumatize them. A catatonic Akuma is absolutely disastrous!”

She took a step back.

“That's horrible! Do you think this happened to Alya?”

Uncertain he bit his lip.

“I’m not sure. It’s also possible that she met Ladybird. I’m not very familiar with Tikki's powers, but maybe it’s possible for her to shield people from me.”

“Ugh, that’s just what I need now!”

Nooroo ducked his head.

“S-sorry.”

“No!”, she hurried to comfort him. “Not you, honey, this isn’t your fault.”

She sighed, looking up at the door to the principals office. This is so unfair!

“We've got to help Alya.”, she decided. “And if we can’t find her personally...”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Then we'll just have to make sure her problems are gone when she returns.”

Nooroo nodded eagerly, happy she had an idea.

“What is your plan?”

“It’s... risky. But maybe we can help Alya and make sure she doesn’t suspect us to be Marillion. You know, once she realizes it’s not Chloé!”

“Good thinking, Marinette! Reveal-prevention is most effective when used early.”

“And I think I'll do it by... akumatizing myself?”

His mouth fell shut.

“Oh.”

“Is that possible?”

“Um. Well, yes.”

He didn’t look very happy.

“Nooroo?”

“Hm? Oh. It’s not dangerous, I just...”

He fidgeted.

“You'll have to take off the miraculous for that.”

That didn’t sound too dramatic. She could just... oh.

“You... You’re scared that you'll get lost, aren’t you?”

“No!”, he hurried to deny. “I trust you! You'd never be careless with the brooch.”

He didn’t look at her, scared he'd offended her somehow. She petted his forehead, a quiet assurance that he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Nooroo,” she soothed him, “it’s alright to be scared. And you can always tell me if something sits wrong with you.”

Hesitantly he looked up to her.

“It’s just... if you renounce me, I won’t know what happens with you. What if you get hurt? Or you get carried away, like Stoneheart did? Or what if Hawkmoth finds me while you're gone, and the next thing I’ll see is him and I won’t ever see you again? Or what if the brooch gets lost and the next time I’ll open my eyes, I’ll find that two thousand years have passed and you are... you are...”

He was crying now and she felt tears form in her own eyes.

“Oh, Nooroo.”, she whispered and hugged her little friend. “That won’t ever happen. I promise! I promise you won’t end up there again.”

He nuzzled his face into the fabric of her jacket.

“But how can you be sure?”, he asked, his voice so faint she almost didn’t hear him. As if he didn’t want her to hear him.

Gently she pulled back a little, so she could look at him.

“We can figure something out.”, she stated confidently and tapped her brooch. “You don’t want to be left behind? Then we'll make sure that you’re not.”

He blinked, confused, and she smiled.

“This is your power before it is mine, right? I'm just borrowing it when I transform.”

“In a way.”, he answered, his voice still wobbly. “But I can’t create akumas without a wielder. At least no stable ones.”

“Then I‘ll create the akuma. I'll detransform and take off the brooch. I take the akuma and take care of Alya. And you stay close-by, guide me like I guide my champions, and hold on to your miraculous while I’m busy. Okay?”

He leaned his head sideways.

“You... you want me to take the miraculous? All alone?”

Was that a taboo for kwamis?

“If that's alright with you!”, she hurried to add. “If you don’t feel up to it, we can deposit it in my diary case. Or put it in Dad's safe.”

Nooroo shook his head, wiping his tears away. When he spoke, his voice was soft but firm.

“It will be my honor.”, he said. “To watch over it and you. I’m sure you can find Alya.”

She smiled and petted his squishy little cheek one last time.

“Then we're ready. Nooroo, dark wings rise!”

He vanished in a blur of sparkles and her transformation washed over her. Careful that the schoolyard was indeed empty, she dashed out of the bathroom and jumped on the roof of the school, eyes darting over the nearby park.

It was spring and butterflies weren’t hard to come by. As soon as she spotted one it was already fluttering towards her, settling on her outstretched palm to be of service.

“We have to help Alya.”, she whispered and covered its wings with her other hand. “But this time I'll do it on my own. Stay close by, my akuma!”

Her fears and concern for Alya transformed into inky shadows, drawn into the the white butterfly and sparking with potential. The newly dubbed akuma took off and fluttered around her, ready to fulfill its mission.

“Dark wings fall.”, she released her transformation and caught Nooroo in cupped hands. Exhausted he took the bonbon she offered him.

“Are you completely sure?”

She nodded.

“I'm not renouncing you, Nooroo. You'll be on your own for a bit, but if anything goes wrong I need you to take control. I trust you, okay?”

He swallowed, but when he took the rosy brooch from her hands, he looked determined.

“You can count on me.”

Taking a deep breath, she turned towards the akuma and took out her phone. She had thought a lot about this, and... well, if she was going to avenge Alya, she might as well choose a form her crush would approve of. Already sketching out a design in her mind she held up her phone.

“Let's do this!”

The akuma took a dive for her and a bubbly feeling shot through her hand.

“It'll be fine, Nooroo.”, she waved him. “But this is a job for Lady Wifi!”

The door to the principals office flew open with a crash.

“Monsieur Damocles!”, Ladybird roared, righteous fury burning in her chest. “You have unjustly thrown out an exceptionally talented student! So now you must answer to- Monsieur Damocles?”

The principal was frozen in place like a mannequin. A pinkish Pause icon hovered in front of his chest and send a chill down her spine. Her fury fizzled out like a cheap sparkler and she dropped her dramatic pose.

“What the...”

She waved her hand in front of his face, to no avail. Before she could take a closer look at the problem, the computer on his desk flickered to life. Alya gasped.

“Marinette?!”

If someone had asked her how she'd come to this conclusion, she wouldn’t be able to answer. By all accounts, the girl on the desktop looked nothing like the Marinette she knew. She was dressed in pitch black spandex, accentuated by white stripes and a symbol resembling a Wifi icon. Her skin was ghostly pale, and pink eyes glared out of an angular butterfly mask. The soft black hair Alya had braided during countless sleepovers was out of its usual pigtails, loose and unkempt. The most striking difference however was her bearing.

Marinette tended to make herself small, to slip in the gaps between people or hang onto her friends. When she walked there was always an endearing air of hurry or absent-mindedness to her, which had caused her to bump into Alya more times than she could count.

Now, on the other hand... she was so forebodingly present. She was commanding attention, fully in control, her posture relaxed and confident.

“I'm Lady Wifi,” Not-Marinette informed her viewers with a grin, “Revealer of the Truth! For my first Exposé, your Principal would like to share a tidbit with you.”

The camera zoomed out, revealing an intimidated Damocles behind his desk - alive and moving. This had to be a recording!

“So, Monsieur Damocles”, Lady Wifi addressed her hostage, walking with a grace she hadn’t possessed before. “Is it true that you wrongly suspended a student named Alya today?”

Damocles avoided to meet the piercing glare in her glowing eyes.

“Y-yes, I have.”, he confessed, having the decency to look ashamed.

“So you were biased, unjust, totally unfair?”

He sighed.

“Yes, I was.”

Her phone came into view and Ladybird narrowed her eyes. The rest of Marinette - her clothes, her mannerism, her eyes - had changed, but the lucky charm on her phone still looked the exact same. A lavender little spiral, bought the same day that Alya had gotten her Ladybird-themed one. And if the little charm was the same, then so was her phone.

“That's were the Akuma must be!”

“There you have it!”, Wifi snarled into the camera. “He confessed his crimes! And so will everybody else who harmed Alya, before I give them the punishment they deserve.”

She raised her phone and turned towards her prey, swiping over the display of her phone. A glowing pause button shot out and froze Damocles in place before her could escape.

“Stay connected.”, Lady Wifi dismissed her audience and the screen turned black.

Ladybird let out the breath she had been holding and slumped onto the nearest chair.

“Oh no...”, she groaned and pressed her hands over her mouth. “Not you, girl!”

And it was Ladybird's own fault, too! If she'd just kept quiet about her discovery, or at least talked to Marinette beforehand. But now Chloé knew she was onto her and was targeting the people she loved!

“I'm going to fix this.”, she mumbled into her gloves. “I promise, Mari.”

Fueled by the determination to get her friend back, Ladybird stood up and reached for her Yo-Yo.

“Chat Noir, it’s me.”, she told her partner's voicemail. “Get moving, buddy. We've got a job.”

“You have a crush on Chloé, you have a crush on Chloé!~”, the pest that was Adrien's Kwami teased him in his most annoying sing-song. The teenager swatted him aside and pulled the bathroom door closed.

“If you don’t show some compassion for my heartache very soon, I’ll loose my tolerance for your gross Camembert.”

“Not as gross as the idea of kissing Chloé though, is it?”

Adrien groaned and raised his fist in defeat.

“Plagg, Claws out.”

This day couldn’t get any worse. His great love had turned sour, his good friend had turned evil, and his partner had left him a message. That couldn’t be a good sign. A message meant she had a plan. A plan meant she was impatient to start. Impatience meant that his hotheaded partner would barge headfirst into danger, without any backup.

“We've got a job,” she informed him for the pure drama of it. “I have no idea where Lady Wifi went, and I honestly don’t feel like fighting her at all. So here's what we'll do: instead of fighting a girl everybody likes, let’s fight a girl no sane person can stand! Oh, Chloé is Marillion, by the way, meet me at her Hotel; we're kicking butterfly butt tonight.”

The message ended and Chat Noir sighed deeply. There was no time to try and convince her of a different strategy, she was probably already there and ready to fight.

“This is the worst day ever.”, he complained to no one. But alas, the universe was not inclined to have mercy on its favorite black cat. So he sighed once more over his broken heart, kicked the door open and vanished into the night like the ninja he was always meant to be.

“There you are, Kitty!”, Ladybird greeted him, already brimming with excitement. “Just in time!”

She pulled him down to take cover behind a chimney and took out her Yo-Yo.

“Look!”

Zooming through a window - a feat impossible for any normal device - the display of her weapon revealed exactly what he had feared: Marillion in all her purple glory, swinging her staff at imaginary opponents. She was so obviously Chloé that he wondered how he hadn’t noticed it before.

“This is horrible.”, he mourned his disillusioned crush.

“Right? Her form is so sloppy!”, Ladybird agreed far too enthusiastically, missing his point by the length of her Yo-Yo-cord. “She looks like a toddler!”

He groaned and hid his face behind his hands.

“Why couldn’t it have been literally anyone else?”

There were thousands of girls in Paris, but somehow the one behind Marillion's tragically pre-redemption-villainous mask was... Chloé. His oldest yet brattiest friend, the last person he could ever feel attracted to.

“When this is over I'm so going to give the brooch to Marinette.”, he grumbled. He didn’t even have the time to fully process what he had said - let alone imagine how amazing Marinette might look in purple - before Ladybird had grabbed his shoulders and dragged him closer.

“That,” she gasped, “is the best idea you've ever had, Kitty! We'll be a trio with the smartest little bean in Paris, ohmygosh!”

“Wait, you know her too?”

“Dude, I adore her! Let’s get this Miraculous and pay our girl a visit, yes?”

“Aye, aye, Ma’am!”, he eagerly saluted and readied his baton. “Chat Noir, reporting for duty!”

“Then here we go!”

#miramu writes #marillion au #ladybug!alya #butterfly!marinette #adrinette #marichat #alyanette #mariharem #miraculous ladybug #mlb #marinette dupain cheng #chloe bourgeois #chloenette

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redrobinhoods · 3 years

Text

Sticks and Stones | Chapter 1, godforsaken mess

AO3 Link | 2,200 words (approx) | Chapter 2

A/N: Fits between my illicit affairs and no choir. I have a story for Thorn in this timeline and I'm working on one for Thire, so Stone needs one too so I can fill in some gaps.

Story Summary: In the wake of Thorn’s death, Commander Stone is the only thing holding the Coruscant Guard together. Thire is adjusting to a role he’d never expected to fill, and Fox- Fox has fallen for a certain senator from Pantora.

Stone’s hands smelled like blasterfire and bacta, the scent so strong that he could smell it through the apparatus in his helmet that filtered the air he breathed. He himself was physically untouched, but the sight of Fox, motionless and in pain on the museum floor, had unsettled him. Fox was not in the clear yet. The first shot had burned between his shoulder blades and any damage to his spine had not yet been assessed, it couldn’t be until he was removed from the bacta tank and conscious. Stone knew that he would be fine. He’d will it into existence if he had to. Fox had cursed in pain at Stone when he had applied the emergency bacta kit he kept in his belt to the wound at Fox’s waist. That meant that there was no spinal damage, right? Stone refused to think of Fox being decommissioned. He would not lose another commander so soon. Thire could not lose another mentor so soon.

The two troopers at the door saluted him before one punched in the passcode without hesitation. Senator Chuchi was upon him the moment he stepped inside. “Is Commander Fox okay?”

Commander Stone took a moment to collect himself, glancing deeper into the safehouse to make eye contact with Thire, sitting uncertainly on a couch opposite where the senator had sat before Stone’s intrusion, before turning back to Chuchi. “They’ve got him in a bacta tank, but we won’t know the extent of the damage until he wakes.” He turned his body to face Thire. “Commander, have you assigned a detail to this building?”

“Yes, sir.”

Stone bit back the urge to tell Thire to drop the ‘sir’ when he addressed him. Now was not the time. “Then go back to the barracks. Sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

If Thire had any protests, they were not voiced. He rose from the couch and with a polite nod to Chuchi took his leave from the apartment.

Stone waited until the door had closed to speak again. “Are you comfortable, Senator Chuchi?”

“I do not believe that my own personal comfort matters, Commander Stone.” She drew herself together and glared directly into his visor. “It is my duty, according to Commander Thire, to let you and your brothers lay down their lives for me. I will not be comfortable until I see Commander Fox make a full recovery.”

“Then you may never be comfortable again.” Stone cringed a little under his helmet at the sudden change in the senator’s demeanor when she drew in on herself and refused to meet his gaze. This was why he had always left dealing with the senators to Thorn, now Thire. He would have to offer her some vulnerability. He sighed and removed his helmet, allowing his brow to settle into a look of concern. “My apologies, Senator Chuchi, I’m worried for him too, but there’s nothing we can do to help him now.”

“I know, Commander, I do. But I cannot help but feel responsible for his injury.”

“Fox would let himself get shot for fun.” And because he had a death wish as of late, but the senator didn’t need to know that. “This isn’t your fault, Senator.”

She nodded sadly; Stone didn’t think that she had believed him. “Thank you for your assurances, Commander Stone. I would like to retire now. I suppose that I shall see you in the morning?”

“Yes, ma’am. I will escort you to your office tomorrow. From there, Thire is preparing a detail to accompany you throughout your day.”

“Please give my thanks to Commander Thire tomorrow. I am afraid I may have been harsh with him this past hour.”

“We are used to far worse, Senator. But I will pass it on. Let us know if you need anything tonight.”

“Thank you, Commander Stone.” She drew herself together once more before stepping away from him and departing to the bedroom. A clean pair of bedclothes would be waiting for her there, as well as the basic amenities needed to sustain a healthy being of any species. It was very unlikely that she would want for anything. Still, Thorn had told Stone enough stories of the desires of senators that Stone had been prepared for the worst. But the night was young, so Stone put on a pot of caf and settled down onto the couch where Thire had been sitting. Plenty of things could still go wrong.

---

“I have a lead.”

“You’re going to have narcolepsy if you keep this up.”

“And you’re going to get addicted to spice if you keep drinking so much caf. We can play the false equivalences game all day.”

Thire’s likeness to Thorn unnerved Stone on the best of days. He often wondered if that resolve was what Thorn had seen in the then-lieutenant that caused him to single Thire out for promotion. Today, the suicidal drive for justice was no exception. “Then let’s play a new one. In your state, you are going to die if you track this down by yourself. Take a squad; your squad, my squad, Fox’s squad, I don’t care. Take one.”

Thire shook his head, the shadows moving across his face only serving to highlight the dark hollows under his eyes. “Then the bounty hunter will see us coming and we will lose our chance. If not for Fox’s sake, then for Senator Chuchi’s. This bounty hunter will be our best chance at finding out who wants her dead. This is our job, Stone, this is my job. Let me do it.”

“Thire.”

“Stone. This is my duty. Let me carry it out.”

Stone shook his head and sighed. “Fine.” Senator Chuchi’s words from the night before came back to him. It was her duty to let him and his brothers lay down their lives for her. It was their duty to die. “Where did your lead come from?”

“The Chancellor.”

And Stone couldn’t argue with that. “Be safe, Thire.”

Thire nodded and stood from the seat opposite Stone where he had been lounging. “You know me, sir.”

“My name isn’t sir. But I do know you, and that’s the problem.”

Thire shrugged. “I have a good feeling about this one. Stone.” Then he was gone.

Stone waited a few heartbeats for Thire to cross the office space before he rose from his own chair and stepped out into the main office area. Glancing around at what was being displayed on the monitors, he found his target quickly enough.

“Bravo.”

His brother jumped at the sudden presence behind him, quickly clicking back to the security tapes from the Galactic Museum. “Sir, I can explain.”

“The tapes are kriffing boring. I know. I’ll get someone else to look them over if you do me a favor.”

Bravo relaxed, letting a loose smile settle over his features. “Respectfully, anything to get out of this, sir.”

Stone nodded in understanding. “I want you to trail Commander Thire. If he engages anyone, I want you to be there in case he needs backup. Do not engage otherwise.”

“I’m on it.” Bravo could almost give Sergeant Hound’s massiff, Grizzer, a run for her credits when it came to tracking. He had come a long way from Geonosis, when he and Stone had limped out of the rubble kicked up by the falling Lucrehulks together.

“Thank you, Bravo.”

Thire would be pissed at Stone when he found out.

Thire was absolutely pissed at Stone when he found out.

“I had everything under control!” Thire would have slammed his trigger hand on Stone’s desk if it weren’t in a sling.

“You almost died!”

“You don’t know that! She was stunned, it was already over. If you hadn’t made Bravo intervene-.”

“She could have recovered by the time you dragged your sorry ass over there! Thire, I can’t-.” Stone brought his hand to his face and took in a deep breath. Yelling wouldn’t make the situation any better. “Thire, there is still a very real possibility that Fox may die and I can’t- I can’t do this alone. Just stay alive, Thire. For Thorn.”

Thire’s face twisted into a grimace of pain and he closed his eyes. “He would be so ashamed of me.”

“No. He would have never been ashamed of you, Thire.” Stone reached over the desk and placed his hand on Thire’s shoulder, gently squeezing it. “He was so, so proud of you.”

Thire sighed and brought a hand to the bacta patch on his bicep. “Does the pain ever go away?”

Stone knew he wasn’t talking about the injury. “Some days. Others, it hurts worse than it did before. We all have the nightmares, Thire.” Two years later, Stone still begged for Aurra Sing to show Ponds mercy in his dreams. The once sparring partners had rarely had time to talk after Geonosis, but his absence had torn a hole in Stone’s heart. “Thorn used to say that the commanders of the Coruscant Guard are cursed. Maybe we are.”

“Give our track records, I’m inclined to agree.” Thire sighed again before his attention was caught by the blinking comm on his wrist. “That’s the Chancellor. I need to go.”

“I understand.” Stone watched Thire rise painfully from his seat. “Thire? We wanted you to know, on the books you made the arrest. You were the highest-ranking officer on scene, and you did do everything but cuff her. You can leave that part out when you brief the Chancellor.”

“I don’t deserve-.”

“Thire.” Stone snapped before softening his voice. “Go easy on yourself.”

“Thank you, Stone.” Thire stepped towards the door to Stone’s office before pausing and turning back to him. “Sir- Stone, I have put together a few security details for Senator Chuchi for your approval. There’s just one issue. I believe the most effective guard would be one where one of our men stays inside the senator’s residence with her. Given the capacity we are running at with the loss of my squad on Scipio and our current assignments, we have no available men who have been trained for intimate guard. Given that Senator Chuchi is a woman, I fear that an untrained guardsman would be too much of an intrusion.”

“What about Jek or Impulse? They were on her security detail at the gala, she’s already acquainted with them. She knows most of us by name, I think that she would feel comfortable with nearly any-.”

“I want to put Fox in.”

Stone’s lips moved to form Fox’s name, though no sound came out. He remembered a time a few months ago, when Thorn was telling him over getting dressed that Senator Chuchi reminded him of Fox. Thire hadn’t been there for that conversation, but Stone hadn’t been privy to all of Thorn’s conversations and it made him wonder what he and Thire had discussed concerning his commanding officer and the senator. “Why?”

“You should have seen her, Stone, right after he was shot. She was heartbroken. From my observations, I think that he’s endeared himself to her. Besides, it will give Fox a few days to kick back and catch up on flimsiwork. He’s going to be hurting, and you know that they won’t give him adequate time to recover. They never do.”

“I will advise Senator Chuchi on the matter. Thank you, Thire.”

---

Senator Chuchi was on her feet the moment Stone entered her office. “Are you to accompany me home, Commander Stone?”

“I am afraid not, ma’am. Your apartment is not yet secure, I will be taking you back to the safehouse.”

“And what of Commander Fox?” She had yet to move from her spot beside the desk.

“I received word on my way here that they will be taking him out of bacta tomorrow if there are no obvious signs of permanent injury. If he is disabled, Senator, I’m afraid he will be retired.”

Senator Chuchi nodded and grabbed a small bag from a hook on the side of her desk. “Thank you for informing me, Commander Stone.”

She didn’t know what he had meant by retire. Stone decided that he would not be the one to inform her that the word was a death sentence for clones. He waited for her to cross the room while he found the words to avoid the topic. “If he is not retired, Commander Thire suggested that he lead your security detail from inside your residence.”

Senator Chuchi tilted her head up at him. “That is not standard operating procedure, is it?”

“No, Senator. But I must tell you in confidence, we are understaffed for senatorial detail at the moment. Commander Fox is the only unassigned man with the training required. If you are not comfortable with his presence, there are other men who we can assign.”

“No. I would be perfectly comfortable with the presence of Commander Fox. But thank you, for your concern. I heard that Commander Thire has captured the bounty hunter who tried to assassinate me?”

“Yes, he did. He is briefing the Chancellor on them now. Whoever wants to kill you will be caught soon.”

“Wonderful. Thank you, Commander Stone, for your confidence.”

Once again, he didn’t have the heart to tell her how many lies and half-truths had lined their conversation. Instead, he nodded and fell into step at her side to escort her back to the safehouse.

#commander stone #commander thire #riyo chuchi #foxiyo #my fics #sticks and stones fic #guess who is writing instead of making study guides! me!!

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madnessismylover · 3 years

Text

Applied for a job at Spirit cause it's getting close to spooky season...

My hopes are a) I get the job b) me having worked for them before will help with a and will help my anxiety. c) I get along with the people I work with which will also help my anxiety d) my therapist won't tell me I should've applied for a more permanent job e) getting another few months of experience will help me get a more permanent job after. f) all this helps my depression lessen.

My desire to get a job is non existent.

Do I want money? Yeah

Do I wanna work for that money? Sure (that's how it works and I know that.)

Do I wanna get a job? Nope.

It's not laziness. It's a mixture of anxiety, depression, and being enabled to just do nothing with my life for 6 years and the fact that when I was 12-14 I was 100% convinced I would never make it to 18. I never actually considered a career path, told my guidance counselor I was gonna take a "gap year" when I had absolutely no desire for college. Didn't try to get my license until I was 20.

When I was 18 I was 100% convinced I wouldn't make it to 24.

I was 1000% convinced I would have killed myself by then.

Even now I don't see myself ever getting to 30. 30 is gonna get here and I'm gonna be fucked because I don't take care of myself like I should or do the adult things I should. I spend money on games and stupid things to bring me even the tiniest shred of happiness even if only for a few hours.

I don't expect to be around long enough for my action's consequences to catch up to me.

Do I want to enjoy life and get a partner and get my own place and have a child (or adopt depending on the partner) and watch them grow up and have kids of their own? To be happy with where I am in life? YES. 1000% YES.

But I can't see it happening so I don't TRY. It's not within my reach at this very moment and that convinces me it'll never ever happen. It doesn't matter how much someone says 'well it'll happen if you try' or 'you need to work for it to get it' that's not how my brain works. Yes, I do understand that's how the world works. You don't think I've tried changing the way I think???

I give up on things way too fucking easily. And if I don't give up I just get more and more frustrated until I do. My brain can come up with excuses not to keep trying so fucking easily.

Tried to learn guitar, played for a few days, couldn't get my fingers to fit right and they hurt. I've had a guitar in my room collecting dust for at least 5 years now.

Tried learning to draw. Too many mistakes. What's in my head refused to get on the paper.

I tried to learn Japanese. Couldn't memorize the characters. Sentence structure confused tf outta me. Gave up.

Tried to learn German. Gave up.

Took a course in photography. Did nothing with it because no one wanted the photos I took and my anxiety prevents me from interacting with actual people to ever make it a 'legit job'.

Tried to be a YouTuber. Got burnout with requests. Audience wants the content I no longer want to make. (So the algorithm is messed up and my stuff is shown to 12 years and under who - shouldn't fucking be on normal YouTube in the first place (that's a whole other issue) - have an unhealthy obsession with Joker and Harley's unhealthy relationship and not to people who actually watch gaming YouTubers)

Trying to be a Twitch streamer. I get 2-3 viewers, usually 0. The only reason I don't quit that is because it's easy. I know I can do it. Play a video game and try to be funny. I legit do that when I play by myself anyway (I talk outloud when playing a video games).

I don't like to try new things because if I'm not immediately good at them I see no hope or reason to keep trying.

And yes yes I know 'practice makes perfect' again I know how it works but the motivation to try IS. NOT. THERE.

And of course there the usual "you're gonna die anyways" so I take that as either why bother trying or just enjoy yourself now.

The world is literally so bad right now. The humans and the natural events are going to end us.

I don't see a future for myself because I'd just rather it all be over if it's not going to be good.

#tw negative #tw suicide mention #tw negative rant #tw negative thoughts

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 4 years

Text

The Right Moment

Hello this is more Marvel (not that anyone asked for more marvel oops). Like I said before I’m always a slut for Tony Stark so I had to write this out. Especially since I’ve always wanted to play with the ‘Soulmates AU’ thing.

Tony Stark x female!Reader

Warnings: cursing, age gap

Takes place during IM2

6,650 words

The words were a messy scrawl against your skin. It was only a few shades darker than your skin tone, like every other soul mark in the world, making it look more like a birthmark than a tattoo. Not that anyone would see the mark and confuse it for a tattoo.

Nobody was born with his or her soul mark. It usually appeared in the early teens, around puberty, but the soul marks were more than just words on skin, marks on flesh. It was a part of who someone was. It was a quick glimpse into their future. A soul mark was the first sentence your soulmate would one day say to you. It was a moment in time etched on your body.

You slowly let your finger trace the four cluttered words on the right side of your ribcage. The handwriting was rushed and messy. Chaotic. It looked like the handwriting of someone who was always busy and scribbled notes wherever they could find space. That’s what you always imagined at least. The style of it somehow made the phrase look that much better though.

Looking for me, sunshine?

The words had appeared on your skin one random Saturday morning a few weeks after you turned twelve. Not everyone in the world got soul marks. There was no hard science behind it that said who would and wouldn’t get one. Scientists who studied the phenomenon said that genetics had nothing to do with it. Despite that, you had always assumed you wouldn’t get one. No one in your family had one, except maybe a great great great grandma on your mom’s side, but no one that anyone remembered.

Your mother had been so proud when she saw the words, as if you had done something special to deserve them. Your older sister gushed about how lucky you were. At only 12 years old you hadn’t fully grasped the concept of soulmates, but it excited you all the same. You thought you were lucky too.

Getting a soul mark at all had been nothing short of a miracle, but the fact that it was a simple, succinct mark was just pure luck. There had been a girl in high school whose soul mark took up all of her back. Apparently, her soul mate was quite the talker. Still, you always thought having a soul mark taking up all of your back would be better than having some obscene sentence out where others could see. A guy you met during your first year in college had the words, ‘I’d let you fuck me any day of the week’ written on his forearm in a loopy, fancy font. He seemed rather proud of it though, so you assumed he didn’t share your opinion. Then of course there were the overly plain soul marks. There were probably millions of people out there with the words, ‘Hey there’, ‘Hi’, and ‘How are you?’ written on their bodies. They were probably just as protective of their marks as you were with yours, but it had to be a pain having God knows how many people say those words to them all the time.

“Girl, are you ready, yet??”

You jumped at the voice behind the door, “Oh, yeah, almost. Be right out, Amber.”

The sound of heels walking away from the locked bathroom door made you turn back toward the mirror you had been looking in. Your eyes drifted over the words one last time before you turned to look at the dress hanging on the towel rack behind you. It was something you had bought proudly, but the moment you brought it home you questioned it. It flashy and bold with dark gold sequins decorating the entire thing. The dress loosely came down to right above your knees. It was a deep v-neck dress with two thin straps that went over your shoulder, one connecting higher up to the dress that covered your sides and the other further down to connect at the dress that sat on your lower back. You scrunched up your nose before just grabbing the dress and turning back around.

Admittedly, you had always hoped you wouldn’t have to wait long for your soulmate. Your mother would always hush you when you complained about the wait, ‘Everything comes at the right moment. Be patient.’

Knowing what you knew now, it was probably a good thing your soulmate wasn’t at the high school you attended. Most of those guys were still living in that same, small town content with not seeing the world. Now, you love your hometown, but it didn’t have what you wanted. What you needed. You craved exploration and adventure. You had dreams and goals that involved venturing out of comfort zones.

Still, you wondered what it was like for the people who met their soulmates so early on. There was a couple you met in your junior year of college that had met each other two days after they got their soul marks. They had to wait a total of two days, and here you were pushing on seventeen years.

Quickly, you slipped your short dress on and left the bathroom to find your roommate. You had met Amber Reyes as a senior in college when you went to rent an apartment near the campus. The two of you got along swimmingly, and when it came time to spread out it just so happened that both of you had your sights set on the Big Apple. Amber had a job laid out in New York City, and you had just been accepted into NYU’s Grossman School of Medicine.

The first year or so had been rough. The two of you were living in a shoebox sized apartment in Hell’s Kitchen working your asses off. Med school was as difficult as you knew it would be and Amber’s first job hadn’t worked out leaving her looking for new work. Still, the two of you had each other and with a little elbow grease it all worked out. Now Amber was running her own garage doing various auto repairs and you were a Resident at New York Hospital working in the Emergency Department.

Life was good, though your apartment was still kind of shitty.

“-look we’ll just meet you there, Kyle.” Amber said into her cell phone. She was leaning against the living room couch wearing a tight white, one shoulder dress that ended above her knees. It made her dark, flawless skin glow. Her long, brown hair was pulled up into a tight, clean ponytail. As per usual, she looked like an absolute goddess. Amber’s brown eyes shot over to you, “M’hm, just don’t do anything stupid. Love you too.”

You lifted your hands and glanced down at yourself, “Are you sure this dress doesn't make me look like a hooker?”

“Oh, it absolutely does.” Amber smirked and walked toward you, “It’s perfect. Now what are you going to do with your hair?”

“I was just gonna leave it down.” You shrugged then squished your cheeks with your hands. “Can you help me with my make-up?”

“Duh.” She replied and headed back towards the bathroom. Amber was the most brilliant mechanic that you’ve ever met. Granted, you hadn’t met many, but still. She could take apart just about anything on earth and put it together in better shape than it had originally been in. Amber also was infinitely better than you were at applying make-up. She made it seem almost effortless. “So, Kyle is getting our tickets for the after party right now.”

“Sounds good.” You replied nonchalantly as you glanced at the words that were half showing on her bare shoulder blade. All you could see were the words, ‘Holy shit’, but you knew the entire thing read, ‘Holy shit, my soulmate is hot’. Amber was lucky in the sense that she was able to put together some of the mystery of how she’d meet her soulmate. She knew from the beginning that she’d probably be the first one to speak in the conversation considering her soulmate used the word soulmate in the sentence.

Kyle Davis was Amber’s soulmate and they had met a few months after the two of you had settled down in your broken down, shoebox of an apartment. He was a mechanical engineer that stopped by where Amber had worked at the time to pick up a few parts as a favor to his employer. All Amber had said after watching his failed attempts to flirt with other customers was, ‘That’ll be 143 dollars, Casanova’, and he had replied exactly how Amber expected someone would one day reply to her.

You had spent years of your life wondering about how you’d meet your soulmate, but you had no idea how it could play out. The words on your side could be the second part of the conversation or the first. It worked either way.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Amber asked as she grabbed the desk chair and dragged it into the bathroom for you to sit on.

You dropped into the chair with a sigh, “Just nothing.” Amber rolled her eyes giving you a dead panned look. You shook your head, “Seriously, I just… I’ve been thinking about my mark for the last few days.”

“Why?” Amber questioned and moved some hair out of your face before grabbing your stash of make-up.

You rubbed your hand over the material of your dress that sat just above your words, “I don’t know. It’s been bothering me lately.”

“Bothering you?”

“Yeah. It itches.” You replied and tilted your head up so Amber could work her magic.

“You know”, Amber began, “Some people say that your mark itches when you get closer to meeting your soulmate.”

Your eyes widened and Amber scolded you about the exaggerated facial expression, “Really? Did yours?”

“Mine didn’t, no, but Kyle said his felt weird for a few days before.” Amber said. Her voice trailed off as she focused on the task at hand. You had read all the online stories and self-help books on soul marks and soulmates. A part of you had hoped maybe it would shed some light on the process, but it didn’t really help anything. All you really got from it was the fact that there was no typical case. Soul marks were weird things with minds of their own. “Who knows, maybe this means you’re getting close.”

“God, I hope so.” You mumbled under your breath. After waiting for this long, a part of you didn’t even know what you’d do once you met the person. You tended to be pretty independent in nearly everything you did. It was part of the reason why any past relationships you had never lasted long. Dating between two people who weren’t fated for each other was a struggle enough, but your desire to handle things on your own and not open up certainly didn’t help the matter. Despite all this though, you desperately wanted to know. Even if it ended up being a disappointment, you just wanted the answer now.

Amber smirked as she put on the finishing touches, “Maybe they’ll be at the party tonight.”

You couldn’t stop the small smile that bubbled onto your lips, “You really think so?”

“Take a good look in the mirror, [Surname].” Amber smirked, “Who the hell wouldn’t fall for you?”

“Hello, gorgeous.”

“Are you here alone?”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Damn, girl.”

Amber’s words had gotten into your head, and now at the start of every new conversation you were basically holding your breath. You weren’t purposely getting your hopes up. In fact, you had a running mantra in your head that sounded a lot like the motto your mother introduced to you a week after you got the damn mark.

‘Everything comes at the right moment. Be patient.’

“Be patient, [Name].” You whispered to yourself, but you could hardly stand still.

“Why do you look so nervous? I should be the one who looks nervous. Shit, Amber, do I look nervous?”

You tore your gaze away from the crowd to see Kyle was no longer talking to you but was now facing Amber. He was wearing a fancy suit with a dark colored, neat tie that was hilariously uncharacteristic of him. You were used to seeing Kyle in worn down T-shirts and jeans. His medium length, dirty blond hair was combed back neatly, but despite Amber’s arguments he hadn't shaved the facial hair above his upper lip and across his jawline.

“You look fine.” Amber replied and adjusted his tie. “Though maybe you’d look better if you had listened and shaved—”

Kyle rolled his blue eyes, “I told you, Amber. I had to keep it. What if I run into Tony Stark? It might impress him!”

“And I told you that was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” Amber replied with an irritated sigh. “Besides, if you really want that job at Stark Industries, your best bet is to find Pepper Potts. She’s the CEO now. Talk to her about your designs.”

“Oh, but hon… Tony Stark.” Kyle replied, “If I could find him in this crowd somewhere and talk to him…”

“The mission tonight is to get a job, not stalk your idol.” Amber argued.

Kyle turned back to you, “Tell her, [Name].”

You grinned at him, “I also think your best bet is Pepper Potts. In fact, anyone other than Tony Stark is probably a good bet.”

Kyle frowned and mumbled something under his breath about his role model. Unlike Kyle, you didn’t have Stark’s biography memorized, but you got enough information off the news. He went from being a playboy, genius, billionaire with his hands in the weapons manufacturing business to some sort of self-declared superhero named Iron Man. From what you’ve seen in the news, he seemed like he was doing pretty good. He stopped Stark Industries from making weapons when he found out they were going to the wrong people, saved lives, and made a difference.

Of course, you weren’t too startled by the fact that it didn’t last long.

Sure, he was still Iron Man so he was still out helping people, which was great, but the hero obviously couldn’t keep his wild side down. Hell, the news had a field day when he randomly gave the position of CEO to his personal assistant. Now, based on what you’ve seen, you couldn’t figure out if he had done so to dedicate his life to helping the greater good or getting drunk off his ass and making poor life decisions. There were certainly more headlines about the poor life decisions than there was the heroic stuff.

“Now go. You’ll do great.” Amber smiled and pressed her lips at the corner of his mouth before pushing him off. You watched Kyle nervously make his way through the large crowd to where a red headed woman was talking to a group of people in business suits. Hopefully, the nerves would wear off and the friendly, easy-going Kyle would come back out. You tore your gaze away from him to see Amber grinning at you.

“What?”

She chuckled, “That smile hasn’t slipped from your lips since we walked through those fancy ass glass doors.”

You rolled your eyes at her, but the smile she spoke about didn’t falter. Despite the fact that nearly two hours had passed since you got here, you couldn’t shake this feeling of excitement. It was spilling out of you. Hell, it took everything in you not to just randomly start laughing. You felt downright giddy.

“I’m just in a really, really good mood.” You shrugged. Amber gave you a knowing look and you didn’t bother to mention the fact that your soul mark had been tingling since you walked in. That had to be a good sign, right?

“I think I’m gonna get a drink.” Amber replied simply.

You motioned for her to grab an empty table off to the side, “Wait here. I’ll get us both something. The usual for you?”

“Please and thank you.” She nodded.

You made your way through the crowd toward where the large bar sat in the corner. There were a few people leaning against the bar, but it was otherwise abandoned. You assumed this was due to the fact that servers were walking around everywhere taking orders themselves. That saved you a hassle. Nearly all of the barstools were open where you came to stand, but you didn’t bother grabbing a seat. You wouldn’t be long.

“Two dry martinis. One with olives and the other with a twist.” You ordered when the bartender caught your eye. He nodded and went to work while you waited patiently. The wall behind the bartender was an enormous mirror that you could see yourself in. The smile on your face was certainly large, but you hoped the excitement of it all didn’t make you look like a crazy person.

You chuckled and turned to look over the crowd. Was it really possible that your soulmate was in this very same room as you? The possibility existed that maybe they weren’t. Maybe all this excitement and soul mark tingling was just a false alarm, but the thought that the answer to the biggest question in your life was breathing the same shared airspace as you was exhilarating and terrifying and wonderful all at the same time. Quickly, you tried to push down your excitement. Nothing would be worse than to go home empty handed then wake up early for a long shift in—

“Looking for me, sunshine?”

The distinct, baritone of a male voice spoke from beside you and it shut down every single thought in your brain. It took every fiber of your being not to jump out of your shoes. Hearing the words made you feel like a fire was lit in your chest. Like something in your very soul moved at his voice. The tingling on your right side was replaced with a feeling of warmth. As if an invisible hand were tracing the words as they rolled in your mind. The fact that the voice was vaguely familiar didn’t even click with you until you turned to face him with a grin.

The smile you had managed to keep on your face all night slowly began to crack and slip away as you stared at the man beside you. His voice was vaguely familiar because you did know his voice. Hell, he had been on the news doing some interview not even a day ago. His face was one you knew because damn near everyone in the world knew who this guy was.

Tony fucking Stark.

There was no mixing him up with some other guy. He leaned against the bar beside you facing the huge mirror while you faced the crowd. His eyes were focused on you, but the clear, red glass of his sunglasses tinted the brown color. He had on an expensive dark burgundy suit over a black dress shirt with no tie. He even had on the same smirk that he wore in most of the pictures you had seen him in and not a soul in the United States of America, hell the world, wouldn’t recognize the unique goatee surrounding that stupid smirk.

Maybe he didn’t notice the absolute panic attack going on in your mind, but he pushed himself off the bar slightly, leaning closer to you. The bartender came back with your drinks then left to cater to another guest. Mr. Stark glanced at the two tall glasses.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re not here alone.” Mr. Stark spoke again.

You had to say something. Words needed to come out of your mouth now, but what would you say? No matter what you said he would know. The next words to come out of your mouth would be marked on his skin somewhere in your handwriting. If you said nothing, then would he even know? It’s not like a soul mark could say, ‘Your soulmate says nothing because she’s an indecisive dumbass’.

“Miss?” He questioned as he leaned forward. His smirk had widened as if he were impressed by the fact that you were speechless. As if it were his mere presence alone that could stun women into stupor.

The words left your mouth before you even had time to consider them. In an exasperated, ‘I’m giving up on the world’ tone, you sighed, “Oh, fuck me.”

That made the smirk fall off his face as quickly as your original smile had disappeared. Mr. Stark pulled his glasses off making it easier to see his wide, shocked eyes. He blinked once, twice… three times, before shaking his head, “Who told you to say that? Did Pepper put you up to this?”

“Oh my God.” You put a hand to your face as if that would help steady the tilting world around you, “You’re Tony Stark. Tony fucking Stark. Are you kidding me?”

“Rhodey then? Did he tell you to say that?” Mr. Stark questioned further. He slipped his glasses into his jacket pocket and his hand lingered over his left side briefly. “Maybe…Happy? Was it Happy?”

You turned around quickly, grabbing your martini, and quickly began to down it. The alcohol burned your throat, but as soon as you had finished yours you picked up Amber’s. Mr. Stark grabbed your wrist before you could bring the glass to your lips and your eyes darted to his in panic. The two of you just stood like that for a moment. You with a martini glass halfway to your lips, panic in your eyes, and Tony Stark holding your wrist with disbelief in his own warm, brown eyes.

The party around you hadn't stopped. People still milled about laughing and talking as if nothing had changed. Yet here you stood feeling like the world had dropped out from under your feet.

“You’re really my soulmate, aren’t you?” Mr. Stark commented in incredulity with a slight shake of his head. The corners of his mouth quirked up as a chuckle rolled out. It wasn’t the typical smirk though; it almost seemed like a genuine smile.

“Is this really happening?” You said in a whispered tone.

“Oh, it’s really happening, sunshine.” He said and took his hand off your wrist to grab the glass. Mr. Stark set it against the bar countertop. He grinned, “You are gorgeous, by the way, I didn’t get to that part of my little spiel.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, “You’re Tony Stark.”

“I think we’ve already established that. The question is, who are you?”

“I-I’m [Name].” You said.

“[Name]…?” He questioned, obviously fishing for your last name for some reason.

“[Surname].” You finished then shook your head, “Listen, Mr. Stark-”

He rolled his eyes, “Don’t start that. Just Tony.”

“Mr. Stark”, You ignored him, “This has to be a mistake. I’m not— and you— I don’t think we’d even get along, let alone work out.”

He shrugged, “Obviously, you’re wrong. My words are on your skin, and yours on mine. Where are my words, by the way?”

“I uh- um, here.” You lifted your hand and set it over your mark.

Tony’s eyebrows rose in surprise, “That’s interesting.”

“How so?”

His smirk returned as he grabbed your hand softly and pulled you a step closer to him. You froze in surprise as he moved your hand to rest inside his suit jacket on top of the left side of his ribcage, “My words are right here.”

“Really?” You blurted out. There were myths and rumors that the closer the soul marks were to being in the same place, the stronger the bond between the soulmates would be. You had never met anyone who had soul marks in the same place, and the closest you had seen yourself was a couple where one mark was on the woman’s ankle and the other on her partner’s hip.

“We could leave, and I could show you.” Tony said slyly. “I mean, to be honest, I always imagined the context of your words to be a little different.”

You snatched your hand away from his chest and crossed your arms, “You wish.”

“I most certainly do.” You could feel your face heat up as you unconsciously took a step back away from the bar and away from your supposed soulmate. His smile faltered slightly, but he didn’t hesitate to take a step toward you. “Listen, I was serious about that first part. Let’s get out of here. Go get something eat or find a place where we can get a real drink.”

“A place where we can just talk?” You pressed.

Tony stuck his hands into his pocket and nodded, “We do have a lot to talk about.”

You rolled the idea around in your head for a few seconds before nodding your head. He grinned in response and offered you his arm to lead you out and you took it after only a brief moment of hesitation. It was easy to conclude that you were torn on this matter. The curious part of you, the part looking for answers, was more than happy to go to some random bar and chat up a storm. When did his soul mark appear? Was it the same time as yours? Had his been feeling weird up to this point? You’d chat up a storm to find the information you wanted.

However, this was not some random guy in a room of people or the guy next door. This was Tony Stark. The billionaire, the playboy, the narcissistic superhero that people either adored or hated. Was this the kind of guy you wanted to know? Yeah, he was your soulmate according to the words on your chest, but sometimes these soulmate things didn’t work out. It was rare, but these things did exist. Even if you decided to not judge him on his very public mistakes or the women he flaunted, he was still a powerful man with a lot of enemies.

What exactly were you getting yourself into?

The place he had in mind was literally only a few blocks away from where the after-party event was being held. After only a five minute, rather uncomfortable walk, you found yourself sitting in a booth in the very back of an old diner across from Tony Stark. The two of you stood out among the other customers in your formal clothes, but after a couple minutes passed nobody seemed to be paying either of you any more attention.

“Well, look at you Tony, all dolled up.” An older waitress came by with a wide smile. He grinned and she continued, “The usual?”

“You know me well, Ethel.” He replied and glanced at you, “You hungry? I usually get a thing of fries here. It’s good, we can share?”

You nodded, “Sure.”

Tony glanced back at Ethel, “She’ll have a scotch too.”

“She looks like she could use one.” Ethel commented, “What’d you do to the poor girl?”

Tony held his hands up in mock surrender. Ethel gave you a warm smile before walking off. You readjusted the hem of you dress and pulled it down, so it covered a little bit more of your legs.

He leaned across the table slightly, “So, how do we start this heart to heart—”

“Do you even want a soulmate?” You asked bluntly.

Tony blinked in surprise, “Wow, ok, go straight for the jugular there.”

“Seriously, I mean it.” You said, “I never took you as the kind of guy who would even want to settle down with one person. You seem pretty pleased with how your life is now.”

“That’s a fair question.” He leaned back into the booth and didn’t immediately answer your question. Finally, he shrugged nonchalantly with a smile on his face, but his brown eyes looked worried, “I don’t know. I really don’t. What about you?”

You forced a chuckle and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, “Every little girl dreams about her soulmate, right?”

“Knowing what you know now, knowing that it’s me, do you still want one?” He asked. Ethel came back with two glasses and a bottle of scotch. It looked a lot more expensive than this place could handle and you wondered if the guy in front of you had anything to do with that. She set them down on the table with a smile before leaving. Tony grabbed the bottle and poured some amber liquid into both glasses. He set the bottle down and pushed the glass toward you before grabbing his own, “Do you even want to consider the possibility of having Tony Stark as your soulmate?”

He took a large drink of his scotch but didn’t tear his eyes from yours. You tapped your fingers against the glass and tried to ignore the chill running down your back. The diner was much colder than the party and this dress was hardly made for cold temperatures. You twisted your lips in thought, “That’s a really good question. I’m supposed to, aren’t I? Judging a book by its cover is wrong.”

“True, but this book can’t really deny most of the things on its cover.” Tony said, “And there is a lot of things on my cover. Good and bad.”

“Like being Iron Man?”

He smirked and nodded, “Yeah, that’s one of them.”

“A good one or a bad one?”

“I was going to let you decide on that.” He said then added, “Though I will admit, I was hoping the whole superhero gig would add some points with you. I hear the whole ‘saving lives’ and ‘being a hero’ thing is quite the turn on for ladies.”

You bit back a chuckle, “Admittedly, the Iron Man thing did win you a decent number of points.” You took a quick drink of the scotch, ignoring the burning taste and the growing smile on Tony’s face, then said, “But then there’s the whole ‘archenemies’ and ‘worrying about you dying’ bit that loses you nearly as many points as you had earned.”

His smile faltered on that last statement, and even though you meant it mostly as a joke he seemed to tense at the words. You took another sip of your drink and rubbed your arm with your free hand to try and get rid of the goose bumps that had formed. Tony shrugged out of his suit jacket and offered it to you over the table. You opened your mouth to argue, but the look on his face put a halt to your words.

“Thanks.” You mumbled and shrugged into the dark burgundy coat. It was obviously too big for you, but it was warm and smelled nice.

Moments later, Ethel came back with a basket of fries that she set between the two of you. Tony thanked her sincerely, and you gave her a brief smile. She left again, as quickly as she had come, and it was silent between the two of you again.

“You know, it kind of sucks.” Tony said suddenly making your eyes widen. He snatched a fry from the basket and quickly ate it while you waited for him to finish his thought. “We find each other, and you know everything about me but I know absolutely nothing about you. Kinda seems unfair if you ask me.”

You grabbed a fry for yourself, “From my perspective, I know a lot about you, but now I have to sit here and wonder how much is true, how much is false, and whether or not any of it actually represents who you are.”

“So, I guess we can agree that it sucks from both sides of things?” He commented. You chuckled and nodded in agreement. Tony finished his drink and grabbed the bottle to pour himself some more, “I bet you never pictured meeting your soulmate would look like this.”

You let out a laugh, “Yeah, you can say that again.”

“Tell me about how you pictured it.”

For a moment you didn’t say anything. The only person you had ever shared your daydreams with was your older sister. It wasn’t so much that you were ashamed of the fantasies, everyone with a soul mark had their own, but saying it out loud just made it seem that much more real. You were always afraid that if you said your hopes and daydreams out loud too many times then eventually you would start believing it might actually happen that way and you didn’t want to be disappointed.

Tony noticed your hesitance and spoke up, “I never really thought about it when I was a kid, and as a young adult I didn’t really give a damn…” He chuckled, “Thinking back now though, the funniest thing would have to be the way my mom’s face looked when she saw the words ‘Oh, fuck me’ written on her 12 year old’s chest.”

You couldn’t help but let out a bark of laughter at his words and he smiled along with you. That did have to be pretty bad. His mom probably thought he’d end up with some crazy woman or something.

“I’m the only person in my family with a soul mark.” You admitted with a small smile, “My parents didn’t have them, but they were still so close and just perfect for each other.” You let your eyes linger on the glass in front of you, “I had a few daydreams on how meeting my soulmate would pan out, but I guess the similar theme in all of them was just excitement. If my parents, who weren’t marked for each other, were so perfect and close…how much better would my relationship one day be?”

Your eyes lifted back to the man in front of you only to find his gaze hadn't moved an inch from you. Nervously, you finished your drink and then pulled the coat around you tighter before reaching for another fry.

Tony cleared his throat, “How do you think your family would react if you called them and told them who your soulmate was?”

You chuckled, “My older sister would lose her mind. She kinda has a low-key crush on you. Even her husband knows it.” Tony laughed quietly as you continued, “My dad would be worried. He’d probably threaten your life a bit.”

“And your mom?” Tony questioned in amusement.

“She would be torn for sure.” You said confidently, “She’d probably rotate from being super worried to asking about when I was going to give her grandbabies.”

Tony choked on the scotch he was drinking and that made you chuckle to himself. He pulled the glass away and cleared his throat. He looked like he wanted to say something or maybe comment on what you said, but you didn’t give him the chance, “How come you called me sunshine?”

“I’m sorry?”

“My words.” You repeated, “I always thought my soulmate would be some sort of southern gentleman or…I don’t know. Sunshine just doesn't seem like the kind of pet name you would use.”

Tony licked his bottom lip in thought and he undid the top button of his shirt. A light blue glow peeked out from his shirt, but your eyes lingered on an odd looking set of angry, inflamed lines that briefly could be seen when he undid his shirt . Your attention was pulled away when he began to speak, “Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

“I noticed you earlier in the night.” Tony said and he tried to sound as nonchalant as he could, but his shoulders were on the tense side and his eyes looked worried again, “The dress and your legs are definitely what first caught my attention, but then I saw you smiling and… damn, you were smiling. I don’t know if I could even call it just a smile, you were grinning ear to ear.” His lips quirked up slightly, “I lost sight of you for a while, but then I saw you heading toward the bar and I thought I’d strike up a conversation. A few hours had passed so I figured maybe you had to be at least a little tired of being so happy, but there you were grinning again.” Tony shrugged, “I don’t know what you were so happy about, but you were just beaming at the bar and I swear you lit up the entire room with that smile.”

You ducked your head down slightly as a small smile grew on your lips. His answer wasn’t the kind of answer you expected from him. Hell, none of this conversation was exactly what you expected of him. A determined idea settled in your mind and you looked back up at him with a smirk, “Thanks, Mr. Star— uh, Tony.”

He raised his glass at you slightly, “My pleasure, [Name].”

The two of you talked for a few more hours. Eventually the fries and the alcohol ran out, but the conversation didn’t. It was mostly just light-hearted banter and the trading of information. You told him more about your family and background, and he answered nearly every question you rattled off to him. You avoided the heavier topics, like the fact that you knew his parents were dead or the whole kidnapped and held hostage thing, because you didn’t want something to make this night go wrong.

A buzzing in your purse made you stop mid-sentence and reach over for it. The moment you pulled it out and saw Amber’s name flashing across the screen your face paled, “Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit.”

“Everything ok?” Tony questioned.

“I ditched my friend at that party. I went to get her a drink and…”

“And you ran into me.” Tony chuckled, “It’s fine. I should probably leave.”

The tone of his voice and the worry in his eyes made you pause skeptically. You thought this impromptu date of sorts was going very well, but occasionally you’d notice the look of worry grow. You stood up and let Amber’s call go to voicemail, “So now what?”

“Now, I get your number and you go home and dream about how hot and amazing your soulmate turned out to be.” Tony replied cheekily as a confident mask covered the look of worry he had worn only moments ago. He reached forward and pulled something out of the pocket of his jacket. You smiled and gave him your number without hesitation. He nodded, “I’ll have someone come pick you up and take you anywhere.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You argued as he sent out a message on his phone.

He shoved it into his pocket and shook his head, “I insist. Happy’s a great driver.”

“Happy?”

“He works for me. Good guy.” Tony replied. You tried to shrug out of his jacket, but he reached forward and held the lapels in place. “Keep it.”

You nodded once, “Ok. Well, it was… really good to meet you? I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say now.” You both chuckled, but you pushed on, “I’m really glad you came up to speak to me, Tony.”

“Yeah, me too.” He replied softly. You didn’t know what to expect, but Tony leaning forward to pull you into a hug as not it. After a moment you hugged him back and tried not to let your mind roll to the cliché thoughts of how right this felt. He pulled away with a smile, “I’ll call you.”

Then without another word Tony left and you sat down to wait for the car he had called for you. Your soulmate was completely out of view now and a part of you wondered if it had all been some sort of weird ass hallucination. The cologne on the expensive jacket around your shoulders told you otherwise though.

Your cellphone buzzed again, and you picked it up expecting another text or call from Amber. Instead, it was a single text from an unknown number.

‘Goodnight, sunshine.☀️’

#Iron Man #Marvel #Tony Stark #Pepper Potts #Soulmate AU #Iron Man 2 #Tony x reader #Tony Stark x female!Reader #Any one interested in part 2??#B/c it would take zero convincing for me to do it #Tony Stark owns my ass #Sunshine #It's all about timing

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marvelsavenue · 4 years

Text

Sweet Little Mystery Ch. 1

pairings: steve rogers x reader

summary: y/n’s internship will take place at the stark tower. she has no idea there’s something as crazy as a supernatural team of people flying around in the city. steve is one of those avengers trying to save the world and bring justice to those where it is needed. steve and y/n happen to bump into each other on a night out. they hit it off right away, unfortunately they are torn apart with no way to contact one another. a series filled with lots of love, friendship, mystery and betrayal.

author’s note: hi guys! this is a new series i’ve been writing on. i’m gonna take you all the way back to the first avengers movie, this is where the timeline for my series begins and it will end somewhere passed endgame. this will be a very very long series. both the reader and steve will have multiple partners so please don’t butcher me when that happens. lol. the reader has no idea steve is captain america so this will be interesting. the first few chapters will be a little boring since i still have to introduce some characters. bare with me please!! enjoy!

warnings: swearing, drinking, mentions of blood but nothing too serious

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

It had been a while since you went out for some drinks however, today was the perfect opportunity. You couldn't believe your eyes this morning when you received an e-mail from your rector saying you were accepted for an internship at the Stark Tower by none less than Tony Stark himself. You weren't exactly a fan of the man, but the work he's done and put out there is a completely different story. He's a genius. Not to mention how amazing this internship would look on your future application letters.

It had just passed 9 PM when you could hear your best friend Maria's Mercedes pull up. You were still applying some finishing touches to your makeup. You grabbed your coat and purse, stepped outside and locked the door behind you. "Get in, loser. We're going drinking!" Maria yelled, obviously hyped up. You couldn't help but feel a little jealous of her. She's always had a good life. Maria never had to juggle two jobs at once, not even one. You had to work 10 times harder for the things she just got handed down by her parents. Your mom died when you were six years old and your dad ran off with another woman. Your aunt took you in as her own. She meant the world to you. She gave you everything she could afford. Until she died two years ago from cancer, just like your mother. You had no place to go or run to when her ex-husband threw you out of the house. No shelter, no food and no money. You entered the first fast-food restaurant you came across and asked for a job. You still work there to this day. Life's been tough on you, but you never backed down and were proud of the woman you'd become.

When you arrived at one of the local bars the place was packed with students like yourself and Maria. Everyone was either celebrating their grades or drowning themselves in regret and beer for not studying hard enough. Maria pulled you with her to the bar, eyeing the bartender. "Hey! Can we get two shots of tequila here please?!" She shouted. "Maria! You know tequila turns me into one hot mess!" You nudge her shoulder, frowning. She rolled her eyes. "Y/n, darling". Please just enjoy tonight. You got the Stark internship. You are allowed to be one hot mess tonight." The bartender placed two shots of tequila in front of you. You couldn't help but giggle, raising your glass into the air. "You're absolutely right. Here's to the Stark internship!"

Two hours and about 12 tequila shots in you and Maria are downright wasted. Unfortunately, Maria went home with some guy she knew from way back when and left you stranded at the bar. So much for being a good friend, you thought. You got up from your seat but immediately regretted the decision. You fell face-first to the ground, something was dripping down the side of your face. Fucking great, y/n. You really outdid yourself. Not only did you fall but you dropped your drink as well. "Hey, are you okay?" You looked up to see who would dare be associated with you after your performance you pulled off just seconds ago. He was beautiful. Tall. Dark blonde hair. Ocean blue eyes you could drown in. If you had stared a little longer you'd probably gotten lost in them. "What's your name?" He asked in a worried tone as he pulled you up from the ground. "M-my-" You tried, you did but the pain took over and you were unable to say anything else. "Doll, you're bleeding." Without hesitating he grabbed a towel from behind the bar and pressed it against your forehead. "I'm Steve. If you allow me I'd like to take you to the hospital." All you could do was nod, Steve didn't waste any time and drove off to a nearby hospital.

When you arrived you both sat down in the waiting room. Sobering up after the nurse already gave you some painkillers for the headache memories came flooding back to you. You were so embarrassed you couldn't help but hide your face in the palm of your hands. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you back there. I was there with a friend but she left me stranded at that damn bar." You glance over at him, biting your lower lip. He smiles, running his hand through his hair before giving you an amused look. "Hey, no problem at all. I'm not judging. What's your name, sweetheart?" You immediately turned red after realizing you still hadn’t given your name to him. "My name is Y/N." You said. "That's beautiful. I wish we met under different circumstances but it's nice meeting you, Y/N." He took a strand of your hair that was hanging over your face and placed it behind your ear. "T-thank you, Steve. It is Steve, right?" Steve smirked, gazing into your eyes. "I'm glad you remember that part. Would you like some water?" Ugh, yes. You needed water. You felt so dehydrated you thought you were about to pass out. You accepted his offer. "Alright. I'll be back in a minute." He got up, looking over his shoulder, shooting you a smile. Wait, was that a wink? Did he just wink at you? He definitely did. Steve disappeared down the hall, looking for water. "Miss Y/N?" You glanced up as one of the nurses said your name. You raised your hand just when she noticed you. "Follow me, please." You were panicking because Steve hadn't returned yet. "I - I'm just waiting for my friend to return so he can come with me." The nurse let out an irritated sigh. "M'am, if he's not a relative he's not allowed to come with you. Now follow me, please. There are more patients that need my help." You hesitated but knew you needed to be stitched because the gap wouldn't stop bleeding. You took one last look down the hall to see if he had returned yet, but no Steve insight. You stood up and followed the nurse into another room. You had no clue what Steve's last name was nor did he know yours. You had no number, no address. You still needed to thank him for bringing you here and taking care of you. Were you ever going to see him again? You hoped you would.

#steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #fanfiction #chris evans #captain america x reader #captain america x y/n

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rimmers-swimming-certificate · 4 years

Text

Red Dwarf fanfic - Comatose (9/16)

This was a stupid idea. Lister hadn’t even wanted to do the jigsaw in the first place. Not really. It had just been something to fill a bit of time. When he had found it too frustrating, he had given up. Now, he was sitting on Rimmer’s bunk, watching with increasing frustration as Rimmer now gave it a go.

“That one,” Rimmer said, pointing at one of the pieces scattered on the table. He moved his pointing finger to a gap at the edge of the partially completed jigsaw. “Put it there.”

There were two skutters at the desk, one on either side of Rimmer. The skutter on his left reached down with its claw-like hand, and tried to pick up the jigsaw piece. It slipped from its clumsy fingers back to the table.

Lister folded his arms and sighed. “Forget it, Rimmer,” he said. “It’s just a stupid jigsaw. It doesn’t matter.”

Ignoring him, RImmer addressed the skutter. “No, you dim-witted excuse for a robot. They had more sophisticated machinery than you in the 21st century. Maybe even the 20th. Watch me, and try to copy what I do.” Rimmer reached out and placed his finger above the jigsaw piece. He slid his hand towards himself, leaving the piece where it was, and mimed picking it up as it teetered on the edge of the table.

The skutter tipped its head to the side like a dog observing its master, then tried to copy. The jigsaw piece slid across the table, off the edge, and landed on the floor.

Rimmer gritted his teeth in barely concealed frustration. He pointed to the other skutter. “Now you,” he said. He pointed to another jigsaw piece. “This one. Just like he did, only don’t drop the smegging thing on the floor. I know you won’t, because you’re nowhere near as stupid. In fact, you might be the best skutter we have.”

The second skutter moved itself rapidly from left to right like a dog wagging its tail. It slid the jigsaw piece to the edge of the table, clutched it between two of its three fingers and held it aloft triumphantly.

RImmer turned to look at Lister, and Lister nodded. He had to admit, that was better than he’d managed to get them to do, and faster too. “So, how about getting them to put it down in the right place?” he said.

“Ah,” said Rimmer, “well, that’s a tad more complicated, but here we go.” He turned back to the skutter. “Right,” he said, he pointed to the part of the jigsaw where the piece belonged. “Put it there, try to make the picture match up with the parts around it.”

The skutter hesitated. It moved its arm so that the jigsaw piece hovered just over the jigsaw, and then let go. It fell to the table, bounced, and landed upside down.

Rimmer pushed the palm of his hand into his face, then turned to look at Lister. “See what I mean?” He turned back to the first skutter. “Now you,” he said. “This other skutter’s useless, I can already tell that you’re so much better.”

Lister sighed. “Honestly Rimmer, give up. If it takes this long for every piece…”

“It doesn’t,” Rimmer told him. “Or, it won’t, anyway. They are capable of learning, eventually. Once they know how to do it, they’ll do it on command.” He paused, then shrugged. “Well, for a while. Eventually they’ll forget and you need to do it again, but with a bit of persistence you’ll get a good couple of weeks out of them.”

Lister got to his feet, crossed the short distance between the two of them, and clapped Rimmer on the shoulder. Rimmer flinched in surprise, still not used to physical contact, then turned to look at him.

“Thanks, Rimmer, really. But don’t worry about it. I get the idea, so I can try it sometime if I get really desperate for something to do, but it’s just a kids' jigsaw puzzle, don’t waste your time.”

Rimmer frowned. “Really?”

“Really. I don’t even like jigsaws that much. It’s just something to do that’s not too much effort, and when it takes this much work…”

He was interrupted by Holly appearing on the viewscreen. “Alright?” she said.

Lister turned to look at her. “Hey, Holly. What’s up?”

Holly frowned. “Er…” She hesitated, trying to remember what she needed to say. “Oh yeah, Kryten wants to see you down in the medibay. Says he’s got news.”

Lister’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected this so soon. A spark of hope ignited in his chest and he turned to look at Rimmer. “Think I’m getting better?” he asked.

Rimmer didn’t answer. Lister spun around and raced out of the door.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

The medical unit was louder than normal. The bleeping of the heart rate monitor was at least twice its normal speed, while the display monitors were updating information every few seconds. The body on the bed looked exactly the same as it always had, despite the hive of activity around it.

“What’s up, Kryten?” Lister said as he entered the room. “Am I better?”

The mechanoid was wringing his hands in a very upset-looking way. Lister came to a dead stop, and was almost bowled over by Rimmer running full-pelt into the back of him. He stumbled, but managed to right himself.

“No, sir,” Kryten said. “You’re… he’s…”

Oh smeg. Lister swallowed and glanced behind him at Rimmer, trying to gauge his reaction.

Rimmer looked tense, his mouth pressed into a thin line. “Spit it out,” Rimmer said to Kryten. “He’s what exactly?”

Kryten stuttered for another couple of seconds before he managed to engage his vocabulary circuits again. “You’ve taken a turn for the worse,” he said. “You had a seizure. It’s finished now, as you can no doubt see. Still, I thought it pertinent to inform you.”

Lister stared blankly at the mechanoid, trying to force himself to process the words that he was hearing. The bleeping of the heart rate monitor was slowing now, and the machines around him were changing their displays less often. “What do you mean I had a seizure?” he asked.

“Well, sir,” Kryten told him, “in basic terms, I mean that you suffered convulsions; you had a fit. You…”

“Yes, thank you Doctor Bogbot,” Rimmer interrupted. He stepped forward, placing himself directly between Lister and Kryten and folded his arms. “Somehow, I don’t think he was looking for a list of synonyms.”

“Oh. No. Of course…” Kryten floundered a little, then fell into silence.

Lister tried to rephrase his question, but for some reason, his mouth was refusing to work properly. He opened it and tried to speak, but the sound that came out was more like a squeak than actual words.

Rimmer spun around at the sound of the squeak, grabbed Lister by the arm and pulled him toward the nearest chair. “You, sit down,” he told him. He applied downward pressure to Lister’s shoulder until he gave in and collapsed into the chair. “You,” he said, rounding back onto Kryten, “Give a sensible answer this time, please.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” Kryten said, addressing Lister rather than Rimmer, “I assumed you were unfamiliar with the term, so I sought to clarify.”

Lister shook his head. Now he was seated, he felt like he could think again. Sort of. “I know what a seizure is, Kryten. What I want to know is why? And will it happen again?”

“And what does it mean for his recovery?” Rimmer added.

Kryten looked at them both. “I’m not sure,” he said. “On all counts. The medicomp is running diagnostics on you, and at this point all I can do is wait for the results. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Absolutely fine. Nothing to worry about at all.” He began tapping the medicomp nervously, increasingly quickly.

Lister leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. He nodded. “Good, okay, so how long will it take to get the results?”

“Just another few minutes, sir.” Kryten tapped the medicomp again, so fast now that his hand was a blur, the sound of the nervous tapping only added to the noise level of the room. “Just try to stay calm,” he said, in a very not-calm tone, “nothing to panic about.”

Lister took a deep breath. A few minutes. He could cope with that. Although, he could probably cope better if Kryten would stop his furious tapping. “It’s definitely going to be okay though, right?” he said. “I mean, I had a friend at primary school who used to have fits, and it never did him any real harm. A couple of times a year he’d just collapse in the middle of P.E. and start flopping around like a fish out of water. Scared the smeg out of me the first few times, til I figured out what was going on.”

“That he had epilepsy, you mean?” Rimmer said.

Lister shook his head. “No. Well, yeah, he did, but the meds took care of that. Turned out he just didn’t like playing cricket, so whenever he saw the teacher go in the cupboard where they kept the bats and the wickets, down he’d go. Then he’d get up, say he felt a bit woozy and go hang out in the nurse’s office for the rest of the lesson. Nobody ever questioned it, because why would they?”

“Well,” Rimmer said, “that’s fairly despicable behaviour. Imaging exploiting a disability like epilepsy just to get out of a P.E. lesson.”

Lister shook his head. Rimmer was probably just jealous because he hadn’t been able to do the same thing. “He got his comeuppance in the end though,” he said. “Got a job at a bank, last I heard he was on the management track.”

Rimmer frowned. “So?”

“So? So he probably ended up a bank manager. Poor bastard.”

“Sir, the results are coming through now,” Kryten told him.

Lister looked up.

“Oh,” said Kryten.

“Oh what? Is that a good ‘oh’ or a bad ‘oh’?” It was a bad ‘oh’, he was sure of it...

Kryten read the information again. “It’s good. It’s… good-ish, anyway.”

Lister glanced at Rimmer again, trying to decide how to interpret that. Rimmer shook his head, equally baffled. “Kryten, ‘good-ish’ is not a diagnosis. What is going on?”

“It’s... inconsistent,” Kryten clarified. “I think it was probably just a blip; one of those things, but the medicomp needs to run more tests to be sure. In the meantime, why don’t you go and relax? I’ll tell you as soon as I have any news. Which will be good, I’m sure.”

One of those things? Lister shook his head. “Relax? After this? How the smeg am I supposed to relax?”

Kryten shrugged. “I don’t know, sir. I noticed a jigsaw puzzle in your quarters the other day. Maybe you could work on that?”

(next)

Thanks to @norwegianpornfaerie for the beta, and the advice on writing Kryten :-)

#red dwarf #red dwarf fanfic #dave lister #arnold rimmer #kryten #my fic

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althebountyhunter · 3 years

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Hey everyone! I decided that it’s finally time for me to write out the post-Grogu idea floating in my head. I want to explore what Din Djarin could be like after separating from his closest companion and this is what I’ve started!

Hope you enjoy,

Alli

New Beginnings: Chapter 1, New Beginnings

Tags: Mature Audiences, Mild Injury Warning (minor blood mention), Swearing

Word Count: 2035

Mando stomps through the tall grass, heavy boots demolishing the blades dancing in the wind. His left hand has a death grip around the center bar of the cuffs holding the quarry’s hands hostage behind his back, giving Mando enough leverage to push the trudging Rodian back to the ship. The gentle breeze that flutters the edges of his cloak causes his usually menacing shadow to dance in the sunlight. There’s something about watching him shove a reluctant quarry along your path that amazes you. You know he does it for a living, but it doesn’t make his demeanor any less impressive.

You however, do not demolish grass as you trail behind the Mandalorian. In fact, you barely cause it to bend. The tall grass pops up behind you as if to taunt you, to remind you that you are not in fact a terrifying bounty hunter. Which, technically is true. You’re not a bounty hunter, at least not officially with the guild. According to their records you’re just a nuisance with a blaster and a knack for evading major bodily harm.

You pause as Mando lowers the ramp to the ship, giving the Rodian a shove into the hull just because he could. You watch them from the outside, taking one last chance to soak in the sun rays and fill your lungs with fresh air before you set off for the next planet on the list. The air is sweet and warm blowing around you and through the gaps of your fingers. It lifts strands of your hair and drops them haphazardly around your face. The grasses you fought so hard to walk through now bristle against your shins and tickle at your knee caps.

You close your eyes, trying to take this moment for everything it is. You don’t get a lot of time on nature-filled planets, or on the ground, or outside the ship come to think of it. Mando may have hired you as backup but he rarely ever needed any backup. The only reason you stepped off the ship today being a small ambush you begged to take on. At first you were told absolutely no fucking way, but after incessant pleading you were reluctantly allowed to “help.”

“Let’s go.” His modulated voice snaps you from your trance. Mando stands at the edge of the hull, a finger hovering over the ramp’s retract button. You can tell by his voice he isn’t pleased with you standing around in a field of grass, seemingly doing nothing.

“Sorry,” is all you can manage to say, hurrying up the ramp and taking a seat on one of the many cargo crates littered around the ship. The door thuds closed behind you followed only by the low ring of metal creaking under the Mandalorian’s boots.

He had already put the prisoner in carbonite while waiting for you to get your head out of the clouds. It wasn’t your fault the guy was basically a lethal tin can who couldn’t appreciate the simple moments. You sink down onto one of the many cargo crates littered around the hull and wait for what will surely be another boring jump to lightspeed. For a ship preparing to leave a planet’s orbit, it’s awfully quiet. You had spent plenty of time alone on this ship, and while that may have become the status quo, it didn’t make it any less lonely.

You prop an arm up on one knee and rest your chin in your palm debating whether or not it was worth getting thrown off the New Crest for trying to start a conversation. It wouldn’t be that bad, this planet was nice from the little you had seen and not terribly violent despite your little brawl. There was probably a village you could walk to with food and a job, so really, getting your ass left here wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to you.

“So where to next,” you quip. It’s so evident in your tone that you don’t actually care.

Mando doesn’t respond right away. Typical. He does however walk towards you, helmet tilted down to your right leg. “You’re bleeding.” The helmet makes it sound like more of a notification than a concern.

“What?” Instead of checking your leg your eyes stay locked with his visor, forehead scrunched and brows furrowed.

“You’re bleeding,” he repeats, this time more stern. Mando points to your leg, and, shit. Sure enough you’ve got a somewhat nasty cut running about four inches from just below your knee cap to your outer leg. You hadn’t felt the cut, it wasn’t all the deep. Honestly more damage had likely come to the fabric of your pant leg than anything, you try to convince yourself.

“Oh um, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You try to wave him off, play down the stinging setting in the longer you ignore it. As you try to stand, to step around him, he taps you on the sternum causing you to stumble back onto your make-shift chair.

“It’ll get infected. Let me treat it.” He doesn’t give you much of a choice, taking your injured leg in his hand and shoving your pant leg up just high enough to expose the full damage. You can’t hold back a wince. Okay, maybe it did hurt a little more than you were hoping. Maybe standing in knee-high grass for so long wasn’t the smartest idea you’ve had today. Mando applies bacta to your cut then wraps a few layers of gauze to stop the immediate trickle of blood.

“Some bounty hunter,” he mumbles as he finishes patching up your leg.

“Not a bounty hunter,” you stiffly remind him. This had become a regular point of contention between you. See, when Mando hired you, the interview consisted of just two questions; can you shoot and can you fly. Apparently answering yes meant “yes, I’m a bounty hunter” and not actually “yes, I can shoot and fly.” It must not have bothered him that much given your continued stay on his ship.

Mando didn’t say anything, just pulled the bottom of your scrunched pant leg down to your ankle before walking back to the cockpit. He took his place in the pilots seat before tapping in the coordinates for the next trip and initiating the lightspeed protocols.

“Um, thanks.” You aren’t sure how to respond, still baffled at how quickly Mando was able to switch from gentle and caring to cold and distant.

Sometimes it seemed like he was holding back, like he was torn between wanting to embrace having someone around or push them away. The way Mando had noticed your injury before you had made it seem like he was used to looking out for someone other than himself. And, the delicate way he handled your leg was such a sharp contrast to his usual roughness that you would almost dare to call it second nature. You were considering letting the idea go, not making much of it and moving on. But something pulled at you, this sort of nagging curiosity to understand him beyond just a mysterious man hidden in beskar. You just wanted to know why, really. Of course there were other questions you wanted to ask but in this moment you needed to know why. You stood from your crate, taking a hesitant step forward on your injured leg. It doesn’t feel great, considerably more sore than before, but certainly not the worst shape you’ve been in.

“You shouldn’t walk on it yet.” Mando’s modulated voice throws you off guard. He hadn’t been looking anywhere near you and he still knows your every move. You shouldn’t be as surprised as you currently are, he is possibly the most well known bounty hunter throughout the galaxy for a reason.

“Oh, yes, right. Well-”

“You can ask your question,” he cuts you off. It isn’t stern, just to the point. A lot like him, actually.

“Why’d you clean and bandage my leg?” You blurt out, perhaps a bit too eagerly. The inflection in your question has Mando swiveling his seat to face you. You stare blankly at the visor of his helmet, just hoping he doesn’t make your curiosity for ungratefulness.

“You were hurt,” he says calmly.

“Well yeah, but. I could've taken care of it, not like I was going to bleed out.” You cross your arms over your chest, hip popped as you shift your body weight onto your better leg, displeased with his initial response. You’re waiting for the truth, and you know that he knows you expect it.

The silence hangs in the air until Mando breaks it. He sighs, “I’ve gotten used to having a partner that needed a lot of help.” He shifts his posture to be less rigid, arms now loosely resting on the seat’s armrests and back ever so slightly hunched forward toward you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t mean you.” Mando pauses, searching for a way to explain. “About two years ago I was hired for a difficult bounty. Pay was good so I took it. Turned out it was just a kid, they wanted me to bring in this kid, and…” His trails off, gaze now shifting from you to the floor.

“And... you didn’t bring it in, did you?”

He doesn’t look at you. “No, I couldn’t. I decided to save him, took him on the run to find more of his kind.”

“Did you?” You ask softly. Baffled to have even gotten this much out of him. You lower yourself back on to your crate, trying to make it obvious that you want to know more if he’ll share it.

“Eventually, yes. Some young kid, a um, fuck. What did he call himself? A Jedi, I think. Gave him the kid. That was almost a year ago now.” He sits quietly. Though you didn’t know it, that had been the first time he would ever tell someone about his recent history. You don’t know what to say. Is there anything you can say to someone opening up when they hardly say a word to you otherwise?

“I’m sorry,” you say meekly. “It sounds like you were really close.”

Mando doesn’t answer. He simply fixes his posture and returns his chair to it’s primary position facing the dash of flickering lights. From your angle you could see the faint reflection of the red and green flashes off his body armor. It was clear you had gotten as much of the story as you were ever going to. Honestly, you still couldn’t believe he told you anything. You suppose you may never know his reasoning, and at this point you knew it was best to refrain from prodding further.

The slight bulge of the bandage under your pant leg catches your eye, pulling you from the abstract train of thought to a new, clearer one.

Oh. It wasn't his partner. It was his kid, the bounty was like his kid. Mando didn’t just lose a partner, he gave up his family.

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. Your chest tightened, suddenly understanding why he was so closed off but more importantly why he had asked you to join. He was lonely, and you happened to be in the right place at the right time to be someone he could simply exist around.

See, you had crossed paths in some tiny desert town, he asked a few questions about his current job and you told him what you knew in exchange for a handful of credits. At the time it was a moment in passing, until three days later you saw him walking back through town, this time quarry in tow. He had stopped long enough to thank you for your information and ask if you needed a job. A terrible, low paying job, he warned, but still a way off a desolate planet.

So of course you said yes. At the time you assumed the offer came out of gratitude, but you were starting to understand that you played a bigger role than just the occasional back-up.

You weren’t a replacement, no. You were a new beginning.

#the mandolarian #mando #din djarin #mandalorian fanfic #self interest #mandalorian series #fanfic #new beginnings #call me alli

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askalfendilayton · 5 years

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Out of Sight - Ch. 10

First chapter Previous chapter

A/N: This story is like my poor, neglected child. The good news is that now that this chapter is uploaded, there are only two chapters left to go, and my direction for the story is much stronger. I’m on holidays right now and one of my goals is to get back into writing. It’s been hard, because I haven’t written anything in over a year (yikes!), but I’m absolutely determined, because you guys deserve an ending as much as Lucy and Alfendi deserve happiness.

Also - I mentioned this a while back, but like some other fans of LBMR, I’m no longer using the names Potty and Placid. Firstly, the nicknames just sound terrible, and secondly, they’re quite demeaning. Instead, I’ll be using Al for Potty, and Fendi for Placid. These nicknames are delightful and suit each personality nicely.

Enjoy!

Being an inspector of Scotland Yard carried a few perks.

Certainly not the pay – both Alfendi and his bank account could attest to that with confidence. Not the long working hours either, though neither side of him had ever minded that part of the job.

The freedom one gained after the tedious climb up the ranks was incomparable. Alfendi was in the fortunate position where he wielded enough influence for people to actually listen to him, yet was shielded enough from the public that most of his wrongdoings would go unnoticed by the media. The fire raging in the town might be a different matter, but it was the least of his worries for the moment.

However, as he was wheeled through the hospital on a stretcher, he knew that the real benefit to being with the Yard was queue-jumping the medical process like injured royalty. Neither Lucy nor himself would spend any time in waiting rooms.

But everything was happening too quickly for his drugged body to fully process. Craning his head, he saw only strangers.

“Wh-Where’s Lucy?” His fingers gripped the sleeve of one of the nurses, but the material slipped away from him. He stared at the digits, numb and disconnected from his body and mind.

Fear clutched at him and in his panic, he tried to sit up. Gentle hands pushed him back into the stretcher.

“You’re being treated for different things, dear,” a calm voice replied. “She needs to see different doctors. You’ll see her soon.”

He didn’t like that, but his words died the second he tried to summon them from his throat.

They arrived in a large room, where one doctor tended to the gunshot wound on his ear, whilst another focused on his right arm. The glass had been removed by medics on the way to the hospital, and after checking that there was none left and that the scratches had been disinfected, the second doctor applied a clean bandage that wound from his elbow down to his palm. Checking him for signs of concussion – had he hit his head? – she appeared satisfied that he would be okay.

“You’re going to have a rough few weeks, but I can’t see any signs of lasting damage,” she explained. She handed him a glass of water and two painkillers. “Keep your excitement to a minimum, and you’ll heal just fine.”

Through his blurred vision, Alfendi tried to make out her name badge.

She noticed and smiled. “Doctor Wells.” She extended her hand.

“Thank you,” he murmured, shaking it weakly.

“Get some rest,” she said. “Doctor’s orders.”

He didn’t have much of a say in the matter as he was wheeled to his room (completely unnecessarily, Al thought, but Fendi had the sense to accept).

The painkillers kicked in as soon as his head touched the pillow, though he felt like he sank right through and was falling down and down.

He awoke from nothing with a gasp, hands gripping the sheets.

“Alfendi!”

The woman seated next to him jumped, her hand rising to her chest.

“Hilda?” he croaked, registering her blonde, wavy hair. “Hilda, what-”

“Hush,” she ordered, and though her tone was sharp, her expression showed her concern. “I know you’ve never liked shutting up but give yourself a minute before you start babbling.” Leaning forward, she rearranged his pillows before pushing him into them. Waiting a further few seconds, she was satisfied that he was listening. “It’s currently half ten at night,” she continued. “You arrived here at five. Doctors assessed your condition and you’ve somehow come out of this without lasting damage.”

He remembered that much. Breathing in, he waited for the rest of his thoughts to unjumble. His ear throbbed – he’d been shot. His arm was heavy – there had been glass shards in it. His head was foggy – he’d fallen and hit it.

After he’d deduced those things, all the events came back to him at once. He tried to sit up but his head throbbed. “Lucy-”

“-is fine,” Hilda interrupted. A smile caught the corner of her lips. “She’s been asking about you too. You’re much worse for wear than she is.”

Hilda’s answer eased his mind as much as it could, without actually seeing Lucy in person. He needed to know more. “What are her injuries like?”

“She was treated for her hand wound. It’s nasty, but with time and rest it will heal. They’ve also checked her for potential poisoning, which-”

“Poisoning?” he spat.

“She was drugged when they captured her, Alfendi,” Hilda replied. “As a precaution the doctors have taken a blood sample to make sure it was nothing bad.”

“And the results?”

“The hospital hasn’t returned them yet. However, it seems you’re both well liked. One of your colleagues from the Yard – the small one, brown hair – ran her own test.”

“Florence Sich?”

“Yes, that’s the one. The results came back clean.”

Nothing could have restrained his sigh of relief. If Florence had run the test, then he knew it would be reliable.

It was fine. It was fine.

As much as he longed to seek out Lucy’s room, he knew that given the hour, she was probably in a much-needed slumber herself. Not to mention that even though he hadn’t seen his reflection yet, she would be horrified by his condition. His hand reached up to touch the dressing on his ear, and he instantly recoiled as sharp pain shot through it.

“The bullet tore through some cartilage,” Hilda said. “The doctor has told me that it shouldn’t impact your hearing, but it won’t look the same as it did before.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. His mind was too foggy to think about what this might mean for him in the future. He was about to thank Hilda, but when he looked at her face, he knew that there was more.

“Both of the thugs have also been admitted to hospital. The one that was shot, and the one with glass in her eyes.”

“Carter and Briggs,” he replied. “I didn’t shoot Carter – neither did Lucy. He eventually turned on his partner and she shot him in retaliation. He was going to try to free us.”

“Do you think Briggs is the head of the operation?”

“97.3% sure,” Fendi replied automatically. “Is Carter okay?”

“He’s come out of surgery, but it looks promising. The testimony from him, you and Lucy will be very valuable.”

“I think he’ll cooperate. His partnership with Briggs has been sour for a while, from what I could tell.” Thinking about her caused spite to run through him. “And what of Briggs?”

“Handcuffed to a bed and heavily guarded. She’s a spiteful thing, isn’t she?”

Something stirred within him, and he swung his legs off the bed. It took all his effort not to wince. “I want to see her.”

She sighed. “Alfendi-”

“It’s my only chance, Hilda. After she’s discharged from hospital, she’ll be in custody, and given I’m now a victim in this case, there’s no chance they’ll let me question her then.” He saw her firm expression and tried again. “Please. She hurt Lucy.”

To everybody else in the world Hilda would have looked the same, but he knew her well enough to see that his bid had worked. Ever so slightly, her lips softened, and her piercing gaze lowering a fraction. “I’m well aware.” She looked him over once before sighing. “You are too convincing for your own good, Alfendi. Follow me.”

Hilda did him the favour of walking more slowly than usual to ensure he could keep pace. Regardless, his body ached, and he had to stop twice to rest.

Arriving at the room, Hilda waved to the guards and they stood aside. Turning to him, she nodded. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

Pushing the poor open, his eyes took a moment to adjust to the room, the only light source being the lines that had crept in from the gaps in the blinds.

Briggs was upright on the bed, as though she had been expecting somebody. A thick bandage was wound around her head, covering her eyes. She made no move when he closed the door.

“Greetings,” she said. “To whom am I speaking?”

“Briggs,” he replied, ignoring her second question.

“Oh, it’s the inspector,” she replied, amused. “Last I saw you looked pretty terrible. It’s a shame I can’t confirm that now.”

“I look better than you.”

“That’s a low bar.” Her teeth flashed as she grinned. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Alfendi couldn’t answer right away. He learned against the wall to steady himself. It was a reasonable question for her to ask. He knew he wasn’t here as an inspector of Scotland Yard – it had become much more personal than that.

Eventually, he knew what he wanted to say. “If I hadn’t come,” he began, “what would you have done?”

“Are you trying to prove to yourself that you were a hero?”

He ignored the dig. “I’m sure you want to tell me.”

“You’re right.” She paused. “When your cop awoke, I was going to question her. I was going to establish how much the police knew about our operations, by any means necessary. Regardless, Carter and I would have left the town in the same day, in case the search party stumbled across our base.”

“And what of Lucy?”

“That’s something I’ll keep to myself. I still have a trial, after all.” She smiled back at him, and though he knew she couldn’t see him, he felt as though he was being watched.

That told him all he needed to know, and she hadn’t had to admit to a single thing.

Calm down. She’s fine. She’s okay. Fendi was talking to himself more than Al.

“Speaking of which, you look cheerful for somebody who is blinded and facing trial,” he commented.

“It’s exactly because of that – I still have a trial,” she replied. “When you think of that, things are looking quite lovely for me. After all, I’m a suspect horrifically injured by a police officer. That same man committed arson, which I’m sure is against protocol.” She laughed. “A good lawyer can do a lot with that. With Carter gone, it’s the cops’ word against mine. Oh, the things the public will say about you!”

“There is far more evidence against you,” Al spat. “It won’t be that easy.”

“Won’t it?” she asked, her voice sing-song. “This event will ruin you. You’ll probably lose your job. You and that girl will never be the same after this.”

She wants you to be angry.

He knew that – both sides of him – but his fists balled, and he felt himself shaking. He longed to cause Briggs the same pain she’d caused him, but more importantly, the pain she’d caused-

Lucy.

I love you.

He remembered the moment they’d shared, she locked in the basement, he on the other side of the unbreakable door. His hand pushing against the metal, willing it to melt away as they both spoke assurances that things would be okay, even though their chances of success were slim.

Yet through trust and determination, they’d made it out of that basement and that blasted town. Despite being harmed, they would recover. Their position now was far better than he could have hoped or expected.

He took a step towards Briggs, Al allowing Fendi to come forward. “I’ve heard your version of the future. Now, listen to mine.” Fendi paused, studying her face. He knew he had her attention. “In no more than a few days, Lucy and I will leave hospital. We’ll take a few weeks off work – paid leave, thanks to you – and then we’ll return. We’ll re-enter our back-office, make a coffee and tackle whatever case is waiting for us. We’ll solve it, then another, then another. We will continue our careers, and our lives, together. We’ll meet other criminals, much more interesting than you, and while we won’t forget you, I doubt we’ll think of you often.”

He leaned in close, knowing she would be able to feel his presence.

“But you?” Al said, scoffing. “You’ll be handcuffed to this bed until you’re well enough to be moved to custody. When your trial comes around, you will receive a sentence so long that you’ll have wished your life had ended in that basement. Then you’ll go to prison, likely the worst we have in the country for the crimes you’ve committed, and the world will keep spinning without you.”

Briggs opened her mouth, her lips dry as she exhaled, before closing it.

His work was done, and he retreated. “Oh, and one more thing,” he said, poised by the door. “I wouldn’t be so sure about the lack of witnesses. Carter’s alive, and given Lucy and I saved his life, I’m sure he won’t mind putting in a word against you in the trial.”

He heard the beginning of a shriek as he closed the door behind him.

“Cathartic?” Hilda asked as he shuffled down the hallway, florescent lights flickering above them.

“Yes.”

“I’m impressed. I expected to hear much more yelling – that’s what the old you would have done.”

“I’m not the old me, and not only because of Fendi.”

“Lucy?”

He hesitated a second before nodding.

“You two suit one another,” she added. “She makes you a more tolerable person.”

He smirked. “And you didn’t?”

“No.” Her tone was amused. “I think part of me enjoyed our arguments too much. Lucy will actually scold you for being ridiculous.”

Talking about Lucy had lifted his spirits, but he felt a pang of longing.

They’d reached his room, and when he pushed the door open, his jaw dropped.

Lucy was sitting atop his bed.

His eyes took her in all at once. Her hair was damp and combed, and she wore a thick robe that seemed to engulf her. She was pale and exhausted, her eyes drooping. Her hand had been bandaged, but that was the only sign of injury.

At the sound of his entrance her head snapped up. She stared back at him, and her lips trembled. “A-Alfendi.”

He staggered towards her, still in disbelief as he pulled her into a hug. Ignoring his aching body, he took a moment to appreciate the warmth of her body against his, the smell of her hair, the sound of her breathing.

Hilda had been right. She was okay.

Releasing her slightly, he stared down at her face, and she smiled back up at him.

The door closed behind them as Hilda gave them some privacy.

Wordless, they sat atop his bed. Lucy’s hand cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing against his face. Her fingers ran over his stubble but stopped before she reached his ear. He watched as she studied it a moment, and despite himself, a spike of anxiety hit him, because he cared what she thought about it.

When she leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss upon his bandage, he released a sigh he didn’t know he’d been holding in.

When she drew back, she didn’t meet his eyes, and he knew why.

“It wasn’t your fault, Lucy,” he murmured.

She still didn’t look up. “I made a choice, and it got you hurt.”

“You made a choice, and got a criminal arrested,” he replied. “You fulfilled your duty. I also made a choice to come and find you.”

“You had to.”

“Of course, because I love you.”

“P-Prof…” Her eyes had filled with tears, and she shook her head. “I never wanted you t’get hurt. When you fell down the stairs, I didn’t think you’d make it out, a-and…”

As she choked on her works, he pulled her into his chest, resting his lips atop her head.

The ordeal had been harrowing. It had been excruciating for him to walk down the basement stairs and witness Briggs grabbing Lucy by her hair as she bled from her hand. How awful had it been for Lucy, to see him shot and pulled down the stairs, left fighting for his life?

“We’re both here, Lucy,” he reminded her. “Here and well. Briggs will go to prison, because of the evidence you found. In a few days we’ll both go home. In a few weeks my arm will be healed, and so will your hand, and not long after my ear will be as good as it can be. We’ll have some time off work. Perhaps we’ll go away somewhere – we’re both long overdue for a holiday.”

She sniffed, looking up. “Dropstone sounds nice, Prof. Your dad’s stories have made me want to go.”

“Then we’ll go to Dropstone.”

She grinned up at him. “So it takes a hospital visit to get you to agree to a holiday?”

He smiled. “Perhaps.”

She laughed, and holding his face gently, she kissed him. Her lips were warm and soft, and as he reciprocated, he realised how much he’d longed for her. Pulling her closer, the day’s turmoil faded. As one of her hands rubbed the back of his neck, he was lost in his senses, as though he hadn’t experienced Lucy in years.

“Ahem.”

Startled, he pulled back, Doctor Wells standing in the doorway. Lucy let out a surprised gasp, before a nervous giggle.

“You appear to be feeling better,” she commented, smiling.

Al chose that moment to relinquish all control, leaving an awkward Fendi behind. He scratched the back of his neck. “Ah, I’m-”

“Not to worry. It’s a good sign, really.” She turned her attention to Lucy. “Your test results have come back clean, Lucy. As long as you avoid using your hand for a few weeks and finish your round of antibiotics, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Ta, Doctor,” she replied, beaming.

“We’re happy to discharge you both tomorrow, as long as you’re feeling well enough. For the moment however, I’d recommend you get some more rest.”

He couldn’t help but agree. Now that he’d spoken with Briggs and seen that Lucy was alright, fatigue had begun to creep back into him.

Lucy appeared to be the same, as she stifled a yawn. Still, she fiddled with her hands, nervous. “Ee, Doctor?”

“Yes?” Doctor Wells replied, scribbling something on her chart.

“I… well, given I weren’t been monitored by any machines in my room, d’you think I might be able to stay here for the night?” Her faced reddened. “Just for sleeping, of course!”

“I see no reason why not. You might be able to stop him from wandering around the hospital.”

He liked Doctor Wells.

“Call a nurse if you need anything,” she continued. “I’ll let them know about your room change. I’ll be back tomorrow to check how you’re doing.”

“Thank you,” Alfendi said, nodding.

As she left the room and turned out the light, he and Lucy pulled the covers up. Lying on his side to ensure that his ear would not be affected, Lucy held him from behind, her head resting in the crook of his neck. Her rhythmic breathing relaxed him.

“Alfendi?” she whispered, as he was on the cusp of sleep.

“Mm?”

“Thank you.”

His hand fumbled to find her own, fingers loosely entwining.

“Always, Lucy. Always.”

#Alfendi Layton #Lucy Baker #Layton Brothers #Mystery Room #LBMR #Lucifendi #Out of Sight

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