#I also need to convey to them the necessity of it while not /actually/ letting them in

[cypric-rat-hyperfixation]

Here's some AI generated rats in the style of van Gogh

I hope you're feeling better than you were a couple days ago☺️❤️

holy s h i t

[geekgirles]

Just Look My Way

Can we please talk about the way the lyrics have changed from the original to showcase Stolas' growth and character development?

I was already surprised that what originally looked like it was just going to be a fan video ended up becoming canon content, but when I heard the different lines my mind exploded, you guys.

Note the difference, the major difference, in treatment!

In the original version, which released back in season 1 but before Ozzie's, Stolas' line was actually:

"Come now, my little impish plaything, we've both made our choice."

Keep in mind the original most likely included this line as a reference to what both Striker and Stolas said in regards to Blitzo's relationship with Stolas. Even our dear owl boy referred to him as just a plaything while saving him from D.O.R.K.S! Which most likely only helped cement Blitzo's internalised belief that Stolas would never see him as anything other than a cheap thrill.

Here, however, Stolas is cementing him as his dearest! A loved one! Someone he values and cares for! That is a huge difference from being just a sexual partner!

And the second line. OMG, THE SECOND LINE.

Unlike the original, where Stolas speaks of a choice that, realistically, was never there (as it usually is the case with relationships where there's a power imbalance and, moreover, were born out of transactional needs), this time he is reaffirming Blitzo's agency and independence. The implied choice is clear: Stolas will present the asmodean crystal to him so he no longer relies on his Grimoire and sleeps with him out of necessity. All that's left for Blitzo now will be to choose if he wants to remain by Stolas' side even then. And the choice is his.

As a quick aside, I also love the constant symbolism between Blitzo and the Moon.

Technically, compared to Stolas and the Earth, both are just satellites, nowhere near as important as a Goetia demon and member of Hell Royalty or a planet brimming with life and where beauty and wonder happen at every corner. And yet, without them neither can thrive. Stolas is as fascinated and dependent of Blitzo as the Earth is with the Moon. Without the Moon, there's no tides; it brings inspiration and romance to countless souls, brightening the night sky, just like Blitzo brightens Stolas' life.

Blitzo is Stolas' moon, and I just think that's beautiful.

Every word in this line in particular just oozes character development, too.

The original was:

"What's left for me in this broken house if I cannot have you?"

This is no longer about Stolas using Blitzo to escape his boring routine and his horrible marriage to Stella, it's about Stolas being deeply and hopelessly in love with Blitzo and not knowing what to do to convey that in a way that will reach him.

Once again, Blitzo has stopped being a mere plaything or boy toy and become so much more. He has become an essential part of Stolas' life he doesn't know what he'll do without but knows he'll have to let go of if that's what Blitzo wants!

Now, I must admit I am not exactly a fan of this change in these particular verses. On the one hand, I understand it's meant to reflect Stolas is trying to understand Blitzo and see things from is point of view, but I also feel it robs the moment of the raw feeling the original conveyed:

"Is this how she'd feel? Abandoned, all alone, left to fend for herself, for a semblance of happiness that doesn't have to end?"

"She" clearly referring to Via.

I just think it would have been more powerful to keep it and allow that juxtaposition between the most important people in his life to help Stolas understand Blitzo better. After all, he loves them both dearly and unconditionally, but his actions have also hurt them both very deeply.

I just think it'd be fitting if one allowed him to understand the other better.

Nevertheless, if there is something this song has taught me, is this: we are so not ready for the next episode.

[ingravinoveritas]

(Putting this in a separate post because I sort of scattered my thoughts across two different posts last night.)

So by now we've all probably seen the Ask that Neil answered saying that the kissing scene in GO 2 required only one take. There were a couple of things that came to my mind when I read this, and perhaps the most immediate was that the OP asked how many times the scene had to be filmed, and that means the scene entire--the confession, the pleading, everything--not necessarily just the kiss itself. To that end, I wonder how Neil was answering--i.e., referring to the entire scene, or just the kiss. Because as it stands, the question (and answer) are a bit ambiguous/confusing, and lend themselves to greater discussion.

Assuming that this is all true, however, and that the kiss/scene was filmed in one take (though I'm not sure I believe this was actually the case, given the multitude of camera angles and other cinematographic necessities), I'd like to share a few thoughts. I keep seeing people say that Michael and David are actors, consummate professionals, and how could one underestimate their abilities so as to think they would need more than one take. The thing is, we do know that they are actors. Two of the finest this world has ever seen, even. But it is also abundantly clear that if the kiss was achieved in one take, it was not simply because they are actors, but because it was Michael and David. Together.

To stand across from someone and give/react to such an emotional performance involves so much intimacy and trust, in a way not many of us can understand. If we draw a comparison to OFMD, Rhys Darby and Taika Waititi talked about their kiss in season 1 being awkward, even though they have been friends for a long time. Michael and David, by contrast, have been close friends (if not more) for only a few years, yet there was not a moment's hesitation in that kiss. David, who was nearly blind in that scene from the combination of contact lenses and sunglasses, found his way to Michael's lips with a practiced ease, an approach borne of both skill and familiarity. And Michael trusted David so fully in that moment--trusted him enough to be vulnerable, to let himself be kissed and give up control to David.

The gasp when their mouths met. The hands coming to rest on David's back. The way Michael seemingly leans up partway through, leans into David while expertly conveying the myriad of emotions Aziraphale is experiencing. Could it all have been done in one take? Perhaps. But that still doesn't mean there wasn't more to it. The accumulation of so much that had built between Michael and David over the intervening years between season 1 and season 2, further adding to their already incredible on-screen chemistry. All there for us to see, to make us want more. To make us ache.

Whatever the case may be--whether the kiss truly was accomplished in one take, or was the result of countless rehearsals between Michael and David in the days/weeks/months beforehand (be it at the S2 table read, while working on scene blocking, or the two of them "rehearsing" on their own) we are beyond fortunate to have witnessed something so precious and rare. And hopefully we'll soon get to hear Michael and David themselves telling us all about what it was like...

[focsle]

I have a whaling question! How much truth is there in stories of whaling crews press-ganging ("Shanghai-ing") individuals to work aboard the ships? When I toured the ship museum in Mystic CT, the docent said that the desertion rate for each voyage could be as high as 80%, and that crews made up these losses by kidnapping men from bars and making them work.

Whaleships did have extremely high desertion rates, and there are some instances of men being kidnapped by agents to be shipped aboard. One such man was a lad who found himself aboard the ship Tiger in 1845. His fellow whaler, John Perkins described the circumstance of this 'young man shipped by the name of Henry Franklin':

"He declared that he would not tell his real name. His father is an importing merchant of Philadelphia. He graduated from a Catholic college in Maryland and was studying medicine under a doctor in Snow Hill, Maryland. From which place he went to Philadelphia not intending to let his parents know of his presence in the city. While there he got drunk & not knowing what he was about went to New York, where he still kept up his spree. As he was going through Water Street rather 'high' he saw a sign up whalesmen wanted & immediately signed. The next morning he went to beg off, when the shipping agent offered him a glass of grog & kept him drunk until night, when he put him aboard the steamboat bound for Stonington [where the Tiger left from, and where Mystic Seaport is now, more or less]. The Officers call him Frank...his parents know nothing about it. He left everything except what he had on at the time on board a sloop in Philadelphia."

However, while press ganging men onto a whaler is a very common narrative, it wasn't actually a common practice. Rarely were men so explicitly kidnapped, because there often was no need to. There were plenty of willing recruits. However, that didn't mean that agents didn't use other various coercive methods to get them aboard, which usually involved overhyping all the Benefits & Adventures of whaling.

Whaler William B. Whitecar warned of this practice among 'Land Sharks', describing their targets whom he saw in the boarding house he was staying at.

"I viewed with regret the extreme youth of many of them. There is a systematized mode of procedure carried on in our larger Atlantic and Lake cities, for the purpose of recruiting of this service. Shipping agents engage young men, taking advantage of their inexperience or necessities, paint whaling and its appurtenances in vivid colors, induce them to sign their names, and convey them to New Bedford; and when the come to review their outfit bills, they will find a charge from ten to fourteen dollars for the agent's services."

He also added that such land sharks always go provided with The Bottle, "knowing that the sailor is much more easily gulled when half seas over".

In 1847 the American Consul in Honolulu complained of this practice, as this was often where people tried to desert if they had the chance to:

"Formerly, all our whale ships in the Pacific were engaged in taking Sperm oil. Voyages were short and profitable, common hands before the mast, as well as officers and Onwers made money—Seamen had no desire to leave their ships. Almost every man returned in the same vessel in which he came out. Owners found no difficulty in obtaining crews composed of good men.

It soon became known that the business was a very profitable one, and Capitalist eagerly engaged in it ships were rapidly multiplied. Men and boys were collected from our rail roads and canals [another letter of this spirit also mentions ‘our prisons’] by Agents but for that purpose, many of them ruined both in morals and in constitution. These individuals entirely ignorant of the business in which they were about to engage, were placed on board with bills for outfits of from eighty to a hundred dollars standing against them, and for which they had little or nothing to show.

With few exceptions the crews were restless and discontented, many had been on board two years or more, and instead of diminishing the debts which stood against them at the time of sailing they had been compelled to add to them in order to supply themselves with necessary clothing— All the hopes and expectations excited by the Agents had been bloated. They were disgusted with the occupation and determined at all hazards to leave their vessels. They would resort to any and every means to procure their discharge. Failing in this, many deserted. If caught in time to be placed on board of their vessels, they would threaten to burn the ship or do some other act to prevent their proceeding the voyage, saying that they would sooner die than go to the North West again, and in many cases Masters ceased to have any control over their crews. The same state of things must have existed to a greater or less degree in 1845. It is a common remark now, among Masters, that formerly they seldom left a man, and that now they seldom take back many of those who come out with them."

It was a predatory industry that sought out the naive and the down-and-out. And often, agents didn't have to work too hard to find men for the job (thus why actively press ganging them was very rare). Because, as I discuss in this post about why people went whaling, for many--especially in coastal regions in the northeastern US as well as the various global ports and islands whaleships stopped at--if you were a young man who wanted to strike out on your own for the first time, to leave your home town and see the world, to make some money, to find some supposed freedom from repressive living conditions you might be experiencing ashore, a whaleship was one of the easiest ways to do that. The majority of whalers signed on of their own volition, though often because they were fed falsities about the reality of the work they were throwing themselves to. And it wasn't until they were far from shore that they realized how awful the job was, felt completely demoralized, and some deserted. But there were always other young men with the same initial ideas willing to sign on and take their place.

[youngpettyqueen]

Director’s cut for Things That Cry In The Night?

Funnily enough I reread that one last night actually!

The idea for that one came to me because I wanted some good ol’ hurt/comfort for BJ. When it comes to hurt/comfort fics a lot of them are Hawkeye-centric (not a shot or a complaint, just look at my bibliography lol) so I decided to go with a classic nightmare scenario and reverse the typical roles

The fic is written entirely around that idea of BJ needing to feel Hawkeye’s heartbeat to calm down. It was the first thing I wrote, because it was the first concrete part of the fic I had. I’m a sucker for when character A wakes up from a nightmare and is immediately calmed by seeing character B, but I wanted to take it a step further here. The implication there is BJ thinks that this is the dream, and the nightmare he just had is the reality. It’s only once he feels Hawkeye’s heartbeat, and hears Hawkeye talking to him, that he’s able to calm down a bit and realize he’s awake and that this is real

I kept the nightmare fairly vague on purpose, but I left enough context clues to give the gist. BJ dreamt Hawkeye came back from battalion aid wounded, and died on his operating table. I did want to imply a pretty gruesome scene for it, hence-

“BJ doesn’t look up. “I couldn’t feel it,” He’s barely above a mumble, his voice frayed and on the edge of snapping like an overworked guitar string, “I couldn’t, I- I had to cut you open, I- I had to cut you open and I couldn’t-“ His fingers claw against Hawkeye’s pulse point, nails scratching, but Hawkeye holds him in place, “I- was holding it and it wouldn’t start, it- it was gone, it- you were gone, you were-“

-this bit. I really like the line ‘I was holding it’ because it really does convey that he was having a very vivid and gory dream where Hawkeye’s heart was literally in his hands. I could’ve had him describe the nightmare in detail, but I don’t think he would’ve, plus my descriptions would not compare to a reader’s imagination! I think the details are better left up to interpretation, while the necessities are given. You know what the nightmare was about, but you don’t know how bad it was- you can only guess based on how BJ’s acting

I had toyed with the idea of this being from BJ’s POV, and getting into writing that panic upon waking. I decided to go with Hawkeye’s POV instead because I didn’t want the time to be panick-y, I was working on and miles to go before i sleep at the time and didn’t want to cross wires with the anxious time of that fic. I also wanted to write Hawkeye offering comfort from his perspective, and get into how he knows exactly what BJ is dealing with here. I also wanted that mention of the will itself-

“Hawkeye thinks about the will stashed in the bottom of his footlocker. Written in such shaky handwriting the terror he was experiencing can be felt with each botched line, each illegible word. He wasn’t planning on telling BJ about it. Now he knows he can never let him find out it exists. He’ll have to find a better hiding spot, one where it won’t be found even by accident.”

-because I don’t think Hawkeye ever tells anybody about that will. He knows guilt is the core of the fear BJ is feeling in this moment, and he knows it’d probably destroy him if he ever found out about the will

It’s genuinely so sad to me- BJ takes one day to go try and relax only to get back and find out Hawkeye had to go to the front because he was away. It’s not his fault, it really isn’t, but he blames himself anyways

[woohooincoffin]

AHEM.. clears throat 4 7 8 16 17 21 30 39 58 66 79 98

Hi!!! Thank you this was so fun!!!!!

4. Is your oc a daredevil, or more of a scaredy cat? What is the most daring thing they’ve done in their life?

I wouldn’t say Rhys is a daredevil, but they do prefer to face problems directly, whether it requires a fight or it can be talked out, though he’s not good at that last part. I’m going to say the most daring things he’s done in their life so far was jumping into that disgusting hole at Moonrise towers because they were truly disgusted lmao.

7. Does your oc collect anything? What about of knowledge or facts? How big is their collection?

Rhys doesn’t collect anything. I gave him the Urchin background so I don’t think they would let themselves be attached to anything material that they could lose or have to carry around. In the future if he ever settles down somewhere and has a home, I think he’d collect swords. Maybe try to buy back the ones he’s sold so far out of necessity. He definitely does not collect knowledge or facts or anything like that, it’s not their thing (8 int 😭)

8. What kind of flavours does your oc like? How much spice can they handle?

He has a sweet tooth and cannot handle any spice. Sweets aren’t something he gets a lot, specially not growing up, so whenever they have a chance to eat something sweet they’ll take it.

16. How affectionate is your oc? How do they convey their affection? By being touchy, or through more subtle ways?

I think Rhys is very affectionate in a touchy way but does not show it unless it’s initiated first by the other person or it’s clearly spelled out for him. Even like holding hands, they won’t do unless it’s he knows for sure it’s what wanted from him.

17. How polite is your oc? Do they know how to act in a formal situation? How would they *actually* act in a formal situation?

Rhys can be annoyingly polite but only until he runs out of patience and is not getting what they want/need. In a really formal situation, they would let someone else handle it for sure. He wouldn’t know what to say or do or what the expected formalities are supposed to be, or care to be honest. So they’d just let someone better equipped handle it.

21. Is your oc expressive, or would they rather conceal their emotions? What are their typical expressions like?

Can’t control their facial expressions kind of expressive, and he would not hide his emotions at all. I think he’d be awkwardly honest even when he’s not supposed to or probably shouldn’t.

30. How caring/empathetic is your oc? Are they the type to immediately adopt and protect others, or are they a true sadist?

Very empathetic and caring, much to Astarion’s dismay at the beginning. His empathy can be seriously limited when it comes to people who’ve hurt someone close to him, which I think is fair. They tend to give people the benefit of the doubt and try to act as if everyone has good intentions unless proven otherwise. He definitely is protective and adopts people immediately, they don’t think twice about it, again because of their background.

39. Does your oc have any nicknames? What are the origins of them? If they don’t, can you come up with some possible ones?

Does not have any nicknames, wouldn’t let anyone call them by a nickname, and if they did he’d be passive aggressive about it.

58. How would you describe your oc’s appearance to someone who’s looking for them? What features would be most identifiable?

Too tall for doorways, too wide for stealth, has semi long brown hair that they cut themselves badly, big brown eyes, a scar on the right side of his face that he caused himself by accident. Always covered in blood. Unironically wears a cape.

66. What sort of advice would people go to your oc for? What sort of advice is your oc actually good at giving?

Rhys is not good at giving advice, they’ll say what they think once and won’t voice it again. They are also very blunt so while he tries to be sensitive about it and tactful but like I said, he’s not very good at expressing himself. The only good advice they’re confident giving is related to combat strategy.

79. For what reason would your oc turn into a villain? And if they’re already a villain, vice-versa? This is an interesting question and I don’t have an interesting answer! I think the closest he’s come to doing something villainous was considering whether to consume the astral plane parasite, I think it would be an absolute power corrupts absolutely time of scenario for him. But I don’t really wanna taken him down that route. I think definitely revenge would be a reason they lean completely into a villainous arc.

98. Is your oc the type to have a lot of fairly good friends, have a small group of close friends, have one or two best friends, or have no friends at all? Who are they closest to?

Rhys would know a lot of people in Baldur’s Gate but not be friends with them. He’d have a couple of good friends.

[marbleheavy]

I did Nico so here are some Will Solace headcanons that have bouncing around my brain for a while now

He goes through a sweater phase where he wears almost exclusively slightly too big, brightly colored, knit sweaters with thick collars and cinched sleeves

He read that fact about how if your tongue sticks to a rock it’s actually a bone, and now he licks every rock he finds because “What if it’s the bone of a dinosaur? What if I’m licking part of a T-Rex right now?” (and Nico just lets him do it even though he knows they aren’t bones)

REALLY into pinkie promises. Like, he takes them so seriously. Pinkie promise > swearing on the Styx

He takes a lot of chaotic self timer pictures and always ropes everyone else into them. They always end up looking like an album cover and he looks like he’s the lead singer. It’s not even that he’s always front and center, it’s just the way that he’s holding himself in every picture. When he gets his own apartment or house or whatever, he makes a collage of them all and he has every one of his friends choose a picture and write what the name of the album would be on it.

Going off of that, he is really into crafts but specifically memory crafts (does that make sense???). He makes keepsake boxes and friendship bracelets and so many things because he feels like it doesn’t matter if those things actually look good because the most important part of them is the memory attached.

He uses either 🤠 or ✨ (sometimes 🤪) in almost every text and uses them to convey any emotion. Rachel is the only one who ever understands exactly what he means.

A million friendship and bead bracelets just all the way up his arms. Probably some silly bands too.

He carries a backpack with him almost all the time and it somehow holds every possible necessity but always looks nearly empty. Obviously a first aid kit, but also like snacks and a hat and sunscreen and a million pens and the list goes on and on. It’s kind of in a mom friend way but more of a thing where someone sees “i need x item” and Will just hands it to them wordlessly without even stopping his sentence.

He adores the face masks that are supposed to make you look like an animal but they’re mostly just scary. They make him giggle like a toddler. (Imagine him and Nico with the fluffy headbands with the ears and then the face masks and Will just absolutely losing his shit)

Hozier!! Will loves Hozier!! Also country music (but he has a whole spiel about new age, american exceptionalist pop country because he h a t e s that). Also, and this is the really important one, 80s music but the really synth-y stuff (see my 80s cover band au for more details)

His ideal outfit is a chunky sweater, a jean jacket, jeans that don’t match the jacket, and rain boots. He loves rain boots. He’s got multiple pairs and at least one of them have frogs on them. If he can’t wear rain boots, flip flops in the summer and vans in the other seasons (He’s definitely got a pair of these yellow Vans)

He dresses like a dad but a dad that was born in the 80s and is also three years old

Will has at least three flavors of chapstick on him at any given time

Will Solace with a gun is wonderful, truly. I would like to add to this by introducing the concept of him wearing the side holsters on either this legs or his arms. He wants to go on quests so he can live his dreams of being a cowboy with thigh gun holsters and a hat and boots and all of it. (Also, Nico with knives strapped to his thighs and Will with guns) (Also, also, there’s a Cards Against Humanity card that says “Shooting a wizard with a gun” and that screams Will Solace)

Will is very much a “Let’s not resort to violence” person but in a way where like, Person A tries to punch B and Will is like “hey, we can talk this out” but then B doubles down and says something really out of line and Will just backs up and is like “You know what? Never mind, you do what you need to do” (And also in a “Let’s not fight… except for Nico because isn’t he so pretty with his sword?)

speaking of pretty, Will l o v e s to be called pretty. It makes his sweet summer child heart go brrr

He is obviously very into nicknames and terms of endearment but calling someone “Hon” or “Sweet pea” is always passive aggressive (that’s less of a Will thing and more of a Southern thing)

I would like to bring up the licking rocks thing again because I really do just believe it with my whole heart

For a while, the idea of Will’s grandparents (obviously Naomi’s side) being French has been bouncing around my head and I really do love the idea of Will speaking French fluently but not at all formally. It’s a lot of slang and has a Texas drawl mixed in with it but it’s definitely French (and it definitely makes Nico melt). He will just deadpan look at someone and go “Quoi?” and he counts the infirmary inventory stock in French but only up until sixty, then he switches to English (soixante-dix can suck it, sorry if you’re french but like, just make a new word. there’s no need for me to have to do math while already counting. don’t even get me started on anything in the 90s. quatre-vingt-dix-sept?? excuse me??)

Will and Persephone being buddies!! They just get along well and very much understand being summer people in love with anti-sun people and just, ugh, family dinners in the Underworld and Will always, always brings a gift for her. Will and Nico come in and anyone can hear Persephone yell “Is that Will? Is Will here?” and Will just grins and calls back “Yes ma’am, and I brought you some brownies from my Mama and some of the flowers from her garden”

Also, Nico knows all the deities and Will brings them cookies because they’re a team like that

He either plays soccer or lacrosse but either way he’s very good at it and it’s honestly intimidating (jock will solace <3)

Not to say Will isn’t his fair share of chaotic, but he’s friends with a lot of very chaotic or at the least eccentric people (Cecil and his pranks, Lou Ellen and her pig balls, Rachel and herself, Nico and himself, etc.) so he’s very good at turning on the Southern charm and just smiling his way out of any situation so he can get himself and everyone else away without any consequences

I think that’s all for now!! If you have any additions, please feel free to add them on, I love seeing other people’s ideas!

[aspoonofsugar]

Jaune: Zero to Hero

Pyrrha: It's not about why; it's about knowing. Understanding dark and light helps us manifest our Aura. Everyone has some of both.

Knowledge, Creation and Destruction all lead up to Aura. This is just another way to say that they lead up to individuality, which is something Grimms lack:

Pyrrha: They are creatures of Grimm, the manifestation of anonymity.

Individuality is conveyed through Choice. This is why Choice is the most important and final gift. It is symbolic of self-actualization, which is what our characters are pursuing in their coming of age story.

Jaune’s personal arc comments the group’s collective journey and marks each stage very clearly.

In which way does it happen? And what do these stages mean for Jaune’s growth as an individual?

THE IGNORANT WARRIOR

Pyrrha: Jaune, do you... know what Aura is?

Jaune: Psch! Of course I do! Do you know what Aura is?

Jaune is introduced as inexperienced and ignorant. He lacks combat experience and knows nothing about key concepts like Aura, Landing Strategy or Semblances.

His journey starts because Pyrrha shares her knowledge with him:

She awakens his aura, his very soul and later on trains him, so she helps his body get stronger:

In other words, Pyrrha is the one who puts Jaune on the right path to become a true “hero” and a “warrior”.

This is Jaune’s objective since the beginning, but he initially pursues it in the wrong way:

Jaune: I don't want help! I don't want to be the damsel in distress! I want to be the hero!

He is fixated on an idea of hero which is outdated and has its root in toxic masculinity:

Jaune: Cause this is always what I've wanted to be! My father, my grandfather, and his father before him were all warriors! They were all heroes! I wanted to be one, too. I was just never good enough.

This is why symbolically Jaune wants to be like his male ancestors. He wants to grow into “a real man”:

Cardin: Let's see how much of a man you really are...

And this is conveyed also through his Weapon:

Jaune: It's a hand-me-down. My great-great-grandfather used it to fight in the war.

Jaune did not forge his own Weapon, but he inherited it. Crocea Mors initially represents the legacy he wants to live up to. However, this legacy, instead of driving him, slows him down because he can’t grow until he remains in his ancestors’ shadow. Jaune needs to develop his own individuality instead.

In order to do so, he needs to grow not only as a figther, but as a person too.

As a matter of fact, Jaune’s ignorance is not only limited to the world he has stepped into, but also to the people around him:

Jaune: That's easy for you to say. You've probably got guys clamoring over each other just to ask you out.

Pyrrha: You'd be surprised.

He is so self-focused that he does not notice others’ feelings and hurts them unintentionally.

However, Pyrrha teaches him once again:

Pyrrha:Tell her exactly what you said. No ridiculous schemes, no pick-up lines. Just... be honest.

 It is thanks to her that Jaune manages to become a better man:

He is even able to call Neptune out the way Pyrrha did with him:

Jaune: Then just go talk to her. No pickup lines, no suave moves, just be yourself. I've heard that's the way to go.

And as a result, even Jaune’s relationship with Weiss gets better:

Weiss: You said you were embarrassed at first. What made you come talk to me?

Neptune: You're looking at him.  You got some good friends looking out for ya.

Because the girl realizes Jaune is not only after her money or her romantic attention:

Weiss: All my life, boys have only cared about the perks of my last name.

But wants to genuinely be a good friend to her.

In short, Jaune starts the story as immature both as a fighter and as a person to the point that he is considered unfit and annoying by other characters:

Glynda: I don't care what his transcripts say. That Jaune fellow is not ready for this level of combat.

However, thanks to Pyrrha, he is given the chance to mature.

Not only that, but while other characters see a weakness and a nuisance in Jaune’s ignorance and inexperience, Pyrrha sees it as a possibility:

Weiss: Jaune, is it? Do you have any idea who you're talking to?

Jaune: Not in the slightest, snow angel.

Weiss: This is Pyrrha.

It is specifically because Jaune is new to Pyrrha’s world that he is free from bias:

Pyrrha:  That's what I like about you. When we met, you didn't even know my name. You treated me just like anyone else. And thanks to you, I've made friendships that will last a lifetime. I guess, you're the kind of guy I wish I was here with. Someone who just saw me for me.

This is why Pyrrha feels she can forge a genuine bond with Jaune. What is more, the girl has faith in his potential:

Pyrrha: It's all right. I used my Aura to unlock yours, but the energy that protects you now is your own. You have a lot of it.

She sees in him what others do not and helps him develop both as a man and as a warrior.

This is well highlighted by the metal motif the two characters share.

As @hamliet explains here Rwby has several characters linked to the seven metals of alchemy.

The goal of alchemy is to create gold thanks to a process of refiniment that purifies the metal and has it go through several transformations. 

The seven metals are nothing, but a scale that goes from the heaviest and most raw metal (lead) to the most purified (gold) passing through the others (tin, iron, copper, mercury, silver).

For a story, it simply means that a character goes through a process of change that leads to self-actualization.

In Rwby this idea is conveyed through specific characters embodying a metal (Ironwood, Penny, Mercury) or even thanks to metal motifs commenting a specific part of a character arc.

For example, Yang is associated with gold:

I am the golden one Who burns just like the sun

But Adam takes her arm away and has her regress in the scale of metals to iron. This regression is not simply physical, but psychological as well:

However, Yang re-affirms herself and moves forward. The first step of this process is to symbolically make her new arm “gold” again:

When it comes to Jaune, I think that he may be the character associated with lead aka the “prima materia” that needs to be molded into gold. Even if this is not true, metal is at least definately still a motif in his arc, as it is in Pyrrha’s. This is why both characters wear metal armors, differently from others.

Pyrrha is already close to her self-actualization and she reaches it in the climax of the Vale arc, where she completes her (tragic) arc and dies a Maiden.

This is why her armor is gold, while Jaune’s is white and gray. Pyrrha is at the top of the metal scale and close to the end of her journey, while Jaune is respectively at the very bottom and at the very beginning.

He is the embodyment of the prima materia that has potential for greatness, but only if he is rightly guided and if he himself works hard.

Pyrrha takes over herself the duty to help Jaune mold himself.

This is underlined also by Pyrrha’s semblance:

Pyrrha: Well, Ruby has her speed, you have your glyphs. My Semblance is polarity.

Pyrrha can control and bend metals and she shows her power for the first time when she helps Jaune against the Ursa, so that he can overcome his self-issues.

So, Jaune starts the story as the lead and is going through a path of self-refinement which will lead him to become gold, so more similar to Pyrrha herself.

Pyrrha offers him the basic knowledge to start this journey, but unluckily leaves him too soon and now Jaune has to move forward on his own.

THE CREATIVE AVENGER

Pyrrha: I want you to know that I'm just happy to be a part of your life. I'll always be here for you, Jaune.

Even after Pyrrha’s death, this stays true:

Blacksmith: That was some fine metal you brought me. Accents the white nicely. Where'd you get it from?

Pyrrha has become a part of Jaune.

This is a recurring motif in Rwby:

Penny: I won’t be gone, I’ll be part of you.

It is the idea that grieving is a process that leads to acceptance, but also to integration with a lost one. It is a way to have the deceased keep on living through the survivors.

In Jaune and Pyrrha’s case, this is conveyed through Pyrrha’s metal being used to enrich Jaune’s Weapon.

As stated by Ruby:

Ruby: Just weapons? They're an extension of ourselves! They're a part of us! Oh, they're so cool.

Weapons are symbolic of the self, just like Semblances.

What is more, Weapons and Semblances are also a declination of the dychotomy of body and soul, presented by the series.

Weapons are wielded by bodies, while Semblances are a materialization of the soul.

In other words, Pyrrha’s gold becoming a part of Jaune’s Weapon is symbolic of Jaune’s first step in a painful process that will lead him to overcome his partner’s death and to inherit Pyrrha’s legacy.

Jaune must keep on learning from Pyrrha and become more like her. As noted by @hamliet​, this is symbolized also by Jaune’s design aquiring more golden details as he goes on in his journey:

Jaune: Guess I was going to grow out of it eventually.

Ren: A sign of progress.

Jaune: Progress.

That said, grieving is not easy and Jaune must struggle with much pain and negative feelings.

This is why the changes he makes to Crocea Mors are finalized to increase its attack power:

It is because Jaune feels anger over Pyrrha’s death and wants revenge.

In the Battle of Haven he gives in to his fury and tries to kill Cinder. He is trying to superficially imitate Pyrrha’s sacrifice:

Jaune: If I die buying them time, then it's worth it. They're the ones that matter.

However, he is not doing it out of bravery or necessity, but out of recklessness and self-hate. This is why his actions lead to this:

Once again, Jaune risks to lose another loved one:

Jaune: No, no, no, no, not again! Weiss, c'mon, please!!

However, this time he is able to save Weiss thanks to his Semblance:

Jaune: My Semblance?

Nora: How else do you think you're healing her, dummy?

Jaune gives up on using his Weapon to fight and chooses to use his Semblance to cure. He chooses soul over body and Creation over Destruction.

At the same time, Jaune’s activation of his Semblance is meaningful on two levels:

Jaune: No. I don't think I'm healing her. Our Aura heals our bodies. It feels... it feels more like I'm using my Aura to amplify hers!

Nora: Wait, aren't you worried about running out?

Jaune: Pyrrha once told me I've got a lot of it. I still believe her.

First of all, Jaune’s Semblance is rooted in the idea that people heal themselves. His power is not to cure others, but to amplify others’ auras, so that they can become stronger and can heal. It is about bringing out the best in others. It is a power fit for a leader, but also an ability symbolic of Jaune’s own process of healing. He can heal himself through helping others to heal.

Secondly, Jaune’s Semblance is in itself a nod to Pyrrha. Pyrrha used her own aura to awake his and Aura Amp is simply an evolution of this idea. It is not about activating others’ auras, but it is a power that lets Jaune share his. It also makes good use of something Pyrrha noticed immediately aka Jaune’s huge quantity of aura.

In other words, Jaune ends up acting like Pyrrha in the Battle of Haven, but not because he fights Cinder, but because he shares his gift with others, just like Pyrrha did with hers.

Pyrrha is a part of Jaune both in body (Crocea Mors) and soul (Aura Amp), but Jaune must still truly understand what this means.

He makes progress in Lost:

Red-Haired Woman: She understood that she had a responsibility... to try. I don't think she would regret her choice, because a Huntress would understand that there really wasn't a choice to make. And a Huntress is what she always wanted to be.

This is the essence of Pyrrha’s sacrifice. Jaune comes to understand it and chooses to make a similar choice together with his team:

Jaune: I think... I think she knew she wasn't going to win. That she might not come out alive. But... she also knew she was the only one that could try.

Ren: So she did.

Nora: Maybe we should too.

Jaune: Yeah, we should.

In this way, it will be as if Pyrrha were fighting together with them:

Nora: Pyrrha may not be by our side anymore, but we can fight like she is.

Jaune: And in a way... she will be.

Jaune tries to overcome his anger and his sadness for Pyrrha’s death in order to keep fighting like she did.

So, once again he chooses this:

Ruby: I wanted to protect my friends.

Maria: Precisely! It is the desire to preserve life which fuels the light inside you. And to make no mistake, it is light. Preservation is an extension of creation, or, at the very least, an enemy of destruction. The Creatures of Grimm were made by the God of Darkness, but your light comes from his brother.

He chooses to protect life and this is the essence of Creation.

Once he confirms this choice, he is free to explore Creation’s potential and he does so in the land of Creation itself, Atlas.

He strengthens his shield instead of his sword:

And he trains his Semblance:

Oscar: Nice, your recovery is getting faster.

This all leads him to become stronger psychologically:

Ren: Him on the other hand... There's no fear at all. I can see it, he believes we're going to get this done.

That said, Jaune starts meeting limits to his new found strength rooted in Creation:

Jaune: Ah, sorry. No matter how much I boost you, they won’t go away.

Jaune: Did... I stop the virus?

Penny: No. It’s still there.

Jaune’s way to move forward is to heal himself through healing others. Still, what to do when this is not possible?

THE DESTRUCTIVE HEALER

Penny: No… there’s not enough time to heal me…

Penny: But there is something you can do…

What happens in Atlas is an inversion of Haven.

Penny pushes Jaune’s Semblance away and touches Crocea Mors.

Jaune is asked to give up on healing her and to speed up her death instead. He is asked to choose his Weapon (body) over his Semblance (soul) and Destruction over Creation.

This marks the characters entering the Destruction phase:

Leaving Creation (Penny) behind.

For Jaune, this means that his own self image that he has worked so much to build and to make his own:

And that has been enriched in Anima thanks to Pyrrha...is shattered:

At the same time, he is once again put in a similar spot as Pyrrha:

They both become unwilling agents of Penny’s death because of Cinder (and Emerald and Mercury in the first case):

Pyrrha: Ruby, I... I'm so sorry.

Ruby: Me too. But it wasn't your fault.

Jaune: She's right. Whoever was on that microphone... they're the ones that did this. And we have to make sure they don't take anyone else.

So Jaune’s journey to integrate with Pyrrha, to understand her and her struggle continues.

What now?

It is too soon to say because we have yet to properly start our journey through Destruction and what it is about.

That said, there are two things that are worth highlighting. The first is a motif Rwby is following, while the second is a general theme found in many stories.

1) As @hamliet​ has stated in many metas and as I have written here, Rwby is an alchemical story. Alchemical stories are usually marked by three important deaths. Each death is symbolically linked to a color. They are usually black, white and red. However, sometimes there can be yellow instead of the white or the red. This is the case here, where a resonant death is the yellow death aka Penny’s.

It is a death that happens while the characters are surrounded by yellow:

And it happens through a weapon called “Yellow Death” (Crocea Mors’s meaning). So, it is really not subtle. Penny’s death is meant to mark an important passage for our protagonists, just like Pyrrha’s one (the black death).

2) It is common in stories that deal with healers to explore the concept of death as well.

The basic idea is that a healer is a person meant to cure. That said, they will meet people impossible to cure and that will die on their watch. This is an unescapable truth a true healer must live with.

Let’s highlight this theme is found in works very different for genre and culture.

Let’s have two examples.

Scrubs aka an American comedy about doctors deals with this theme multiple times. In many episodes the characters must simply accept they can’t save a life, but must still not lose hope and keep on living themselves.

Yosano from the manga BSD says so:

Her backstory explores the link bewteen life and death further since it is shown that a power that cures fatal wounds can be used to cheapen life itself:

It is too soon to say if Rwby will explore a similar theme, but the fact that Jaune, (the healer) is the one that has to speed up Penny’s death might be a very powerful and poignant choice. This is true especially because Rwby does not refuse Destruction (and so does not refuse death), but presents it as a principle equal to Creation (so as a part of life).

THE CHOOSING HERO

Jaune’s arc is about living Pyrrha’s death over and over again with different scenarios and outcomes. This happens so that in the end he can finally overcome it.

So far, it has happened three times and each time has been in the climax of an important battle.

The Battle of Beacon has him witness powerlessly to Pyrrha’s death (lack of knowledge and passivity).

The Battle of Haven has him saving Weiss (creation).

The Battle of Atlas has him killing Penny (destruction).

What is more, every time Jaune becomes more proactive and conscious of what he is doing.

In Beacon he has no idea of what is happening. He works with little information and things happen to him without him being able to do anything.

In Haven his actions lead to Weiss being in danger, but he manages to save her. That said, he does not do it consciously. He unlocks his Semblance because of emotional stress. It is an unconscious choice and not a conscious one.

In Atlas he makes a specific conscious choice, but it is a choice that is forced on him because of external circumstances. It is also a choice that is meant to challenge and temporally break him.

In other words, he is slowly and painfully approaching Choice aka self-actualization. Right now, he has to face the consequences of Penny’s death, but this will probably lead him to finally enter the Choice stage and to complete his arc by becoming a “hero” aka gold (probably).

At the same time, this final choice will also be about healing and overcoming grief. It will be the final integration with Pyrrha and him being able to honor her legacy.

After all, we have been told from the beginning what Pyrrha’s fate would have been. We’ve just failed to notice:

Pyrrha: For it is in passing that we achieve immortality. Through this, we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all, infinite in distance and unbound by death. I release your soul, and by my shoulder protect thee.

June and Pyrrha’s bond is eternal and she is meant to be the key character in Jaune’s arc. It is only through confronting and finally overcoming her loss that Jaune can finally self actualize and become the person Pyrrha has always known he could be. Pyrrha will symbolically be with him in this struggle. Her memory will protect and inspire him. 

[crescentsteel]

Keeping a Secret - Part 4

pairing: Tsukishima x f!manager of Sendai Frogs genre: sexual tension/crack/fluff/slow burn wc: 7.6k

[a/n]

Let me know if you want to be part of the taglist uwu

AO3

Part 3 || Part 5 || masterlist

Tsukishima might not like you, but at least you unspokenly agreed on how to treat the strange tension from last time’s meeting: ignore it. 

No one dared mention it. Since he arrived a while ago, no one talked unless needed. It’s not like the air is awkward, it’s just silent, devoid of last time’s weird shenanigan as you continued on with the unfinished assignment from his previous visit.

“I assume you’re done from how you’re spacing out at nothing,” he reprimands.

You flinch and realize that you’ve been staring at the wall behind Tsukishima. 

“Oh, uhhh.” You check your laptop to see your progress and surprisingly, you really are done. Your brain must have shut down on it’s own when it registered that you’re finished with your work for the day.

“Yep!” You snicker proudly at him. “Are we going to watch crocodiles doing the nasty now?” you ask him with eager interest.

You really have a way with words that always throws him off-guard, yet instead of scowling at you, he just gives out a resigned sigh. He knows you aren’t trying to irk him. That’s just how you really are.

It’ll be better for his sanity to just tolerate your and leave you be than drive himself to the brink of madness.

“Yeah,” he responds thriftly.

You giddily scurry over at his side of the table and comfortably seat yourself beside him. You hug your knees as he prepares several videos from BBC Earth and Nat Geo Wild that shows and explains crocodile mating behavior. He turns up the volume of his laptop to its loudest so you can both hear the audio clearly.

In the second video, the voice-over explains the kinds of display reptiles make to attract their potential mate. His eyes glance at you briefly. Not that he’s complaining about it, but you’re acting unusually docile today . You’ve been mostly quiet ever since he arrived.

It’s all good until he hears a wheezing noise that sounds all too real and all too weird for it to come from the video.

He looks to you and immediately finds the culprit.

Your lips are parted with your neck extended forward and your chin tilted up a bit while you produce guttural sounds, making it seem like you’re choking.

“What are you doing?”

You face him, still looking like an idiot as you continue making a sound he’s never heard of with the same absurd upper body posture. He looks at you with abhorrence when he starts to realize what you’re doing. 

Are you actually trying to imitate a crocodile bellowing for a mate?

You sit up straight and beam at him with pride. “How’s that for a mating call?”

If he were a male crocodile, he’d find another estuary to escape away from that horrible sound you were producing. “You sound like you’re dying,” he says as he remembers how it seemed like you were hoarsely scratching your vocal cords together.

“Wait, wait. Lemme try again,” you announce with determination, which he finds pointless and  totally unnecessary. He doesn’t care if you successfully do it. He even prefers you stop trying at all.

Yet, you still pressed on. You resume your earlier actions, looking even more ridiculous as you start to sound and look like a seagull squawking repeatedly. 

He should be irritated since you’re wasting time. Instead, he puts a fist over his mouth, attempting to hold back a snort. You don’t seem to notice because your eyes are on the laptop as you keep trying to replicate what you’re seeing on screen. 

When you actually start choking, he lets out the laugh that he’s been holding in which makes you look at him. You try to speak but it comes out distorted as you’re still coughing from your mating call attempt.

“You look like an idiot.” He laughs harder when regret surfaces on your eyes while clearing your throat.

He recovers from his outburst of laughter at the same time you manage to soothe your voice back to normal. He’s expecting you to be embarrassed from the stunt you tried to pull, which you appear to be seeing as you’re  covering your face with your palms. You don’t seem to be upset though because he can hear your muffled giggles.

You quickly remove your hands and face him. “I was sure I could do it, okay? You didn’t have to laugh that hard!” Despite the pout you show him, your eyes twinkle with levity as you hold his stare.

How the fuck you can you be so weird but still so pretty at the same time? 

No wonder you have the rest of them wrapped around your pretty little finger. You just flash them that delightful smile of yours and you completely have them under your spell.

But not him, of course. Definitely not him.

Also, he tries to convince himself, he didn’t think you were pretty at all.

He’s just looking from the perspective of his teammates on why they adore you so much. Nothing more, nothing else. 

To him, you’re still the irksome manager he knows you are. This set-up is just temporary. He’ll never forget how you really are - overbearing, cunning, and infuriating. This strangely charming  attitude you’re showing him is just because of the temporary ceasefire between the both of you, and this easy, comfortable atmosphere is just born out of necessity. When this project is finished, you’ll be back to the real you. So he shouldn’t be wasting his time reading into whatever’s happening between you two.

“Should we continue watching?” you ask him lightheartedly as you hug your knees again, softly leaning your head against them.

The nerve of you to ask that. You’re the one who disrupted the videos, not him. He should be the one berating you to get back to the project instead of you pleasantly asking him to continue where you left off. 

“You’re the one who interrupted the whole thing in the first place,” he spats rather than answering your question, wishing you’d retort with something stupid so he can go back loathing you silently.

Instead, you simper apologetically and mutter a timid, “My bad.”

Then you extend your arm to his laptop and rewind to where the video was before you distracted him with your audacious growling.

During the remainder of the videos, he glances every once in a while to check if you��re going to do something distracting again. Fortunately, (or unfortunately, he can’t tell anymore which is worse) you stay well-behaved and entirely focused on the documentary with your arms wrapped around your tucked legs tucked and your chin resting to your knee.

When the documentaries end, he pulls up the video he took with your phone from your crocodile farm trip. Compared to the produced output you’d just gone through, the amateur video he captured at the farm is evidently not as exciting to watch. The quality is not that great because his hand had been shaky while filming it. He remembered not looking at the screen of your phone while filming it because he had been looking at you. 

Rather than noticing that aspect of the video, you comment about the audio.  “I can’t hear anything from the breeding pen. I only hear my voice and Sara’s.”

He’s about to reason out that you’re talking non-stop but he immediately realizes that it’s not necessarily a bad thing because you were asking Sara questions related to the project at that time.

“I want to hear them growling,” you declare. 

“I’m not sure they even were. This is an artificial environment for crocodiles. Also, we’re a bit far from them,” he explains. 

You face scrunches up with disapproval. “Why didn’t you just zoom the camera in?”

His jaw drops from how appallingly dim-witted your question is. He’d think you were kidding but you look genuinely upset because you can’t hear the sounds you heard from the videos earlier. 

First of all, just like he said, they might not even be making sounds at all. Secondly, your phone, despite being a good model, wouldn’t be able to miraculously capture sounds even if he zoomed it outrageously close to the reptiles. Lastly and most importantly, are you actually that dumb?

He doesn’t even know how to condense all his thoughts properly and convey how revolted he is from the amount of brainlessness you can put in one simple question that’s less than ten words. 

Your eyes go wide when it finally hits you too.

“Oh God,” you mutter weakly as you put two palms to cover the lower half of your face. 

You two share the same expression of disgust as you realize how stupid you sounded while you hold his gaze. 

You press your lips together in a thin line then bust your gut out with an uproar laugh that fills your room. You tug the sleeve of his shirt as you look at him with glossy eyes.

“I’m a dunce,” you admit with trails of laughter still seeping from your voice.

“Glad to know I’m not the only one who thinks so,” he says with half-hearted insult as he’s still figuring out if he did something or is it your own stupidity that’s causing your outburst.

You bite your trembling lips in an attempt to fend off another laugh, but fails to do so when you clutch his arm tighter and another round of jovial laugh escapes from your mouth.

You try to form a phrase but it’s drowned out by your own cackles. Still, he catches on with what words you manage to utter. 

You are laughing at yourself. 

He always thought you liked making fun of others because you’re always simpering every time someone’s at your mercy -- those boys who relentlessly try to hit on you; any member of the team who gets flustered when you praise them; and him, especially him, who seems to be your personal favorite person to pick on. 

Yet, he’s never seen you this elated before, with your face scrunched up as you go hysterical from your own silliness. 

He can’t help but think that maybe he misunderstood you a little bit. You’re not actually a pompous bitch. You’re just a crackhead who finds joy in the littlest, most foolish things.

“I swear to God, Tsukishima. Our university is in ruin for making me a goddamn scholar.” You let go of his arm and sniffle while wiping your tears of joy.

When you look up to him, your face is glowing. Your cheeks are flushed, your eyes are gleaming at him effervescently, and your smile is not as annoying as it used to be. 

Objectively speaking, it’s similar to your usual ones, except it’s also totally different. He can’t really fully grasp why but there’s something about it that distinguishes it from all the others he’s seen from you.

He must have been peering at you more than necessary because your smile dissolves gradually while your mirthful expression turns into a puzzled one. 

You’ve been trying to ignore the thought, but Tsukishima is definitely acting weird today; weird because he’s not as mean as he usually is. 

Well, duh. You do have some sort of agreement for him to tone it down. Still, you didn’t expect he’d do it this well. Even when he was laughing at you earlier, it wasn’t as demeaning as it should have been.

And to make you even more puzzled, right now, he’s just staring blankly at you. 

Generally, Tsukishima’s empty glares at you are not really empty. They contain inhibited disdain which he has not failed to show you over the years you’ve been their manager. Even when he’s actually trying not to let it show, you still easily see through him. 

But at this moment, you have no idea what’s going on in his head. His eyes are studying you quietly and you return his stare, trying to figure out what he could possibly be thinking. 

You’re about to ask him what’s wrong but as soon as you open your mouth, a familiar glint surfaces on his face as his gaze drops on your lips.

If the latter parts of the previous meeting were awkward, this one goes beyond awkward.

There is an abrupt drop of weight that looms across the whole room, a weight so heavy that you find it difficult to breathe. The room is spacious enough for two, but you feel like it’s too cramped up all of a sudden. 

It’s an all too familiar feeling that you did not anticipate would ever come back. In fact, it should not be back at all. 

It is as exciting as it is terrifying when you realize: you want to kiss him. 

You previously justified your actions as something sort of a ‘one time madness’ and. until now, you were sure it was just that. It was a whim brought by his sudden closeness fueled by the atmosphere of the club at the time. 

You were wrong.

Even at this dull, academic setting with him barely even touching you, you itch to feel him close. You want to relive the feeling of his body pressed against yours and his lips latched fervidly onto yours. 

Damn it. He should stop staring at you like he wants the same thing. It’s tempting you even more to give in to the urge even though you know you’ll regret it later.

But no, you really can’t. Once was enough. Twice will be a different story. 

You had assured him and yourself that it wouldn’t happen again. If you cross that line now, you’re going to have to admit the irrevocable fact that you’re attracted to him. 

You let out a shaky breath as you avert your gaze from his. 

You’re about to replay the video when you hear a sudden thud on the floor. You look back at him with worry only to see his hand slammed against the floor as he swiftly lunges forward to close the gap between you and him. 

His free hand goes to your chin and tilts it up as he crashes his lips on yours.

It’s just as you remember - calm yet impassioned, successfully sweeping away any incertitude you had about kissing him. Your mind is only filled with how good he feels as he impatiently drags his hand to your waist and tugs you closer. 

You wrap an arm around his neck to completely eliminate whatever space is left between your bodies. You grasp the back of his head as you return his kiss with the same ardor, your mouths naturally cascading against one another with a rhythm you two can perfectly understand and follow without any words needed.

When he sneaks his tongue in, you begin to forget what he is to you outside the confines of this room as you helplessly moan into his mouth.

You can tell he’s not doing so well either with how tight he’s grasping the small of your back as the intensity of the kiss grows with each ticking second. 

“Tsukishima,” you puff heavily as you withdraw away from him with half-lidded eyes, the feel of his lips still lingering on yours. 

You hope that the soft call of his name will be the voice of reason for him to stop kissing you. He needs to stop for you’re totally powerless to do it yourself. He needs to stop before it escalates into something else, something more.

Thankfully, he does stop. 

He takes a deep breath as his eyes travel from your lips up to your eyes, meeting your gaze to study the entirety of your features. 

He thought you were going to ask him to stop, hence the conflicted tone of your voice when you said his name. But the look on your face tells him otherwise. 

You like this as much as he does. He didn’t want to admit it last time, but fucking hell. You really do make a complete mess of his rational thinking with how good you taste, how your determined eyes mellow down within his embrace, and how you yield right on the first touch of his lips. 

He knows he should stop. It’s the perfect chance to do so. It shouldn’t matter how soft and pliant you are when pressed against him. It shouldn’t matter that you look like you want him to continue wherever this leads to.

But it does. He doesn’t want to stop, and he knows neither do you.

He grits his teeth in annoyance as he hisses at you, “Shut up.” 

Just like he did a while ago, he easily covers the tiny distance between your lips. He gets a little more greedy this time and slides his hand underneath your shirt, experimenting with what he can do to earn him another whimper from you. He’d like to revel on the sound of your meekness once again. 

It didn’t really take much. At the first contact of his palm on the bare skin of your waist, you instantly give him what he wants. 

Your soft moan fills his ears that he doesn’t hear the sudden clack of the door. 

“Y/n, did you do our - oh!”

You violently tug his head past the curve of your shoulder, making him take out his hand from your shirt and ram it against the floor to support himself. 

“Couldn’t you knock?” you ask breathlessly to whoever’s on the door.

He tries to free himself from you but judging from  how firm your grip is on his head, it doesn’t look like you want him to move from his current position. It doesn’t help that you’re almost choking him from how hard you’re pressing his neck against your collar bone. 

“I can’t breathe!” he whispers infuriatingly, but you don’t answer. You only clutch on his hair tighter.

“My bad, dude. I didn’t know you got yourself a boyfriend,” your friend says defensively. 

Out of all the possible times she could choose to come over, it had to be when you and Tsukishima were making out. You’re a tiny bit grateful for being stopped when neither of you wanted to, but more embarrassed that it was because your friend walked in on the scene. 

“Can you come back later?” you ask almost nervously, concerned that she might recognize that it’s Tsukishima leaning against you. She knows him because they used to have classes together last semester.

Your friend just shrugs it off and is about to close the door when her eyes catch Tsukishima’s jacket. Her eyes widen in shock when she sees the logo of the Sendai Frogs. 

“Holy shit! Are you dating one of your players?” She looks back at you incredulously. 

“Get out!” you yell out from agitation. 

She flinches from the sudden raise of your voice but is quick to understand that you need the privacy right now. “Okay, okay. I got it,” she mutters apologetically and whispers, “Sorry,” before she finally shuts the door.

You let out a sigh of relief when she leaves without figuring out that it was Tsukishima. As for him, he tears your hand away and faces you with fury seeping from his orbs. 

“Were you trying to kill me?!”

You dismiss his anger and regard him impassively. “Then would you have preferred your face being seen?”

“So what? It’s not like she knows me,” he leans forward towards you a bit to emphasize his point with the same angry tone.

With his face too close for comfort, you suddenly become aware of the fact that you’re still trapped between the arms planted on both sides of you. 

“Um, can you back off for a bit?” You turn away tensely, worried that you might want an encore of what your friend interrupted if you continue staring at him from this distance.

“Huh?” He sounds like he has no idea what you’re talking about so you place both hands on his chest to softly push him away.

He must have realized it then because he lifts himself off of you and sits back to upright. 

You try to settle down but to no avail. Your heart is still beating abnormally, despite being now  rid of your nosy friend and his dangerous proximity. The deafening silence rings in your ears and the air feels heavy again, your mind drifting dangerously back to the earlier events.

“This is your fault,” Tsukishima mumbles with a frown. 

You gasp at his audacity. “Excuse me? You’re the one who kissed me!” 

“Because you ...” he trails off before he could say what was going on in his head: because you looked so damn fascinating that he caved to his want for a repeat of that night. So it really is your fault. If you hadn’t kissed him back then, he wouldn’t have found out how exquisite it feels to have you succumb to him. Then, he wouldn’t have been tempted to kiss you at all. 

Shit. He sounds stupid, justifying his own reckless behavior. 

He looks down at your waist which he was just touching. If your friend hadn’t barged in, how far will you two have gone? 

He shudders at the thought. No. There was absolutely no fucking way you two would’ve done that. He won’t be able to stomach it if that happens. You might have been tolerable today, but that doesn’t mean he can stand the idea of going beyond making out with you. 

Did he just admit to himself that he doesn’t mind kissing you? 

“Because I what?” you ask him with an addled look. 

“Nothing,” he answers as he starts fixing his stuff. 

“Hey, what’re you doing? We still need to do a comparison write-up for the videos,” you say,  watching him pack up. 

“Let’s just pick up where we left off when we meet again.” He can’t be around you any longer today. You’re causing too much havoc to his usually sensible mindspace. 

“Aren’t we going to talk about what just happened?”

Not bothering to heed your question, he continues what he’s doing. After he puts the only remaining binder he has out back in his bag, he faces you. 

“No,” is his answer before he slings his bag over his shoulder and leaves your room. 

--

Damn that Tsukishima. 

As if you don’t have enough on your plate already, he adds another massive one on the pile. You wish you can just disregard it, push it at the back of your head like you did the first time. But you can’t. 

You were supposed to study the Lion’s new line, but you just end up zoning out every five minutes as the scene replays in your head. You even transferred to the lobby even though you hated working there just for a change of pace.

It turned out useless as people you know kept on stopping by for small chats. You couldn’t focus on the game footages which needs your full concentration to analyze.

So there you are, restless and distraught,  as you enter the gym with no printed output because you hadn’t accomplished anything at all.

Not that they need it today but you just generally like to have them ready in advance. You know your team. Almost everyone has their day jobs or are students like you. You don’t want to spring a hell load of reading material on them days away from the game. 

On top of that, you’re lagging behind the schedule you set for your project with the Tsukishima. No thanks to him for walking out the past two meetings.

“Do you have the profile of the Lions ready?” Coach Mira asks first thing when you get to her side. 

Great. Just great. You were hoping no one brings it up, but of course Coach has to. You did tell her you’d have it prepared by today.

“Sorry, Coach. I’ll have them ready by next training,” you quickly compromise for your setback. 

She swiftly turns to you with concern. “Are you sick?”

“Oh, no. I’m totally fine, Coach. Just had something to do last night,” you lie despite the guilt in your gut. The last time you were late with the team reports was when you became extremely sick. This time it’s because of some blonde guy that’s somewhere across the gym.

She breathes a relieved sigh. “Thank God. I don’t really mind them being not as early as usual. I just don’t want our trusted manager getting sick.”

Her small compliment makes you feel a bit better. “Thanks, Coach.” You give her a faint smile.

“Alright, can you toss to the spikers?”

You nod and quickly turn around, only to see the cause of your delayed work blocking your path. Typically, you’d say something but you’re too bothered with what happened that you just move sideways to avoid him. However, he moves in the same direction you do. So you go the opposite way again, only for him to follow. 

At this point, you couldn’t suppress the dry laugh that comes from how spectacularly ironic the scene is. 

You look up to him. “Tsukishima,” you call out as you give him that too sweet of a grin he hates so much. “I’d appreciate it if you use those blocking skills on the court instead of me, hmm?”

This is the you Tsukishima is very much aware of - detestable to the core. Yet, on top of his annoyance is relief. It’s reassuring to see that you’re still very much the manager he knows you are, not the somehow tolerable person he made out with last time.

So instead of answering, he does the usual and turns deaf ears at you. While you’re sneering at him, he moves further to the side and successfully gets past you. 

He’d tell you about his fix for the current dilemma you two are having, but with Coach within earshot, he’d rather not. He doesn’t want anyone, especially the team, knowing that you’re spending some time alone with him, let alone getting physical with him. He’ll never hear the end of it from them, so he’ll just text you later. 

--

You can’t believe Tsukishima actually suggested doing the project at their home. You don’t think he’s the kind of person who invites classmates to their house just because of school work. It is hard to imagine him introducing people to whoever he’s living with, let alone you.

Maybe they’re gone for the day. That’s why he invited you over. 

You ring the doorbell of the address he gave you. Quite soon enough, another tall blonde person opens the door. He must be another Tsukishima - a nice Tsukishima with a pleasant face that looks nothing like the permanent nonchalance plastered on the face of your middle blocker. 

“Yes?” the pleasant Tsukishima asks. 

You greet him with a warm smile. When you ask for the other Tsukishima you’re going to work with, his face noticeably lights up. “You’re looking for Kei?” he asks softly but with audible excitement. 

“Um, yeah. He asked me to come.” You’re very curious as to why he looks so pleased, but it’d be rude to ask him upfront when you just met him.

Before the guy in front of you can even answer, you already hear the voice of the one you’re looking for. 

“Let her in, Nii-chan.”

Nii-chan? Oh my God. That’s the cutest thing ever! You didn’t think Tsukki’s the kind of guy to address his older sibling like that. 

“I’m Akiteru by the way,” the older Tsukishima introduces himself as he opens the door for you.

“Y/n. here,” you respond delightfully then give him a gracious bow before entering. 

As you remove your shoes upon stepping inside, you already see Tsukki seated in the living room with his stuff set up. You don’t know if he’s started working on the project but he’s already focused on his laptop.  

You would've made yourself feel at home, but this is not solely his place. You don’t want to be impolite. 

“You can go join him, Y/n. I’ll go to my room now,” Akiteru kindly tells you and turns around. 

“Wait,” you blurt out.

He faces your way again. “Yeah?”

“Can I call you Aki-san? I don’t want to confuse you when I say ‘Tsukishima.’” 

He gently holds both your hands and pulls them up as he clasps them together with his.

“You can call me Aki-nii-chan if you want,” he says with a hopeful look on his face. You can tell he’s got the completely wrong idea about you and Tsukishima, which confirms your earlier assumption.

Yet instead of being uncomfortable, you find yourself amused. Tsukishima must have never brought a girl home before, thus the excitement and false assumption from Akiteru. 

“I think I like Aki-san better,” you respond respectfully, hoping that you don’t have to spell it out for him.

“Stop it. She’s just a classmate,” you hear Tsukishima say.

Akiteru lets go of your hand and laughs apologetically. “Sorry about that. I’ll leave you two alone now.” He smiles briefly at you and heads upstairs.

You walk towards Tsukishima and sit beside him. “What were you thinking inviting me over?” you instantly ask. You know he must already be aware of the possibility that his relatives would very likely  assume things, which was just proven true by Akiteru.

“As much I despise the idea of having you here, this is better than being in your place,” he says with his attention still on his laptop.

“How so?” You glance at his laptop and see that he’s working on a different subject than the one you have together. When notices it, he closes the tabs and faces you.

“We’re not completely alone here. We won’t get unwelcome urges.”

Oh dear Lord. So that’s what this is about. He thinks that being alone with you is the cause of it.

“I hate to remind you this, Tsukishima, but the first time we kissed was in the middle of a club packed with people. It’s not the place that’s the issue,” you emphasize the last sentence.

Before you went there, you decided to just accept the fact that you and Tsukishima have this uncanny attraction towards each other. The last meeting’s events were proof of that. Instead of getting all worked up trying to deny it or disregard it as something else, you just acknowledge it for what it really is. 

“Then what is?” Unlike you, he seems to entirely shut out the disturbing conclusion you came up with. That’s why he decided to meet here instead of your place despite whatever his family might think.

Too bad for him though, you’re about to break the news to him.

“We’re attracted to each other,” you declare without any reluctance.

“No,” he quickly rejects the notion. “I don’t care what you feel about me, but I am not in any way attracted to you,” he says every word with solid conviction that you’re not sure if it’s meant to convince you or himself.

“Right. Why did you kiss me last time then?” you counter.

“Whatever the reason is, that doesn’t mean I’m attracted to you. I tolerate you when we’re not in the gym. That’s the extent of what I feel for you.”

You sigh as you rub your face with your palms. “Why do you have to be such a fucking tsundere, Tsukki? I’m doing this for the both of us.”

His face contorts to one that’s filled with utter displeasure. “How the hell is this beneficial for us?”

“Hear me out and think about it before you say ‘no’ again,” you begin. “I think we should just give in to this weird thing going on between us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You’re starting to get annoyed at this point. His denial of the situation is making him stupid. Does he think this is easy for you? You don’t want this either. But what can you do? The thick, unmistakable attraction is there.

For fuck’s sake, do you really have to spoonfeed it to him?

“Tsukishima Kei,” you let out one heavy puff before you say it. “You’re allowed to kiss me when it’s just the two of us,” you announce.

You’ve never felt more offended than when he looks utterly disgusted at your proposal. 

“Your head’s way too big from all the moronic ideas you're stuffing in it. Just because I initiated it last time doesn’t mean I want to do it again,” he utters each word with unrepressed contempt that makes you feel humiliated for suggesting such a thing.

You’re not a sensitive person. You can easily laugh off whatever anyone throws your way. Especially with Tsukishima since you know much he dislikes you. But that one - that one hurt. 

You shake your head and start taking out your stuff. “You’re right. It was a moronic idea. So forget I even suggested it,” you say while setting up your laptop on the table. 

You can’t stand the repugnant look on his face so you keep your eyes in front of you even if your laptop is still booting up.

“Let’s just do what we should be doing. Sorry, I wasted our time with my stupidity.” You don’t want to, but now you’re starting to really feel sorry for yourself. 

It shouldn’t be new or surprising to you. This is Tsukishima. His personality is terrible as hell. Yet, you wouldn’t mind a few kisses from him every now and then. You bared yourself just now by admitting that. 

Tsukishima must be so pleased you finally shut up because you don’t hear anything from him. You’re thankful for it because you don’t want to talk either.

Instead of dwelling on self-loathing, you distract yourself by giving your all to the project at hand. You’re already behind schedule so all the more reason to be efficient. 

No one speaks while you completely lose yourself on your tasks for the day. You don't know how long you’ve been going at it but before you even know it, you’re almost done with your share of work for the day. 

You just need Tsukishima’s output to finish yours.

With your head occupied with the amount of work you need to get done, you easily got over the tiny pang you felt earlier. You turn to Tsukishima and ask him for his write up. 

He frowns at your request. “You’re done already?”

You nod. “Just need your thingy then I can go home.”

He checks your laptop to see for himself and scowls when he confirms that you really are almost done.

“Give me 30 minutes,” he says as he begins rushing his own work.

“Don’t rush it, Tsukishima. I can do other stuff while I wait for you. Also, if you don’t mind. Do you have coffee?” You can feel the exhaustion begin to set in your body. For the past four nights, you’ve been getting three to fours of sleep only. 

As the only manager of the Frogs, you constantly have to move around the gym to help them out. But unlike the players, your real work is outside the gym - sorting paperwork, gathering information about other teams, coordinating practice matches, and so on. On top of that, you have your academic subjects to deal with.

You’re honestly used to it. But being a graduating student this semester, things are tougher for you. Not to mention the shit with Tsukishima, which has been bothering you for the past few nights. 

Well, at least that one’s been dealt with already.

You must have spaced out because you did not notice Tsukishima leave, and are surprised when he’s suddenly beside you with a cup of coffee already at hand. 

“Did you put sugar?” You might have sounded a bit demanding, but you’re too tired to be polite.

“No. Did you want some?” he asks back.

You get the mug and take that first sip of coffee that wakes up your almost dead body. “No, this is perfect,” you comment with a weary smile as you replace the current doc file open with the draft of the Lions’ profile you’ve been working on. 

Tsukishima can’t help but look at you once in a while even though he needs to finish already so you can finalize yours as well.

You’re completely immersed in what you’re doing, taking the cup of coffee to your mouth every now and then without even taking your eyes off your screen. 

He thought you’re getting restless but the quickening clack of your keyboard is proving otherwise. In fact, it’s becoming distracting. He’s about to put his headphones on so he can concentrate on his own task when he hears the abrupt slowing down of your typing. What’s alarming is he starts hearing you take excruciatingly deep breaths that wavers when you let them out. 

One look at you and he knows that you’re not okay. You’re blinking way too fast and the corners of your mouth are almost drooping. Those and your uneven breathing is enough to cause him to worry. 

He grabs your shoulder and forces you to look at him. “Oy, what’s wrong with you?”

You look at him with no clue as to what he’s talking about. “Hmm?”

The lack of life in your orbs is very concerning. It’s nothing compared to how you looked like when you were dead beat on the way home from the crocodile farm. 

“Are you having hard time breathing?” 

“Oh, that,” you let out a laugh that seems to contain the last strand of energy you have. “I’m just palpitating. Sorry if it’s distracting. You should go put your headphones on,” you say with a dead tone as you start picking up the pace again on what you’re doing. 

Just palpitating? Jesus Christ. 

He quickly takes away your coffee and slides it to his side of the table. It immediately catches your attention, your eyes absent-mindedly following the cup. “Hey, that’s my coffee. I need that,” you weakly complain.

“You need to rest,” he contradicts you. 

“I don’t need rest. I need to finish this and for me to finish this, I need,” you involuntarily inhale sharply and release it heavily before you complete your sentence, “that coffee.”

He checks your laptop and finds a comprehensive report on the updated line up of the Hiashi Automotive Lions. For someone who looks like she’s about to faint, it’s consistent with the other reports you’ve given the team previously - organized and well done. 

“You’re almost done here. Go take a nap.”

“Why would I take a nap if I’m almost done?” Despite the exhaustion evident in your whole being, you’re still determined to continue working. 

“You look like you’re about to pass out and I don’t want to take care of you when you do. So take a fucking nap on the couch,” he snaps. He didn’t mean to sound that harsh but it’s really getting on his nerves how you’re almost killing yourself with overworking.

You stare at him vacantly for a short while but do what he said. You drag yourself towards the couch and lazily lie yourself on it.

You cross your arms and rest them on the cushioned surface. Then, you snuggle your head on top of your arms as you wiggle your legs to a comfortable position. 

“You can use the pillows” he informs you.

“I’m fine,” you mutter with your eyes already shut. 

As much as he wants to get things done as fast as he can, your uneven heaving is a cause of concern. He keeps glancing behind him to check if you’re okay.

If he knew you’d be like this, he wouldn’t have given you the damn coffee.

He’s only able to start focusing on the project when your breathing becomes steady. Still, it took him more than 30 minutes to finish. He looks over to where you are again and calls out your name. However, you don’t even move an inch.

He walks towards the couch and sits at the unoccupied space by your waist. From this distance, he can see that your features are a bit more relaxed now even with just less than an hour of sleep.

He’s certain that you’ve been overworking yourself. It’s only because of your stubbornness that you were able to pull off the things you accomplished tonight. 

He’d let you rest a bit more longer but it’s going to get too late for you to go home on your own if he does. So he places a hand on your arms and gently shakes it.

“Mmmmm,” you hum on the arm you’re leaning at before slowly opening your eyes. With heavy lids, you plant your hand on the cushion and forcefully prop yourself up. Yet when you manage to sit up, you rest your head on your shoulder and close your eyes again.

“2 minutes,” you mumble sleepily.

He watches you fight the drowsiness that’s completely settled in. Instead of complaining when you still haven’t snapped out of it, he moves to sit beside you. He puts a gentle hand on the side of your head and softly tugs you to lean on his shoulder.

The moment your temple touches his shoulder, you bolt right up. His unexpected action has sucked the sleepiness out of you for a moment as you begin to put your guard up.

“I’m up. I’m up,” you announce in an alert manner as you scoot away from him. You frantically rub your eyes to get them to open.

So he isn’t imagining it: what he said a while ago got to you. Else, you wouldn’t have moved away like you’re allergic to his touch. You had been unusually quiet after he lashed out at you, but can you blame him for doing so? You’re basically saying that it’s okay to make out when it’s just you two. It’s fucking ridiculous. You should be thinking about how to avoid the situation from happening again, not succumb to it.

So why does he feel like a dick for calling you a moron? And why is he upset now that you’re actually doing what he wants you to do? Also, how the fuck are you so charming even when you’re half asleep before him?

“Are you done with yer stuff?” you slur as you crack your neck side to side.

“Yeah. But you should go home already.”

You blink several times as you check the wall clock across the room for the time. “Okay. Just e-mail it to me so I can do it before our next meeting.”

“No. Focus on your other shit then continue it when we meet next time,” he sternly says.

“We’re already behind schedule, Tsukishima. Just send it to me,” you insist despite how faint your voice is.

“I said no.” He doesn’t dislike you enough to make you overwork yourself to death. 

You close your eyes again and shake your head in surrender. “Fine. I’m too tired to argue further.”

Just when you’re about to stand up, he grabs your arm to stop you. Your eyes open up as you peer at him with confusion.

“I didn’t mean what I said earlier,” he utters with his best attempt to sound unbothered. 

Your brows crumple up from his statement that came out of nowhere. He just hopes that your fatigued self figures out what he’s referring to because he doesn’t want to elaborate on it. 

Sure enough, a palpable glint of understanding shows in your face when your mouth opens to form a silent “ah.”

“That, huh?” You respond just as vaguely as he had been. “Don’t worry about it,” you come up with a thrifty smile as you return your gaze to him.

“You were right anyways. It is a moronic idea. I just thought that maybe if we just let it ride out, it’ll pass. But meh. I just misread it and thought you enjoyed it as much as I do,” you explain in a nonchalant manner despite the confession that came along with it in the end.

Then, you giggle disorientedly. “You can rest easy now, Tsukishima. These disgusting lips of mine won’t come anywhere near you again, mkay?” 

He should be relieved, rejoicing even, that he’s pushed you away enough to keep your distance from him.

Yet what you said is gnawing at him for he didn’t say that. He never said your lips are disgusting.

Admittedly, he regrets kissing you on both occasions that it happened, but he’s never thought of it as disgusting.

Infuriating, yes, but not disgusting. 

“I’ll go fix my stuff now,” you say.

“They’re not disgusting,” he utters before you get off the couch. 

You look at him with vacant eyes that have begun to droop heavily again as a yawn comes out of you. You cover your mouth with your hands then lazily drop them to your lap afterwards.

You open your eyes and try to focus your sight again.

“Sorry, I conked out for like three seconds. Did you say something?” 

On a regular day, he’d think that you’re messing with him so he’ll repeat what he said. But the exhaustion still evident on your face convinces him that you really didn’t hear what he said. 

“Yeah,” he responds flatly before he leans closer to your face. He tilts his head a bit to the side and gently captures the warm softness of your lips.

The kiss lacks the heated intensity the previous two had. It is just one tender nip where he lingers just a tad bit longer to savor the taste of coffee mixed with your own.

He slowly withdraws from you but remains only an inch away that he still feels your breath mingling with his. 

“Your lips aren’t disgusting,” he repeats for you to hear this time.

Part 3 || Part 5 || masterlist

taglist (those crossed out can’t be tagged)

@ameliaxo @suikrem @akaashisslave @tsumurai  @loving-unicorns106 @flairlust @geektastic84 @anaiss97 @berna-dette @just4readingfics @suteorra @xxekitten69xx @simp4tsukkii @music-is-all-i-need @keshinslittlegirl @raspberrysunshinebby @iminlovewhaikyuu @pdiddy11 @lightyagamami @sailorscout1902 @lovershaikyuu  @expectonothinfromme @finnydraws @namelessidentity @hqbeesun @yatoatyourservice @mrkozume @suzuyamitsuki @celestialarchiveshq​

[definitely-not-a-wasp]

I'm okay with a bunch of disorganized rambling honestly 😂. But if I had to narrow it down then I guess I want to know about main and side characters and how they compare to the original?

I know that tumblr is the Prime Site for disorganized rambling, but I have perfectionism issues. But that is a great question, nonnie, and I will be happy to ramble is a slightly less disorganized fashion.

When reading Maximum Ride as a somewhat-formed adult who discovered they enjoy English classes about 3.5 years ago, I noticed that JP, when writing, doesn't understand consistency. At all. Which means, in many ways, I have a free sandbox to work with.

Spoilers for my rewrite WIP, because I strongly believe that if a story would no longer be good if one had spoilers, then it wasn’t a good story in the first place.

I'm trying to keep the backstories the same, plus or minus the scientific method and a few characters (RIP my OCs. I want to bring you back so bad but it wouldn't fit with the thematic narrative). I've mostly kept their (starting) abilities the same, too. Without further ado, I'm going to introduce some WorldBuilding. (If I'm good at nothing else, I'm good at world building)

First off. Logically.

How are they getting Cable?

How are they getting internet?

How are they getting money to eat and stuff?

JP's answer: handwave it off. Sometimes you need to ignore logistics for the sake of plot. This is an answer I'd accept from an author that I like, such as Julie Kagawa, that makes amazing worlds, characters, and narratives that I will happily handwave a few things that wouldn't work in the real world. James Patterson, on the other hand, did not make any of that; he made a cool concept, some good rough-draft characters, and nothing else, and therefore this is an unforgivable sin.

Wasp's answer: They are not getting any of that.

Introducing Cottagecore.

The house is off the grid. Solar Panels and a wind turbine create electricity. They have their own well. They grow their own food, raise livestock for eggs, milk, and wool, and trap fish for meat. They get money through dumpster diving and pawning. They still have to steal half of the necessities they can’t make themselves. They do have a TV, but it can access about three channels on a clear day. Internet is only a thing when they go to the public library.

Giving the flock a background that’s heavy in farming and livestock rearing shores up the plot holes mentioned above, but in my opinion, ties the flock more tightly to the environment, thus giving them something tangible to lose when they have to leave the E-shaped house. Because they’re not just leaving a house and a safety net— they’re leaving their entire way of life with no promise of getting it back. It also gives them a tangible connection to the earth in case I want to actually pursue the global warming themes.

Main Characters

Maximum “Max” Ride (Birthname: nonexistent)

First off, I'm letting her be Latina, James Patterson.

In the original, Max was very much the headstrong, independent, action girl. Leaning into Strong Female Character (TM), but overall she had a strong, solid foundation and enough character consistency through the first three books for me to not have to just make an entire new character. However, I felt that she was, in some ways, a bit too Action-Girl and Strong and Capable. Yes, Max is incredible and competent, but she’s also fourteen. She’s a child.

In the rewrite, Max’s character is still headstrong, independent, capable, and sometimes not the best at listening to others. All of that’s the same. But she’s that way not because of girlboss energy, but because there’s no one else to do it. She doesn’t want to lead, necessarily. She wants to get some rest and let someone else handle the problems life keeps throwing at her. But she knows if she did that, the responsibility of leader would fall to Fang and Iggy, and she can’t ask that of them. She doesn’t want to place that burden on anyone else (Look, there’s a reason I chose Ayano’s Theory of Happiness as one of her signifier songs, okay?). Her narrative is very much centered around burden, and also around loss. She lost her cultural heritage when she was taken away from her birth family, she lost her childhood to being a leader, she lost a good deal of her friends to the school (RIP my OCs), she lost Jeb, and then she lost her stability. And she’s going to lose a lot more before the end of the story. So a lot of her character arc deals with learning that there are some things she can’t fix, some things that can’t be recovered. She can’t get the E-shaped house back. She can’t get her Little Baby Angel back, even after they rescue her. She can’t get her friends back from the school. And instead of working so hard to recover those or find something to replace them, she has to learn to live with that sense of loss and move on with her life without feeling guilty for leaving things behind. And she has to learn that asking for help and sharing her burden is selfish or weak.

Other changes I made that don’t necessarily fit into her narrative arc, but you asked for rambling so rambling you shall get:

Max hallucinates, because mental illness is also a prominent theme in the rewrite. She doesn’t have a psychotic disorder, but her C-PTSD causes visual/audio hallucinations, especially when she’s stressed or sleep deprived. 

Max ends up having a Gender Discovery throughout the story and goes by He/She pronouns eventually. I don’t know when, but it will happen.

As far as genetic modifications/special quirks go, she can fly faster than the rest of the flock, but not 300 miles per hour. She averages about sixty mph with diving speeds of 240. She cannot breathe underwater or shut down her organs on command. She also has the Super Special Power to predict the weather, but that’s not because of genetics, it’s because she has chronic pain in her right arm that gets worse when weather fronts change.

Her favored weapon is her trusty rebar that she picked up from a condemned building. I think she’s going to name it eventually but I don’t know what yet.

Fang (Birth name: Gabriel Xue)

In canon, Fang is characterized in early books by being the “dark, strong, silent type”. He’s probably the most reserved member of the flock, to the point of falling into the Brooding Mystery Man trope in parts of the book. They care a lot, but they’re not the best at conveying that, especially with the younger members of the flock, and at times their high empathy leads them to making mistakes. Despite the high empathy, he’s often compared to a robot due to his lack of expression and external emotions.

Well, first change is that they’re not a man, so jot that down—

If Max’s narrative is centered around burden and loss, I would probably say that Fang’s is centered around humanity and moving on. None of the flock was treated as human while in the school, but Fang was more often than not treated like a wild animal due to “behavioral issues”, and therefore had and continues to have a difficult time considering themselves real and alive, let alone human. This manifests through a several different ways— where in canon Fang definitely had a ‘fight’ reaction, in the re-write they have a ‘freeze’ or ‘shut down’ instinct. They’re selectively mute for multiple reasons (including derealization, jaw pain, the fact that they didn’t learn how to speak until they were 10, and genuinely forgetting it’s something they’re capable of), a period of Cotard’s syndrome, and a tendancy towards self-loathing and self-sacrifice. In short, Fang is still halfway stuck in the mindset that most of the flock grew out of when they escaped in the school, and doesn’t know how to move past it.

Much of their character arc revolves around not necessarily seeing themselves as human, but learning to treat themselves as human even when they don’t feel like one (or even feel real), and knowing that just because they don’t feel human all the time doesn’t mean anyone else can treat them the same. They never start easily expressing their emotions, and they’re always going to be selectively mute, but they learn to accept that those aspects of themself aren’t character flaws or signs that they’re sub-human. 

Other additions to Fang’s character include:

They don’t get their hair cut in New York. It stays long through the entire series. They have the longest hair in the flock by the end of the series, and they can wear it in so many styles.

Fang uses they/it pronouns because themes of reclaiming the weapons used against it and, more importantly, Gender.

They’re actually really good at spelling compared to the rest of the flock, because they and Iggy communicate with Print-On-Palm when they’re nonverbal, and they’re nonverbal for some pretty long stretches of time. 

They and Max have... zero romantic tension. At all. There is none. The number of times Max calls them her sibling/little sibling in the first arc alone is staggering, and that will not change.

Igneous “Iggy” (Birthname: Jamsetta “Jamie” Griffiths)

I’ve talked about Iggy before. Canon doesn’t give us much to go off of, but from what’s shown, he’s smart, sarcastic, has sharper edges than Fang and Max, and also has a sizable ruthless streak. So that’s what I have to go off of.

The big difference between Iggy and Fang&Max is that Iggy has a much better memory of the School. Most of the flock have areas (months or years) that they don’t remember, or people that they’ve blocked from their mind, but Iggy... doesn’t. So he’s the one that remembers all of the other AVIAN test subjects that were old enough to have names and identities but died due to complications. Max might have the burden of leadership, but he has the burden of memory. And that has lead to both a massive fucking guilt complex, because why did he survive when they didn’t, and, as mentioned above, a ruthless streak that he doesn’t shy away from.

Which is to say, by the end of the story, Iggy has the highest kill count.

I love, love writing Iggy next to Max and Fang. I love writing Iggy next to Gazzy and Nudge. Because, I say this with all of the love of the world, but Iggy is not a good person. He is loyalty and love incarnate, and the world can burn down if he and his siblings are safe. Max and Fang will always try to save as many people as they can. They will wonder what’s wrong with them the first time they kill and don’t have a mental breakdown about it. They are good in a way that Iggy is not. He’s okay with killing Erasers. He’s okay with killing humans. He’s okay with killing people who might not necessarily deserve it, if they show themselves as a threat or are simply in the blast radius. He knows perfectly well that most of those Erasers he’s murdering are four and five and he is okay with that, because a lot of the AVIANs were that age when they died. (Yeah, in the rewrite it’s not Fang who has an issue with Ari; it’s Iggy who wants the 7-year-old wolf-boy dead.) 

And this is, of course, juxtaposed with Iggy being really, really good with Nudge and Gazzy (especially in the beginning). Because, again, he actually remembers being a child. He remembers a lot of kids that died and is therefore fiercely protective of the kids that didn’t, as well as fiercely protective of the innocence that he never got. So he’s the one that cooks their favorite foods when they’re having a bad day, always makes time when they want to talk about something, and convinces Max to let them go to that toy store in New York because, yeah, he Max and Fang aren’t kids. They never were. But Nudge, Gazzy, and Angel can be. (And if he has to be a murderer to preserve that, then he’s perfectly okay with that.)

He and Angel don’t get along very well, though. The telepath doesn’t like hanging out with the person with the most clear memories of the school.

Other additions:

Iggy is trans and says trans rights

He also has paranoid episodes, because C-PTSD. Sometimes they’re very helpful. Sometimes they are not.

I actually decided that he’s one of the flock that doesn’t meet their parents. I know in canon he did, but I always found that very clunky because it didn’t add to his character. He was one of the characters who, until it was convenient for the plot, seemed to care the least about his family. I’d much rather give that to a character whose arc would benefit from it.

Iggy! Gets! Older Sibling Rights! Seriously, he’s two months younger than Fang, he is just as capable.

Iggy does not know braille because Jeb decided it wasn’t necessary for him to know. Iggy is also the best speller in the flock, because Print-on-Palm was the only way to talk to Fang for a solid year. Yes he mocks everyone over this.

Iggy is the only member of the flock that enjoys swimming and can take into the air from water. Everyone else in the flock is incredibly jealous.

Nudge (Birthname: Monique Robinson)

If Iggy is defined by his memories, Nudge is his polar opposite. She was seven when she left the School, but she has next to no memories of it. She is missing a lot of time in the first year she escaped. And that causes... a lot of things. It makes her feel disconnected from her older siblings, it gives her the ability to function in society in a way the other’s can’t, it lets her feel less grief over the ones that didn’t make it and she doesn’t remember, it makes her feel guilty that she doesn’t remember what she’s old enough to know. 

Basically, in order for me to keep the character of Nudge as I saw her (more extroverted, not afraid of the world, fascinated with humans like her siblings aren’t, desiring to fit in instead of isolate), I had to put a little bit of distance between her and the flock. Of course, she loves them— that will in no way change— but she’s old enough that she should remember the school (and her dead friends) unlike Gazzy and Angel, but she can’t, and she very much fears forgetting the flock if anything happens to them. So she’s trying desperately to keep the flock close and wants desperately to experience the world at the same time, and doesn’t know what to do when she can’t have both. That’s her biggest character conflict throughout the series, along with that in-between area where she’s not quite where her older siblings are but understands so much more than Gazzy and Angel, and where she stands in that.

So yeah. Nudge’s journey is that in looking for belonging in the world, in her family, and in herself.

This is why she’s one of the ones that gets to find her parent, James Patterson. 

Other additions include:

She never straightens her hair. Never. Her resources at the E-shaped house aren’t perfect, but she still has learned how to take care of her hair and has a few styles she cycles through.

She becomes the default person Max sics on people when the flock is trying to befriend them. Also their de-facto diplomat around strangers.

As in canon, she does take some time away from the flock to expirience ‘normal life’. This does not last long due to the stress of being separated from her siblings/not being able to help them and [REDACTED]

Nudge is... not the only person in her head. I’m not focusing on it much because she doesn’t actually know and neither does the flock (I don’t know if they ever figure it out during the series, either), but she has dissociative identity disorder. She’s not aware of her alter(s?). Her alter isn’t super aware of her, either. 

The alter that I’ve developed is named Oxy and is not super aware of the outside world. In her eyes, she’s still seven and they’re still at the School. She would not recognize the body as her own if she looked in a mirror.

Nudge actually leaves the flock for a while to pursue her dream of living a normal life. She deserves it. She learns how to make muffins and the basics of software development. These things are unrelated.

Gasman (Birthname: No first name, surname “Falk”)

Honestly, writing Gazzy is kind of hard for me. Partially because I’m not great at writing kids, and partially because I feel like he’s a pretty surface-level character in-series that... isn’t super compelling in canon. But even if that’s the case, I try to treat all of my characters with respect, so here we go. In my rewrite, he escaped when he was four, which was half a lifetime ago for him, so his memories are ill-defined. Therefore, he managed to circumvent a lot of the trauma that the rest of the kids have, and not in the way Nudge did, which is by creating an elaborate blockage in her memories. 

Which means Gazzy... really doesn’t know how to deal with all of this traumatic stuff happening. So much of his development turns out to be a coming-of-age narrative. Learning how to deal with the horrors of what his siblings grew up with. Learning the fears that they had the entire time. Losing his innocence when everyone around him never had it in the first place, and being so terribly alone because of it. Because, really, how can you explain such a deep loss to people who never had what he had? How can they help in a way that matters?

Also, relationship-wise, I’m slowly deteriorating the relationship between him and Iggy. Slowly. Or, changing it, at least. Gazzy hero-worships Iggy in-series, and for good reason, because Iggy is super cool, especially in the eyes of an eight-year-old, and especially when Iggy has taken care to cultivate parts of his behaviors to be child-friendly. Part of growing up is seeing the flaws in your heroes, and Gazzy has to learn how to deal with it. End of the series Gazzy is much less closer to Iggy than beginning of the series Gazzy, and neither of them are really okay with that, but they learn to live with it, because that’s really all they can do.

Notes:

I’m keeping the mimickry! It plays a bit of a bigger role because that’s how Gazzy learned to talk. I’m debating whether or not he has his own voice or if he just borrows the flock’s as he sees fit. He also uses it to scream really loudly and occaisonally burst the eardrums of Erasers.

At one point he cosplays as Jessica Jones. No you don’t get any more context than this.

He has a horrible sense of fashion.

I’m changing his name eventually because it sucks. He’s either going to change it to Gannet, Garrison, or Ivy Mike temporarily, and permanently to Zephyr. (I never said I was going to make his name GOOD, because he’s eight, but it’s changing. You’re welcome.)

Angel (Birthname: No first name, surname “Falk”)

It’s just... a completely different character, at this point. I’ve changed so many things about her in an attempt to make her consistent and act like a six-year-old and work in the whole “telepath before she has a solid sense of identity”, so it’s a different character. Also, I’m tired of writing coherently or in paragraphs, so have some interesting facts.

She has epilepsy! Super severe epilepsy! I think she might also develop juvenile MS in the future because her brain has so many scars from being a fucking six-year-old telepath. There’s no way she could get out of that unscathed.

She has more memories of the school than Gazzy, but only because she keeps accidentally reading the minds of Max, Fang, and Iggy. On a related note, she interacts with Iggy as little as possible.

The mind reading means that she has a hard time developing as a normal child with a normal sense of identity or reality. She can’t tell how much people are individual people and how much they’re just extensions of her. Conversely, she can’t tell how much of herself is actually her instead of the thoughts/opinions/identities of someone else. It’s... kinda fucked? But also super not-her-fault. 

She’s albino because white wings. Also, because I thought it was cool. This also means that her vision sucks, though. Also she has the biggest straw sunhat and the most stylish sunglasses a six-year-old can have.

She’s responsible for Max shaving her hair off.

She has the highest swear count because I think it’s funny. She’s the only person allowed to say the fuck word in writing. Everyone else can only say ‘hell’ and the occasionally ‘damn’ but she can say whatever she wants for dramatic and comedic value.

She is NOT THE FUCKING VOICE, J*MES P*TTERSON.

Honorable Mentions

Jeb

I’m skipping Jeb because of how little I care about him. He’s a little bitch, next character.

Ari

STILL HASN’T BEEN REVEALED AS AN ERASER. I’ve been writing for 50,000 words and he’s over here saying ‘nope nope not yet, not dramatic enough’. He’s had speaking lines but has refused to make himself known to Max. I am so frustrated with this seven-year-old wolf-child that I’ve already considered how I would kill him, if I decide I want to kill yet another child in my writing.

So, my main thoughts for Ari is that he... really just drew the short end of the stick in every possible way. While Jeb didn’t sign him up for Eraser expirimentation, he didn’t do anything to stop it, and pretty much cut his losses when he realized this expiriment made a wreck of his ‘perfect, unflawed’ son, because Jeb doesn’t consider children of any species to actually be humans. So, Ari really hates his dad, which makes things complicated, because he also really loves his dad and really wants his approval. 

Which means that he also really hates Max, because she’s the child that always got Jeb’s time and attention, even when Ari was human. I think, on some level, he knows that trying to tear Max down to a less-favored level isn’t actually going to help his situation— infighting for the love of an abusive parent won’t make them any less abusive— but he’s also seven, and his development is already severely stunted due to becoming an Eraser, and he doesn’t see ‘leaving ITEX’ as an option like the Flock does. ITEX is his everything. It’s all he’s ever known, and they tell him he’s doing the right thing, and he wants them to love him. He wants his father to love him. He knows that if he ever questions ITEX, his father will never love him. So it must be his older sister that’s ruining his life and being a horrible child, and once Ari drags her back down to his level, Jeb will realize who the best child is and love him properly again.

Ari, on an even deeper level, does care for Max quite a bit, because she’s his older sister and he wants that to mean something in a way that ‘Jeb being his father’ obviously doesn’t. He wants what she made for herself, and he hates the Flock because she loves them and obviously doesn’t love him. 

Ari, if anything, is the product of neglect, and both loves and hates everyone who shows a chance of caring about him. And he’s seven, so he can’t notice these patterns, let alone break them.

So. Notes!

He doesn’t look like an adult. I thought that was gross and unnecessary. He’s seven, but he looks closer to thirteen or fourteen. Still young enough that he looks like every Eraser’s little brother, and the Erasers high-key treat him like it.

On a related note, he’s the only Eraser who can talk. The others don’t have the mental capacity or vocal structure to replicate human speech, but they can understand language (at about the level of a two or three year old) and are very good at nonverbal communication. This is why Ari managed to climb the ranks despite only having three years of “service” and also looking like a tween.

He doesn’t have an expiration date because that is SUCH a stupid plot point.

I’m giving him a chainsaw! I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but he deserves to have a chainsaw and GODDAMN I will give it to him.

Emergency and Gene

The OCs that I love and also killed pre-series. They don’t have any scenes, because they’re dead, but their deaths greatly effected Max, Fang, and Iggy, and they are very commonly referenced. Their voices are probably Max’s most common hallucination, to the point where she sometimes pretends they’re ghosts that she can talk to. They’re not ghosts. They’re dead.

Dr. Valencia Martinez

I’m actually keeping her pretty close to canon— loving, supportive, the type of person to take in a gsw victim with minimal questions. The difference is that rather than kindness fueling her actions, it’s incredible guilt. She has three goals surrounding Max: Give her as much support in any way she can, teach her as much about chicane culture as possible, and never let Max know that she’s her birth parent.

(She’s probably going to fail at AT LEAST two of those, but it’s the thought that counts.)

Notes:

She has a pet fox named Robin Hood that she rescued from an exotic animal salesman that got arrested.

I think I’m going to kill her. I don’t know yet, but it’s on the table.

Anne Walker

Y’know, the fake FBI Agent. Who’s not actually a fake in my story because I hated that plot point. She’s genuinely an FBI agent who put the Flock into pseudo-witness-protection in order to build a case against the Institute of Higher Living, accidentally got attached to her prime witnesses, raised them for a few months, realized a [SPOILER] and promptly had to let them get the hell out dodge.

I really like the Anne Walker that lives in my head. She is a VITAL part of the Flock’s development, their mental/emotional recovery, and adding to their safety net to fall back on. She serves them as their first adult role model, and is the first adult to show them what parent/child are supposed to look like from a healthy perspective. Though she has several fuck ups, she becomes someone that the Flock genuinely trusts and loves, which makes it all the more difficult for them to leave when [REDACTED].

Notes:

She and Max do butt heads initially, because Max is paranoid and also afraid of becoming uneeded. This ends up being incredibly important because Max needs to learn how to live and find meaning in life without being the designated Leader/Parent/Big Sister

Anne, at one point, sits the entire flock down to teach them about consent, which was something no one ever talked about with them before. She goes in talking specifically about consent in a romantic/sexual sense (because they’re fourteen and that’s something they need to know), but quickly turns into a full-fledged no, people are NOT allowed to do that to you, what the FUCK.

She’s responsible for giving the flock a laptop. It’s because Angel is online schooled (bc telepathy makes actually learning difficult) and was therefore provided with a computer.

Anne is also allowed to swear, but only when it’s funny.

Michael “Grey” Rivers

Aka Grey from the Sewers Aka GR3Y H47 Aka Mike from the Bronx Aka Gifted Child Syndrome Incarnate Aka Would-be-in-MIT-if-his-parents-weren’t-horrible. He’s my son, your honour.

Basically, his backstory boils down to him being a genius, getting into MIT at 14, his (horrible) parents wanting a perfect child who could “make it out” of the Bronx and represent his family/neighborhood/borough to the world. When he inevitably failed their expectations due to stress, a schizophrenic-spectrum disorder that completely alienated him from the rest of his support network, and refusing to take his psych meds because the side effects were horrible and they made it harder to think (and therefore pass his classes), they kicked him out. He fully intends to go back to MIT when he turns 18 and has control of his finances/scholarships/medication/therapy.

So that’s how the flock meets him. 

Mike ends up in a very prominent support role for the flock both in technological persuits (helping them track their parents, helping them get information from ITEX, trying to disable Max’s chip and failing multiple times until it becomes a matter of personal honour—), in helping the older members of the flock figure out how to deal with hallucinations/delusions (because he’s actually been to therapy, unlike them), and in being one of the only people who talks to them and helps them without any ulterior motive. He’s not trying to build a case against ITEX/The Institute of Higher Learning, he’s not double crossing them, he’s not plagued with guilt. He just genuinely wants to help them, and they genuinely want to help him, and that’s their first introduction to a healthy, non-codependent relationship.

My many disorganized notes on Michael Rivers:

He’s from specifically Morris Heights, Bronx, NYC.

He would say that his last name is actually Rivera, but his grandparents changed it to Rivers so it would sound more English, and his family has been in America for so long that he doesn’t know much about any Latino heritage he may or may not have. He identifies as African American, not Afro-Latino. He’s just bitter that his family felt the need to change their surname to have better opportunities in New York.

Nudge aggressively befriends him pretty much the moment she meets him, bullies him into teaching her how to code, and he very quickly adopts her as his pseudo-little-sister.

His delusions in the book seemed to involve government conspiracies, but as that’s the one delusion that is proved correct in the book, I’ve decided it would be best if his delusions and reality intersected a bit less if I don’t want to write him having a manic/paranoid episode in the second scene he has screen time. So his delusions are more based on “none of this is real”, “someone is recording everything I do and setting me up to fail” and “my ill-wishes on people can and will come true if I dwell on them too long.”. Government conspiracies are one of things he is skeptical about because he thinks most conspiracies are either “CIA admitted to this twenty years ago” or “antisemitism”.

He’s taking online free college classes that don’t actually give him any college credit, but they have good information and help him feel like he’s working towards something. He plans to double major in computer sciences and electrical engineering, minor in marine biology. He’s wanted to join NOAA since he was twelve and he is nothing if not stubborn.

There you go. These are my characters, now. I have custody.

[willadisastercry]

More than ‘just a little tired’: the aftermath part 2

tw: lil bit of gore described, burn wounds, collapsing, lots of pain described, muscle relaxer used and effects described, slight paralysis ensues, emotionally heavy towards end.

Keith finally let’s his friends help him but his adrenaline is fading rapidly and everyone is still focused on fussing over Pidge. Lance is distraught with how cold Shiro is being, he doesn’t understand why no one is listening to him while he’s literally supporting Keith with his own body as he crashes. Hunk needs to look at something other than the blood and gore so he tries to find Coran’s magic cream and is just proud he only threw up once.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

“Woah, Hunk! He’s going down!”

Lance dropped to his knee as he struggled to keep Keith from falling further out of his grasp, his face now deathly pale and pressed against his shoulder as he took in large, shuddering breaths to try remain conscious.

“We’ve gotcha bud,” Hunk’s hand snaked around his waist then as Lance righted himself and they brought him back onto unsteady legs, his right not even strong enough now to put much weight on without buckling.

“C’mon we gotta go...”

With his arms slung over either boy’s shoulders and their hands hoisting his hips up by the supply pack on his utility belt, they made their way to the med bay relatively quickly, a feat of which was only possible because at some point Keith had stopped trying to keep up and allowing himself to be dragged was surprisingly a lot faster.

The whooshing of the med bay doors after what felt like an enternity was what startled Keith into opening his eyes again.

“Oh, hey guys...” Shiro said, sparing only a partial glance their way before continuing to pour over Pidge with Coran and Allura. She was awake and fighting the helping hands.

No one seemed to notice Keith’s prone form held up entirely by his friends who stood frozen in the doorway, a bit at a loss for how to proceed.

“I think I’m fine, guys! Seriously. All that’s left is already half healed and not nearly deep enough to warrant a freaking pod!”

“Maybe, but you still lost a lot of blood that will need to be repelenished...” Coran pointed, his mustache twitching as he attempted to convey the necessity of the percaution and failed.

Keith’s legs hadn’t been contributing much to the effort of keeping him standing but admittedly had some part in it because the longer they remained where they stood the more they seemed to melt into jelly.

The adrenaline had almost entirely worn off by then, leaving his body buzzing as the pain slowly intensified.

“G-guys...” Keith whispered weakly, his voice was barely audible.

“What’s—“

“Need to sit... like now...” he managed before his legs were wobbling dangerously, suddenly devoid of all the strength that remained in them.

“Alright, that’s okay. Over there, Lance,” Hunk assured, his injured leg completely useless as he transferred even more of Keith’s weight onto his hip to make up the difference while they ushered him towards one of the chairs across the room.

“Uhhhh, how much longer you guys gonna be with Pidge?” Lance questioned nervously once they’d settled Keith down, his heart clenching with fear for how grey his face had gotten, his hands never leaving his drawn up shoulders out of fear of what would happen if he did.

Hunk was already across the room tearing apart medicine cabinets for the burn cream he’d mentioned and Keith was finding it increasingly difficult to support his own body weight.

“Woah! Okkay—that’s okay, just lean against me,” Lance offered when Keith couldn’t keep himself from swaying as he narrowly avoided leaning back against the chair, nearly tilting out of it before Lance righted him and guided his head to lean against his hip.

“We’ll be done as soon as Pidge stops being difficult... why?” Shiro asked, his eyes still scanning the partially mended slash across the smaller girl’s stomach.

“Just uh, Keith is sort of not doing so well.”

Lance wasn’t entirely sure he understood why everyone was being so curt and dismissive, not tearing their eyes away from a clearly fine Pidge, who yes, at one point had been not fine at all, but was now.

And Keith wasn’t.

The blasts on his back were... bad.

Bad enough for him to be in so much pain he was forced to accept his friend’s help. Lance also figured the haunting glaze of exhaustion in his eyes and purple bruises beneath them had a good deal to do with lowering his defenses, the realization of just how tired he was sending another jab to his chest.

The material of his suit looked like it had melted into his skin, lining the edges of the puffy burns with a smokey black. Some were larger than others but there were at least a dozen and they were all bleeding steadily, the constant rise and fall of his chest making it impossible for any of them to clot.

“I’ll come check him out once—“

The burns were so deep, like little caverns carved into his skin and Lance was suddenly concerned about how zapped the nerves must be that he didn’t even realize he’d been injured this severely.

They looked so painful.

Breathing looked painful. And sitting, and talking and the way moving air brushed against them.

Shit, Keith.

“No, Shiro...”

The words came from deep in his throat, his voice low and serious, a stark derision from his usually charming vibrato.

“I think someone needs to check him out now. We’re talking about Keith here! You should know better than anyone that when he’s says he’s not okay, he means it.”

Shiro’s shoulders dropped as he straightened up, Lance couldn’t even find it in himself to worry about getting told off for his tone with how angry he was, his irritation justifying itself as he watched Keith’s breathing devolve into something more and more erratic.

The room seemed to silence all at once after he’d raised his voice. The inflection of it, shrill with fear and frustration is what got Shiro to finally look their way, his already weary expression falling further at the horror of how Keith looked against Lance. Slumped and panting, his features tight in anguish as blood dripped steadily from somewhere and collected in a now sizeable puddle on the floor.

Pidge was being forced to lay back down when surging up to see what was wrong had her keening and clutching her middle, Allura remaining at her side while Shiro and Coran raced over to the boys.

“What the fuck happened?!” Shiro demanded, his eyes grey pinpoints that bored into Lance with a sort of accusation until the two men reached the pair, both gasping simultaneously when they got close enough to take in the sight of Keith’s back.

“I don’t-I don’t understand, you said you were tired Keith!”

“Plasma blast burns... most of them 2nd degree it looks like...” Coran offered, his eyes flicking wildly as they scanned the burnt and bloody skin.

“He is tired...” Lance assured, turning his gaze back to Keith’s shaking shoulders. His trembles seemed more like spasms then, each jerk prompting a fresh gush of red from the wounds.

“He’s fucking exhausted but was too stubborn to tell anyone he was hurt...” he continued as Coran left muttering to himself in search of supplies, joining Hunk in his endeavor of locating more than just the burn cream now.

“S-sorry... really thought it was just one...” Keith explained before Shiro shushed him, crouching down to run his hand through his hair even though it was slightly damp with sweat.

His eyes weren’t open so he tensed when the hand first fell into place but soon softened under Shiro’s touch, the cold weight of the galra metal oddly comforting.

“It’s not on you, bud. I should’ve checked in more thoroughly, looked you over myself...”

Lance seethed at that, Keith was feeling guilty when Shiro was the one who had fucked up by ignoring him. He didn’t even sound sorry.

“Damn right you sh—“

“What’s that?” Shiro entreated, cutting him off and lifting his head to face the younger boy with something so fierce in his eyes that Lance had to force himself to look elsewhere.

As much as he wanted to tell Shiro how royally he’d fuck up he knew it wouldn’t be productive. Knew full well that the last thing anyone needed was more chaos.

But before Lance had to take actual precautions to contain his anger, Keith made a noise as if he wanted to respond but all that came out was a defeated whine as his chest stuttered which pulled even more at the mess of his back, sending him into a fit of flinching and hissing.

“Hey, you’re alright—“ Lance cooed, the additional hand on Keith’s neck centering him while he tried to ride out the pain without causing more “—that’s it, just take a second to calm down...”

But Keith couldn’t calm his breathing in time to avoid the waves of agony that followed such harsh breaths, eventually becoming desperate enough to clamp his lips shut and hold his breath until his heart let up with its incessant pounding.

This admittedly made the general haze clouding his mind so much worse, sending black dots dancing across the floor as he stared at it against Lance. He hadn’t realized when his hands had traveled up to clutch at Lance’s stomach but they were there now, clawing at the unwavering material stuck to his torso like glue for something to hold onto.

There were so many hands on him but he couldn’t feel much of anything other than the heat on his back and strain in his lungs as he continued to restrict his breathing. It had come to hurt so badly he was afraid to even try to breath normally again.

“-ith!”

Voices sounded so weird and distant then, like they were calling to him from across a noisy room.

“KEITH!”

It wasn’t until someone was knelt down next to him and nearly screaming in his ear that he could understand anything.

“Stop doing that, you have to take deeper breaths or you’ll pass out...”

But he couldn’t manage anything other than short and rapid inhales that weren’t nearly enough. He didn’t care if he passed out. It wouldn’t hurt so bad if he were unconscious and it had gotten to a point where he sort of wished for that kind of relief.

Coran was speaking to Shiro over them then, of which Keith had only ascertained from the way Shiro’s hand left the base of his skull to rest more on the crown of his head just as a dull and disordered humming began.

His hearing had abandoned him again once Shiro left his position, reducing the conversation to unintelligible murmurs drowned out by the rumbling in his eardrums. The static spotting his vision not letting up as the blast wounds burned relentlessly on his back. It felt like there were literal flames licking up at even the slightest movement and marring deep as the fire only seemed to spread.

The entire expanse of his upper body had gone numb with it, his arms slack at his sides and his neck weak under the weight of his head as he put all of his concentration into slowing his breathing and keeping it as controlled as possible. He didn’t even feel the hands slipping under his armpits or fingers tugging at his supply belt, only the scorching stretch of his body straightening as he was pulled to his feet.

Lance and Shiro shifted around him with care, Shiro guiding his head to rest on his shoulder when it rolled limply, Coran hovering anxiously as they struggled to lift him to his feet without jarring his injuries. In reality, it was entirely unavoidable but hey, it’s the thought that counts.

Keith really tried to hold his own weight this time, but as soon as he was upright, his back lit with a new fury that had his vision whiting. Soon he couldn’t even be certain his feet were still on the ground as his body went lax and the darkness that had been teasing him descended quicker than he could process.

He assumed he had screamed bloody murder since his stinging throat was the only pain he could pinpoint as he lost consciousness, but by then he wouldn’t have been able to hear his own voice if he spoke so he wasn’t be sure. All he knew was that he’d pitched into a slew of arms like his bones had spontaneously emulsified, blissfully unaware as to how the whole room seemed to cry out when he did.

Pidge was near tears with Allura struggling to assure her that Keith would be fine, and Hunk was so startled by the commotion that he had nearly flung the supplies he was organizing on a sterile tray.

“Let’s get him settled comfortably before he comes to,” Coran ordered, his voice sharp and anguished as he motioned towards where Hunk was stood.

Together and with considerable effort the three dragged Keith’s limp body to the other side of the room, careful to keep his torso straight and his injured leg from bending so they didn’t inflame his wounds further, depositing his lifeless weight onto the table on his stomach where all of his injuries could be tended to.

“We have to get as much of the suit off as possible... some of it will of course take a little more effort,” Coran sighed as he poked at one of the darker blast marks with a wider radius than most of the other. There was a ring of molten black around it that looked like it had dripped into the pit of missing flesh from where the material of the suit had melted off. The sentry that shot him there must have been only a few feet away.

“Alaran...” Allura gasped out as she made her way to the group once Pidge had calmed down enough to be left alone.

“These are going to need extensive cleaning before we can put him into a pod.”

“I know, Princess. Let’s get started, maybe we can get the bulk of it finished while he’s still uncioncious,” Coran postured, distributing the supplies Hunk had gathered to everyone.

The task was harrowing and had everyone slightly queasy, but the urgency to complete the process before Keith woke up prevailed everyone’s gag reflexes, even Hunk’s.

Being enveloped by the black that had teased him so long wasn’t as bad as Keith had imagined it would be. It was warm like this, more absent of cold than possesing a distinguishable heat. Pleasant. Peaceful even. A more than welcomed improvement to the inferno he was slowly being consumed by when he was awake and alert.

Sounds started coming back to him slowly as his body recovered from the shock of his plummet in blood pressure. His friends’ words sharpening gradually to where he could almost make out what they were saying.

“...suction... yes, that bit has to go as well...”

He still felt floaty and numb from the pain but knew he was laying on his front and could feel a sensation of tugging and pulling on his back.

“...keeps moving... waking up...”

It wasn’t so much painful as it was uncomfortable in his state of semi-consciousness.

“...dangerous to... sedative before a prolonged stay in the pod...”

His brain was just too fuzzy, still replenishing the blood supply to his brain.

“...looks like he’s in pain...”

Each moment he remained in limbo he grew more restless.

“...Coran I can’t... this piece... tearing the skin...”

The in and out of everything was making him anxious, he’d rather just be entirely out or entirely conscious.

“...should will help with any discomfort...”

Whatever was meant to help wasn’t. He was aware he’d probably been given some sort of drug or medicine but still he couldn’t relax.

It didn’t matter that he was utterly exhausted, his body was reacting to the anxiety bubbling in his stomach whether he had the energy to support such a reaction or not.

“...easy Keith...”

That’s the thing, he couldn’t take it easy. His mind was wired and his body was going into shock once again as things clarified and he woke up more.

“You’re alright number four... steady now, just breathe...”

If he thought it was hard to breathe before it seemed like it was absolutely impossible now.

“-us? Keith...? Keith, can you hear us?”

He could. He could hear everything now. It was all so loud and piercing, everyone’s voices, the tools clicking, his heart beating, the tear of medical supplies packages. Everything was so crisp and right there, the smallest noises sending tingles down his spine that made him want to cringe and he struggled to surpress the urge to.

“Quiznak! Coran I’m gonna hurt him if he keeps squirming!”

He was panting now, his mouth hung open against the towel folded under his face that was catching the blood still leaking from the wound under his eye. A hand came down on the back of his neck and he jumped.

That did it for the pain that seemed to have been numbed, not gone, just too far away for him to register. It was just as close as all of the sounds were now.

Hands clutched at his shoulders and forearms and hips as he wailed, pushing him flat so his flailing didn’t make it worse. He sobbed loudly and unabashedly as the pain surged its way back to the forefront of his awareness, a strange warmth similar to the one he’d felt when he had passed out taking the edge off but not staving it much.

“Keith! Listen to me, you have to relax. I know this is torture, but you’re only going to make it worse if you keep struggling,” Shiro urged, his voice the closest.

Shiro was right, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t in control of his movements anymore, because if he was he would listen. He didn’t want to hurt anymore but his body didn’t seem to give a shit.

“Coran,” Allura said sadly, her eyes looking at him with a sort of heart breaking resolution.

“Okay, Princess,” he agreed, his expression falling dejectedly.

“What-what is it? What just happened?!” Lance asked worriedly, knowing something had seemingly been decided but no idea as to what.

“We’re going to have to give him a muscle relaxer to keep him still, but it won’t take away his pain. We simply cannot risk putting him in a pod while medically sedated, we couldn’t be sure he would ever wake again if we did.”

For the second time that evening a collective silence fell over the room, one filled with such aching and regret and fear that it was as if it wasn’t silent at all.

“Do whatever you have to,” Shiro advocated, handing the tools he’d been using to Hunk.

“But he’ll be in pain Shiro?!” Lance noted desperately, his indignation back in full force.

Shiro just looked at him sadly and moved to drag a stool over to the other end of the table where Keith’s head was, his face twisted up as his sounds of pain continued.

“How can you be so heartless? It wouldn’t be so painful if Allura had partially healed him too! If you had given enough of a shit to notice sooner! To notice at all!”

The sound of Lance yelling bore into Keith’s skull sickeningly, his body unable to contain the shiver that overtook his muscles at how bone deep the sound irked his now oversentive ears.

“Lance—“

“No, Allura. He’s right, this is my fault. I was too focused on the fact that Pidge was hurt to notice that he was too and now he’s worse off because of it. I didn’t listen to him when I should’ve. Administer whatever you have to Coran, I’ll help him through this, it’s the least I can do right now...”

Coran didn’t have to be told twice, skillfully pulling liquid from a vile with a syringe that he poked gently into Keith’s neck.

Hunk nudged Lance’s arm to break his death glare at Shiro and get back to freeing one of the wider wounds on his shoulder as the medicine took affect almost immediately.

“Sh-sh-shir-Shiro...”

“I’m right here, shhhh, don’t speak. Just relax, I’ve got you,” Shiro soothed, grasping Keith’s hand tightly as he took shuddering breaths that grew more and more shallow as whatever control he had left over his body slipped away from him.

With some last few twitches he sagged completely into the table. The hand clutching Shiro’s released its grip and the older boy started to thumb assuring circles into the limp appendage since he could still feel it.

“This is gonna suck, but just focus on me okay?”

Keith couldn’t nod, couldn’t move his exhausted body at all now, so he sighed instead. The tears that had welled at his eyes falling defeatedly and mixing with the blood staining his right cheek to make a slightly pinker mess on the towel beneath him.

“Just focus on me...”

[thegrapeandthefig]

Maenadism, Artemis and Dionysus

(Warning: Very long. Sorry.)

This is a topic that has been requested by @aimee-maroux and prompted by this quote by Richard Seaford in "Tragedy, Ritual and Money in Ancient Greece: Selected Essays":

"Maenads leave home where they resist men, become like animals, and perform sacrifice. Hence the frequent association of Artemis with Dionysos. [...] They go rather to reject the men of their own household and polis. Accordingly, the Dionysiac thiasos contains married as well as unmarried women, whose departure disrupts the household in different ways. [...] In the Bacchae, the Theban maenads are compared to fillies that have LEFT the yoke."

There is actually a lot that can be said about this short 5-sentence quote. So much so that we will be focusing on two main points: First, we will address what Seaford refers to when he says "Hence the frequent association of Artemis with Dionysos." and then, I will comment briefly comment on the distinction between literary and cultic maenadism.

Dionysus and Artemis are mythologically and ritually connected, for they share an important common theme: wilderness. The term alone is muli-faceted. It can refer to the wildness of nature, animals and vegetation alike, or it can refer to the wilderness of spirit. Both deities know how to play with the duality of the concept. Because of their respective nature, neither were expected to be predictable. On a symbolic level, there is an union and contrast between the god of vegetal fertility and Artemis' link to virginity.

The city of Patras and human sacrifice

Pausanias tells us of the tale of how the city of Patras came to be freed from performing human sacrifice to Artemis Triklaria. According to him, the ancient custom of human sacrifice itself was a punishment from the goddess in response to the actions of one of her priestesses. The priestess, Comaetho, had made love with her lover in the sanctuary of the goddess. Insulted, Artemis sent pestilence upon the city. The Pythia is then consulted to figure out how to appease Artemis, and she tells them to ritually sacrifice Camaetho and her lover to the goddess and that this sacrifice must be repeated annually with the fairest maiden and young man as victims. A prophecy indicated that the sacrifices would cease when a foreign king  would bring with him a strange god. And so, it happened: when Troy was captured and the king Eurypylos recieved as war bounty a chest containing a statue of Dionysus crafted by Hephaestus himself. A statue so powerful that it would drive mad anyone who looked at it, and so it drove Eurpylos mad.

Trying to understand the source of his madness, he consults the Pythia as well, who proceeds to tell him that he will come across a city that performs strange sacrifices, and that this is where he should set down the chest and make his home. And indeed, the winds carried his ship to land in Patras. Upon landing, he comes across the couple that was to being carried to the altar that year and he understood the meaning of the oracle. The people of Patras, also recognizing the events of the prophecy, adopted the cult of of Dionysus (under the title of Aesymnetes) and stopped considered themselves fred from their bloody obligation to Artemis. As for Eurypylos, his madness faded away.

Still according to Pausanias, the cult of Dionysus Aesymnetes and Artemis Triklaria included that a procession of children led by a priest who would go down at night to the Meilichos River wearing wreaths made of ears of corn (not maize, corn as in some type of cereal). The children first wear this wreath of grain, a reminder of the wreath worn by the ancient sacrifical victims, and once they have bathed in the river, they change to wear a wreath of ivy and go to the temple of Dionysus Aesymnetes. This ritual thus symbolizes the city's the liberation from Artemis' punishement.

This ritual has been interpreted in various ways and we unfortunately probably don't know enough about the rest of the festival(s?) to pinpoint the exact meaning of the cult. It does seem that the rites to Artemis Trikalia and Dionysus Aesymnetes were not held simultaneously. We also know that by the second century AD the cult of Artemis Triklaria in Patras was no more. However, what is interesting to keep from this is that Dionysus and Artemis seemed to have been considered as sharing enough common features to be substituted for one another.

There seems to have been other Greek cities where the cult of Artemis and Dionysus where somehow closely linked and suggestions have been made (eg. Dionysus' absence in Sparta might be explained by the fact that Artemis held similar cultic functions), but the evidence is too sparse to make serious claims.

Other notable links

Now that we've seen the biggest chunk, I'll quickly go through some smaller elements:

In the Odyssey, Artemis kills Ariadne "Dionusou marturiêisin" (on the denunciation of Dionysus), which some have interpreted as “on Dionysus' indictment.” If this interpretation is correct, it would highlight Dionysus' and Artemis' role as destructive deities.  

The use of masks during the Spartan Ortheia

They are the only Olympians to ever have the epithet "polynumia" (of many names)

A common ability for natural madness.

Maenadism in the Bacchae vs. in cult So, we now have commented one (1) sentence of the original quote. Let's move on to the main topic, that is, maenadism. It's very important to point out what exactly Seaford is commenting on here: he is not making claims based on cultic reality. Rather, he is commenting on maenadism as portrayed in the Bacchae and, by extension, maenadism in the collective imagination of the Athenians.

The reason I'm bringing this up and making the clarification right away is because maenadism has been very discussed and debated, especially when asking the question of "does the Bacchae, and Greek art in general, portray a faithful image of a maenadic ritual?". The general consensus since Henrichs articulated his thoughts about it in the 70s leans more towards the no, in the case of Athens. Maenadic rites were for the most part organized celebrations to which only restricted groups could participate. They more likely belonged to the elite of society.

While the maenads in the Bacchae do reject the men of their households, the sources we have rather seem to indicate that women had to gain their husband's consent to participate in the ritual (as Plutarch tells us with the women of Amphissa). Of course nuance is needed also when handling those sources, which might have also tried to convey the idea that men were still in charge afterall, but it is also not impossible that men considered those rites as a necessity to please Dionysus. What is sure however, is that Greek women who participated in maenadic rites must have greatly enjoyed those short escapes from reality.

Sources: Pausanias, Description of Greece, 7. 19. 1 - 20. 1 (exerpt available on theoi.com) Bremmer J.N., Greek Maenadism Reconsidered, in; Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik, Bd. 55, 1984 Henrichs, A., Greek Maenadism from Olympias to Messalina, in: Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, 82, 121, 1978 Hughes D., Human Sacrifice in Ancient Greece, Routledge, 1991 Rangos, S., Cults of Artemis in Ancient Greece (Doctoral thesis), University of Cambridge, 1996

[guiltysecretpasttime]

Homecoming - 2

This is the continuation of this prompt.

Lin/Tenzin, pre-canon AU, 2 of 2, T, completed.

----

“Hello?” Lin’s yelling was paused when the phone rang.

Tenzin’s continued words of apologies and evasion of flying folders and papers were cut short when Lin had to answer (irritably) the ringing phone. He bent over to pick up the scattered things, while listening to the one-sided conversation he could hear.

“Nothing’s wrong here. Of course not – yes, he is here.” Lin rolled her eyes. “There is no domestic disturbance at my address, I don’t know where that report even came from… Well, if they want to arrest someone, why don’t they arrest him?” She threw him an irritated look. “He is trespassing, isn’t he?”

At this, Tenzin frowned at her and dangled the house keys.

Who could she be talking to at this time of the night? Which police officer is responding to the call?

How can he be trespassing when he actually had keys? And as far as he knew, he lived here, didn’t he?

She snapped her fingers, asking him to hand over the keys.

Oh, damn he is screwed.

Lin leaned back at the headboard. “Okay, fine.” She placed a hand on her stomach. “I’m sure my blood pressure is fine… Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow… Love you too, Mom.”

Tenzin felt his stomach turn to lead.

If Lin reacted this way to him, Toph Beifong could do much worse.

And all because – at least from what he gathered from Lin’s invectives earlier– Lin’s letter informing him of her pregnancy did not reach him.

When the earthbender had suitably calmed down, Tenzin cautiously approached the bed with her paperwork. She was eying him with distrust.

At least she had stopped shouting or throwing things – so I count that as a win.

To his surprise, Lin offered the phone to him.

“Tenzin!” Toph’s gruff voice greeted him. “I don’t care what your excuse is but for tonight, make sure she relaxes. She’s on bed rest –.”

“Bed rest!”

Toph continued speaking as though he did not just interrupt her. “So, make sure she takes it easy and does not overexert herself.” She sighed. “You know what I mean, Airhead. No bedroom activities for the two of you.”

---

After a relatively painful call with Toph (where he was alternately scolded, reminded, threatened and advised), the airbender finally addressed the earthbender who was sitting in bed, protectively cradling her pregnant stomach.

“So,” Tenzin rubbed the back of his neck. “We’re having a child.” He sat the edge of the bed cautiously.

“Are we?” Lin asked back in challenge. “As far I know, you seemed to have washed your hands off of us the moment you left to fulfill your airbending duties.”

“No – I would never –,” He reached out to hold her hand, tightening when her grasp went limp. “You – the both of you – are my priority. Please don’t doubt that.” He looked straight into her eyes, trying to convey the truth behind his words.

Only their breathing can be heard for the next few moments.

“You never replied – I thought – we thought – you were gone. Then the acolytes responded and said you were there… I thought… you didn’t want it. You didn’t want…” Lin cleared her throat. “You were so pleased about being able to finally go around the temples. Having a child – well – I wouldn’t put it past you to stay behind because of responsibility, even if you didn’t want…”

At that point, her tears fell. This was the side of Lin Beifong that only few managed to see – one that was more human than her public persona allowed her to be. He was one of the few who she allowed to know about her insecurities and her fears.

Both of them had been raised in the public eye and they learned early on that their actions will be dissected by the press. They learned to be guarded – but not with each other.

Her mother had tried to protect her as much as she could but Lin learned the truth anyway. That her father had abandoned only remained with her mother as long as he could only due to a sense of duty to the unborn child. That when the opportunity came for him to jump ship, he did so without a backward glance.

Tenzin knew this was what was going through her mind with their current predicament.

He knew that words at this point would not mean anything to her as he pulled her into an embrace, letting her tears drop on his robes.

Tenzin knew he would do his best to reassure her.

---

The next few days were spent getting up to speed with Lin’s pregnancy. He wanted to know it all – how were her check-ups, what is the gestational age, are there any food or drink that she is not allowed to eat, etc. After that first night, Lin became apprehensive about what Tenzin thinks of fatherhood; she did have several weeks to get used to it but Tenzin, apparently was learning about it just now.

It seemed like she need not have worried, however, as the man reveled in it.

Katara had laughed at that, fondly saying that Aang is the same for each of their children.

To be fair, Toph had snorted, he was like that for all of the children born within their circle of friends, remembering that Aang was over the moon when Toph started showing with Lin.

---

Tenzin did not think the rest of the pregnancy would be spent in peaceful waiting if the succeeding days were a precedent as to what to expect.

It had been embarrassing enough to have his mother extract a promise from him to refrain from intercourse (“Stop cringing, Tenzin. If you’re old enough to be a father, you’re old enough to use the clinical term.”) in the next few months due to Lin’s delicate condition.

It became worse when Lin’s mother dropped by to bring in paperwork from headquarters. The older metalbender could not resist but comment about flighty airbenders doing the cut-and-run. That definitely did not do well to assuage Lin’s doubts.

His own father would likewise come by almost daily, bringing all sorts of food for Lin. Lin would graciously thank him and accept the gifts but would often ask him that he did not need to bring anything over. The Avatar would wave her concern away and say he was bringing over materials that Tenzin would need to work on anyway. Lin subtly implied that he need not stay in Republic City and he could go back to Air Temple Island to do whatever he needs to do for the Air Nation. This made Tenzin all the more adamant to work remotely from the house.

It also seemed like both of the Avatar’s sons took on the same anticipation and excitement in welcoming a child as Tenzin discovered that Bumi had taken to sending a knitted piece to Republic City every few weeks or so. Never mind that there were only so many bibs or bonnets a baby could use.

Their family, however well-meaning, tended to barge into their life – always checking in, always dropping by, always present.

Lin, being the well-mannered lady that she was, took it all in stride. While she would have previously scowled at her mother’s narratives or kept a polite face at his mother’s coddling, Tenzin saw her have a genuine smile at her face at their visits.

It was only one afternoon that Tenzin realized why.

He thought that they were simply falling into a routine when he came back. However, it became apparent to him that he was the one who has not yet assimilated into the established routine. With a pang, he realized their family had done what he should have been doing in the first place in supporting Lin in her pregnancy.

---

It was not quite the same home he had left.

Being away for months made it challenging for the airbender to reintegrate himself but he did manage bit by bit.

---

Lin really disliked being on bedrest. She had never been one for idleness, but she saw the necessity in taking it easy. She was determined to bring the child up to term and Lin Beifong is not anything but determined.

Nonetheless, this did not keep her from occasionally complaining; she did not like being dependent on others after all.

“I’m sorry Lin – but healer’s orders.” Tenzin handed her a book she requested; she was put out when he did not let her get out of bed and she had to wait for him to get it for her.

She thanked him though still with a frown on her face.  

Tenzin settled himself beside her in bed as they were wont to do before bedtime, taking out his own book to read. “Mother said you’ll likely be removed from bed rest in a few weeks’ time. Your mother did not have to go on extended bed rest and managed to work at the station back then. So mother is hopeful for you.”

Lin sighed and leaned back, lightly flipping through the pages of her book. “Well, that’s my mother. Unfortunately for me, I inherited the body type of my grandmother.”

They knew how difficult it was for Poppy Beifong to carry a child to term. As much as Lao and she wanted another child as a sibling to Toph, it had not been successful.

She saw Tenzin pause, recognizing the moment he understood what was not being said.

In true (and expected) airbender fashion, he did not address it head on and simply turned to focus on fluffing her pillows.

“Well, if you’re going to stay in bed much longer, we’ll have to make sure it’s a comfortable stay, right?”

She merely tilted her head in agreement, thankful that he did not push the issue.

---

Lin did not know what to expect from Tenzin when he said they will make the extended bed rest comfortable.

He arrived home one day with a lot of paper bags.

She had thought Bumi was ridiculous in sending a lot of baby clothes, but this did not even compare. Lin found Tenzin guilty of a shopping spree – his were of a complement to Bumi’s bibs and bonnets in the form of onesies, mittens and booties.

No matter, she thought, as she lightly fingered the texture of one of the green onesies, it pleased her to see Tenzin excited about the child.

---

As the weeks passed, Lin was able to finally convince Tenzin that she would be fine at home during the day with the staff and that he need not curtail his own activities.

During the day, after all, the household staff that Toph hired for them to clean and cook was around and could easily assist Lin with her needs.

The airbender still spent most of his time at home, working and keeping her company. But at least, his company was no longer limited to her and their family. Hopefully, Lin thought, it would keep him from being bored and restless.

She was pleasantly surprised when he arrived home on that first day.

He had been listening to her when they talked about food she missed and likely craved for. She was thankful for the food that Aang brings over and the food the chef cooks, however, there is only so much she could take of healthy and bordering on bland food.

Tenzin had gone out of his way to the other side of the city to bring home her favorite steamed buns. Steamed meat buns, that is. None of the vegetarian mush he enjoyed himself.

---

It became their ritual – whenever Tenzin goes out, they were sure to have a dinner that consists of Lin’s favorite foods.

---

“You keep eating more of that and we’re calling our baby Bao.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Doesn’t Bao Beifong sound nice?”

A pillow hit Tenzin in the face.

---

“Thanks, kid. Excellent paperwork as per usual, loved your penmanship.”

Lin rolled her eyes at her mother’s odd humor. She took the folder her mother brought in exchange for the reports she had completed. Before her mother leaves, Lin usually makes sure she had scanned through quickly the paperwork so she could ask questions if she has clarifications.

“There was a meeting earlier at City Hall.” Toph often shared with her about her workday. “I suppose you were the catalyst for this.”

“What? I don’t even get to leave the house, never mind the bedroom,” Lin felt defensive, thinking that Toph was about to blame her for something. “How can I have caused it?” She continued to go through the paperwork.

Toph clicked her tongue. “They’ve selected an air acolyte as the representative to the Air Temples.”

That got her full attention. “But Tenzin’s the current representative.” She put down the folder on her lap and turned to her mother. “He did not mention he was quitting.”

“He was not quitting per se, he would be still part of the Air Nation’s council staff – just not the one who would need to frequently travel around the temples.”

---

She was floored.

She never asked that of him.

The airbender had been talking about air temples and all things air nomad from they were kids.

Giving up this particular role – this is huge.

And if it was because of her – them – she corrected, rubbing her stomach, it was significant.

---

He did not bring it up that night.

She thought he would have done so the first thing he got home.

But he did not.

---

She brought it up two nights later, unable to keep the curiosity out of her voice.

The why hung between them.

He simply smiled back at her, his hand joining hers as their baby kicked.

“I know my priorities.”

---

The next day, she hands him back his keys.

Then maybe, he feels hopeful as he tightens his fist around it, maybe this is what it really feels like the beginning of a true homecoming.

-----

Note: And that’s that. Thoughts around it? Thanks for reading :)

[tiramisiyu]

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: Xia Yan’s Personal Story 3-8 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Xia Yan Masterlist | Video

Translated Chapter 3: 3-1 / 3-2 / 3-3 / 3-4 / 3-6 / 3-7 / 3-8 / 3-10 / 3-11 / 3-12 / 3-14

See below cut!

--

Home

The next day, Xia Yan and I examined the version of the video with no deletions that Tian Xin left for us yesterday.

Xia Yan: The contents of the video with deletions involve four locations: the Stellis Major Bridge, Jinlan Street, Yunxia Mountain, and the Stellis port. And the same person has appeared at these four locations.

As he spoke, Xia Yan pointed at a person wearing leather in the video. He looked to be around 27-28 years old, his hair had highlights, and his clothes were very punk.

MC: This person is…?

Xia Yan: Meng Qishan, a detective who resigned from the profession half a year ago.

Xia Yan tapped open the document he organized before on resigned detectives, then scrolled to the column with information on Meng Qishan.

Xia Yan: Meng Qishan entered the detective profession four years ago. Ever since he entered the profession, his reputation has always been bad. Based on my investigations, he would often use grey or even illegal methods to help his commissioners achieve their objectives.

MC: Grey or even illegal methods?

Xia Yan: The main focus of Meng Qishan’s work was marital status investigations, whereabouts investigations, and background investigations. Based on principle, a detective’s investigation should seek the truth from facts. But Meng Qishan’s investigations revolved around the commissioner’s requirements.

Xia Yan: For example, if a husband and wife’s relations have broken down and they want to divorce, they would typically need to split up their wealth and properties. 

Xia Yan: But some want to give less or give nothing the other person, and lessen the other person’s pestering, so they’ll hire a detective to find evidence that they have had an affair. If the other person has not had an affair, some commissioners will require the detective to “create” evidence that the other person has had an affair.

MC: So they’ll use special angles to take very ambiguous shots of typical friend meetups, meals, and accidental encounters, right?

MC: I’ve received cases like this. One side used these kinds of photos to threaten the other side, threatening to not agree to the divorce, wanting to have the other person’s reputation utterly ruined.

Xia Yan: That’s right. Meng Qishan is that kind of detective.

MC: Has no one noticed it if he does this kind of thing all the time?

Xia Yan: They have. Not only has he been noticed, he’s even been sued, but because of insufficient evidence, the prosecution was withdrawn.

Xia Yan: Meng Qishan has a good understanding of the law. He’s very skilled at wandering on the boundaries of law, and he does things that are hard to collect evidence for investigation.

I sighed. These are the so-called people that prove that “criminals who understand the law are more frightening”.

MC: Why did he resign from the profession?

Xia Yan: Because a major scandal broke out, and he offended a client. Half a year ago, he received a commission from a corporation’s senior executive to create evidence that the executive’s wife had an affair. Meng Qishan took photos of the executive’s wife entering a hotel with some male.

Xia Yan: But in court, facing the photos that the executive flung out, the wife testified that the male was her own distantly-related male cousin. No one knew of it because they rarely interacted. The wife used this to harshly recriminate the husband, saying that he defamed her wantonly for the purpose of divorce.

Xia Yan: This matter embarrassed that executive terribly, and his future at the company was also affected.

MC: So Meng Qishan offended his client because of this, right?

Xia Yan: That’s right. This case raised a big fuss, so he vanished without a trace from the detective circles.

So there was a hidden story like this behind the matter.

MC: But why would he appear in this video? Is he related to Sphinx?

Xia Yan: At first glance, there is no relation. But I feel like that wife’s male cousin, as well as the timing and location at which he appeared are somewhat too perfect.  It’s like someone deliberately set this up to have Meng Qishan misunderstand and make this kind of mistake.

Xia Yan: “There is inevitability behind all coincidences.”

Xia Yan: I believe that the riddles are just pretenses. There might be another reason behind Sphinx forcing the detectives to resign.

I couldn’t help but remember the opinion Xia Yan had voiced before on Sphinx being like a “vigilante”.

MC: If it’s like what you said before, Sphinx is punishing detectives who behave badly on the regular. Why those detectives who were defeated by him treat this like a matter that has to be kept secret would make a lot of sense.

MC: But you aren’t a bad detective. Why did Sphinx issue a challenge to you? Plus, the riddles he gave you aren’t typical reasoning-based riddles.

MC: This is too weird…

Xia Yan: Mm… I’m guessing that he has other intentions with me. Such as, since I’m the best detective in Stellis City, he’s itching to figure out who’s relatively superior.

MC: … Sure, this reason makes a lot of sense.

Xia Yan: Alright alright, let’s discuss the questions between Sphinx and me later. Let’s continue analyzing this Meng Qishan.

I nodded, turning my gaze back towards Meng Qishan, who was following Tian Xin in the video.

MC: “ɸ” had Tian Xin shoot Meng Qishan in the video, then wanted Tian Xin to delete it – why?

Xia Yan: For this, we’ll have to wait until we find Meng Qishan to find out.

MC: But Stellis City is so large – how should we find him?

MC: Could you be planning to use your privileges to get the police station’s resident data?

Xia Yan: No need. Actually, the video has already given us a hint.

Xia Yan adjusted the video progress back to the place where that person appeared first.

Xia Yan: He’s carrying a shopping bag in his hand, there aren’t many things in it, and they’re all daily necessities. Thus, this place is very close to where he lives. We can use the supermarket on the shopping bag as the centre to draw a circle with a radius of five kilometres.

MC: Five kilometres?

Xia Yan: The scope of a person’s daily activities is three kilometres, but since the location this time isn’t precise enough, I’ve expanded it to five kilometres.

As he spoke, he drew a large circle on the map, using the supermarket as the centre.

Xia Yan: In livestream, the three drawings hinting at Sphinx’s riddle all had the “ɸ” symbol. I’m guessing that this is the information point that the person who set up this matter wants to convey.

MC: Are there any places in Stellis City whose names are related to this character?

Xia Yan did a search on the computer.

Xia Yan: There isn’t – the relation probably won’t be this direct.

Xia Yan: “ɸ” is the 21st letter in the Greek alphabet. It has different meanings in math, physics, and engineering. Magnetic flux, focal strength, Euler’s formula�� which meaning is it hinting at…

MC: The “ɸ” was on the drawings. Could it have something to do with the drawings?

Xia Yan: The drawings? Places where “ɸ” can be linked to the drawings…

Xia Yan and I sunk into deep thought for a moment.  I looked again at those three drawings hinting at Sphinx’s riddle, each drawing’s composition very well-balanced.

MC: Ah! Xia Yan, could it be the golden ratio!

MC: Look, the compositions of these drawings all use the golden ratio method.

Xia Yan: So that’s how it was - “ɸ” also means the golden ratio in math. The approximate value, using the first three digits, of the golden ratio is 0.618.

I looked for a place relating to 0.618 in the circle indicated by Xia Yan.

MC: A rest station, Yuelai Hotel, Nautilus Bar – these three places’ addresses all include 618. Should we check out each one?

Xia Yan: No, it probably is this place – Nautilus Bar. The cross-section of the spiral of a nautilus’ shell indicates the Fibonacci Sequence, while the ratios of the sequential numbers in the Fibonacci Sequence approach the golden ratio without limit.

MC: So that’s how it was.

Xia Yan looked at Nautilus Bar on the map and frowned slightly.

Xia Yan: Do you still remember how I said last night that I can track Tian Xin’s whereabouts using his phone signal position?

MC: I remember. What’s the matter?

Xia Yan: I just checked Tian Xin’s movement route for today. Ever since a few hours ago, he’s been hovering near Nautilus Bar.

Xia Yan tapped at the keyboard as he spoke. The map immediately displayed a red route line – Tian Xin’s movement route. Just as Xia Yan said, he’d been moving around near Nautilus Bar the whole time.

MC: Could he also be investigating the clues left by “ɸ”?

--

[Flashback]

Tian Xin: Jeez, this guy. If you’re going to help someone, help them out until the end.

Tian Xin: He clearly had some reasoning methods, but he refused to help me design the riddles. My reasoning is really crappy. Otherwise… Sphinx’s riddles wouldn’t need to be designed that crappily… After that set of videos, people kept spewing hate at me…

[Flashback end]

--

MC: He clearly kept complaining yesterday about how his reasoning ability was very bad. He shouldn’t have been able to figure out the riddle this fast… Right, is there any overlap between the interpersonal relationships of Tian Xin and Meng Qishan?

Xia Yan: Wait a bit – checking now.

Xia Yan tapped quickly on the keyboard, different webpages popping up and shifting back and forth on the screen. A few minutes later, he stopped.

Xia Yan: Found it – there is indeed one point of overlap. I told you earlier that Meng Qishan received a commission from a senior executive client, to create fake evidence and slander his wife for having an affair.

MC: Mhmm, in this case, Meng Qishan just might have lost all face due to something relating to Sphinx.

Xia Yan: The overlap of Meng Qishan’s and Tian Xin’s interpersonal relations is in this case. The wife of that executive has a blood-related little sister named Han Feifei. She and Tian Xin are childhood friends.

MC: Eh?

Xia Yan showed the information he just found to me.  On the social platform, there were a lot of duo pictures of the executive’s wife with her little sister, Han Feifei, as well as duo pictures of Han Feifei and Tian Xin.

MC: Thus, the reason why Tian Xin would investigate Meng Qishan and Sphinx might be this.

Xia Yan: Tian Xin must still be hiding a lot from us.

MC: These hidden things might also be related to Sphinx’s clues.

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan: Regardless of if it’s for Tian Xin, Meng Qishan or Sphinx, we have to make a trip down to Nautilus Bar.

[jacksgreysays]

Could/should/did prompt Shikako in bnha?

it could have gone like this:

"How does your quirk work?" the girl at the bar asks. She's far too young to be at a bar, but no one can make her leave.

... which is alarming considering this is also the headquarters for the League of Villains and she very much is not part of said league.

Not that Kurogiri isn't trying to fix that. "If you join us, I'll tell you," he says mildly, sliding a drink over to her. Non-alcoholic, of course.

"Hm, I'd rather not," she responds equally mild, casual as she drinks the beverage, unafraid.

Kurogiri shrugs and continues his work. Just because he's trying to recruit her, doesn't mean he's going to be pushy about it. And anyway, he'll just ask her again tomorrow, same as yesterday and the day before and the day before that.

"Were you able to find your... Gelel, was it?" he asks conversationally. He's considering cooking something, a proper meal and not just snack food, something high in nutrition.

The girl sighs, staring off forlornly into the distance. After a moment of silence, she says quietly, "No."

Maybe a stew? Something filling and comforting?

"I... I don't think I'll meet Gelel again."

Frazzled for some reason, Kurogiri slides an entire jar of cherries to her.

She looks up at him confused before opening it and sliding both the jar and the lid back.

He blinks and is grateful that his expressions are near impossible to parse. "So what are your plans now?" Kurogiri asks, hoping that is less of a land mine.

The girl shrugs, fiddles with the end of her braid, "I'm not entirely sure. I wasn't really planning on being here long term."

He looks around, a quick glance upstairs, assessing, "Do you have a place to stay?"

She shoots him a wry smile, "I'm still not joining your league."

"It's not my league," he corrects her.

She rolls her eyes. "The league you are a part of," she amends.

Kurogiri shrugs, acquiesces. He considers what living necessities a normal person who isn't an undead entity made of fog and shadows might have. "Do you have anyone who could help? Friends? Family?"

At this, the girl's expression shutters again, and Kurogiri curses himself internally. After another silent moment of contemplation, she meets his eyes. Her face as inscrutable as his lack of one.

"Something like that."

---

it should have gone like this:

It's different this time, Shikako thinks, wider and far more unpredictable. Impossibly overwhelming. At least there is the semblance of morality--good versus evil, heroes against villains--but that doesn't really hide the truth of it:

Once more, Shikako finds herself born into a world of child soldiers.

Damn it.

But she thinks she can keep herself out of it. Her family aren't heroes, though they do make devices and gadgets that help heroes with their jobs. There isn't an oncoming apocalyptic disaster on the horizon--or, at least, not that she knows of. She can live her life in relative peace, stay out of the thick of things. She wants to thrive in this world of powers without prophecies, relearn to love invention without the desperation that had pushed her before.

Although if she happens to create things that are helpful to heroes that's not really getting herself involved, that's just contributing to society and also following in her new parents' footsteps. And everyone knows that UA's Support Department is the best in the country, it only makes sense to apply for that school.

And, yes, she may have gone a little over the top during the test but, really, they were robots and where else would she have the opportunity to test her limits (or lack thereof) without fear of bystander casualties? And, what, was she not supposed to help out her fellow test takers when they needed it? That's just common decency.

Honestly, she has no idea how she ended up in the Hero Department's Class 1-A.

She also does not understand why Principle Nezu won't let her transfer into the Support Department--obviously, she'll do the most good there. She has a portfolio to prove it!

... Although that just backfires on her because instead of getting transferred, she just gets an additional period added to the end of her daily schedule where she and Mei Hatsume--who maybe lives in the Development Studio--unintentionally compete for most volatile inventions under the exhausted supervision of Power Loader. And she still has to deal with the even more volatile personalities in the Hero class with Aizawa-sensei's frankly bizarre teaching style.

If she weren't who she was--if she didn't remember--she probably wouldn't be able to balance things as well as she does. Although she doesn't really connect with her classmates as much as she probably should, hasn't really fallen into a group the same way others have. The occasional exchanges she has with Dark Shadow has made them friends of a sort, she thinks, though maybe not. Except for minor conversations over homework or the weather, she doesn't really talk to anyone in Class 1-A.

Of course, this changes after they are attacked in the USJ. Asui helps her out in the Flood Zone when Shikako is taken by surprise--teleported into water, not her best moment--and together with Midoriya they regroup with some of their other classmates only to find Aizawa-sensei in the middle of being brutally murdered.

And something within her snaps:

Because this isn't her home and these aren't her teammates and she doesn't really want to be a Hero, not really, but... Rule Number One.

Maybe its not so different after all.

---

but it actually went like this:

When the students of UA move into the newly built Heights Alliance en masse, each class finds a fun addition to their ranks.

"Three in your case," the girl with the braid says to the collective curiosity of Class 1-A. "Apparently your class is... special," she says it with an almost diplomatic smile, but from the unimpressed expressions on her compatriots' faces it's not exactly a compliment.

Iida, ever the dutiful class representative, is the first to respond. "Isn't it too late in the year for you to transfer to UA? And while the dorms are capable of housing additional students, I don't believe our classroom will be able to do the same. Though that is not to say that you are unwelcome, rather, that we would not want you to feel unaccommodated."

The other girl, the one with purple hair and a scowl, scoffs, "You've already met us, we're Agents. We're not joining your class. Why would we want to be Hero students?" With her expression and crossed arms, she could not convey more disgust with the very idea if she had spat on the floor.

Some of class bristle at the insult, Bakugou audibly snarls, but when the last Agent, a boy with black hair, slants a disapproving glance in her direction she looks away, chastised.

Quick to clarify, the first Agent says, "We'll be living with you in the dorms, but we'll continue our educations separately. For you, UA has become a boarding school. For us, we'll commute to our respective schools. But thank you for your concern." 

"But if you're not students, then why are you here?" asks Kaminari, practically emanating confusion.

The male Agent, with a somehow even more disapproving expression, sighs. "Your teacher should have been the one to tell you."

"Your principle, along with building the Heights Alliance, has acquired the services of our Agency as another deterrent to Villains," explains the friendly Agent. "Most of the buildings have only Agent assigned, but given your class history you get the three of us. I'm Agent Bat," she introduces herself with an almost awkward little wave.

"Agent Hawk," says the boy, nodding in greeting.

The purple haired girl, arms still crossed, rolls her eyes, "Possum."

"Possum and I will be on the second floor, Hawk will be on the fourth floor. If you have any information or suspicians of Villain incursions and activities you can come to any of us. We also have a trained medic in 1-B's dorm, Agent Slug, she'll probably introduce herself later today. Otherwise you can just pretend like we're not here," Agent Bat says.

"So you're just going to be... watching us?" asks Ashido.

Agent Bat shakes her head. "No, no, just consider us as neighbors. When it comes to Villains, your concerns are our concerns."

His already minimal patience worn thin, Bakugou finally explodes, "We don't need any fucking babysitters!"

While most of his classmates wouldn't phrase it the same, the sentiment is shared amongst them. They've survived so much already--random interlopers trying to take control just grates on them.

"Well it's not your choice, now is it?" Agent Possum shoots back, ready and raring to match Bakugou's irritation with her own. "We're Agents and this is our mission. If you want to be pissy about it, it doesn't matter. Although if you're going to act like a brat, no wonder your principle thinks you need babysitters."

"We're not actually your babysitters," Agent Hawk clarifies, tone apathetic. "We're not here to protect you."

"The dorms and your sensei are your security. We're not your bodyguards." Agent Bat continues with an almost sheepish shrug that fails to mitigate the coldness of her words, "You're our bait."

~

A/N: I realize this ask box event is essentially tripling the amount of effort required for each prompt... I mean, I’m still enjoying it. But like... far more challenging than I thought it would be going into it.

Anyway, the “actually happened” section is based off of my fic built on a hill (light the fire)

For the Could/Should/Actually Fic Ask Box Event!