#and most of the series does follow the logic that he does *not* actually have kryptonian genetics

[boyfridged]

i don't think i ever explained in detail why i'm so deadset on kon's primary name being kon and not conner, so here it is: kon getting his kryptonian name first despite the fact that he has no kryptonian dna is so salient because of 1. what it means in terms of clark's affirmation of his legacy 2. their familial connection being a chosen one, and 3. a bit sadly, the fact that kon finds closure and connection in culture that is already long gone, reminding the reader of his isolation. before getting this name (superboy #59) kon goes exclusively by superboy and is often referred to as "kid." this is what people call him even when he gets enrolled in school, the name on the register and all. kon came to life as a public figure. as a superhero. he has no civilian identity at this point. his core personality is developed in this dimension, and later in relation to his association with clark's alien legacy. and it might sound sorrowful, but this is also who he is; this is what he ultimately finds comfort in, what makes his family. it's bitter-sweet, it's complicated, it's nuanced and interesting. so any civilian identity that he adopts later should logically be his secondary identity. there's absolutely no reason for him to consider "conner" his actual name and not a monicker he uses for secret identity purposes, unless you want to lean into the horrible retcons that make "kon" to be a slur. i don't think he would mind it, per se– but i do believe that kon as we know him in superboy (94) wouldn't ever consider it to be his "true" self. and this is the hill i will die on.

[the-monkeies-girl]

Savior Complex. ( Noa x Human! Reader. ) Part 9.

ack

Title: Savior Complex. Fandom: ( Kingdom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Violence, injury, blood, implication of non-consensual happenings. NOTHING NON-CONSENSUAL ACTUALLY HAPPENED/HAPPENS. ) Pairing: Implied! Noa x Human! Reader. Words: 6.4K+ Summary: Noa knew now. He needed to corrupt himself to keep you safe.

READ THE SERIES HERE.AO3 ( Working on adding the chapters. )

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“What does… Death mean to Echo?”

Noa liked to do this, you noticed in the time you had been at the Clan. Only a month or so, but long enough for you to establish relative behavior that turned into small patterns that you were able to recognize. Very much in the same vein that you knew him to wake up before everyone else, to go to the Eagle Enclosure, to hear his singing and proceeding to forget it throughout the day as you were indirectly taking in something you weren’t meant to, that was not meant for Humans, you knew his tendencies.

It was not like it was difficult, after all, Apes… Were very open as far as that went. Privacy seemed the way of the past for them, and it was exclusive to Humanity, or Echo, through and through. They shared things, their conversations all held incredible meaning even if it were simply jokes and pesterance. 

As much as you tried to shove aside your feelings for it and to remain as neutral as possible given the circumstances that landed you in the Clan, it was hard not to find it somewhat admirable as your self-loathing piqued intensely at the prospect that… You were told your entire life that they were nothing more than savage beasts.

Reaching down, you let your fingers drift right over the injury on the calf you had sustained from a group of them trying to kill you. It was fading now, scab turning over a new leaf into a silver indentation, a few inches long and it was still tender but it was a stark course of the reminder of who you were, versus who they were. The first question always hit your mind at times like this, times of intense juxtaposition. Where Noa was very obviously seeking a certain answer and yours was not going to satisfy his insatiable need for you to answer it correctly. Were Apes and Humans… Able to live side by side?

 Burrowing your eyebrows at the intensity of the question posed by Noa just a few seconds ago, you found yourself replaying it over and over again in your head to the point where his carefully placed phrasing and infliction all sounded sort of dull. It had a multitude of answers, you knew that. And based on the fact that Noa even thought to ask you, it meant that he had a fixed belief, most likely based upon the customs of his Clan from generations ago who planted the very seeds.

Taking your time in contemplation, you dug your fingers into the dirt that you were sitting on top of, letting your eyes drift towards the Chimp who had his back facing your own, his hand tentatively playing with the water of a small stream that seeped into the larger river near the Colony. Where life began, where life ended. Tilting your head at that thought springing to mind at the mere sight of water, silence beckoned you to follow her into an abyss where there were no logical answers and you still found yourself sifting through them in hopes that you could find one to appease him, that tiny bit of yourself convinced that he would attack if you were to answer unfavorably.

Fists drawn into themselves, your knuckles turned white out of mere frustration. Why did he have to pick such difficult questions for you to answer? Why couldn’t he just ask about… Something… Mundane? You knew that wasn’t the point of the agreement you had made, the first time your hands touched upon the understanding as you literally grasped hands to seal the deal. Flashing your digits outwards, you pulsed them to get the blood flowing again. 

 Death could mean nothing, you could retort with utmost confidence despite not actually knowing but that seemed abhorrently sadistic and you crossed it off the list. It could mean something beyond our control, you could be more optimistic rather than dally in the vague notions that death was truly the end of the line for all living creatures. Drawing a deep breath in, you felt your lungs expanding against your ribs and diaphragm, Noa reacting to the sound itself as he turned his head slightly to the side as you exhaled.

What do you tell an Ape expecting to hear one thing that his entire notion, his entire premise of death and the afterlining of it were not the same culturally? He had to know it was different, that whatever you were going to tell him might not be the same as what he believed his entire life. After all, here you were, Human to Ape, speaking after being torn away from the concept for years upon years of conditioning.

It could send him into a shock, into a flurry of worry and he could end up tearing apart his entire Village in search of the metaphorical answers that always fell behind the inquiry he so blessed you with this Fall afternoon. That was the bargain he made with himself every morning with Noa rose to tend to the birds, singing to them and hoping that the Elders of the past would forgive his trespasses, selfish and needy, towards knowledge that was not available to them because he wanted more. A breeze drew your scent to him, more inviting now that he had gotten to know you a bit more ardently, not on the verge of hostilities towards each other any longer, but now teetering up a delicate tightrope between occult trust and toleration. Green eyes were fixated on the foliage in front of him, trees turning from their happy Summer indentations into the more alluring oranges, yellows, darkened and flushed browns of Fall.

It was this time of year that Noa noticed his coat of fur thickening in preparation of the colder months, and he found himself vaguely curious as to what Echo did during these times. He thought to ask --- But, after contemplation and restlessly obsessing about it, he figured it was a very personal question and left it to stick on the pin-board in the back of his mind. Maybe, he thought to himself and shut his eyes pensively, the water rushing between the hardened pads of his fingers, if you were to bring it up he’d find a justification for asking you what you would do - how you prepared.

That in itself was not what was truly on his mind, Noa knowing fully well that the question he brought  to the front of today’s conversation, was a very loaded one indeed. He wanted to know, his gaze drifted to the sky above, alight happily with the same blue that chased the moon away and clung desperately to the loneliness of the sun, just what it meant to someone else. Someone who shared nothing of his ideas, pressing that… That his Father was truly watched over him. That his Father guided him in life now, after promises of many lessons to teach before he was taken away.

 Noa never felt intended for the name ‘Master of the Birds’ because his Father never put blind faith in his abilities, never harbored them like he should have, like his Mother often did. His Father, soaring high up above the blue sky, high above the curvature of the Earth, led a helping hand in Noa’s decision now, and that caused him to scoff it off. Deep down… He wanted to believe that maybe his Father was seeking to build a bridge that he hated in life, volatile towards Echo. It would make Noa feel better about his choice to let you stay, knowing one of the last things his Father warned him about was the danger that always followed Echo footsteps. 

“Really depends…” You finally spoke up, taking the Chimpanzee right out of the trance that he had sought for in the recent weeks, riddled with guilt that he was making a choice that was not beneficial or fruitful in anyway, even though you were giving him information about the world that he knew he’d never experience otherwise. Ignorance is bliss, and Noa beat himself up occasionally thinking about how ignorantly blissful he had once been before his village was destroyed, before he met an Echo, before he fought Proximus and came out a Leader without any idea of how to lead. He sighed deeply, your eyes following the intense motion of his shoulders rising and then falling more aggressively. Noa figured there was more to your statement, you left it open for a reason. 

“Death could mean a lot of things.” Turning his head towards you, eye contact was flurried as it so often was. Falling in line with the idea of trust yet taking complete hold. Noa brought his envy colored eyes back forward on a tree in front of him once again, though you were admittedly searching to look into his irises for a basis of how he wanted you to answer. “We Humans,” Sighing gently, you lifted your body and trailed in closer to him, finally dropping to your knees beside him. Noa did not react to that, but watched with acute focus as you drew your hand into the water and began mimicking his own hand movements. To the right, to the left. Against the current, with the current.

“We have a saying. That Death brings new beginnings. It’s probably a really outdated saying, but…” Shrugging your shoulders, Noa felt a shuddering in your heart beat as he gazed upon your neck, watching your jugular strain to find comprehension and words. Tears were being forced back, your lips being wetted by your tongue as you stood promptly, leaving him wondering if he had just seen a glimmer of vulnerability within you. How odd not to seek comfort when obviously pained, Noa drew his teeth together at your finishing phrase.

“I’d like to believe that’s true.”

Noa did too.

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Three Months, he told Eagle Sun with his eyes, letting his hand press against the undercarriage of the bird. You had been gone for three months and no matter how many times he pressured himself and challenged his mind to not think about you, Noa found it impossible. Even the most simple and ever-day living tasks where flooded with recollections. He hated the feeling that it left him. Hollow and swallowed out, like the walnuts that rested in twine against his cross-body bag.

Desolate and barely even comprehensible. His days were torn into politics, many meetings with the Elders as Noa accepted he needed to learn about their customs and engrain himself in them for his fellow Apes, for the future. He even went as far as to invite Soona with him on some days, just for the company.  Never Anaya, he was not into politics and thought most of the Elders got crazier with age. Days were drawn to a close when he’d return to the birds, placing Eagle Sun happily upon his perch and caressing his small head in the fitted garment to help him sleep for the night. 

This particular evening was mild, the breeze shooting in through the open room relaxing enough and it bristled against his fur delectably as he plucked a few blue feathers from Sun. Small beady eyes stared at him intently as he did it, Noa making a snide comment towards his feathery companion, “I do not know why you look at me like this,” His voice was soft but held animosity around the corners, especially on certain and inflicted words, “I set her free. You should be… Happy… For Clan, no Echo to bother us anymore. Apes… Can prosper without being… torn down.” 

Like he was expecting an answer, he paused and brought his head down to inspect Sun’s wing a bit more closely. There was something in his wing, something slick. Must have gotten too close to something that was sticky and Noa found it amazing that his bird was even able to make the venture home as he tilted his broad body and grasped a cloth to---

That smell.

Noa’s brow ridge secluded itself from the rest of his expression as it was drawn inwards, his entire head dropping to get a bit closer to what was on Sun’s wings to inspect further. Eyes pressed together tightly as he tried to get his vision to focus in the dim lighting that was provided by the dying fire in the middle of the enclosure, often left to die on its own once Noa wrapped his duties off and trailed towards the communal nest for rest. Never enough rest, but just enough to get him through his days agonizingly. 

If he was tired, it did not leave much energy to think about Echo, he was throwing chips into a game he had never played before as he lightly placed his fingers along the under wing span of Sun who let him do what he needed, either intentionally or out of submission, Noa was unsure but moved forward. From the breast of the bird and then outwards, tickling the tips of his feathers delicately. The smell itself was familiar in nature, something Noa was able to place only once or twice since the agreement was made and then faltered and you left him alone. Bringing his body into a straight position, Noa’s hand rose with his actions and he was able to see the gleam on the tips of his fingers. Green eyes were dilated, mouth falling ajar. 

Red. 

Not as red as freshly spilled blood and it was cold, but there was no denying. Noa was slow to rise, looking at Eagle Sun who innocently pushed his head to the side inquiring what his Master was now going to do with the information given. Noa cursed inside of his head the only way he knew how. Scolding the bird, it was the bird's fault he did not tell Noa! Then, rationally hit him once he realized that the bird could not speak and thus… Gave Noa context clues.

“Where is she?” He asked, Sun flapping his wings ardently once, twice, Noa felt the breeze of his wings against his face, “Hurt?” Eagle Sun flapped again, giving a small squawk of confirmation. 

Noa was fast - he needed to get a horse prepared, knowing that he had given you his own. Anaya’s would work, it was faster than Soona’s from the aspect that Anaya really pushed his to be the fastest of the bunch as to lead them when they were out together as a trio. Raising his hand, blood smeared into the fur of his shoulder as he beckoned Eagle Sun with a pat, the bird all too eager to fly the short distance and land himself there, talons grasping Noa tightly but not so much so that he was bleeding but he wished that were the case as to spare him the ideas, the visuals of you, frail and weak in the wilderness, your blood sept around your frame and leaving the most beautiful but most heart-shattering visual of your body imprinted in the mud. 

“Need to find… her.” Noa told Sun in rushed silence. “Do not… Wake Anaya… Soona… Do not know I sent her away,” He gasped, turning on his feet and shuffling to grasp a speared staff, a dagger of sorts that was slid into his front waist sitting sack. “Would… be… unforgiving of Noa… If she is dead.”

Saying it felt awful, leaving an iron-like taste in his mouth that began to dwindle with the scent of your blood hitting the back of his throat. Guilt could reach up and consume him, Noa knew that. He could stop his movements now and decide that… You were dead and going out to find you would garner him nothing other than momentous pain and agony for years to come.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he slammed one of his fists against his thigh and grunted at the dulled vibration that brought to his muscles. Dead or alive, Noa needed to find you. He needed it. He was not afraid. He was, by the highest Eagle in the sky, the long forgotten Elders that were no longer spoken of but still remained in their culture through teachings, the Master of the Birds, and he feared nothing, not even fear itself. 

Eagle Sun seemed to understand the concepting of stealth as he was quiet  upon his Master’s shoulders as Noa drew down the spiraling walkway. Quickened pace, but light on his feet for his weight, Noa dropped immediately to all fours the moment he hit dirt and pushed his body as quickly as it would take him. You were dead, he convinced himself of that, because if you were alive and he found you then at least he could garner some satisfaction. There was none in death, he realized, no satisfaction if he found you not breathing and if he convinced himself that it was that way from the beginning, he didn't need to rack himself with guilt that he was unable to get to you in time. 

Time… Noa snapped bitterly at himself, if he had just given it more time, you’d still be here… With him… Such a foolish thing to do, sending you off on your own. Noa was too proud to admit it for the three months he spent dwelling about it and he was in the deeper throes of self-agonizing hatred that he realized it now, too late. He no longer wanted to spend night after night alone in the Eagle Enclosure, never wanting to admit to even his own Mother that he was plagued with guilt from the loss of his Father and then the loss of you. Noa came to a skidded stop upon arrival at the horse paddock, raising a hand for Eagle Sun to soar into the sky as he grasped Anaya’s horse by the reins and pulled him gently out of his slumber and into the dimly lit stable. 

Good, Noa thought to himself in the scramble, unable to contain the shake of his fists and the twitching that was ravaging his face, Anaya forgot to take the saddle off just like Noa anticipated. Lazy Ape to the rescue, he thanked his friend's personality for that one and trailed outwards, horse in tow. 

There was a distant neigh coming from the East. 

Noa looked up upon that, thinking for a split second that it had been Anaya’s horse protesting being woken up in the middle of the night. Or… Impossible, Noa scolded his wishful thinking, heart racing inside of his chest as he grasped the saddle with one arm, and with one intended swoop of his big frame, he got himself perched upon the animal. Sliding his spear into a purposefully built sheath on the side of the horse, he grasped the reins tightly and prepared to depart at mind-numbing quickness but was torn away from another neigh, this one a bit closer. 

The call was recognizable now. His horse. Frantic, feet beating into the ground and brought shards of Earth up upon impact, harder than Noa’s heart was beating against his ribs which was a feverish pace and left his organs beckoning for a break. No, Noa said. He was going to push himself to the very brink of death if he had to, just to make up for a biased choice that he should have never made out of not understanding the actual implications of the last conversation you had together. Pained, he knew how it felt to run against the hard ground, he suddenly felt empathy for his horse, how afraid she was. Noa tried to keep himself calm but to no avail. He was afraid. He was the Master of the Birds and he was afraid. 

Squinting his eyes towards the sound now, he shuffled Anaya’s horse just a bit to get them to calm down as his own came barreling through the trees and into the field adjacent to where Noa was. Instinctively, Noa was fast to dismount Anaya’s animal and raced towards his own, struggling to get the reins in his hands. Eagle Sun screeched in the air. 

The smell of your blood was hitting every one of his senses now like you were bleeding out right in front of him, his glance spotting the nature of your items still locked in the carriers near the rear of the horse. Given the framed light of the fire stakes around the village and the dimness that he got from the very stars above, Noa was able to see a fresh hand-print of blood atop the brown stallion, right at the cusp of where you needed to grip to get on.

He drifted towards the saddle itself. Blood upon the notch in the front that was also the pressure point you grasped on to. This was smeared, like you had tried to get on but were dragged off before you could get situated. Swallowing hard, he couldn’t put any logic to it other than you had tried to mount her, tried to get away from whatever attack was placed on you and were unable. Realization hit him harder than intended, Noa went flurrying. You couldn’t even get mounted on the horse! You were so weak and injured you couldn’t find it in yourself to get on top so she could bring you back to the Clan. Back to Home. Back to… Him.

Finally, after an intricate dance and having to calm his horse down with words of recognition that they had no means to be afraid any longer, Noa grasped their muzzle in with a tight hold and brought his other hand to the reins. Ceremoniously, his forehead touched the horses before crackling took hold on his ears and petted the side of their head to get them to calm down. Ho stupid Noa was to let you go… How stupid… Immature now… That he… Let you die… A straggled sound left his throat, incredibly guttural in nature and he roared, not a care in the world anymore if he woke up the entire village, the entire valley, the entire Earth. 

He did this to himself. 

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“Do you know what love is?”

Noa’s intense focus on his hands, tightly balling together a piece of twine as he needed to fix Eagle Sun’s mask, was drawn towards you at the draw of your words as you had been lingering near him in the utmost silence, watching as he finnicked around thinned twine with his thicker fingers. Given --- In the three months that you had now been with the Clan, he did not find you much of a talker but he still held on hope that you would eventually warm up to him and finally feel comfortable to say something outside of the realm of the conversations that he always sparked.

 This--- Noa tilted his head minutely, looking at the curve of your lips as you formed the questions, freshly imprinted in his mind as he innately thought that Echo lips were intensely interesting, able to tell many emotions from just that part of the body before he was drawn back into the question, this was new, Noa noted with piqued interested and a small bit of untangled pride hit his abdomen uncomfortably making him shift in his seated position. Noa pressed his lips together into a rather flat line as he contemplated your inquiry. 

“Describe to me.”

It was your turn to find his words encapsulating in every sense of the word. You knew how he talked to Soona and Anaya - Always flirtatious it seemed, brimmed with happiness, jokes and laughter. This was different, the direction of his phrasing that he used with you. Attentive to your emotions, he knew when to use certain inflictions, when to joke and when to soothe if needed. He…

Drawing your bottom lip inwards, Noa watched it for a second and let a small huff leave his nose, he was intuitive. Incredibly so that you felt a small swell of indescribable pressure lingering in your lower navel, right below your belly button as you wanted him to look at you again. He was only intuitive out of need, not want and you needed to convince yourself of that as your stares at each other were becoming more prolonged, you began yearning on the days with Anaya and Soona who had taken to you and began teaching you how to sign that Noa would help you instead. 

Shifting in your seat, you looked off in the distance, trying to find a fixed point where your mind was able to wash itself of the idea that you might start caring for him if he showed even the slightest interest in you. This, after all, you calmed yourself down and drew in deep breaths, was an agreement made to benefit you both. No emotional ties, in fact, Noa often reminded you that you were indeed free to go but you stayed. The reason was not clear, but you found yourself eager in the morning to him to draw you away.

 Your fingers flicked in your lap as you heard Noa growl something to himself along the lines of ‘I cannot get this to stay knotted’ and you watched another fruitless attempt as he started over again, drawing your attention his his mouth when he placed the twine onto his tongue and then pressed his fingers against it to get it to flatten and not fray around the edge. “I---” You stumbled over yourself, suddenly unprepared for the retort that you had gotten. He had to have known what it was… Right? There was love within the Apes. He obviously loved Soona and Anaya, great friends, his Mother, even to an extent, the Elders that he sparsely talked about, and even less known to you was his actual relationship with his Father. “I don’t really know how…”

“Then why ask?” Noa almost sounded amused, his muzzle protruding out a bit in focus as he brought the twine close to his face and bent it into a small circle. Almost… Almost… Growling again, he placed the item down on the bench in front of him and took a deep breath in. 

“I guess its like a bond.” You explained in layman terms. You knew he’d understand, letting your gaze fall on the Eagle that was always watching Noa with the power of a thousand Suns. Maybe, you giggled in your mind and nodded slightly, that’s where his name came from. “Mutual… Respect.” It was your turn to choose your words carefully as you were unsure of which he knew of and which you were going to need to explain, putting a pin in the whole beginning question and going down a deeper rabbit hole.

 “Trust. Affection,” Pausing at that one, you expected Noa to respond with another ‘what is that’ but he didn't, letting his green eyes flush against the twine in front of him as he was very obviously processing what you were saying. “It’s… A feeling. Like, you can’t live without something, like… Thinking about the thing makes you feel…” You touched your chest, right where your heart sat and Noa found that interesting. 

He narrowed his eyes on it as you pattered your fingertip against your heart beat and for a moment of drawn out fantasies, he imagined himself placing his hand there before the shock of his thoughts came barreling down on him when he took note of how your skin seemed to glow in the sun peeking in through the roofing made of thin pieces of woods tied together. Echo skin, he said, always so fragile in itself. Squishy, it appeared. Noa looked away again, puffing his cheeks out. Nothing in him told him to keep looking but he wanted to just in the morbid nature that maybe he could feel your skin with his eyes.

“It makes you feel alive.” Noa’s face contorted into perplexity. He… Was alive. Right then and there as blood pounded through his body from his heart. All the way down to his toes and to the very tips of his finger. Echo phrasing, he scolded you inside of his mind, never made sense. Stupid allegories. 

“Alive?”

“Like you’re an Eagle soaring through the toughest storm to get home to your family.”

Noa nodded, still not quite understanding but willing to accept that that’s what love was to you. 

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Green eyes dilated into black upon the sight of flames erupting from the woods. Not the actual trees themselves, but… From the gait and bounce, it was someone on horseback. A group on horseback. Four, Noa was able to detect as they came to the cusp of the woods and made themselves known. Echo.

Noa’s stomach hurdled like he was going to get sick, flashing back to the night that he was too terrified to face his own Death when Sylva’s… Proximus’ hand came down on his village and destroyed them, ripping the very foundations of the clan and customs into shreds, only now a year later have they finally learned to prosper and to be unafraid of the nights that surrounded tem. Noa was unable to face it then, unable to get there quick enough to warn. His hands balled into a fist as Anaya came on his right side, followed moments later by Soona who was asking what happened - Having heard the shattering roar Noa released less than a minute ago. 

Soona’s question wasn’t worth an answer as her eyes trailed where Noa was watching, the overpowering scent of blood mixed with sadistic means came to flourish against all their noses, a powerful waft from the Echo that had just arrived. Without hesitation, hackles arose along their body, fur bristling to the brim at the arrival. You--- Noa snarled, hunching his shoulders more aggressively as he released his horse. You brought Echo! 

After all this time… You were still just a disgusting low… Human. Noa growled again, baring his fangs as he tore his gaze between the Echo in front of him.  What was he expecting? A bed full of roses, you laying right in the middle of it? No! His mind yelled at him, scratching at the inside of his skull as aggression started to unfold. He was surely a dumb Ape, your words not his, to even comprehend that there was ever any good in you. His horse fled, going towards Anaya’s for comfort. The pair touched noses with each other, Noa saw it out of the corner of his eye but the affection made him all the more rigid with carnal and defensive strides. His breathing was hard, still through his nose and he sensed his friends next to him hunch onto all fours, ready to defend and attack when Noa gave the word. Soona thought for a second - she was able to go grasp her sling and a few rocks to inflict more damage, but she’d be okay using her teeth, hands and brute strength. Anaya was more than okay with the same premise as Soona, but did entertain the notion of grasping the spear from his horse that Noa had grabbed earlier. 

“We brought your little pet home.” 

Noa thought they were alluding to his horse, letting his eyes flicker to her for a moment before he was thrusted back into the Echo in front of them, their pace steady and slow as the horses trotted inwards towards the Clan. There was laughter from a female behind the male who was leading the pack as she twisted her body, contorting enough to light one of the huts on the outskirts, this one used for making threads and cloths, ablaze with the touch of the torch. Noa lurched at that, going only two feet forward as he barked at them, a bid to get them either to stop or to submit. Their choice. But, the option of not stopping was always an option and it appeared they were choosing that.

 ‘Two females, two males.’ Noa signed silently at Soona and Anaya who gave each other an understanding gaze. Always a benefit of knowing signs. You had the advantage of silent communications. 

The male, stocky in build, Noa decided was going to be the first to take down. Take down the Leader, the rest are sure to follow and he knew that from experience. The man’s horse --- Noa would be able to take the feet down or he could lunge straight at the Echo atop the animal, the muscles in his thighs tightened in anticipation. 

“Oh,” He laughed this time, watching the crackling flame of the hut that had been set on fire with acute and smiling eyes. Amused. Noa’s brow drew in on itself at the reaction, head tilting to the side. “You think I mean the horse.” 

Fauxly, he slapped his forehead and with a raise of his hand, alerting the three Apes to adverse danger, the man snapped his fingers, the sound mixing with the reverb from the flames themselves “Almost forgot. Horses are your equals, I was talking about this delectable little fireball.” 

You came into vision, being trailed by a female and a male on foot. 6 in total now, they had been obscured by the rest of the party. Feet sliding against the ground, arms dangling as that was the appendage you were being dragged along by.  Noa was able to see the blood that was dancing behind you from both of your calves, mouth suddenly going dry at that. It was apparent from the bobbing of your head, forwards only, back and forth like you were looking at the ground and nodding, that you were unconscious. 

“You know, I didn't think you Apes kept humans as pets? Did you teach her any good tricks?” The smile was arrogant and dripping with implications that Noa himself did not fully understand. 

Noa looked for a sign that you were breathing anything--- He yearned just to see the shape of your shoulders rising and falling but as you were literally dragged out as a display, it was hard to garner your movements versus the rough handling you were brought forward with. “Hard to tell if this one is yours though, no collar or anything to bring it back to its owner.” 

You were grasped by your hair and brought upwards to dangle, your toes barely scraping the ground, face finally coming to fruition for Noa to see and he… Wished he hadn’t. There were cuts along your chin and lips, swelling along your right eye and a pretty deep gash along the left of your cheek, from a weapon of sorts Noa had to figure it was not made by the usual tussling of fighting with hands. “ It’s a really pretty one, I hate to give it back, you know, with humanity dying and such…” Noa had no idea he had even stopped breathing upon seeing you, his breath falling out of his nose hard at the first exhalation he had at the last minute. There was crested blood along your hairline, presumably from a blunted weapon that caused you to black out, mixing grotesquely with mud and twigs from the ground below. You had fought, it was evident in the scratches he could see on your knuckles and some on the softer nature of your palms.

He had… done this… Noa drew in a bit more, a foot this time and tried to find your eyes but they were sealed shut from intense swelling. Subconsciously, upon feeling your hair getting tugged so hard, your lip did twitch giving a minor indication to him that you were alive. Noa saw nothing but red once he gauged your body and looked upwards towards the man, saliva licking inside of his mouth in preparation of sinking his canines into the Echo’s neck. 

“We don’t really kill other humans, hope you understand why we didn't finish the job. She’s all yours.”

You were tossed forward, lifelessly sitting only a meter in front of Noa now. Nothing more than a heap of tangled and ripped clothing, your fingernails coated in mud from the desperation you felt trying to crawl away from the attack on your legs. He watched it, the way your body crunched onto the ground below with an absolutely stomach churning sound. His lips parted, he knew that Anaya and Soona were questioning Noa’s motives, it becoming more and more clear that he had let this happen and as a consequence, Echo were now here to take what they wanted. 

‘Soona,’ Noa signed, looking over at her from his periphery. She tensed at the attention that was called to her as he got her full eyes on him with a click of his tongue. His signing was fastened and blurred, but it got the point across. ‘Grab my Echo.' Noa felt assured in that. His. ‘Take some place safe, then get Mother and help others to safety.’

Noa was prepared this time, his chest swelling as he looked over towards his other friend as Soona hunched onto all fours, cautious at first as she grasped hold of you, able with her enhanced strength to actually hike you up and trail somewhere. Anywhere. Noa watched with anticipation as you were taken by Soona, away into the woods somewhere in hopes that you would be alright. Just like you had said to him so long ago… Like an Eagle flying through the toughest storm… You were home, just not the way that Noa wanted.

‘Anaya, with Noa. Wait for command. Anaya go right.' Noa tilted his head and studied the man in front of him.

'I go right.'

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・●・○・ TAGLIST:

@ohwaitimthewriter @hera-annwn @saturnnie-03 @filliandkili

@hadesbabygurl @supergoat12 @moonchild1433

@kaenalsha @unsteady-bitch @whamsworld

@yummyfanta @nuhteyam @babylockley @edynmeyer1  @callsignwidow  @moonlightnyx

[luvxoxo]

Q. what is love? what does love mean to you?

synopsis: asking jjk men personal questions that they have to answer honestly

part 1 of my : jujutsu kaisen interview series

includes : Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Megumi, Yuji

Gojo: he makes himself comfortable on the chair behind him, humming as he feels the softness of the seat. he inhales deeply before answering, "love is.. it is a feeling unlike any other. It is an overwhelming desire for the individual you hold close to you. It is a need that you feel to be with someone, to make them realize how precious they are, even if the world fails to see them" he pauses for a second to collect his thoughts "love is the feeling that drives us to our very core, and it cannot be denied. It’s a feeling that words can’t quite convey. There’s a lot to love, it’s hard to put into words. Love is…it is necessary to me"

you smile, hearing such an honest answer. "that was marvellous" you cannot help but let the compliment escape. Gojo grins and shrugs his shoulders "i try my best"

"Then allow me to ask you the following question, what does love mean to you?”

he hums, thinking of an honest answer "hmm if i had to put it briefly, it would be this: love is like a flame burning deep within my heart. It’s something that will never extinguish, and will always be present, no matter what happens. It will never burn out, you know? Love is like my very soul. It is me and i am it. If i lose it, then i have nothing left. I could not go on, if i were to lose that flame of mine"

Geto: he takes the time to swiftly wrap his luscious hair in a bun. "i have mixed thoughts and feelings about this question, is that alright?”

You nod smiling, encouraging him to answer

he grins, there’s a hint of sadness to it "love is strange and mysterious. It is not easy to define, and everyone can have different definitions of love. For some, love is a feeling of deep affection. For others, it can be a feeling of great joy and happiness. But love can also be quite painful. It can cause one to feel hurt. Sometimes it can cause one to feel lonely, and incomplete"

"seems as if, your answers are quite logical suguru" you say, observing him

Geto hums and nods his head, agreeing with you "that’s my view on it at least"

"well then allow me to ask you the next question, what does love mean to you personally?”

Geto leans back crossing his arms, thinking. "Love? You know that’s a complex question. Love to me is a bond. It is loyalty and admiration tied into a neat little bow. It’s much more than something like "attraction" or "lust"

he lets out a little laugh, looking away "but ultimately, love, in one word: loyalty"

Nanami: he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and leans back on the sofa comfortably, deep in thought. "the emotion of love is intricate and difficult to capture in simple language. Love has many different categories. Love can be romantic, familial, platonic, or even a love of something, like a hobby, sport, or a profession. Love is often seen as a positive motivating force and is a common theme in literature and art. This is only my humble understanding of the concept of love, though"

"that’s an interesting explanation actually. Perhaps the next question will allow you to answer more freely" nanami nods his head "What does love mean to you Nanami?”

Nanami's tone becomes quite serious and sincere. "Love is something I've always felt, but for the longest time it was something I could not truly understand. I love my friends, family, and the things and activities I enjoy the most, but there's a part of me that feels I'm missing something. I haven’t felt romantic love yet, and while it hasn't discouraged me, it has always made me wonder about the true meaning of love. It is something I hold close to my heart, and it is something I wish to find someday"

he pauses for a moment, contemplating his next words "There's a lot I could say about love. I don't think I've ever experienced it on a deep and personal level, only loving people from afar. I've tried to understand the concept of love, but I feel as though I will never truly comprehend it, even if I felt strong romantic feelings for someone. I just know it’s something that I'm striving for, something that I'm constantly working towards. It's not easy, but it is something I deeply want"

Toji: he gently grazes his fingers on his scar and then, he smirks. in a cocky manner, he manspreads on the sofa. "I don’t do feelings. Love is a weakness people like you shouldn’t indulge in when there’s a whole world out there that requires your attention. Love is dangerous, kid. It can bring you to your knees"

you feel annoyance creeping up at him calling you a kid. you force a smile on your face. he grins, seeming to notice your change in attitude.

"Would you mind elaborating a bit on that answer Mr Fushiguro?”

"Well, it’s like a drug really. It affects everyone differently. For some, love makes them weak and unable to act. Others become filled with a strong hatred towards the person they love. Some even fall ill and die from loving too much. Love is a fickle thing… a dangerous thing, and it ain’t for me. I guess you could call love my number 1 enemy. It’s a weakness that clouds a person’s judgement"

you nod your head, understanding his different point of view.

"I see. I’d still like to know though, what does love mean to you then? Is your answer still the same?”

his eyes avert to the ground, seemingly lost in thought till he speaks up again "Well if I were to describe it" he pauses before responding "I don’t know. But when I see other people who love each other, I feel I have understood what that feeling is. Maybe love isn’t just being obsessed with someone or wanting to be with them. It’s a lot of feelings put together. It’s a feeling you can’t describe. But sometimes you have to use your head and do the logical thing, not chase love or any of that nonsense. Sometimes the heart wants what it wants"

Megumi: he is instantly surprised by the question. It’s clear he was expecting everything except for this. "Oh well," he thinks for a moment "For me, love is the feeling of affection for someone or something you care about. In my opinion, love is when you want to be with someone and have their backs, no matter what or despite everything. You're also willing to do anything for the person you love. It doesn't mean, however, that you're gonna be possessive and obsessive. Love is more than just simple feelings. It's a connection, a commitment between two people." he says with a small smile on his face. it’s unusual for him to soften up like this.

you stare at him, astonished as to how he explained the concept of love in such a simle way "wonderfully said. then Megumi, what does love mean to you?”

he looks down at his hands, trying to gather his thoughts "I think my definition might be a little bit different from the one I already gave you. I think I'd define love as ‘a preciousness’. A preciousness that you want to treasure and protect. Something that you don't want to let go and will do anything to keep"

Yuji: he is perhaps, the most energetic out of the rest. he seems ready and eager to answer your questions. “love is something I still don’t quite understand yet. I guess to me, love is something that goes both ways. Both giving and receiving. I’ve learned that’s important. So, to love someone is to care about them, and to want to see them happy the way they want to see you happy.” he finishes with a bright smile

your heart warms at how pure his words feel. you cant help but smile along with him "im curious for your next answer. What does love mean to you Yuji?”

Yuji takes a deep breath. He looks up at you nervously "my answer is going to be really short, is that okay?" you smile and nod, signalling that that’s more than okay

"love, to me, is something more than a feeling. It’s an action. You can’t just say that you love someone. you have to show it with your actions as well. if someone loves someone, but they don’t do anything to show it, the other person won’t know. They won’t know how much you love and care for them.”

ⓒ all rights reserved. don't plagiarize my work or translate it!

Reblogs are appreciated 🫶🏽

[thekingofwinterblog]

Franken Stein - Anime Vs Manga - Foils

As I've noted before, one of the more facinating things about comparing the later Soul Eater Anime vs the later Manga part is seeing and comparing the ways characters and themes follow similar lines, sometimes with wildly different outcomes, or quality of execution.

And one of the more interesting examples of this is how each incarnation handles Dr Franken Stein's descent into madness, and ultimately rejecting the abyss in it's own ways.

Both rely heavily on foils and contrasts, with the Anime using Stein's lovelife by contrasting his feelings for Marie Mjolnir with his deeply unhealthy attraction to Medusa, while the Manga uses the character of Justin Law to showcase why Stein ultimately rejected total madness.

Both have the same themes, but uses wildly different means to tell their story.

The anime's biggest difference here is that it actually has Stein fall to madness, while in the manga despite all temptations, and just how close he dances at the endge he never falls in.

This by it's very nature changes Stein's story to one of recovery, rather than temptation.

Because Anime Stein gives in, and the anime is not shy about illustrating just what a terrible choice doing so is.

The anime is also different in that it very much builds upon already established character and storylines in order to tell it's tale.

The anime takes the plotpoint of Crona betraying Stein to Medusa, and uses it as a springboard to further both Marie and Crona's characters as they deal with the aftermath of that choice.

This ultimately would likely not have happened if Crona had not fallen back into obeying Medusa again, and so Thematically, Crona's fate and redepmtion is tied to Stein's.

And while Crona is deeply, deeply regretful, Marie loves Stein and so deeply, deeply angry at both Crona and Medusa, while also wanting to reacue Stein.

However, this is just one side of the story, because Stein's actual fall is also rooted in the other character motivation that this direction uses to tell this tale.

And that is Medusa and her genuine, and toxic attraction to Stein.

Stein and Medusa ultimately are very similar people, both love taking things apary, both love chaos, and both are brilliant minds.

Their attraction to each others qualities are genuine... But that is all it is. Attraction. There is no love involved here, as neither actually cares about the other as a person.

These two only compliments the other in that they bring out the absolute worst aspects about the other. It is a relationship built on perverse attraction to their love for destrution and hedonism, very much a mirrior to Maka and Crona, who ends up being very important to this section of the story.

It is also a relationship built upon being the easy road. Whereas all the healthy relationships in the series are built around having to take the hard road with your loved ones, even when it hurts, medusa represents Stein just giving in to his madness, to jump off the abyss because he sees something destructive, tempting and interesting there.

Medusa additionally takes this a step into even further depravity by adding body possession into the mix, adding a third party into this mess, one withouth any capacity for concent... Which is made even worse by the fact that the person in question is a child.

Watching medusa and how much joy she takes in having twisted Stein to her will, it is crystal clear that she not only understands just how fucked up this entire thing is, but she REVELS in it.

It is frankly one of the most disturbing things in shonen anime and manga fiction period, and though thankfully it does not go all the way to the logical and disguisting endpoint, it still leaves the viewer both disguisted, disturbed and impressed just how EVIL Medusa really is.

And on the opposite end of the spectrum, we have Marie Mjolnir.

Whereas Medusa represents everything wrong about Stein's personality, Marie represents the opposite.

She represents Stein's caring side, his loyalty to his side and students, the man who was brave enough to stand alone against Medusa to buy his students time.

Hers and Stein's relationahip was one of genuine love, and understanding, not simply built on nothing but attraction and shared similarities.

Quite the the opposite, Stein and Marie could not be more different... And yet they love each other anyway.

I'll also note that the Anime portrays Marie and Stein's relationship in a different light than the manga does. In the manga, the entire point is to hammer in just how unlikely that these two people could ever fall for the other, while the Anime has the same premise but focuses on something else, namely how well this fits into Soul Eater's themes of different people coming together despite all their many, many differences.

When Stein ultimately makes the choice to go back to Marie, it doesnt feel like it's an unlikely choice, but instead one feels that it's the right one. It feels natural, that these two souls that fell away from each other once more found the other.

They are different people... But so what? They both have the bravery to gice this another shot, because they care about each other.

Also, just a bit of speculation on my part, but we never actually learn how Marie lost her eye in the phsyical world, but it shows up here, when she and Stein reaffirm their bond. That augfests to me that Marie probably lost the eye in circumstances that in some way meant something deep and profound between these two, given how important it seems to Stein.

If so, and especially if her losing it was Stein's fault in the first place, and mayhaps the reason they broke up, would add even more weight to her choice to gice this another go, forgiving him for his mistakes which deeply hurt her personally.

But again, this is total speculation.

Ultimately the Anime take on Stein is one that is defined by this contrast, the parallels and mirrors of Medusa and Marie, and Stein's ultimate choices between them.

Meanwhile, the Manga's foils is not between two differen people close to Stein, but instead about Stein himself as a mirror and foil to Justin Law.

Now let me be blunt. Justin Law is a very boring villain. There is very little compelling about him directly... But there is something compelling about the contrast between him and Stein.

Justin fell to madness because despite his rigid adherence to justice, honor and being a good person, he completely, and totally rejected any and all human bonds, with the only ones he made being made by complete accident, and ultimately he, in his madness, rejected even these.

He had no one to support him or draw strength from in his time of need, and so he fell to madness.

Meanwhile, Stein, despite being far, far more naturally inclined and much closer to madness from the get go, ultimately does not jump over the edge in the Manga... And the reason for that is his relationship with Marie Mjolner.

Ultimately Stein despite all his flaws devotes himself to Marie and helping her avenge her dead ex boyfriend.

And ultimately these two end up reconnecting their love just the anime, even to the degree that they get much further along in their reknit relationship than their manga counterparts.

However there are some massive differences between the two adaptions in this regard.

While the anime plays them getting back together again as a natural thing, the Manga instead plays up just how unbelievable and insane it is that these two somehow managed to reknit their relationahip, to the point where Marie actually protests that Stein is not her boyfriend, even as she is pregnant with his child.

I do actually like this take too... But I do prefer the Anime version, in large part because we actually get to see The critical turning point between Marie and stein, while the manga has their lighting the old flame happen offscreen.

It also helps that while the thematic differences between stein and Law are solid, Law is not a particularily interesting character, nor do him and Law have a deep connection.

Medusa is, and does have that connection. She is a delightfully EVIL and TWISTED villain, and her relationship with Stein makes the climax of Stain's arc, if much less of a spectacle, a much more emotional and thematically satisfying affair.

And thats even withouth factoring in the fact that this fight's outcome is actually about Crona, Maka and Medusa. Stein's fall and recovery is technically the sideplot, buy damn if it's not a great one.

[gavisuntiedboot]

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 8

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue

Warnings: ANGST! Idk if it's actually that angsty but I made myself sad. Very very brief mentions of kind of hurting yourself but not really? I actually can't remember what I wrote so if I miss something that needs a warning pls lmk

Word Count: 16.0k (fun fact: if you've read the whole series, you've read 105 pages single space)

A/N: y'all it's literally almost 1 am but I need to start this before I get crucified by the cult following I have created with this series. GIF credit @gavidaily

"You... are considering leaving Barca?"

Xavi looked at you with one brow raised. The same girl that had been fighting for her position at the club just 6 weeks prior was now thinking of quitting her job?

"You know Miss y/l/n, we are about to lose Antonio, and with how hard we push our players, we need to retain the largest amount of medical talent possible. You know that we think extremely highly of you and your ability, which is why you were selected specifically for this role. What can we do to make the job here at Barça more compelling than that of other clubs?”

You took a deep breath. You knew this question was coming. You had worked jobs and been in negotiations before. It would be a lot more expensive for them to hire someone new than to just give in to what they predicted would be a demanded increase in pay.

You looked at your lap, sighing with the weight of the feelings you had carried for God knows how long. It had sat on your subconscious, but was now bubbling to the surface, too powerful to be stopped. “Honestly, mister, I don’t think there’s anything that can be done.”

There’s a funny thing about women letting go. Some people call it the severance theory. Men are heavily guided by their emotions, contrary to popular belief. In a fit of rage they are capable of anything: screaming, blows - any number of crimes of passion. So when an extreme emotion overcomes them, be it sadness or anger or fear, they can end a relationship suddenly. Once they return to a base state of logic, that’s when the crawling back and groveling begins. Because they come to realize that her absence is a stronger pain than whatever drove him away. They exist in binary states: zeroes and ones. Either hatred or love. They don’t understand gradients or in-betweens. They don’t understand that there is another person who must also decide to return to the relationship.

Women on the other hand are much more resilient. It’s why we find the most gorgeous muses with the slimiest excuses for boyfriends. A woman will fall in love not with what she sees, but rather what she hears. What she is told. All the flowery, lovely promises about a glowning future, that’s what she clings to in the midst of a gray and bleak present. The soft whispers of “I love you” and “I don’t know how I would live without you” act as bandages, plugging the gaping wounds left by his actions. But her resolve slips the longer those promises go unfulfilled. The longer those holes go unfilled. She begins to see the truth of her situation, and realizes that the road she’s skipped down is a dead end. She imagines once again. She thinks of all the possible ways that he could change and be the man she wants. She searches for glimpses of it in his words, his movement, his aura. She does the silliest, most foolish thing a woman can do: she hopes. She holds on until not even her delusions can be a comfort. She realizes that there is no way for her to be happy with this man. That’s when she finally leaves. There’s no groveling, no tears, no remorse. It’s a clean severance of dead weight. She’s empty, and it lightens her being enough for her to walk away. There is no way to save it. The bridge has been burned and she was gone forever.

The funny part was, this didn’t just apply to men. That’s the thing about emptiness: it consumes everything. Loneliness is a black hole that swallows every ray of light that it encounters. That was your life recently. No light and no joy - not even sadness. You couldn’t feel anything strongly anymore. You picked up little habits to try and feel. You heated your food to scalding temperatures just to feel the heat on your lips. Your showers were icy, the pinpricks distracting you from the desire to cry. You no longer felt strong anger or desire or really anything. The color was slowly draining from your life, grays and sepias replacing the once vibrant existence around you. The beauty around you had mangled into gnarly trees and threatening uncertainty as you foolishly waited for the sun to peak through. But it had abandoned you. The sun had taken its rays and warmth elsewhere, almost mocking you as you shivered in the dirt. So maybe it was time to crate your own light: burn down the forest and start anew.

“Nothing? La, that can’t be true Doctora.”

Your eyes shot up at the title. There was, in fact, one feeling that you still sensed: pain. You could still feel physically pain, and inflicted it on yourself often just to experience an emotion. But nothing could compare to the sharp stabs and dull aches that lived in your heart. It was hard to look at Gavi without feeling like you wanted to fall on your knees. Realizing that you were in love was not beautiful or romantic. It was torturous, like snakes and thorns taking home in your throat. Reality was the salt in the wound; the knowledge that you two were destined to fail before you had began was a pill too big to swallow, suffocating you instead.

“If I can be honest, mister, I don’t feel like I belong here at Barça. I’ve been here for six months and I still don’t feel like part of the team. Maybe it’s just not a good environment or fit for me. That’s not something that can be fixed with just a salary increase. I just can’t tell if this is the place for me.”

Xavi looked at you, bringing his elbows to rest on the table and interlocking his fingers. He wanted to adamantly refuse, but there was truth to what you said. It was evident that there was a disconnect between you and the general environment of the team. You were close to some of the younger players, but had difficulty gaining the trust and respect of the older crowd and the medical staff. Your ideas for treatment were too modern - too far removed from what everyone else was used to. Hell, you were upsetting one of his players, and that was the opposite of your job as the support staff. But he would by lying if he said you weren't effective. The plan for Dembele that you had first presented got the striker back on the field weeks earlier than any other predictions. Your diligent maintenance had prevented players from getting injured as often, keeping the ones you were closest to on a strict exercise regimen, ensuring their continuous improvement. He cared for his players and his club. And if you were the miracle cure to keeping them healthy and playing, then he was going to keep you there, even if he had to tie you to the columns of Camp Nou.

"There must be something we can do to keep you. You're very familiar with the players and the equipment, as well as the workflow, and you're very good at your work. Hell, Gavi hasn't even had a cough since you started here, and he's quite accident-prone. Please let me know what I can possibly do to keep you with us."

"I really am not being shy or sneaky. I really have no demands. When then team heads to the UK for the game against Man U, I will visit the Chelsea facility and meet the staff. If I like what I see, I'll be moving there. I'm just... not happy here anymore."

There it was. The confession you had not even made to yourself. You were at the club of your dreams, living everything that your younger self had always wanted, and you just could not be happy. This was a disappointment that was hard to describe. Everyone always talks about shooting for the moon, but no one talks about what happens when you actually make it there. You work hard and your dreams become a reality: you're on the moon! But the moon is so, so far from Earth. And when you're cold and lonely and looking down on all of the people that could be loving you, then the moon doesn't seem so worth it anymore. When you realize the moon is just a rock, then what hope do you have left?

Thinking back, you recalled all the people that you pushed away to further your career goals. You think of the family gatherings and events that you missed to study and work. You think of all the friends you have lost touch with because they were never a priority. They were never smart or driven enough to keep up with you, and so they were left in the dust. You had a few, but none you could confidently say would pick up a call from you at 2am if you needed help. Boyfriends were even worse. Since your heartbreak in college, men had fallen to the wayside. You justified it to yourself, saying that you just needed to be successful, and you would attract someone at your level. Someone who wanted an equal. But here you were: alone, depressed, and thinking of running away from what you once thought was your life's purpose.

Before Xavi could respond, a loud thud from the hallway distracted the two of you, followed by shouts that chilled your blood.

"Gavi!"

You were out of your seat in seconds. There was no force that could stop you, feet and hands moving on their own accord as you entered the hall and laid eyes on the body on the floor. There was no air in your lungs or your larynx to make a sound, let alone scream.

Why was Gavi on the floor?

Your hearing was shot, like you were underwater. The faces of those surrounding were panicked, and all eyes were on you, shouts and points and calls for action flying straight over your head.

Why was Gavi on the floor?

Your stomach was twisting itself into elaborate knots, coiling tighter while pushing the bile further up your throat. Your eyes went in and out of focus, willing the scene in front of you to disappear. You blinked hard hoping for the image to change when your eyes opened again.

Why was Gavi on the floor?

"Doctora, please look at Pablo - he collapsed suddenly and we need to make sure he doesn't have a head injury. Move!" It was Antonio's hands on your shoulders and shouts that finally got you to move from your frozen position.

Kneeling over, Gavi looked even worse. His skin was pale, and he was crumpled like an aluminum can - limbs everywhere, like his life force had just abandoned him. You had to remove Gavi from the situation and pretend he was a practice dummy at school. You had to pretend he was plastic and rubber, because that's the only way you could go through head injury protocols with a calm mind. He couldn't be Pablo, because if he was, then the thought would have to fester in your head: Pablo was hurt when you had been distant. He was hurt because you had been distant. Worst case scenario, he could disappear from your life now, all because you hadn't been able to handle the proximity like a normal person. Your thoughts were spiraling now, painting scenarios of death and disease and making it even harder for you to stop the tremble in your hands.

But you had decided that his cold heap of flesh before you wasn't Gavi. It couldn't be. It wasn't even a person. You recited the head injury checklist under your breath: consciousness, breathing, vision, vomiting. Placing a hand on Gavi's neck, you felt a pulse, stopping you from performing CPR. The last thing you needed to do was unnecessarily crack a rib. You shook him several times, and received no response.

"Shine a light in his eyes!" "Shake him harder!" "Should we pour water on him? Get some water!" "You're not yelling his name loudly enough!"

You ignored the shouts of the peanut gallery, repeating the list like a mantra in your head. You would have time later to be angry at the staff for their utter uselessness in the situation, but right now, you just needed to keep going. Blood was pounding in your ears as you opened one of his eyelids. Consciousness, breathing, vision, vomiting. It snapped back into place, and Pablo's face was now in view. Other than his pale complexion, he looked perfectly at peace. His face was identical to the night you had spent sleeping next to him - sleeping atop him. His breathing was deep, as if he had spontaneously fallen asleep in the middle of the hallway. He was beautiful. And for the first time in days, it had allowed you to be filled with a warmth somewhat foreign to you now. Pablo was in your arms and beautiful, and you could not imagine how you were meant to go on with life seeing him every day and being denied this privilege. You didn't allow yourself to dwell on the thought. Breathing? Yes. Consciousness? No. That needed to be remedied.

"Pablo, if you can wake up now, it would be really helpful. Otherwise I'm going to have to cause you a lot of pain."

You waited for a response, but none came. You sighed deeply, moving your hands from the supple skin of his cheeks downwards, gripping the hem of his shirt and pulling it upwards, exposing the expanse of his chest. You made out the sounds of taunting and whistles, but they were promptly silenced by staff who reminded the crowd that this was not an appropriate moment for jokes. Forming a fist, you placed your knuckles on the center of Pablo's chest, pushing down and rubbing. Hard. His eyes shot open within seconds, and he threw your hand off, howling in pain. His breathing was shallow and panicked, vision erratic as teammates, coaches, and other staff all yelled questions and instructions at him.

"Everybody shut up! Let me do my job."

That was the voice he needed to hear. As the yells settled to murmurs, his breathing slowed and he began to see more clearly. His eyes fully focused on you, and it soothed the ache in his chest. His heart was racing faster than he had ever felt, causing Pablo to grab onto your shoulders to ground himself.

"Pablo, can you hear me?"

You were here. You were real. He could still hold you and feel you. He nodded slowly, not trusting himself to speak. The nausea that he had felt before he blacked out still lingered, and the last thing he wanted to do was projectile vomit on you. He flinched slightly at the feeling of your hand returning to his face, but settled quickly, listening hard to your instructions. There was nothing easier than focusing on the sound of your voice.

"Look at me." You said, shining a light in Gavi's eyes, checking for any hemorrhaging or internal bleeding. What a silly request, he thought to himself, squinting under the brightness. How could he look anywhere else when you were in the room? How could he ever tear his eyes from you? How could he waste a single second of you before him, especially with the prospect of you leaving at the end of the month looming?

"No bleeding. Are you experiencing any double vision?"

A headshake no. You instructed someone behind you to grab a bottle of water, and then turned back to Pablo.

"Good. What is your name?"

Gavi swallowed thickly, and took a deep breath before speaking. "My name is Pablo Gavi."

"Good. And who am I?"

"Ah don't worry, Doctora. Even with amnesia, I could never forget you." There was that stabbing feeling in your chest again. That feeling that accompanied Pablo's sweet words and kind eyes. The cold shard of reality that reminded you that he would fade away into an Instagram mutual in a matter of months.

"Alright, Gavi. No internal bleeding and no memory loss. We need to go through more of the concussion protocols and make sure you're okay, but we can do this in my office. Are you okay to stand?"

After a curt nod, you helped Pablo stand, and began walking with him towards your office. You informed Xavi of the next steps, and he told you to do whatever necessary to make sure his 'golden angry bird' was okay. But of course, you could never know a day of peace, as each one must be filled with the noise pollution that was Ferran's voice.

"If the door isn't open, just know that Pablito isn't moaning in pain." A round of snickers was heard from both players and staff. But before they had time to add on to the nasty comment, you swiveled around to face the group. You were seething with anger, and one very important realization came to the center of your mind.

You had nothing left to lose.

It was Pablo Torre who was closest to you, and he was the person that received the start of your wrath.

"What the hell are you laughing at? The fact that your teammate could have serious head trauma? Or at the fact that, with Gavi potentially out of commission, they might take you off the bench long enough for you to remember what grass feels like?"

He was silent instantly, eyes wide. He had never received words this harsh from anyone at the club. Or anyone not on Twitter. You turned to two more assistant physios, Luca and Gabriel, who stood next to him, still muttering to one another in hushed tones.

"And you two! Do you want to know why everyone has to rush and get me whenever someone hits their head? Because out of everyone here, I'm the only one that knows proper concussion protocols and how to identify trauma. I have more medical knowledge in my fingernail than in both of your heads combined. I have to take him to my office because you two are incompetent at your jobs! And instead of doing anything useful, this is how you occupy your time: slacking, cigarette breaks, speculating who I'm sleeping with, and doing absolutely jack shit when a player gets injured. So keep giggling like school girls. I can't wait to see you both giggling on the street corner while begging for spare change."

You held Gavi harshly, storming off to your office. Your speed and the bounce was making him nauseous, but he knew better than to speak in this moment. His chest had swelled with pride. He was patiently waiting for the day that you would put the guys in their place. None of them were bad people - it had just been a while since most of them interacted with a woman they didn't want to sleep with. Gavi loved that you were capable of defending yourself, but could not ignore the part of him that wanted to be the one to defend you.

Call it a toxic trait if you want, but Pablo had always taken pride in his ability to intimidate. He had eventually come to terms with the fact that he was done growing at a sweet 5'7, despite his desire to break at least 5'9 (because his friend Hanna at La Masia told him that was the shortest a girl would go for. Looking back, taking this information from a 5'10 female footballer was probably not the best idea he's ever had). It had taken a while, but after weeks of daily affirmations in the mirror about how short Messi was, he held his chin higher. Once he started receiving praise from fellow players, coaches, and media, Pablo gained more confidence in the fact that he could be part of the next generation of great Barcelona football. This allowed him to go up against any player with no worries or fear, winning headers against people with a foot of height on him. Pablo began building his upper body in the gym as well, compensating with strength. A broad and reckless teenager, there was almost no one he wasn't ready to take on.

He sensed that same quality in you as well: a desire to prove yourself, no matter the cost. But he didn't want you to. He never wanted to see you scowl or have to hear you yell (despite it being semi-hot). Pablo wanted to be your knight, whose sole purpose in life was making sure that you never experienced feelings but joy and pleasure. He wanted others to go through him before daring to speak to you. Because how could every person just have access to the beauty that is you? To the radiant soul and shimmering aura that fills the room? How could he be content with you shouldering the burdens of living in this world? Even if he never got to have you romantically, Pablo wanted to shield you from every harm in the world. And not a day went by when he didn't feel it.

This was one of those moments. He wished he was able to verbally berate Ferran for the garbage he spewed on a regular basis, but he could do nothing except let himself be dragged by you through the halls of the sports center until they reached your office, where he was promptly flung towards the exam table. He watched as you brought him your small office trash can, setting it beside the bed. He was brought back to your first month at Barca, when he had challenged you and been proven wrong. There was a confidence in yourself and your abilities that had dissipated from then to now. Pablo smiled stupidly as he remembered the excruciating pain and discomfort of trying not to throw up in front of the pretty physio. If only he had known then that it was nothing compared to the pain of holding back these feelings.

"Lay down on the bed. Look up at the ceiling. If you need to vomit, do it in there." You instructed curtly before moving to sit at your computer. Short nails clicked harshly against the raised keyboard, keys slamming down rapidly, sound reverberating around the room. Gavi wanted so desperately to flip over, lay on his stomach and stare at you. Just to see the curves of your face and the way your eyes reflected the light. But he looked up at the ceiling like you asked, more worried about pushing you further away than watching you type. He took several deep breaths. This didn’t feel like the last time he was concussed. Last time, he had felt his brain rattle against his skull, waves of nausea starting immediately. His head ad throbbed, spots forming on his vision. His jaw was clenched, and he could’ve sworn there was a crack down the center of his cranium, blood oozing out of it onto the practice pitch.

He remembered that day so vividly despite the head trauma. He had been livid, Ferran dragging him to a new and inexperienced physio. Gavi had interpreted it as sabotage to that Ferran could get the left wing back. And then he saw you. Angry that he was he wasn’t receiving treatment by the best, he couldn’t say he was upset to look at you. You were a stunning kind of beauty, young and lively and clad in cool gray scrubs. But you were three years older than him, wildly advanced and talented, and he couldn’t swallow his pride - especially not with this nausea. He could not swallow the fact that you looked so damn familiar. He had seen you somewhere before: those eyes had looked at him with that same distress and concern. But he could not place it for the life of him.

Pablo thought back to how sweet you had been to him that day. How you had encouraged him to take pride in himself and be confident in the fact that he deserved all the success he had seen. He was so overwhelmed that day. His brain was absolute porridge, and he was doing his best for it not to pour out of his ears, all while his cheeks burned under your gaze. He was too preoccupied by his desire to muster one ounce of hatred to replace the overwhelming admiration in his brain that he could not determine where the hell he had seen you before.

And now here he was, once again staring at the ceiling, head throbbing, and the thought came to him again: why did you look familiar? Despite having known you for half a year now, the feeling that there was history had not left him. It wasn't that you had a common face. There was something about the way you looked at him, with a knowing and sadness, that touched a part of his soul. Like you knew things he had never even admitted to himself. While he thought that was just your way of being, he was coming to realize that look was one reserved specifically for Pablo. Now he wasn't nauseous, and focused on the rhythmic sounds of keys being slammed. He poised himself to ask a question, but not the one gnawing at his brain.

"What're you typing so excitedly? Hopefully not your resignation."

You looked up in time to watch Pablo's chest heave with the breathy (and very fake) laugh that he forced out. Your fingers rested against the keyboard, pausing your aggressive typing. How did Gavi know about your plans to leave? Had he been listening at the door? How long had he been standing there before-

"Is that why you fainted in the hallway? Because I'm leaving the club?"

"So you've already decided that you're leaving? You aren't even going to wait until you see whatever shithole you've been offered a spot at?"

There was an emotion that made Gavi's voice wobble, and you couldn't pin it exactly, but it sounded akin to betrayal. You finished the last sentence of your email, the swooshing sound indicating the message had been sent. Pablo bit his lip and stared hard at the fluorescent light. He didn't want you to see the distress in his face, but he couldn't help it. He hated how the dynamic between the two of you had been so warm, so close to the spark he desperately sought, just to go back to how icy your interactions began.

You pulled up a stool to sit next to him, and grabbed a pair of gloves as you approached. You noticed the slight quiver of his lip, and turned away to put your gloves on. The deep sadness in his eyes, the way his body tensed, the voice like a hurt child - was this all because of you?

"I was doing what I should've done my first week working here: I sent an email to HR about Ferran's nasty comments. Barca can't have a sexual harassment scandal right about now, especially not during the transfer window. And if they fire me, then they..." Your voice trailed off, throat closing up. It was still hard for you to process the possibility.

"If they fire me, then that's one less decision that I have to make."

You ran a gloved hand across his crown, feeling for any bumps or lacerations because of his fall. You felt worse the longer you continued the exam, the feeling that this was your fault sinking in. You had pushed Pablo away wordlessly after brining him in so close. But the majority of your brain screamed back at you how selfish it would be to drag Pablo into your black hole, ruining his career so that he could run after a girl who didn't even feel. If the sun in its greatness could not warm you, then how could ask this of Pablo?

"Now we need to talk about your fall in the hallway. It's quite obvious that you fainted but-"

"Were ever going to tell me? Or were you just going to freeze me out until you left the country?"

Gavi propped himself up on his elbows, eyes meeting you directly. You didn't know what to say. You couldn't tell him how you felt, especially not now. Not right before you disappeared.

"Have you ever fainted like that before? What have you eaten to day?" You asked, moving to throw away your gloves. "If you're having frequent spells of losing consciousness, then we need to have your blood iron tes-"

"Are you being serious right now, y/n? You're on the verge of quitting your dream job, packing up and leaving the country, and isolating yourself from everyone who cares about you, and you're asking about my blood iron? No."

Pablo stood, getting off the table faster than someone with a head injury should. He walked towards you, anger evident.

"No. You don't get to change the subject and talk about my iron. Or sit and try and diagnose me with anything. You know that I'm perfectly healthy. Want to know why I fainted? I'll tell you, Doctora."

Gavi was right in front of your face now, heavy breath fanning against your skin. You swallowed thickly, breathing just as heavy as you met his blazing stare. For the first time in weeks, your eyes started to moisten. Why was this scolding from Pablo going to bring you to tears?

"Because from the moment I laid eyes on you, I felt like I knew you. I don't know if I saw you on the street or in a dream, but a part of my brain recognized you, and since then I've been in pain. Pain that you can't even help me with. Nobody can. It's so hard to watch everyone take advantage of you all the fucking time. It tears me apart constantly. But it let me get closer to you. You let me get closer. And I tried so hard to keep it at bay, to be the friend that you need."

Pablo was now cupping your face, holding it like it was the only thing that would tether him to the earth. He rested his head against yours, and suddenly it was too much. All the feelings that had escaped you for so long were coming back all at once, stacking on top of each other and smothering you. Your eyes welled with tears, and you wished the ground would swallow you whole to escape Gavi's piercing eyes looking straight through you.

"But you have to know that I don't just see you as a friend, Doctora. You have to know, even if you don't feel the same way, that I am -"

"We met before I got my job here. That's why you recognize me."

Gavi let go of your face, taking a step back. He looked at you with confusion and hurt. You both knew what he was about to say, and he couldn't understand why you wouldn't just let him get it off his chest. And as selfish as it was, you just couldn't take it. Pablo deserved better - someone that would lift him up, not hold him back. And if he said it, if it was out in the open, then you would never be able to put his needs first.

"The week of my interview, I went to pick up Angelika from the club. Angel went to get her from the VIP section and he left me in charge of keeping an eye on you."

"You... were watching me while I was drunk?" Pablo's brain was processing a thousand things at once. You had met him and remembered him? What had he said while drunk to make you hide that fact from him?

"Why didn't you say anything before?"

There were so many ways to answer this question that you didn't know where to begin. How could you explain to Gavi that you had been so captured by his beauty that night that it had thrown you off your axis, making you wonder if you had died and this was the angel sent to guide you to the pearly gates? How could you describe the intense pull Pablo had over you, tugging at your soul, urging you to stay with him? How were you to say the way your heart broke on his behalf, wanting to hold him in your arms and protect him from everything that made him feel less than the most special person alive? All you had wanted was to kiss him, to pull him in, to never let him go. But none of the words materialized. Because to you, the cruelest thing you could do to Pablo was keep pulling him into you. He was pure light, and you couldn't bear the burden of being the one to extinguish it.

"It was an insignificant moment in a club. Nothing worth mentioning. I didn't even remember until Pedri reminded me when I started."

There it was. The sentence that made Gavi crack. You watched the hurt seep into his features, and a heavy air filled the room. Brows coming together, he looked at you expectantly, waiting, praying, that you would take it back.

"Meeting me was ... insignificant?"

Eyes locked, there was nothing you could say that would erase this moment. You swallowed the lump in your throat, playing with your fingers. You spun the ring you wore around your finger, trying to occupy your mind with anything other than the thought that you were the human embodiment of garbage.

The silence remained, growing thicker with each passing second. It enveloped the both of you, tendrils wrapping around and ripping the two of you apart, fraying whatever string of fate had brought you together.

"You think it was just a coincidence, meeting me in the club weeks before we become coworkers? Friends? Something... beyond that...and you think that coincidence was so forgettable that it wasn't even worth mentioning?"

There it was. The cold front that you put up, the one that pushed everyone away, no matter how hot their love for you burned. You were the ice princess, destined to go through life cold and untouchable and alone.

"Some people you just meet, Pablo. It doesn't mean they're meant to be together. I needed to get my friend out of the club and I just ran into Angel. He left me in charge of you so that you wouldn't do anything stupid or childish while drunk. I was in a club babysitting an 18 year old kid who was pouring his heart out to me while wasted. I didn't say anything to save you from the embarrassment."

That was the straw that broke Gavi's heart. He stormed towards the door, unable to look at you any longer. Had he really been lead on; allowed to believe that you were his friend, or at the least respected him, when this entire time you just saw him as a little kid. His last line to you was spoken so softly you almost didn't hear it over the deafening slam of the door.

"They're going to love you in England."

~

"Your English is very good for someone educated in Spain."

You looked up at Steve, flashing a practiced professional smile that showed no indication of offense at the objectively offensive statement.

"Thank you, Dr. Hughes. I did complete my baccalaureate degree in the United States, but I'm glad the last two years in Barcelona have not damaged my language."

Now it was his turn to laugh uncomfortably as he lead you through the garish blue halls of Stamford bridge. The entire plane ride you had told yourself that this could be the fresh start you needed. This could be the opportunity to turn your life around, and so you should approach it with fresh eyes and an open mind. But the walls were hurting your eyes, the blue and white making you think of Martin in his kit. You were lead into the trophy room, which was a lot smaller than you were used to.

"Here you can see some of the club's shining moments. We have had an... interesting season this year, but you know that performance fluctuates between seasons. We hope to be back on top again very soon, especially with an entirely new medical team coming on board."

You scanned the shelves and glass cases, admiring the look of trophies you were familiar with, and ones you had never seen before.

"An entire new medical staff? No one is staying on?" You asked, confused. What kind of club replaced everyone all at the same time? Usually at least one person remained to pass the torch, to maintain familiarity. It set warning bells off in your head.

“Ah, well, many of our staff members were quite loyal to Dr. Henry, you know he was here for 17 years after all. So they all followed him out. But we are excited to usher in a new wave of sparkling young medical talent!”

You swallowed hard, still feeling from the information. You still hadn’t finished your degree, and yet you were being offered a head position at what was supposed to be a huge and well-respected club. You couldn’t help but think of the blaugrana.

Something flitted in your chest, a feeling that surrounded you whenever you walked into the camp. The feeling of family, like you were home. The coldness of Steve’s answer didn’t spark anything close to that feeling. Not every workplace needed to be a part of your heart, a new family. These days. You had no idea what your family was supposed to be, or if you had one at all. Your brain begged you to ask what the environment was like, how close the staff was, what created such a high level of loyalty that they would all follow this man wherever he went, abandoning club and home. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, asking instead,

“Do you only display the most recent. Champions League trophy?”

More laughter from Steve, but of the fakest nature. “Yes we have one on this side, one on the other. They’re … ehem, all of our UCL trophies are displayed here.” Your cheeks warmed with subtle embarrassment. You knew nothing about this room or this club, and if you were honest with yourself, you had no desire to. You missed Barca. But you had to give this club its chance – an honest shot to be your new home.

The two of you continued through the halls as Steve showed you all the medical equipment and facilities that would be at your disposal should you accept. At the end, he led you to the players’ lounge, offering you a seat. The blue had given you a baby migraine, and you were incredibly grateful for the ability to sit and rest. You refused the gracious offers for food, sipping on a bottle of water to dull the throbbing against your skull. You searched the room for something, something familiar – a face, a number, to make you feel like everything was going to work out in the end. But it never appeared, the bright colors and foreign faces more of a discomfort than anything else.

"Make yourself comfortable, Doctor. Let me get some of the players that you'll be working with, and you can hear from them what the environment is like."

You nodded sweetly, sitting up straight with ankles crossed in the way Princess Diaries taught you to. As the footsteps faded slowly into the distance, a sigh passed between your lips. What were you doing? Despite the lecture given to yourself on the uncomfortable plane ride over (Chelsea would only pay for economy), it had all gone out the window. Your gut was in knots, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were doing something wrong.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and the screen lit up in your hand to read "One Football: FC Barcelona vs Manchester United - Starting lineup now available." The notification had been pressed before you registered what was going on. Your eyes scanned the list just to land on one name. Your mind went back to the last conversation the two of you shared. The most venomous words had slipped past your lips, and you had finally done it: you pushed the last person who cared for you away. The sentiment was harsh. How could anyone ever recover a relationship after shattering it so completely? Despite how much much it hurt to grip the broken shards so tightly, you held on nonetheless, packing Gavi's hoodie in your bag, the '6' embroidered into the pocket cutting open a gaping wound in your heart, and yet you enjoyed its presence there.

"Doctora, I'm pleased to introduce Kepa and Christian. They have been with the club for a while, and they would be happy to answer all your questions."

~

"A scoreless first half here at Old Trafford as both Barcelona and Man U return to the locker rooms for half time. As we saw Pedri went down in those final minutes of the half, and we've received a report that he is out for the rest of the match. His injury status is unknown, but if the magician is out of commission, this could be a very easy steal for United."

The sounds of fists slamming against lockers was loud enough to be heard all the way home in Spain. Pedri Potter, the star, the leader of Barca's new era, was now in icing his right hamstring in some medical examination room, while the rest of the team scrambled to figure out a scenario in which they would win without him in a mere 15 minutes. Gavi bounced his leg anxiously, eager to see his friend and make sure he was okay.

"Listen up boys. We can win this game without Pedri. The score is now 1-0 to Man U, and all we need to do it score once to tie. Then we are back home, our turf and our fans. Robert, Rapha, your goal is to put the ball in the net. I don't care what you have to do. The middle, you need to get the ball in a good position for these two. That means Gavi, you'll be- Gavi pay attention!"

Head snapping up, Pablo's eyes met Xavi's directly. He knew he should be paying attention - this was the first of several games that needed to be won until they reached a trophy. He needed to be on his A-game, and yet, his mind was drifting. He wished it was just concern over Pedri capturing his attention. But in the corners of his mind, your voice lingered. "Babysitting... insignificant... embarrassment." All words you had used when talking about him as he was on the verge of pouring his entire soul out onto the linoleum for you. He didn't understand the anger that flowed through him. It was a sense of ... incompleteness. If you had let him finish, let him say the words that he didn't fully understand, then he would have been okay. He would have watched as you kicked his beating heart against the wall, telling him that you could never feel that way towards him. He would have been okay: relieved. But you had left him dangling off the edge of a cliff, with no relief in being pulled to safety nor mercy in being allowed to fall.

Xavi gave his instructions to the midfield and the defensive line, going over the weak points that needed to be addressed.

"Pedri is most likely out for the next eight weeks, missing both the next match and the SuperCopa, so this is your opportunity to adjust to playing in high-stress situations without him."

Gavi's head raised fully at this. Eight weeks? It has been forever since someone was out for that long. Since the beginning of the season... since you had joined the team. A pinch in Pablo's chest. His brain repeated over and over that the best thing to do was let you go. To let you be your own person, grow and be independent, saving himself the heartache because the one girl he wanted was the one he couldn't have. Yet his heart held on with an iron grip. It refused to release you, reminding him of every sweet moment shared in cars and offices and bedrooms. It was quick to forget the pain of being perceived as a child. Pablo's heart begged him to wait for you, because it was incapable of letting go of a devotion so intense. His heart ached for you, longing for the day he be deemed worthy enough to love you wholly and completely.

"Eight weeks is insane - we have never gone that long with our midfield handicapped. Is there no way to speed up recovery? Who gave the estimate?" Robert asked, wiping the sweat off his brow.

"Luca is the only one from the medical staff who is here right now. He is the one who made the determination. Of course, the rest of the staff will be free to reevaluate when we return home. But Luca will be the one continuing with the course of treatment, and so we will go with his estimate."

"What? Where is y/n?" The question came from Alejandro, followed by hushed agreement. Even if you were not the first point of contact for all the players, you were a team staple, becoming as familiar to them as the crest embroidered on their uniforms. The older players had watched as you performed medical miracles on their teammates that rivaled what Jesus did for the blind, allowing the team to prosper all season. 15 points at the top of the table, and at least half had your name on them. The youngers had felt your impact directly, following your instructions like gospel. They knew how much care you showed to every single one of them, from the starters to the bench warmers. Your hands had put them back together. A touch of you lingered in all the success achieved, and your absence felt closer to abandonment than anything else.

"You should ask Pablito - he would be the first one to notice that his girlfriend wasn't on the flight." Ferran's voice: the closest human equivalent to nails on a chalkboard. After everything that had taken place, it was a wonder he still had the energy to be an ass.

"Maybe you should ask Ferran about his HR investigation, which is a main reason that she's touring the Chelsea facility fight now. Hey, maybe you'll see her this summer when you get sold there. They're always looking for people to keep the bench warm while the important players are on the field." Gavi spoke calmly and evenly, like he was stating pure fact. He stood, leaving the room to avoid the round of questioning that was about to occur regarding HR and the doctora's new home.

The click of Pablo's cleats echoed loudly in the hallway a she approached the medical room, where Luca was fumbling with bandage and his laptop, while Pedri waited on the exam table like a fish at the market. His head turned at the sound of Gavi's approach, and he gave a weak smile to the younger player.

"I finally pushed it too far. Great timing, eh Hermano? It's only a Champion's League, a SuperCopa, and a potential classico that I'll miss. Nothing significant."

Gavi could do nothing but let out a slight laugh, cupping Pedri on the back of the neck. His heart hurt for his friend. This is what every player dreamed of: playing for cups, winning with the team of their dreams. And Pedri was going to miss all of it because they had relied on him to heavily, asked him to bridge too many gaps.

"Please don't say that word to me ever again. Luca, how's it looking? Eight weeks seems a little excessive for a sprain." Gavi knew that Luca was doing something wrong. Or stupid. Or, the most likely option, both. When Ansu had sprained his hamstring, he was back on the field in 28 days under your care. Alejandro had a minor tear in his meniscus, and yet still he was faster than the speed of sound 6 weeks later. Now there was no you. No melodic voice explaining muscle strain and stride length and tissue recovery. Just a stupid, lanky Spaniard in free Barca merch putting "leg hurts" into Web MD and seeing what he can diagnose with this time.

"Why don't you let the medical professionals do their job, Gavi, and you go back to putting your head in front of peoples' feet."

Looking to quickly diffuse the situation, Pedri turned to his friend, wanting to stop looking at the man who might end his football career with a wrong move and an 'oops'.

"I'll just let y/n look at it when I get back home. She'll fix me up in no time. That is, if you give me one of your spots on her schedule."

"Yeah, that's if she even comes back to work."

Pedri looked at the younger boy with confusion. It had been several weeks since he had seen Gavi with his favorite physio. Initially, he thought the crush had faded - that Pablo had found another pretty thing to maintain his interest, and you had fallen to the wayside with the other failed football loves. But Pablo was so clearly unhappy. He was more irritable, spending more and more time on his phone while avoiding the group all together. He sat silently in Pedri's passenger seat, screen illuminating his face but remaining silent.

[Doctora]: Good morning Pablo - running late. Will bring you an apology smoothie

[Doctora]: im going to need you to send me a video of you tying your shoes as proof

[Doctora]: i'll tell you when i see u tomorrow

Gavi had spent two weeks going back over every message you had ever sent him. He watched the way your tone changed from proper and professional to something lighter, more friendly and familiar. Over and over your voice played in his head.

"Pablo."

Pride be damned. He missed you. As he stood behind his teammates, whispers about the staff still whirling around the tunnel, it dawned on him. Barca, the club of his dreams, the fantasy of his childhood, would never - could never - be complete again if you left.

"And we're back in Old Trafford for the second half of this UCL match between the Historic FC Barcelona, and the red devils of Manchester United."

~

"That's incredible that you went to school there! I'm a ride or die for their basketball team, so you already have my respect."

You flashed Christian a smile - a real one, the first genuine display of joy you've been able to muster in a while. Both of the players had shown a genuine interest in getting to know you, trying to sell you on the idea of joining the club. Kepa had gushed over how much he loved living in London, citing his experiences as a fellow Spaniard.

"You're around so many Spanish speakers at the club, you hardly miss home."

Christian, the more injury-prone of the two, talked about his experiences with the medical team, and the close relationships he had built there. All of the medical team had become family to him in some way or the other. It calmed your previous anxieties. Maybe it was just a fear of change keeping you tethered to Barca, and all you needed was time to adjust.

"I think you'd get along really well with the other players, of course, the ones that opt-in to working with you."

This statement from Christian caught the attention of both you and Steve, who rushed over before you could ask for clarification. Opt-in? How could you opt-in to medical treatment?

"Miss, I think that Kepa and Christian have both done a wonderful job of providing just a small taste of what it means to be part of the Chelsea family. We don't want to keep them from afternoon training."

You said your thanks and goodbyes, but before they left Kepa turned to you, as if suddenly struck with a lightening bolt of realization.

"You're the Barca physio that works with Gavi, right?" He asked in Spanish. "He mentioned a girl physio during international training."

Another knot in your stomach at the mere mention of his name. "Yeah that would be me."

Kepa's face shifted, brows downturned and lips pursed. "Let me give you my contact information, in case you have any more questions." This line was in English, spoken more in Steve's direction than in yours. He approached, taking the phone from your hands and switching back to Spanish.

"Don't leave Barca. Gavi talked about you a lot during the break. They respect and value you a lot there - don't throw that away." He handed the phone back to you as you tried to contain your expression, suppressing the shock you felt from displaying itself on your features. What could Pablo have said that would make this man go out of his way to prevent you from joining this club? What had been so compelling that Kepa worked against his own best interest?

It was now just you and Steve in the room, and you turned to him, his skin flushed, to ask about Christian's little slip.

"There was something mentioned about players opting out of treatment?"

"Ah, just a small clause in your contract. Just says that players can choose not to be treated by club medical staff and find their own if they feel uncomfortable. It's all there in the paperwork somewhere. You can call my assistant if you read over it again and have more questions. Now, I know that you need to go soon, but I wouldn't be able to let you go without meeting one of our new signings. Someone else who knows what it's like to decide to make the shift from La Liga here to the old PL. Come with me."

You rose from your seat, migraine returning from the stress onset. What was being kept from you? Obviously you hadn't read your employment offer close enough. You walked through the passages somewhat mindlessly, following Steve with your body as your mind drifted elsewhere. What was being hidden from you?

"Joao, nice to see you again! This is Doctor y/l/n, and we're trying to convince her to make the same switch from Spain to London."

All of your medical education had told you that the masticator and other jaw muscles were voluntary; that they could be controlled and moved when you wanted. Not today. Your jaw went slack, and it refused to shut as you stared at the Portuguese beauty before you. There was no way. How had you missed the news of his move. How unprofessional was it to say 'pinch me' during what was essentially an interview.

"Nice to meet you, Doctora. I'm quite relieved that I don't have to speak in English - apparently my accent is not as good as I thought."

Joao Felix was shaking your hand. You had yet to say anything or even shut your mouth. Joao Felix was shaking your hand. You laughed lightly at his statement, muscles moving independently of the pudding that was your brain currently. Joao Felix was shaking your hand.

"I'm sorry, it's so nice to meet you, I'm just a little overwhelmed. You're one of my favorite players in football right now. I've been following you since your debut. Oh my God."

It was Joao's turn to laugh, a light and glorious sound. You had made him laugh. You wished someone was recording so you could send the video to Angeliika. And your mom. They would both go into cardiac arrest. His skin turned slightly pink as he scratched the back of his head, flattered by the admiration of someone so accomplished (and, as he would later reflect, gorgeous). Despite not understanding a lick of Spanish, Steve knew he had made a winning move by introducing you to Joao. The two of you leaned into each other as you spoke, and he motioned towards the field, inviting you to a stroll around the turf to chat.

All of your pride and prejudice fantasies were being realized in this moment. You were taking a polite stroll around the grounds with a man that you had salivated over while watching football on TV. A golden boy and future champion. He was something incredible. Witty and charismatic and easy to talk to. Everyone says not to meet your heroes, and yet here you were, floating several inches above the ground beside Joao.

"So, what club are you moving from? Can't be something in Madrid - I would remember you."

Lord, this was too much. You gave a silent thanks to the heavens, all the good karma you had accumulated throughout your life manifesting on this day.

"Oh no, not a Madrid club. Just a small Catalan club called Barca. Heard of it?" You teased as Joao stopped in his tracks. It was his turn to go wide-eyed and slack jawed.

"You're the Barca girl physio? I have heard of you! One of the physios at Atleti is your classmate. He said you're crazy smart."

How were you staying alive when all the blood in your body was in your face? How had so many people in the football space heard your name with you blissfully unaware. The smile on your face was not just due to the compliment. Maybe there were people ready to be there for you, and you just needed to reach arm out to them.

The conversation came to a close as you watched other groups come onto the field, preparations being made for upcoming matches. You thanked Joao for his time, once again involuntarily gushing about how surreal this experience was.

"Ah, there's really no need. The pleasure was all mine. I hope that I'll get to see more of you, Doctora, no matter what decision you end up making." Stretching his arm out, pulling you in for a hug. He enveloped you, arms wrapped tightly around your frame in a way that was borderline inappropriate for a goodbye. He smelled heavenly, the warmth radiating from his body akin to a fireplace. This was the stuff of dreams and imagination.

And yet, Joao was not the name on your mind. He way he smelled was beautiful and yet unfamiliar. Your thoughts traveled back to the last hug like this you had shared with someone. To the scent of One Million and powdery deodorant, mixed with something that couldn't be bottled. To the feeling of strong arms sitting lower on your waist. To brown hair and brown eyes and a brown leather couch. To white shirts and white bedsheets. To the soft voice and smooth voice that called for you.

"Doctora."

Logic be damned. You missed Pablo. And then the empty expanse of your soul filled with a feeling of dread. You had made a mistake. So many mistakes. Pushing away Pablo, lying to your friends about how much you needed them. Considering another job. Nothing in the the blue and white had given you even 1% of the feelings you experienced walking into Camp Nou every day. But you would never be able to go back if Gavi was angry with you. Ferran was cattle waiting to be sold. Gavi was a contender this year's golden boy, a powerhouse on the field, a bright star for both club and country. You reached into your bag, staring at his name in your phone. But your fingers shook too violently to press the call button. You remembered the hurt on his features, the way he couldn't even look at you as he passed in the halls. You weren't ready to see [Call Declined] appear on your screen. Instead you rested your phone on your lap, reaching in to retrieve your Chelsea contract.

Obviously, your eagerness to run away from your current life had blurred your vision. On page 22 of 31, there is was in what appeared to be a smaller font than the rest of the agreement.

"Under FIFA and British Football regulation, players may refuse treatment from club-appointed medical staff for any reason, including but not limited to feelings of fear, discomfort, lack of safety, and lack of confidence. Providers will be compensated on a fee-for-service basis, where compensation is scaled based on the number of players consistently treated. Should more than 40% of players request alternative treatment, the club may terminate the contract with the provider before the term of the contract has elapsed."

Your eyes widened, brows knitted together in confusion and borderline disgust. Women in medicine were already at a disadvantage, and that increased tenfold for women in sports medicine. Should the players feel uncomfortable with you because of your sex or age, you could spontaneously be out of a job after picking up and moving your whole life?!

Before you could pick up the phone and tell Steve that he would need to find someone else to fill this cursed position, a buzzing came from your bag. Who was calling your work phone?

"Hello?"

"Good evening Doctora y/l/n, hope that your visit at Chelsea went well." Andreas was Xavi's secretary, and he was the closest thing you would ever get to the cast of The Devil Wears Prada. He was rather cold in the way that he spoke, but never rude. Well dressed and straight to the point - commanding of respect.

"Went very well, Andreas. I got to meet-"

"Mister Xavi has asked for your presence on the flight back to Barcelona to discuss your future with the club. It is of the utmost importance that this meeting occur as soon as possible. So you need to be in Heathrow by tonight at 11pm for check in with the rest of the team."

"But my flight back to Barcelona is tomorrow and I-"

"You'll be fully reimbursed for the cost of changing your travel. We are leaving from Terminal 2. Have a wonderful evening."

Just like that, you were wondering how fast you could pack everything and leave in the next 6 hours when your personal phone buzzed in your lap.

[Pablo]: I know u said u need space but

[Pablo]: i rlly need to talk to u

[Pablo]: can i meet you somewhere?

Heart racing, you typed back as fast as you could with trembling fingers, telling him that you would be so happy to meet him, giving him the address of a café near your hotel. You didn't want him to see what your salary could actually afford (since Chelsea didn't cover your travel accommodations). You let out a sigh of relief. He wanted to see you. He wanted to speak with you. He wasn't completely lost.

~

Packing had been fast - you had only brought the essentials to London to avoid paying a bag fee on the budget airline you had traveled. Fixing yourself in the mirror, you let out a deep sigh. What were you even going to say to Pablo? Begging for forgiveness seemed the most logical choice. You practiced your apology in the mirror, and yet froze every time. How would you respond when he asked you why? Why it had been so easy for you to push him away, to strike him down, to make him feel so utterly unimportant to you and your life? You didn't know how you would respond.

Feelings of the heart are often the easiest to articulate. They're not like emotions. Emotions are straight forward: happiness, anger, sadness, jealousy. Things that were caused by one identifiable source, and could be expressed easily with words and actions. But the matters that went beyond feeling, those were the most difficult to understand, let alone communicate. Despite his form, it wasn't lust that drew you into Pablo. Those thoughts had made you breathe heavy and push your thighs together. The glimpses of Pablo's bare form were painted on the edge of your mind, soft skin and hard muscle, inviting you in for a touch, a taste. It was an exciting idea, but not the one that riled you up the most.

No, it was something different. It was a scene that had plagued your mind for weeks upon end, always causing you to wake in a cold sweat with a tightness in your chest, breaths labored. You pictured yourself laying on Pablo's bare chest, drawing circles on his skin as his heart beat rhythmically for you to listen to. As you drifted off, he would place a kiss on the top of your head, running a soothing hand down your spine. It wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer into him, as he whispered softly.

"Mine."

It was a magnetic pull that Pablo had, a force of nature that you were unable to escape. It could be described as nothing other than desire, like you would make the world stop spinning until the two of you were united. There was a higher force tying you to Pablo, and etched in your bones was a knowledge that you would never be able to leave him. But the sentiments died on your tongue before they could ever take to the air, never to fall on the ears of a certain Spaniard.

As your heels clicked against the city pavement, a sense of calm washed over you. He had reached out to you. There was an olive branch being extended. He was ready to hear what you had to say. Yet upon entering the small space, a different voice called out your name.

"Pedri?"

It was impossible to hide the disappointment in your voice. You had built up the confidence to come here solely based on the premise that Gavi wanted to see you. Your ego had deflated, back to feeling like utter garbage for the way you had treated the person who, in reality, was your closest friend. Before the self pity could fully sink its claws in, you noticed the full-leg brace that Pedri was sporting.

"I'm sorry that I used Pablo's phone to text you - didn't have your personal number, and it would be a little... salt-in-the-wound-ish to ask him for it right now. Especially since you asked him not to speak to you."

"I never said that!" You exclaimed a little more enthusiastically than intended, causing a couple people to glance in your direction. Pedri escorted you to a table in the corner, offering to go and get you a coffee to fight the chill of a London January.

"No please. It's completely fine. You shouldn't be standing with a torn muscle anyways."

Pedri looked at you inquisitively. He had not seen you in a while, especially with you and Gavi not on speaking terms. He had missed the quips and sarcastic comments he was able to catch during training. He missed the feeling of safety whenever you cared for himself or others on the field, as he knew that you were to be trusted with their bodies. He missed the fire you sparked in Pablo, leading to unparalleled passion and unprecedented performances. The air of natural confidence that you spoke with is what brought the smile to his face. Not hesitation or wobble in your voice. No need to consult a dozen others. Medically, you knew your shit.

"A tear? Luca told me it was only excessive strain on my hamstrings."

A scoff and an eye roll that widened Pedri's smile. "I wouldn't let Luca perform medicine on a Barbie. That's the wrong kind of brace if it's a sprain. It's immobilizing. You need something with compression - a thigh sleeve most likely. Have you been icing it?"

"How could you leave Barca when your successors are idiots like Luca?" His arms folded across the table in front of him as the realization spread across your features. You were acting like his physio on impulse.

"How did you know I was thinking about leaving?"

"Everybody knows. No one could focus on today's second half because of it. When I went down everyone was scrambling to find you and call you. Everyone, myself included, was waiting for you to run across the field, bag in those magic hands ready to come and give me a new leg. But then you weren't there. And I was just praying that Luca didn't schedule me for an amputation."

A shy smile and a breathy laugh. You met his kind eyes, piercing though you. It was surprising when you felt the wetness on your cheeks, registering you were crying only after the tears had rolled down to your chin. He brought his chair in closer, holding your hand, and you held on for dear life. Your tears were falling in earnest now, fat and fast enough to hit the table as you used Pedri as a lifeline.

"Come back to Barca."

"I can't Pedri. I've... I've just made such a mess of everything."

"You're talking about Pablo."

"I'm talking about everything. I have a player that actively hates me and is looking for every opportunity to get me fired. Everyone on the team thinks that I'm sleeping with Pablo. And Pablo - I can't even explain how much I messed up. I told him to stay away from me. To give me space. I don't want space." You rested your forehead against the cool wood of the table. "I just want him to talk to me. When you sent me that message I was so excited. I thought he was ready to forgive me."

"Don't worry for a second about Ferran. We heard about the complaint to HR and I'd be happy to speak on your behalf about the dogshit he says to you. Everyone with a brain knows you're not sleeping with Pablo - they all have so much respect for the work that you do. Dembele came to me after the match and told me to contact you. He said your first assignment for Barca was to work on his leg recovery, and it was the best treatment he's ever had." You raised your head, tears turning your eyes red and puffy as they stained your cheeks.

"This may be selfish of me to say, but I would do anything to have you stay at the club and work with me. I can't miss all of these cup games because the physios don't know what's going on. This is everything I have ever wanted in my life. And if you're the person that can help me get there, then nothing, especially not Ferran and the other airheads at the club, are going to hold me back."

He moved to grab your other hand as well, looking you straight in the eyes. There was not one indication that he was exaggerating his sentiments. He wanted to win more than he wanted to breathe.

"And Pablo? Don't worry about him."

"How can I not worry, Pedri. I was so cruel to him. He'll never speak to me again."

"Doctora, don't you know that there's no one on this earth he holds in higher regard?"

~

The terminal was surprisingly quite busy upon your arrival. It seemed that everyone was catching an international red-eye, causing you to stumble through crowds with your small bag and exhausted demeanor. You approached the airport staff, utterly lost in trying to find the meeting place. It was 10:56pm, and you didn't have the money to be missing the company-sponsored return flight.

"Excuse me, I'm with the F.C Barcelona team. Where can I check in for my flight?"

"I don't remember them becoming a unisex team.'' Your expression remained neutral as the staff member chuckled at his own joke. You didn't have time to give a lecture on the dangers of misogyny. "I need to see your Barca ID."

"I don't have my team ID badge, but if you let me speak to-"

"Don't you women have something better to do than try and fuck a footballer? Lord, you even have a suitcase and everything. I suggest that you go home and stop with these little charades - it's embarrassing."

You stood speechless as the man walked away, stationing himself in a different area of the terminal. Behind you, screams were heard coming from the door, followed by flashes of light in rapid succession.

"Gavi I love you!"

"Pedri Pedri! You're my idol!"

"Xavi have my babies!"

Your attention shifted to the security guarding the entrance as the Barca squad filtered through the doors, all dressed in coordinated pale yellow. You speed walked towards them, pace catching the attention of one of the guards.

"Miss, you need to maintain space."

Gavi turned to look at the person that was causing a disturbance. Usually it was a child who had gotten a little too excited to see their favorite players, and often the soft spot in his heart compelled him to give them a picture or signature. It was hard to have your dreams crushed as a child by a celebrity that didn't care, and he was determined not to be that type of person. That's when his eyes locked with a pair oh so familiar to him. He stood in place, frozen as his teammates narrowly avoided bumping into him and causing an awful domino effect. It felt like forever since he last looked at you this way: like you were the only person in the room.

"Ah, Doctora y/n, glad Andreas was able to coordinate with you. Sir, she's with us." Xavi's word was law, as usual, and you were allowed to pass through with the rest of the group, ushered to a more private area of the terminal, the screams of fans echoing behind you.

Pablo watched as you stood alongside the coach, chattering away about God knows what. Eric and Pedri were beside him, making conversation about the new additions introduced in the FIFA update.

"Did you know she was going to be here?" Gavi asked, interrupting Pedri's rant about how expensive different skins and expansions were. He had been desperate to see you, thinking of all the ways he might reconcile once he saw you again. But not now. He wasn't ready to face you - not ready to be told 'no' again. For the first time in years, a cold vein of fear ran through him. Was this it? Were you handing in your resignation, coming to Spain only to collect your things before moving to the gray fogginess of the Premier League?

"Yeah. We had a little chat earlier." Say what you want about the IQ of footballers, but Pedri was incredibly intelligent. He himself had given up a career in medicine to explore football greatness. This meant he was smart enough to have deleted the messages that he sent from Pablo's phone before he did his 78th re-read of all your text messages. He was also smart enough to figure out that Gavi had wanted you practically since he laid eyes on you. Contrary to what many may think, Gavi didn't really look at girls. He was usually absorbed in conversation with a friend, whether in person or virtually, and was not prone to looking at every pretty girl that crossed his path. He was hard to please and even harder to impress. So when he started seeking you out more often, mentioning you during random drives, he knew that Pablito was infatuated.

It was several months, however, before Pedri realized the extent of Pablo's affection towards you. It had been during the international break, when Pedri sat and played FIFA with Nico, the only worthy opponent among La Roja. Pablo was half watching the game, half staring at the illuminated screen when he stood suddenly. Pedri watched from the corner of his eye as Gavi stepped out onto the balcony in shorts and his training shirt in the bitter chill of December. When the match had ended (3-1 to him of course), he followed the younger outside, and found him with his phone pointed towards the horizon. The sun in its retirement had painted the sky the most vibrant shades of oranges and pinks, bleeding into a royal purple. The hazy, circular glow kept the sky warm, and the colors stretched out over the wide expanse of the city, painting everything in the golden light of dusk. That's when Pedri heard the shutter click.

"Since when do you take pictures of the sunset?" He was teasing again. It was always fun to rile up his fiery teammate.

"I'm sending them to the doctora. It's so pretty, I want her to see it."

"Isn't she in Barcelona right now? She's probably looking at the same sunset."

"But it's just so beautiful from this high up." Gavi said, eyes still transfixed on his phone as he searched for the most worthy flick to send you. "I just want to send her something beautiful. I want to send her every beautiful thing in the world."

Yes, Pedri was a smart man. Smart enough to see that Pablo's feelings to you were stronger than he had ever experienced for another. Probably the strongest he had ever experienced at all. He was smart enough to approach Alejandro and Ansu, while Gavi chewed on his lip at the prospect of speaking to you, to organize the seating during the flight home.

~

"Don't get too comfortable, Doctora. You'll be joining me upfront for a chat after takeoff." You laughed politely at Xavi as he boarded the plane. You gathered your things, acutely aware of Ferran's gaze on you while you bent over.

"Have a good time at Chelsea? Try and ruin any lives while there?" He asked, voice laced with annoyance. HR had approached him about your complaint, informing him that they would be asking other players and staff about comments made at your expense. While he could keep his friends quiet, he had done too much to piss off Gavi, leaving him vulnerable to everyone in his camp. His only hope was to get you to leave before the investigation had concluded.

"I would prefer we didn't speak about non-professional matters. Thank you, Ferran." You said, smiling so sweetly he felt his teeth throb. You boarded the plane last with the rest of the staff, Luca rushing past you like he would be left behind if he wasn't seated soon. Glancing down at your ticket, you read out your seat number. Row 6, seat G. Walking onto the aircraft, you were stunned by the beauty of the first class cabin. It was furnished completely with plush leather, with every two or three seats getting their own dividers from the rest of the passengers. You walked to row 6, and made your way across the aisle to the right side of the plane where your seat was meant to be. In row 6, seat F, sat Pablo. He looked up at the aisle at the sound of shuffling, and the two of you just stared at one another, wordlessly communicating a shared hurt. All you wanted was to pull him in and say how sorry you were. You just didn't know if he'd be ready to accept.

"Um, I think I'm in the seat next to you." You told him sheepishly. He moved from his place, allowing you to sit next to him by the window.

"I thought the staff usually sits together." He said, trying to prevent it from sounding like a complaint, because it truly wasn't. He wondered what force of fate had allowed your seat to be placed next to his. Little did he know that fate was from the Canary Islands. You sat next to him, adjusting your seat and the belt, before bouncing your leg nervously. The speed increased when you felt the vibration of the engine, watching the plane move from its parked space onto the runway. You wanted to say something - anything - but your throat was dry and the words failed you. You didn't know what to say to ensure that you would be forgiven. That was probably the scariest part: knowing that the forgiveness may never come.

"Are you afraid of flying?"

You turned your head at the question. Gavi's eyes were fixated on your sweatpants-clad thigh as it bounced at incredible speeds. There were many things you were scared of in that moment, but the plane didn't help quell any of them. You were going to be stuck next to Pablo for the next two hours at the least. The anxiety of not knowing how he felt towards you gnawed at your skin, eating you alive. You nodded your head, because in all honesty, it was the same fear, wasn't it? Flying, falling - all terrifying prospects.

Gavi put one airpod in, extending the other to you. It was a peace offering, the olive branch you had waited for. You accepted it graciously, muttering a quiet thank you as you slotted it into place. Your body turned back towards the window, 'Sky full of stars' playing softly in the right half of your brain. As the plane continued to move slowly down the runway, you felt a hand rest atop yours, bringing your bouncing leg to a halt. The skin on skin sent shockwaves through you, electricity running up and down your arm. His hand moved sideways, sliding under yours to lift, and then proceeding to interlock your fingers. The warmth of Pablo's hand, the strength of his grip. The slight squeeze as the plane began picking up speed. Despite lacking the confidence to look at him directly, you peaked at your joined hands. Pablo was here. And through the presses of his fingers and the soothing motion of his thumb, he reminded you that Pablo would always be here, so long as you would have him.

"y/n, Mister Xavi would like to see you now."

You hadn't even realized your hand was still laced with Pablo's until one of the assistant coaches came to collect you. Gavi had drifted off into a light sleep, waking as he felt the cold hit his once warm palm. He grabbed your wrist as you tried to follow the assistant coach.

"Don't leave." He said, voice dry and raspy. You weren't sure if he meant now or the club. You moved your hand to join it with the one on your wrist, giving a gentle squeeze of reassurance, as he had done for you.

"Don't worry. I'll be right back."

This was your first time on a plane that had a lounge. The coaching staff was spread across all four sofas, drinking champagne and discussing the efforts from this trip. Xavi sat at a table, an empty seat across from him.

"Doctora, welcome back from Chelsea. Did you enjoy your visit?" He asked, offering your a flute that you politely declined.

"It was wonderful. The staffand players were all great. I'm grateful for the opportunity."

Xavi raised an eyebrow at the diplomatic answer. You were not giving him much of an indication as to your decision. He reached into his bag and extracted a medical file, sliding it over to you.

"As I'm sure you saw on TV and online, Pedri suffered quite a severe injury during the Man U match. Pedri is a key component of our midfield, and Luca has estimated eight to ten weeks for his recovery. I'd like you to take a look at his medical examination report and recommend a course of treatment."

You took the papers in your hand, looking at Xavi cautiously. What was the purpose of this exercise?

"Well, I've already told Pedri that his brace was incorrect, and gave him the specifications for a sleeve to buy once we return home. The eight to ten weeks metric is based on the healing with this immobilization boot. Using the correct compression sleeves and ice, as well as rest, Pedri should be back on in 4 weeks. Five if you want to be safe. That would mean his first appearance back would be the SuperCopa semifinals."

Xavi laughed to himself, collecting the files and returning them to their place. He pulled out another sheet of documents, the words "Adjusted Contract" in bold at the top.

"Doctora y/l/n, it has become increasingly evident as I watch you practice and treat our players that you are a generational talent in sports medicine. You have a deep understanding of the body that few others, both in the club and outside, can fully grasp. At Barca, we strive to do everything in our power to keep generational talents in Camp Nou. I would like you to consider remaining at the club until the summer, when contract renegotiations occur. This would allow you to see out a season that you have contributed so greatly to."

"Why the new contract now then?"

"Just a few clause adjustments. Firstly, we have increased your compensation to absorb your living costs. Those will now be covered by the club. The other change is on this page here. It states that your main focus must be on starters, injured prioritized before healthy. So, if you choose to accept, Pedri would be the top priority as an injured starter. You would dedicate all the necessary time to his treatment."

You scanned the document, and it was just as he said. No other nonsense, just the clauses on compensation and prioritization.

"This is all so flattering sir, but..." Your voice trailed off, shy to speak in front of a legend and the man holding your future in his hands.

"What can we do to make this deal irrefutable?"

"The contract is perfect sir. What I would need is a promise from you. Chelsea's base compensation was higher, but the compensation was based on the number of services the medical staff provides. I could be fired at any moment if not enough players were comfortable being treated by me. I felt, or well rather I didn't feel the sense of loyalty, of family, that I get as Barca. And so I would need a promise from you."

"Name your demand."

"When the summer comes and my contract needs to be renegotiated, keep me on the team. Don't try and pawn me off to someone else. This is my team, my club, my family. So you have to promise me that I have a future here, or else I'll save the heartbreak and leave now."

Xavi placed a pen on the table, bringing his chair forward to be as close as possible to you. "Doctora, you are an incredible and frankly priceless asset to us. We were able to hand select you from the best of the best new physios in Spain. Our successes, any trophies and titles, we owe them in part to you. Help me finish the season with a strong and healthy squad, and I swear to you on my life that you will have a place at Barca until the day you die." He stretched out his hand, and you took a deep breath, meeting the shake midway. It felt weird, signing your contract again, but for more money. You definitely didn't expect to be in this position before you've even graduated, but it brought a pride to your soul. Xavi saw something in you. A generational talent. Somebody believed in what you could do.

You returned to your seat and found that it was Gavi's turn to bounce his leg. You sat down, and he followed you with his eyes. After a moment of silence, he spoke.

"Did you enjoy your trip?"

"Very much so. I got to meet Joao Felix."

Gavi's face turned to you, catching the beaming smile that broke out across your face.

"Yeah? You like him in person, or was he a disappointment?"

"He was less... dreamy than I had anticipated. But still sweet nonetheless. It was a cool experience."

Gavi responded with a hum, turning his music back on and looking away from you. His other airpod sat on the tray table, right where you left it.

"Pablo," it was your turn to rest a hand on his bouncing leg, "we have to talk."

Pablo turned to you, eyes sad and lip between his teeth. "Do we? I feel like you've said everything there is to say." He knew he was being difficult. He knew he was being petty. But Pablo could not let himself get hurt again, especially not in front of the entire team. If he was going to mourn your departure, it was going to be in the comfort of his own guest bed, the one piece of furniture he could sleep on for 7 continuous hours because it held no memories of you. It was your turn to find his fingers and slot them between your own.

"I didn't mean it. Any of it. I have so many reasons why I didn't mention meeting you, Pablo, but I'm just not brave enough to tell you yet. It wasn't because it wasn't important. It could never be. You are one of the most important people in my life. You're one of the only people I have left. Please don't push me away."

His eyes met yours, and he knew there was no way he could remain angry. It was you, after all. The person that made Pablo believe in the possibility of a soulmate. The one that Gavi thought of whenever songs about incredible love came up on his playlist. You were it. He gripped your hand tighter.

"Going to be hard to support you from several countries away, but I will try my best."

"You don't have to. I'm staying."

Gavi's eyes widened, face lighting up like a kid who had just been gifted an entire candy store. "You're staying?"

"Mhm. Barca is my home. My family. No matter how bad it gets, I could never leave this place behind." It felt as though you spoke those words right into his soul, breathing life back into his very being. You were staying. Your voice, your laugh, your energy - all of it would be at Camp Nou, waiting on the sidelines as he fought tooth and nail to capture your attention. "And plus, Pedri and Xavi basically begged me to come back so Luca doesn't have to treat him."

Gavi let a laugh fill his lungs and spill from his throat, maybe a little louder than necessary on a midnight flight. But he was feeling genuine joy course through his veins. He was a man on death row with a second chance at life. He removed his hand from your grip, bringing to above you and resting it across your shoulders. Professionalism be damned. He just wanted to be close to you right now.

"Xavi was more convincing than Joao? I bet that would be a blow to his ego if he found out." It was comfortable, sitting with Pablo in this way. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to be this close to him. You pushed up the hand rest so that the two of you could get even closer. Professionalism be damned. They wouldn't fire you while Pedri was still limping.

"Oh yeah. Portugal boy is cute, but Xavi in 2010? That was my first love. I could never refuse a request from him." More giggles from Gavi. You wished you would bottle this moment, eager to make his happiness perpetual. He was human sunshine, and he deserved every light and happy and beautiful moment life could offer.

"The spiky hair? Really?"

"Shut up!" Coupled with a smack to the chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, exhaustion of the day and its stressors finally catching up to you. "Every man looks hotter when carrying a trophy."

Gavi let out a light laugh, turning to hide his blush. Yet another motivation to lift as many cups as possible this season. He offered you his other airpod again, which you accepted, inserting it as a soft melody filled your ears. Your eyelids were heavy, and you were drifting in and out of consciousness.

"One day, we'll need to talk about it properly, you know." Pablo said from above you, voice soft and serious.

You nodded your head, letting out a quiet "Mhm" in a agreement. You knew it was an inevitable conversation. You would have to eventually face the music, let Gavi free himself from whatever feelings were sitting on his chest. But you couldn't do it now. Not with your future up in the air. Not with your feelings for Gavi still a massive tangle of emotions.

"Not tonight." You said to him softly, as he turned his head to meet your eyes.

"No, not tonight."

Your eyes finally closed and you began drifting off. Pablo's arm remained wrapped around you as he leaned in closer, basically cuddling you on this plane. Thank the lord for blessing the engineers with enough foresight to install dividers. As you breathed rhythmically against his chest, he pressed his nose into your hair, breathing deeply. Why was everything about you so intoxicating?

In the haze of your sleep, you heard Pablo speaking to you. You listened intently, hoping to catch these special words that he only released to your sleeping form.

"Doctora, I would wait for you forever. Even when you hit rock bottom, I'll be there, waiting for you with a ladder. You will always have me, no matter what."

~~~~~~~

A/N: Guys I did it!!! My longest part to date! I am so flipping tired. It's 4am. I don't remember a time before I started writing this part. Anyways, we are chugging along y'all! Only two parts left in the main story!! I surpassed my 15k word goal. Maybe next part is 18k? I think the next part is going to be my favorite. I haven't decided if I want the big boom pow event to be in part 9 or 10. We will see. Again, apologies for the long time between updates, but semi-decent writing takes time. As usual, please leave thoughts, feedback, predictions, etc. in the replies - I love reading all of them so much!!! If you notice any easter eggs/ small details, feel free to point them out!!! There are so many and I love when y'all get them. IDK when part 9 is coming out but when it's done y'all will be the first to know. Ok love y'all byeeeee.

Also please comment if you want to be added to the taglist ok bye

*~*Taglist*~*

@l0verl4ne @vibinwkay @anastasia-nova @mxgvmiii @mads-grace4 @bubblebeep69 @katluckybear @scuderiabarca @alwaysclassyeagle @simpingmyassoff @grlwithprblms @lqvesoph @pink-manz @graziemille @xxenia14 @nngkay @icedlattewithextracaramel @gyusrose @vip-access @julianalvarez9 @lavie3nrose @ge0rg1ewaa @i8yul @lovefordilfs271 @remuslupinluver @thattaylorswiftobsessedbitch @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @kaismybabe @notanenthucutlet @fullsun9890 @venomwh0re @renaissancewhxre @gaviandgrizisgirl @altgojo @urmomdotcom5678 @eliseline @invidia-of-alhambra @pixwls @stell4rrrs @80sloverry @car1no-xx @mrsgavira @888bear @kylianmbappee @ivyhrry @gaviypedrisbride @grlwithprblms @dessxoxsworld @user6373738

[thewritingmagician2022]

Hey! I just found your blog and I've read through your work and I love it 💗 can I request MC trying to talk the brothers out of confessing to them?

(Perhaps taking place towards the end of season 1, beginning of season 2)

The brothers tell MC they love "LOVE" them and MC thinks they're joking and when they finally realize that the brothers are being serious MC's like "I thought you had better taste... are you sure you're not just infatuated with an idealized version of me that you created in your head? I mean you can do better, besides what would the people of Devildom think? Honestly, I didn't really get the impression you liked "liked" me in that way... I think you should think it through, maybe it's because I'm a novelty that your interested in me?" Or something along those lines? The point is that MC doubts their feelings and thinks they can do better.

Thank you so much! 💓

This is one of my favorite prompts because it’s so realistic and human and authentic. Which is terrifying too because I know I’m not gonna do it justice and I’m so freaking late on this. Back on topic - what makes us special to these brothers? Is it going to last? How long until we’re nothing new? (starts playing Taylor Swift in the background while I contemplate these)

Lucifer: Lucifer is vaguely insulted by the implication that you don’t trust him to know his own feelings. Yes, he understands your self doubt because he’s the high level demon Lucifer, the best of the best, and it makes sense that you would feel intimidated by that. But to doubt his feelings is to doubt Lucifer’s judgement and that won’t stand. He knows who’s worth his time and affection (no one) and he is not willing to open himself up to such a state of vulnerability without absolute certainty. So when he says he loves you, it’s true. He’s been around a long time and you’re the only person who has been able to capture his attention and heart in such a way; he isn’t worried at all about the feelings fading or being an illusion. He is under no delusions of who you really are - the person who doesn’t listen to him and runs wild with his brothers and causes so many problems in the Devildom and also the person who brought his family back together again and who reminded Lucifer of who he used to be and could still be. He will provide you reason after reason to back his point if you need it but he really feels he should only have to express his feelings once to make it clear.

Mammon: Mammon’s feelings are definitely hurt when you question him, even if it’s coming from a good place. He knows he’s not the most serious demon and maybe he’s a bit of a tsundere but he doesn’t understand how you can doubt him after everything you’ve been through together. He’s your first man, you’re his best-friend. Mammon is no stranger to romance and flirting over the millenia; demons, angels, witches, humans, etc. He’s got options, almost as many as Asmo, but you are the only person who has ever made him feel this good, this special and loved and in love.It breaks his heart a little every time you doubt his love for you. He might not be the best at talking about his feelings but he promises that he will spend the rest of his life showing you exactly how much he loves you for you, the same way you love him for him - the good and the bad and the weird. He is yours until the end of time, whether or not you’ll ever actually be his.

Levi: Of all the brothers, Levi is probably the most understanding of your doubts - not regarding him, that’s super crazy and he doesn’t understand how you could ever think he could do better than you. He does understand how self-doubt doesn’t always follow logic so he actually does well not taking it personally when you ask him those kinds of questions. He’s a man of many hyperfixations but they’re lasting. Have you seen him with his favorite series or Ruri-chan? This man is dedication personified. He’s already added you to his list of hyperfixations and, okay, maybe he does idealize you a little but he’s not as deluded as you think. He knows you have weird, messy bits of you - just like him - and he loves that so much about you because he’s able to actually be comfortable with you. He loves you and trusts you and respects you, which is more than he can say about anyone else in his life, and he is going to be your simp long after the series finale and he only hopes you’ll agree to let him stay in your life and worship you the way he knows you deserve.

Satan: That line of questioning makes him angry, shocking. He hates that you’re doubting him and his feelings. Satan is the intellectual of his brothers (if you ask him). He’s smart enough to know that there’s a difference between lust vsinfatuation vs love, and he’s considered it for a long time before he came forward with his feelings. He knows they’re genuine and lasting; he even avoided you in the beginning to avoid catching those kinds of feelings but it happened. Satan knows maybe he can romanticize things a little, like in the romance novels that he secretly loves, but he doesn’t think it’s to an unhealthy or unrealistic level - no more than a general man in love might do. He’ll sit and discuss all of this with you for as long as necessary, reigning in that anger that stems from feeling rejected, until you finally realize that he’s genuinely in love with you.

Asmo: Okay, so Asmo gets it, you know? He’s most beautiful being in three realms and charming and funny and sweet and basically everything good wrapped into one wonderful, sparkly, good smelling package. It would make sense that any human he pursued felt a little insecure about his feelings and their worthiness. But like…it’s you! You’ve seen Asmo at his worst - the days when he’s not as beautiful or kind, when he’s selfish and cruel and narcissistic - and you’ve stuck by his side the whole time. He is going to do the same for you. He sees your inner (and outer) beauty every time he looks at you and he falls a bit more in love with you every time. He knows what lust and infatuation feels like - he feels those every day and has them reflected right back at him tenfold. You are not those things. There’s still the passion and longing and affection but it’s so much warmer and steadier, like the warm sun that Asmo used to see in the human realm. You make him better (a hard task considering how close to perfection he is) and he won’t stand for you having any kind of doubts. He’s going to love you into loving yourself until you’re unable to doubt him or your relationship ever again.

Beel: That’s…not unfair to ask him. Beel may not be the smartest brother but he’s not as stupid as others make him out to be. He is the only brother who is going to hear you out and actually take the time to think about what you’re saying. You are the first human he’s ever had these kinds of feelings for, the first person actually. Beel is not used to romance at all and so he really needs to think about the line between romantic and platonic and familial; he doesn’t want to mess up the relationship by defining it incorrectly and breaking both of your hearts in the process. He doesn’t agree that you’re not good enough or interesting enough to inspire those kinds of feelings in him; he thinks you’re the most wonderful being he’s ever come across and anyone would be lucky to know you, let alone be loved by you like he is. It doesn’t take him too long to come the conclusion that no, he is in love with you. He would choose you over food or sports or even some of his brothers; hefeels empty without you in a way that even Belphie can’t compare to. He wants to kiss you and hold you and keep you around forever to share in his food and laughs and affection. Once Beel makes his decision, it’s completely solidified. Beel is a ride or die kind of man and you know you’ll never have to doubt him once he tells you he loves you.

Belphie: Belphie is torn. He understands why you may question his love for you. He did betray you and literally kill you in another universe; he would be more concerned if you weren’t skeptical about him. However, you feeling not good enough? Absolutely absurd. You need therapy ASAP. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to him and his family, even if you are a human. He never wanted these feelings; he loathed you at first but, over the months and different experiences you’ve shared, those feelings have grown to respect and trust and love. He couldn’t stop himself from loving you even if he tried (and he’s tried). He can understand your nerves but he knows down to his very soul that he loves you and that he will always love you. If you can’t accept his feelings, he’ll be the most accepting of it, especially because he doesn’t think he deserves you at all but he will never back down from his claims and he will continue expressing his love for you until the very end.

Diavolo: Of them all, Diavolo most understands why you may doubt the longevity of this relationship. He’s the demon lord. He’s the top choice of the realm, and everyone is scrutinizing him and his choices. He gets why you might be afraid of that and what comes with it. However, he wouldn’t be choosing you if he hadn’t thought long and hard about it to make sure his feelings for you withstood all of those doubts and fears. Diavolo does not lovely easily or lightly; he’s been offered companionship from more people than he could ever care to count but he’s never seriously considered any of them. You are the first and only person to have made him fall so completely head over heels in love that he’s able to get out of his own head which is so often filled with those some kinds of doubts and questions. He may not make every decision in his life with 100% confidence but this is one that he feels so sure of that he’s willing to stake his entire future and reputation on it. He loves you and he will do everything in his power to prove that he loves you and will stay by your side as you both rule the Devildom together, putting you at the top with him - exactly where you belong.

Barbatos: Barbatos is efficient, if nothing else in the world. Do you really think that he would pursue you if he wasn’t completely sure of his feelings and your future together? This is the man who has spent his entire life dedicated to Diavolo; he’s turned away from every and any meager temptation that’s come his way. No one has ever caught his eye like you have and certainly no one has ever made him question where his loyalty lays. Of course he is still Lord Diavolo’s servant and he serves the Devildom to the best of his ability but his heart isn’t in it the same way and that’s because he’s given it to you. You are what consumes his every thought and feeling; he’s broken the rules and used his powers for you, he’s gone against Diavolo for you, he is willing to do anything so long as he can be near you and make you happy. You don’t even have to accept his love or love him back, if you really can’t or won’t, but he’s seen you in every timeline and loves you in all of them. Nothing in this world or any of the others will change that and, if you give him the opportunity, he will dedicate his every moment to proving to you why you can put your full faith in him. After all, Barbatos has never failed at an assignment before.

Solomon: Solomon can understand insecurity on your end. It’s hard to consider yourself special enough to last for someone who has seen everything. Solomon has lived thousands of years, visited the three realms, love and lost time and time again. It’s hard to imagine that you’re anything more than the next shiny toy he’s got his eye on. For someone who can never die, what is this love other than a small blip on his radar one day? Solomon can’t stop you from feeling that way because, in a way, it’s true. You can’t be a permanent fixture in his life because you’re human but he can certainly be one in your life. Solomon would argue that he’s seen so many people and places over the millenia and he has lived long enough to know himself completely, and he knows that he loves you. He knows that no matter what happens or changes, his feelings for you will never waver. He will carry his love for you until the ends of time itself. It’s his curse to bear and the only thing that would make it bearable is being able to love you directly for as long as he’s given the chance.

Simeon: Simeon is the most patient and sympathetic as you ask him these questions. He would never invalidate your fears but he will confront them with you and break them down and banish them. Simeon is an angel who has watched over humanity for as long as they’ve been around. He has seen the best of the best and the worst of worst and still he’s never been tempted to turn away from his Father for one. At first, he could have explained it as curiosity and then fondness but it blossomed into the deep, unwavering love that he feels for you now. He sees your flaws and humanity and loves you all the more for it. You have become the new object of his worship and affection; he would fall from grace if it meant being able to hold you in his arms and shower you in the love he so truly believes you deserve. He will remind you every day of why you deserve to be happy and loved; he will tell you everything he loves about you from your smile to your kind heart to your most selfish desires. So, please, just put the same faith in him and his feelings that he puts in you and let him love you.

[deconstructthesoup]

Some miscellaneous stuff for the Fantasy High Leverage AU:

After getting kicked out, Kristen got taken in by Ankarna and Cassandra, who are living their best country-lesbian vibes out on a farm together---a farm which eventually gets in financial trouble and almost gets shut down by a corporation, which is how the crew learn about Kristen's past before she was a hitter. The farm winds up doubling as a safehouse. (Also, Ankarna wears flannels and has a shotgun, and Cassandra does tarot readings at their stall at the farmer's market on weekends. They also have a little black cat, with no relation to Kalina.)

Despite all the rumors swirling around, the way Fig and Fabian met is surprisingly mundane: when Gilear moved from Portland back to London after he and Sandralynn divorced, Fig went with him, and she got enrolled in the same school that Fabian was attending. The two of them became fast and immediate friends, wound up becoming the most popular kids there due to their combined chaos and the fact that they were kind to those who needed it, and were pretty much inseparable from that point forward. And when Fig introduced Gilear to Fabian's mom, who'd been widowed for a while and was looking for someone stable... well, as much as Fabian complained, it meant that he and Fig were officially siblings. (They learned how to grift from Hallariel, who was a very well-renowned thief in her day. It's how she met Bill, after all.)

Fig is the sibling who's the "bad actor in a theater setting, good actor when she's breaking the law" type, though it's a bit more complex than that. She's amazing at coming up with a character on the spot, building off of the questions that people ask her, and remembering details so none of the information contradicts what she's already said, but she finds scripts "boring and restrictive," and always tries to put her own spin on things... which doesn't always fit well. She does get a little better at following a script of sorts when she's on the crew---at least, she learns to follow the plan.

Kristen hasn't gone by "Kristen Applebees" since she was fifteen---instead, the criminal underworld knows her by "Kristen Justice-Forester," referencing her adoptive moms. Mostly because that sounds generally more badass, but also because she really wants to forget about her old life as the church girl next door.

Gorgug's legal name is "Gavin Thistlespring," but he's been going by Gorgug since he was twelve---it was the name of his first ever D&D character, and it eventually became his hacker handle. (This is really because I just needed an explanation as to why a perfectly normal human in a world that's basically ours would be named "Gorgug." I do something similar for Fig in a lot of my AUs---her name's either just "Fig," or she's named after a character from a fantasy series that Sandralynn likes.)

Someone suggested that Kalina is the Sterling equivalent, and I liked it so much that I decided to make it canon---but instead of being Riz's former partner, she's his dad's old partner and mentor who was forced to help cover up Pok's death. She's not necessarily bad, but she does have a very black-and-white view of morality, and she's not a fan of Riz's new, less-than-legal idea of justice.

Adaine still has the Parker rep of being "crazy," but in a very different light. Rather than being a thrill-seeking ball of chaos who's an unpredictable wildcard in every way when the story begins, she's unsettlingly quiet, perceptive to the point where she can predict things minutes in advance, and acts seemingly without morality and with her own skewed logic. As she spends more time with the crew and warms up to them, however, everyone starts to see that Adaine is unflinchingly and unfailingly kind---and that once she actually warms up to you, she will talk nonstop about anything she's invested in, whether it be obscure history facts, thieving tips, or whatever show, book, or video game that one of the others has gotten her hooked on. She's just closed off as a defense mechanism.

Fabian is the sibling with a deep and personal bond with Riz---not that Fig isn't close to him, but Fabian and Riz shot each other when they first met, and you can't beat that. And while Fabian used to have a thing for Riz, he eventually realized that Riz wasn't interested in any kind of relationship, though neither of them fully had the words for it (because, y'know, this story still starts in 2008). Still, though, he considers Riz his best friend and vice versa, and once he's on the crew, he never dates anyone without introducing them to Riz first. And his affections tend to bounce back and forth between Gorgug and Ragh. Or both. Let's just say that Fabian's got the most romantic drama out of any of them.

Riz is still close with his mom, despite the fact that, as a lawyer and former cop, he knows that she probably wouldn't approve of what he does. He just tells her that he runs a private detective agency, which isn't too far from the truth---hell, it's their cover story, after all.

Fabian's father was the greatest thief in the world when he was alive, but that came with a lot of enemies, and that's not something that Fabian wants to deal with---not to mention, he's always been adamant about making a name for himself, and to not just skate by on the Seacaster name. If that means that he has to refer to himself as "Fabian Faeth," well... so be it. He reasons that it's Fig's last name. Not Gilear's.

Fig has never met her bio-dad before the story begins... but she does meet him eventually. There's a whole thing there.

Adaine does not kill Angwyn in her backstory. However, she does get to do that eventually, and it's cathartic as fuck.

[inbarfink]

There’s something very ironic about the opening shot of (almost) every DHMIS TV Episode being the front door opening. Considering that in general, this show is about the claustrophobia and helplessness of these characters being trapped in their house unless let out by the capricious whims of their teacher - and specifically because of that, from our protagonists’ POV, that front door probably doesn’t exist.

Okay, so, judging from the layout of the house in both the opening and the show itself, the front door should be right here -

behind the kitchen, right next to the mirror and the coat rack (which, you know, it makes sense to have the front door right next to the coat rack). 

But the characters themselves never directly explicitly interact with this location (and they only implicitly interact with it once, which I will get to a bit later). Instead, every time the characters are actually shown going in and out of the house - they use the door on the side of the Dining Room.

And this door might lead outside of the house -

Or it might just lead to the living room.

DHMIS loves to use the conventions of television to create a surrealist and oppressive atmosphere and that is just another example of this. Nonsensical house/apartment layouts are not unheard of in TV Production. You know, filming inside a real house is often a lot less convenient than building disconnected sets and cutting between them when the characters walk through a door - and sometimes flubs or inconsistencies happen or the production just straight-up doesn’t care about it as much as nerds online and whoops now the characters live in a canonical non-Euclidean pocket dimension. But in DHMIS this is not a flub, but an intentional element of unease and horror (and sometimes comedy).

Cause, you know, it’s not just that the trio live in a space that does not make any sense (where is the bedroom anyways? Is it also behind that same dining room door?) - it’s also that their own house is a space they cannot actually fully control or navigate.

They can’t determine whenever this is the living room door or front door. They can’t leave of their own volition, but any random stranger can come inside or force them out.

Just another reminder that is not really their house, as much as they are of the house. And meanwhile the space that should logically be the front door goes totally ignored by the characters - basically on the same logic none of them can see either the staircase or the empty chalkboard space lingering just past the fourth wall of their dining room.

If it is off-screen, it basically doesn’t exist for the characters. Again, this idea of turning a convention of TV Fiction into another part of the Puppets’ Actual Nightmare is a recurring theme in DHMIS.

And on that same note, I want to point out the moment that comes closest to acknowledging the front door, or whatever else lies behind that little nook.

In Episode 2, ‘Death’, during the Memories musical montage, Yellow goes to the coat rack area -

And then he goes outside.

Basically the only time in DHMIS’ TV Series that one of the Puppets has left the house on their own. Not accompanied by a Teacher or following a ‘lesson plan’ (quite the opposite, really). Considering that he was by the coat rack a moment ago - that’s the closest we’ve got to one of the Main Three Guys Around using the front door where it’s supposed to be. 

It’s still all very… ambiguous. You know, and Duck was basically buried in their backyard, it’s not like Yellow was pulling a Transport and actually trying to leave. But I still think there’s something there. Cutting from the little coat-rack-hallway to the outside is suggestive of a certain kind of movement the same way heading towards the kitchen door and then cutting to the outside is. 

And the fact this is Yellow Guy, the Puppet who is at the same time most oblivious but also the closest to being aware of what’s going on -

Is certainly very intriguing...

[zukosdualdao]

i don’t begrudge people interesting aus, and i get why someone might be interested in exploring a plot where azulon didn’t really order ozai to kill zuko and that whole series of events went differently from what zuko was told and what the narrative says (and the comics, contentious as they are, further cement.)

that being said: when it comes to canon, i strongly dislike the argument that it can’t really be that azulon ordered ozai to kill zuko because it’s illogical when he just berated ozai for disrespecting iroh and lu ten after lu ten’s death…

because like… yes. it’s illogical, and unfair, and absurd, especially when he’s ostensibly doing it in the name of love for iroh and respect for the family line (which is not actually what it’s about, but more on that in a minute.)

it’s not logical or reasonable. that’s the point.

abusers don’t care about logic, not as it pertains to them. abusers will often give illogical orders or make unreasonable demands and then treat everyone else as the problem when they can’t live up to them or else point out the flawed nature of them.

(we also see how it affects zuko and azula, who have both been taught this behavior both by example (and, in zuko’s case, by being on the receiving end of it. the demand he endlessly search for a deity-like figure no one’s seen in a hundred years and most people believe to be forever-dead springs to mind.) in the storm, zuko unreasonably demands that they continue their search for the avatar and that the safety of the crew doesn’t matter, but the whole episode is about deconstructing that mindset and showing how he got there, and in the end, he chooses to do the right thing, saving a crew member and deciding to get the ship to safety instead of following aang. azula, by contrast, orders her own soldiers to pull in the ship despite the tides, and only doubles down (and violently threatens) when questioned, showing a lack of respect for the laws of nature itself. this is her first proper episode, and she never truly grows out of this mindset. see also: cherries accidentally left un-pitted being treated as evidence of high treason.)

there is a story about intergenerational trauma and the cycles of abuse being told here. azulon is contradicting himself. he’s a hypocrite! abusers often are! he doesn’t care, though, because why should he, when he defines what’s right and wrong—just as ozai does and as he teaches azula to—not through any consistent moral conviction or code but through what he decides to do and therefore what he perceives as his right to do? in his mind, the only ‘right’ is his final word, and the highest ‘wrong’ is going against it.

and while he couches his outrage at ozai’s attempt to usurp iroh’s place in the line of heirs in language that suggests it’s about loyalty to iroh and respect for the family line—it’s not really. it’s outrage that ozai, the son he clearly doesn’t care for, dares to question iroh’s place, and therefore azulon’s judgment and authority, as the rightful heir, the respected general, the golden child.

but it’s not even about genuinely respecting iroh or what he would want, whatever azulon may tell himself. iroh, who, even at the height of his imperialist indoctrination and military power, i very earnestly believe would have been horrified to learn azulon ordered zuko’s murder and that it was done, ostensibly, on “his behalf”—even though he never and never would have asked for it. and, especially coming just after lu ten’s death, i think he would hate for his grief at the loss of his son to be twisted and used in this horrendous way.

anyway. azulon’s order doesn’t match up with what he say he values and is trying to defend, but that’s because those things are not what he’s truly so angry about. it’s about control. he has it, and he will make any illogical, cruel, sadistic order he wants when someone challenges it, because he can.

which, by the way, is ozai’s whole MO as well.

[libraryspectre]

Ugh ok fine I'll talk about my murderbot casting opinions

Awhile back I noticed people getting irritated with Kevin R. Free as the audiobook narrator because he's a man with a Man Voice and it really rankled me. People of any gender can have any voice, and anyway, Kevin R. Free's voice IS fairly androgynous.

This is more or less how I feel about a man being cast as Murderbot. It would have been nice to have a nonbinary actor play Murderbot, because nonbinary actors need more roles, but Murderbot is not nonbinary. Murderbot is nonhuman and human labels are N/A. Gender is N/A. You could argue that is splitting hairs from a representation standpoint, but I think it's core to the theme of the series. (Also, it's great that nonbinary people relate to and claim murderbot as representation, we just need to acknowledge it doesn't experience being genderless in the same way a human does). Because of this, I don't think the studio was ethically obligated to cast a nonbinary person.

I think, from a worldbuiling standpoint, I would have liked someone with a fairly androgynous voice and facial features. This is because we know murderbot is sexless, with no secondary sex characteristics. As far as murderbot's flesh parts, the only relevant features I can think of are voice and lack of facial hair.

So, I'm actually pretty fine with a man being cast as murderbot? I think to follow the logic of secunit biology he should stay clean-shaven for the roll, and maybe avoid the deeper registers of his voice (I haven't heard him speak so I don't actually know what he sounds like.) His features are pretty traditionally masculine but that doesn't really matter, and he has big ol eyes that could help them play into the androgynony if they chose to.

My bigger initial problem was with Murderbot being played by a white actor. I think a lot of the readers' image of Murderbot has been shaped by the Tommy Arnold illustrations where it's dark-skinned. It doesn't actually say anywhere in the books, from what I remember, what Murderbot's skin-tone is like, but we do know it's made from a slurry of donor DNA and the Corporate Rim has people with a wide range of features (I avoided alluding to racial diversity here because we have no idea what concept of race the CR or any of the other settings actually have. Edit: to clarify, the characters are definitely racially diverse from our viewpoint. I just felt the need to caveat because the concept of race is very cultural and we don't actually know what cultural concepts of race the setting has, if any at all. This is my anthropology degree showing lol). It makes little sense for Murderbot to be white if its DNA is built from a pool of people with, most likely, a wide variety of physical features. At least.....I think it is? I realized after thinking about this for awhile that I don't actually know if Murderbot's DNA came from one human donor or a variety of people. So this whole argument could be moot. (If you could direct me to evidence for or against this I'd be grateful).

So, Murderbot being white might be technically fine, from a worldbuilding standpoint, but at that point I think it's just kind of disappointing to see another show with a really diverse supporting cast and a white lead. That being said, there's actually interesting commentary to that, considering Murderbot was created to be a cop. I actually think, if handled well, the image of a bunch of white secunits policing the enslaved masses could be some really effective commentary. And to some extent, it doesn't matter if Murderbot's DNA came from one person or a pool of people, if you take the stance that the Company is intentionally choosing white features for their SecUnits. The commentary stands.

My other concern was that they would whitewash other cast members, but that doesn't seem to be the case.

Finally, the series having Martha Wells' stamp of approval encourages me that they've made these choices with intention and will handle them thoughtfully. I saw another fan point out that there is some power to the idea of seeing an actor on screen that most people would read as male, asserting again and again that it doesn't have gender, and now that I'm feeling more optomistic I agree.

And hey, I'm actually feeling optomistic!

[fishgirl514]

sonic prime s3 rewrite:

im going to try to fix a bunch of things i was unsatisfied with from the end of the story.

such as the whole “work together” lesson that sonic learned somewhere in the last 6 episodes really vaguely. also im going to fix sonic and shadow’s vague friendship arc. i might also take a crack at fixing knuckles the dread’s conclusion bc he was the most interesting variant lets be honest and he was nearly forgotten. maybe in another post. this is future me talking i spent hours writing this.

im also going to make the “we’re back home” ending WAY longer and actually have there be an emotional resolution for the #notgay “brothers”

and the most egregious sin (imo) of season 3 was the fact that all the worlds just. stayed. and that was it. huh????????

THIS WILL BE LONG AND MIGHT BE ASS IN YOUR OPINION LOL ITS CHILL. IM NOT A SEASONED DAY 1 FAN WHOSE READ EVERY COMIC AND PLAYED EVERY GAME AND KNOWS THESE CHARACTERS BETTER THAN THE WRITERS OR ANYTHING IM JUST HAVING FUN AND SHARING WHAT I THINK WOULD HAVE MADE MORE SENSE

THE SHARDS:

ok first, we have to go back in time a little bit. i think each shard should have been the heart of its respective world instead of just the random place it happened to be sitting in. the shards create the world around them, and whoever holds the shard of a world basically controls reality for that world. the shards are always originally centered on the palm tree of their world (the chaos council found their tree and stole the shard, this is why the tree is so important to the resistance, they need to return it to restore balance. NO ONE IS MEANT TO WEILD THE SHARDS, IT ONLY BRINGS CHAOS. THIS IS A CENTRAL THEME.) when a shard is removed from its world, the world begins to slowly collapse on itself. the more shards are taken the more the WHOLE shatterverse starts to become unstable. THIS is why the shatterverse begins to decay, not just because there was “too many portals” or whatever.

THE MOST IMPORTANT PART: when the paradox prism is fully recreated and brought back to its place in ghost hill, green hill will be restored and the shatterverse will cease to exist. it was created by the shards being split, bringing them back together brings the world back together into one.

sonic does not realize this at first. he finds out the shards are in different worlds and starts trying to find them all to put them back together, saying he needs to recreate his world, not thinking about the logical consequence for the shatter spaces. nine hears this and thinks he could create his OWN world wherever he wants using the power of the prism. he is wrong. (find out why later)

SHADOW:

for the most part, shadow is in the right about everything. his only issue is that like sonic, he doesn’t want to work together. sonic is too impulsive, but shadow is too stubborn. they learn to overcome this together throughout the series. while shadow is stuck speaking to sonic from the void, they are constantly disagreeing on what to do. shadow is being too bossy and demanding that his plans be followed to the letter, and sonic is making split second changes and forgetting to tell him. this at some point nearly ends in a MASSIVE disaster and they both realize they need to get it together. wasting time fighting is part of what caused this mess in the first place- shadow is also slightly at fault here. we do a flashback to the day of the incident and they agree to try to cooperate. it’s a little rocky, but by the end they’re fighting side by side in perfect sync, recognizing each other as valued friends.

NINE:

nine for most of the series can stay the same. an important plot point for me is his insistence that he is NOT tails. however, instead of this being something sonic has to learn is true, it’s something nine has to learn is false. when nine goes to ghost hill and sees the old tails, he’s unnerved by this hollow shell of a version of himself. while he is alone putting the shards back together on the mountain, he realizes that just like the shards are unstable fragments of the paradox prism, the shatter spaces are unstable fragments of green hill. he is a fragment of tails. this sets off a minor identity crisis on top of the realization that he is not supposed to exist. none of the shatter spaces are supposed to exist. that’s why they’re all so out of wack. no place is flooded and ruled by pirates, the boscage maze is a suffocating jungle, new yoke is a dystopian nightmare, and the grim is a lifeless wasteland. they all exist in a fragile state of balance and are already falling apart. they were already on shaky ground but have been on a direct path to destruction since sonic showed up. he still has hope in his ability to make the grim into his own world, but deep down he’s refusing to let himself realize the truth: even with the power of all 5 prism shards the world will continue to decay until they are reunited. nine takes the shards and leaves.

SONIC:

dear god. sonic. where do i even begin.

first of all, i would prefer to see him being a little less chatty and scatterbrained. i think a little of it would still make sense considering the story he’s living through, but in general he needs to be a little more tethered to his old unshakable self until it comes to the really important decisive moments. sonic isn’t an emotionless character, but he just seemed extra…. smushy..? idk this isn’t something i can articulate well ehe XP

i LOVED the parallels and flashbacks from seasons 1 and 2. where did they go??? i go crazy for a good parallel, so i say they keep happening in season 3. obviously. like of all the times to mirror the beginning, it’s the final fight???

i want to have the final battle directly and clearly parallel the fight from episode 1. this way, there can be a Moment where sonic stops to look back at his experiences and make the choice to do things the right way this time. to fix the problem he created he needs to fix his personal problem that created the problem. i want a very obvious scene where he finally finished connecting all the dots lets this lesson sink into his head.

speaking of which, let’s get back to present time and talk about the final fight.

FINAL BATTLE:

nine has all 5 shards kept far apart and protected, but still close enough for him to draw on their power. the world is decaying rapidly and he has to constantly use the shards to ward off the imminent destruction.

sidenote: at some point when nine is trying to pick off sonic, he sends the birds to search the empty space in the shatterverse. one finds shadow’s chaos emerald in the void and brings it out. shadow gets it back from the bird or whatever later. it was so weird that the void stopped being relevant and they just never got the green emerald back.

heading into the final fight, sonic is sad about nine’s betrayal, but he only gives him one chance to give up. when he and shadow confront nine, sonic tells him that the shatterverse is falling apart and no one has a home left to return to anymore. nine hesitates for a moment, he knows there is a chance that even with his enemies gone he won’t be able to stop the decay, but he refuses to give up. sonic knows what is at stake here and he takes it seriously. he doesn’t want to fight nine but he has no choice, besides, nine is hurting his friends, and that’s not acceptable.

sonic still isn’t sure what to do about the moral dilemma of wiping out the shatterverse to bring back his world. after all, wouldn’t that make him no better than nine? but right now there is an immediate threat: nine accelerating the decay of the universe by holding all the shards in one shatter space.

during the final fight (which i would also make WAYYYYY shorter) i would have him try to go for nine himself, thinking that he knows nine best, and is the most well equipped to defeat him. everyone else is on shaky ground with each other as alliances between the different groups, especially with the eggmans, haven’t been solidified. because of this lack of teamwork everyone struggles to fight off the robots nine creates.

sonic stops. he’s seen this play out before, and the stakes weren’t nearly as high. he is the throughline of the whole group so HE has to bring everyone together (“theres only one hedgehog they’ll follow into battle”). He gets everyone to understand that right now they’re on the same page, so they all formulate a plan together to keep the robots away and get the shards back one by one. sonic and shadow fight nine in person while everyone else collects the shards and brings them each to sonic and shadow, who use the power of the shards to help defeat nine. but when they remove nine’s power source, the world starts decaying really fast again. nine panics, takes the shards back and starts trying to fight off the decay, but it’s too much to fight anymore. he falls to his knees in defeat, he knows his goals were always unreachable. at first he lashes out at sonic, but then he stops and just cries.

he tells sonic how he just wanted a place to call home, even though he knew it wouldn’t be possible. sonic says that maybe it’s still possible to restore the shards to their worlds and stop the decay, shadow interjects that they need to bring back green hill, but nine says there’s no point in trying to bring back the shatter spaces. they’re beyond repair, and they were never meant to be in the first place (the others hearing this are shocked and uneasy hearing this). he was wrong to try to destroy everyone’s worlds to make one just for himself, at least sonic was trying to bring back his friends. but sonic comforts him and reassures his feelings and also apologizes for asking him to stop existing. but nine says that’s actually what he needs to do now. the only option left is to restore green hill. they’ll pour all the energy stores they have left into the kraken to get sonic and shadow back to the decaying ghost hill.

sonic tries to object, asking if nine is sure he’s ok with disappearing. nine says he won’t really stop existing, he and all his friends were always with him and always will be back in green hill. nine thanks sonic for always being his friend. here is the big brother hug moment. nonetheless, they all say goodbye (for now), and shadow and sonic head out of the grim.

RESTORING GREEN HILL:

blah blah there’s some debris and maybe they *almost don’t make it* but in the end they just barely get to the gateway in time.

sidenote: instead of shadow needing to go through weird side cracks to get through the gates, he is able to because of the instability of the prism energy not keeping him out the way it did before

shadow is almost blocked at the gateway. he’s pushing through, but the world is falling apart. sonic grabs the shards from him and tosses them into ghost hill so he can pull shadow through. shadow exclaims something about the shards and sonic says he won’t leave him behind. shadow is touched <3 (they’re holding each other desperately this whole scene and when they fall through, this is me making up for cutting the princess carry im so sorry i had to).

they get to the mountain, return the shards, and a huge blast of energy knocks them back. sonic opens his eyes and cue the regular sequence from the final episode. i liked this bit, it was such a relief to see the world put back together lol. after they fight eggman, sonic brings everyone in for a big group hug like he tried to in new yoke and says he has to go find shadow.

sonic asks shadow if he still remembers everything, and he does. sonic breathes a sigh of relief and jokes that he was worried all that friendship building effort had gone to waste, shadow gives him a (very) small laugh. he tells sonic that he may have started this by being himself, but he also fixed it by being himself. sonic whizzes around him asking if that was a compliment, and shadow says it’s just good to be back home. sonic says “it wouldn’t be the same without you. it wouldn’t be the same without ME either” to which shadow rolls his eyes and tries to hide a smile. sonic uses shadow’s shoulder as an arm rest as the two look out at the sunset. sonic says they make a pretty good team when they fight WITH each other. there’s a pause before shadow responds, “yeah.”

the next day goes on like it did in the real episode except shadow is there, and when the gang remarks on sonic’s odd demeanor they also comment on his suddenly improved relationship with shadow. the show ends like it did before with sonic about to explain but interrupted by eggman. life is back to normal, happily ever after the end.

OK THATS IT!!!! i hope whatever few people had the endurance and determination to read all of this enjoyed it, ive been writing it out for hours omgggg i could never write fanfiction i would die LMAO. i had such a clear vision of what i thought this season was going to be that i figured it wouldn’t take too much effort for me to write it all out. like i said before it’s definitely not perfect and i refuse to re read this for errors for 24 hours but i hope you enjoyed ok bye :3

[kerubimcrepin]

Liveblog: Wakfu Season 2 (episodes 1-5)

Episode 1 - Monsters and Chimeras

I didn't mention it in the liveblog of season 1, but I think it is probably common for a person in a group of adventurers to be a scribe/quest journal keeper.

(putting on a crepinjurgenite tinfoil hat) We know that Kerubim keeps one canonically, and that as a child Joris liked scrap booking, so my headcanon is as follows:

While travelling alone, Joris keeps a private travel journal nobody is allowed to read (it has: drawings and photos of views he found beautiful + quick sketches of maps and notes on environment to refine at home (HE'S CANONICALLY INTO CARTOGRAPHY, BESIDES PHOTOGRAPHY) + he gets sappy&mentally ill about it all, so it's cringe to him.) (Unsurprisingly, it never contains any sensitive political data or his objectives, and if he does need to write something like that down, he tears that page out asap)

Atcham doesn't keep journals as a rule (having a literal paper trail might reveal to the investigators the location where he hid the bodies)

While travelling as a group, Kerubim keeps the journal, and it's a pretty pragmatic one (for him. He writes down the most random things, from important info, to actual fucking recipies he learned and personal notes à la "NOTE! next morning after we exit the tavern i should buy tangerines. i think Joris is beginning to suffer vitamin C deficiency but is keeping silent about it as usual"). Unlike Joris, he isn't into photography or doodling, HOWEVER, he will purposefully ask Joris to take photos and draw maps/landmarks in that journal. Because Joris is good at it. (And because he has had a folder of Joris's art through ages 4-600 in a hidden room in the house, all framed and sorted alphabetically, and he NEEDS more items in the collection.)

Episode 2 - Rubilaxia

It was mentioned at the end of the previous episode that Eva would be making her way through the Cania plains, and I am glad the series shows us at least one of the unique rocks found in Cania.

I don't know why, but it feels nice when the games and the cartoons represent the same place the same way. That's why I'm pointing that out.

Episode 3 - Remington Smisse

(coughs) This sword appears in episode 1 of the critically acclaimed (and worldwide-beloved) show under the name "Dofus: Aux Tresors de Kerubim"

Once again, the show has been planting seeds for Adamai's joker arc for its entire run, and still managed to squander it during season 3.

I have never seen a show fumble the bag that bad, I'm sorry.

Episode 4 - The Return of Percedal

Big believer in rubitristeva. A family can be a dad and swdad (sword dad) and a mom.

Episode 5 - The Dragon Pig

Wakfu Cannibalism Counter: 1

The reason I point this out is that, with every instance of inter-adventurer cannibalism in canon, the chance that Joris, Kerubim, and Atcham have tasted human flesh (outside of Waven) grows.

On the topic of Waven Cannibalism Lore, strangely, porkassess, AKA the pig people who are stuck in a mutual cannibalism war with Bonta under Joris's rule (technically not cannibalism because they are a different sentient species from twelvians, similar to goblins and bworks, but I doubt it's much better...) worship the minor god Ougah (who is a mushroom)

It is unknown (at least, to me) what the hell the Dragon Pig is.

But he is definitely tasty.

While they were busy grinding their professions and doing pizzlarva quests, he was dungeon crawling with his guild.

Also, let me be real, the whole conflict of "boo-hoo, nobody respects Tristepin" is random, mean-spirited, and out of character, inserted into the show simply to create conflict. Tristepin got resurrected after weeks of them thinking he was dead. They should not, logically, treat him this way (at least yet).

Reasons I think Dragon Pig might be an immortal, perpetually reincarnating/perpetually killed porkass: Does this to a person who lives in areas surrounding Bonta.

[madara-fate]

Hello!

I recently came across a post that triggered me a bit, and I wanted to talk about it.

In essence, the points raised were that:

Women are more inclined to ship Sasuke and Naruto because they have chemistry and share a lot in common.

Shipping Sasuke with Sakura makes no sense because they are too different, and she doesn't understand him.

If BoruSara were to happen, it would imply that their fathers are a thing because of the parallels.

Sakura is a poorly written character, and people can't relate to her because she's too unrealistic.

Sakura is poorly written because, essentially, she's different from Sasuke and Naruto.

First of all... SNS exists not because of the supposed chemistry between them but because they are two attractive white guys sharing a lot of screen time together and so, the perfect combo for fujoshi shipping. Justifying this expedition is like justifying the fact that the frequent depiction of partially naked women on car racing posters has no relation to the intended audience.

If Sakura shouldn't be with Sasuke because she doesn't understand him, does Naruto understand him? Seriously?

Naruto understands Sasuke's loneliness, that's it.

Nothing more, nothing less.

I'm not bashing their connection, but let's be honest, nobody really understood Sasuke there -yet it didn't stop them from wanting to help him-

Furthermore, what does this imply? That you can only be in a relationship with someone who has a similar background?

Saying Sakura doesn't understand Sasuke at all is superficial on so many levels that I won't even bother dwelling on it.

Next, the idea that people think the parallels they cling to justify their ship is just... bizarre.

If BoruSara were to happen, it wouldn't prove anything about SNS because the biggest difference between these two ships would be the author's intention.

SNS would have happened if Kishimoto wanted their relationship that way, but that wasn't the case. It has been repeatedly emphasized in the manga that their relationship is not romantic.

If some interpret it that way, that's fine, but they shouldn't tell the author how he wrote HIS own manga. And no, it's not heteronormativity. I don't even understand why some fanon ships seek canon validation for their shipping.

Not to mention that every time they talk about these parallels, many seem to deliberately forget that these two children are not mirror images of their fathers but their own individuals.

Yes, they have the foundation of their personalities, but that's just it, the foundation. Apart from that, they differ on so many levels that it's not even funny.

Sarada also shares a lot of her mother's personality, and it's as clear as day. So, if I follow this logic, does BoruSara also imply that NaruSaku could have been a thing despite Sakura's total absence of romantic feelings?

Boruto can indeed be like his father, but he also tries to be like his mentor, so sometimes, he resembles him too. And he can be as calm and focused as his mother, not to mention he has personality traits unique to him. All this makes him someone too different from the "Naruto carbon copy" label stuck on him. Saying that is really downplaying his character.

Moreover, the relationship these two have is also different from that of their fathers: it's normal and not built on a heap of negative feelings and deadly fights that led to a vitriolic friendship.

As for the last two points, Sakura is less unrealistic than Sasuke and Naruto, yet not many bat an eye at that. Maybe because it's a shounen manga about ninjas, and unreality is actually expected...?

In fact, Sakura is the most realistic character in this series.

Regarding the identification question, just because you can't identify with her doesn't mean everyone can't. I do, and many others do too because, for once, in the whole history of shounen, we have a female character with authentic and not-so-likable flaws, approaching more the human being without the need for a traumatic event or a horrible childhood to justify her behavior.

Her character development is incredible, not just because "she was weak at the beginning and became strong," it's more than that.

Sakura has shown me that no matter how you start, you can reach the destination you want if you work for it. Her transformation is phenomenal: throughout the manga, she radicalizes in ALL aspects. She removes her blinders, starts seeing people for who they really are, becomes more understanding and attentive, learns —and sometimes in the most brutal ways— that everything is not black and white and that you sometimes have to make horrible choices to protect others.

She changes in so many ways, and the best part is that Kishimoto didn't make her some perfect Mary Sue. He made her evolve despite her flaws, for which I will always be grateful.

Sakura is not a poorly written character. Yes, she could have been more explored, and sometimes her author did her wrong, but that doesn't make her a bad character. She could have been better —all the characters in this series could have been— but that doesn't mean she's "worse."

She is fundamentally the reason why I'm in my last year of college today and intend to persevere in my studies (and it's not even a joke).

I never had a family model I could identify with, and all the characters (fictional or not) I love or admire have always seemed out of reach, just an ideal to idolize but unable to imitate.

With Sakura, however, it has always been different; every time I look at her, I think, "if she could do it, then why not me?"

Her importance in my life in terms of motivation and emotional development has been crucial, so it's really frustrating to see people deduce that just because they can't identify with her, no one can, and she's a bad character.

She's not poorly written; she's just different.

Kishimoto once said that his goal with Sakura was to create a realistic female character that little girls could identify with and despite all the controversy surrounding her character, he actually succeeded in this challenge.

Many of us, little girls that we were, saw ourselves in OG Sakura (whether we admit it or not) because the way she was written is how a lot of pre-adolescent girls behave (minus the rapid character development).

It was nice to grow up with her because it showed me that I didn't need to be perfect or have incredible motivations or be "cool" from the start to become someone exceptional. She taught me that my future is not set in stone. And most importantly, she taught me to be myself, to be authentic, to accept and love myself as the imperfect human that I am.

The weirdest thing about this is that these statements came from someone who claims not to care about SNS and doesn't hate Sakura. How can a person claiming to be neutral come to such a conclusion? Honestly, it baffles me; this kind of pseudo-analysis is on the same level of nonsense as what antis spew.

If some can't be bothered to understand a character, then they should simply say nothing about her.

I'm sorry for bothering you with this, but after reading this thing, I just couldn't let it pass.

I don't know how you guys manage to tolerate this fandom, let alone respond to all the strange and stupid takes you receive day after day. In any case, you have my utmost respect.

Thank you for listening, and I wish you a beautiful and happy new year.

First of all... SNS exists not because of the supposed chemistry between them but because they are two attractive white guys sharing a lot of screen time together and so, the perfect combo for fujoshi shipping. Justifying this expedition is like justifying the fact that the frequent depiction of partially naked women on car racing posters has no relation to the intended audience.

I agree apart from two things.

Naruto and Sasuke do have chemistry, but there's just nothing romantic about it.

I wouldn't bring the colour of their skin into it, that opens up a whole other can of worms.

If Sakura shouldn't be with Sasuke because she doesn't understand him, does Naruto understand him? Seriously? Naruto understands Sasuke's loneliness, that's it. Nothing more, nothing less.

Naruto understood Sasuke in some ways (loneliness, being high level shinobi who could read each other's thoughts through fighting etc), and Sakura understood him in other ways (his likes/dislikes, how his mind works and his decision making processes etc).

Furthermore, what does this imply? That you can only be in a relationship with someone who has a similar background?

Yep, that's one of the things that's always irked me the most from their points. It's like they think that just because Sakura couldn't empathise with Sasuke's tough upbringing, that makes her an unsuitable partner for him, which is just all kinds of stupid. It's also one of the reasons the SK fans prefer that ship, since Karin also had a relatively tough upbringing, she'd be able to "understand" Sasuke better than Sakura. As if being able to empathise with a tough childhood is all there is to understand about a person.

If BoruSara were to happen, it wouldn't prove anything about SNS because the biggest difference between these two ships would be the author's intention. SNS would have happened if Kishimoto wanted their relationship that way, but that wasn't the case. It has been repeatedly emphasized in the manga that their relationship is not romantic.

Agreed. This silly idea that BS's canonisation would somehow serve as proof that SNS should have happened, is one of the 4 main reasons why I do not want BS to happen. Although it is the least important to me out of the 4 of them.

If some interpret it that way, that's fine, but they shouldn't tell the author how he wrote HIS own manga. And no, it's not heteronormativity. I don't even understand why some fanon ships seek canon validation for their shipping.

Not all interpretations and opinions are valid. I'm sorry but I'm sick of people hiding behind this false idea that just because they say it's their opinion or interpretation, it's just as valid as everyone else's. No, opinions and interpretations can be wrong. Authorial intent dictates how the narrative is supposed to be perceived and understood. Therefore, if Kishi says that something is a certain way, then that's the way it is, end of story, no room for further interpretation. If Kishi says that Naruto and Sasuke are platonic, and that they were never meant to be anything more than that, then that's the way it is. Other interpretations are wrong, because Kishi's word is gospel.

Not to mention that every time they talk about these parallels, many seem to deliberately forget that these two children are not mirror images of their fathers but their own individuals.

That too.

Sarada also shares a lot of her mother's personality, and it's as clear as day. So, if I follow this logic, does BoruSara also imply that NaruSaku could have been a thing despite Sakura's total absence of romantic feelings?

Agreed, I'd say that in terms of personality, Sarada is a closer parallel to Sakura than Sasuke, and NS obviously didn't happen.

Boruto can indeed be like his father, but he also tries to be like his mentor, so sometimes, he resembles him too. And he can be as calm and focused as his mother, not to mention he has personality traits unique to him. All this makes him someone too different from the "Naruto carbon copy" label stuck on him. Saying that is really downplaying his character.

💯

As for the last two points, Sakura is less unrealistic than Sasuke and Naruto, yet not many bat an eye at that. Maybe because it's a shounen manga about ninjas, and unreality is actually expected...? In fact, Sakura is the most realistic character in this series.

To be honest, I have no idea what they could be referring to when those people label Sakura as apparently being unrealistic.

Regarding the identification question, just because you can't identify with her doesn't mean everyone can't. I do, and many others do too because, for once, in the whole history of shounen, we have a female character with authentic and not-so-likable flaws, approaching more the human being without the need for a traumatic event or a horrible childhood to justify her behavior. Her character development is incredible, not just because "she was weak at the beginning and became strong," it's more than that. Sakura has shown me that no matter how you start, you can reach the destination you want if you work for it. Her transformation is phenomenal: throughout the manga, she radicalizes in ALL aspects. She removes her blinders, starts seeing people for who they really are, becomes more understanding and attentive, learns —and sometimes in the most brutal ways— that everything is not black and white and that you sometimes have to make horrible choices to protect others.

Unfortunately, many people just don't see any of that. They see an annoying, selfish person who treated Naruto poorly (despite that only being applicable to before the Forest of Death), "obsessed" over Sasuke (when she really didn't, and that criticism is far more applicable to Naruto anyway), broke off her friendship with Ino over a boy (showing how they missed the entire point of that fight), and was essentially useless (despite among other things, saving many important people's lives, multiple times).

Sakura is not a poorly written character. Yes, she could have been more explored, and sometimes her author did her wrong, but that doesn't make her a bad character. She could have been better —all the characters in this series could have been— but that doesn't mean she's "worse."

"She could have been better —all the characters in this series could have been" - Yes, I'm glad you highlighted this. This is by no means a Sakura exclusive criticism. It's just more of a problem for her since she was a main character.

She is fundamentally the reason why I'm in my last year of college today and intend to persevere in my studies (and it's not even a joke). I never had a family model I could identify with, and all the characters (fictional or not) I love or admire have always seemed out of reach, just an ideal to idolize but unable to imitate. With Sakura, however, it has always been different; every time I look at her, I think, "if she could do it, then why not me?"

Yeah I get that, I said something very similar about her during this post towards the end, where I described the primary two ways in which I found Sakura to be an inspiring character.

Kishimoto once said that his goal with Sakura was to create a realistic female character that little girls could identify with and despite all the controversy surrounding her character, he actually succeeded in this challenge. Many of us, little girls that we were, saw ourselves in OG Sakura (whether we admit it or not) because the way she was written is how a lot of pre-adolescent girls behave (minus the rapid character development).

I'll take your word for it. Personally, towards the beginning I did indeed find Sakura very irritating, for several different reasons, but I grew to appreciate her for what she brings, rather than continuously judging her for how she was at the very beginning. But apparently, "character development" is either a foreign concept to these people, or can only be applied if the character in question moves on from her initial feelings. Because if not, then her entire character automatically "regresses", regardless of the reasons why she retained her feelings.

The weirdest thing about this is that these statements came from someone who claims not to care about SNS and doesn't hate Sakura. How can a person claiming to be neutral come to such a conclusion? Honestly, it baffles me; this kind of pseudo-analysis is on the same level of nonsense as what antis spew.

That reminds me of a video that Swagkage made on YouTube, which I talked about in great depth during this post, regarding how he tried to lie and say that he didn't hate Sakura and that he was impartial to her, yet the vast majority of the video was him hating on Sakura.

I don't know how you guys manage to tolerate this fandom, let alone respond to all the strange and stupid takes you receive day after day. In any case, you have my utmost respect. Thank you for listening, and I wish you a beautiful and happy new year

My general tolerance for people's bullshit is honestly inhuman, lol. But many thanks, and happy (belated) new year to you as well ^_^

[velvetvexations]

This is an edited version of something I posted to r/DaystromInstitute, a Star Trek sub. I'm proud of it and, having deleted my account, want to preserve it here.

Dukat is a fantastic example of Narcissitic Personality Disorder

I'm an individual with Narcissistic Personality Disorder. It's very, extremely frustrating to see people claim everyone from Dolores Umbridge to Donald Trump also have NPD because they're like, just the worst. NPD doesn't mean "selfish", or "controlling", or even "self-absorbed", and certainly is not a synonym for abusive, despite all the self-help books that say sniping a narcissist who came within eight hundred yards of you is legally permissible under Stand Your Ground laws.

You might expect me to not be so appreciative of Dukat, who is, after all, a pretty horrible person. I actually have a worse opinion of Dukat's supposed nobility than many, as fairly often the fandom prefers to back the idea that he really was a misguided anti-villain who only succumbed to devil-worshipping when the writers assassinated his character.

Well, unfortunately, it's harder to recognize authentic NPD traits in heroes, and "recognize" is a term I use loosely, since most writers certainly didn't have NPD in mind at all. Nonetheless, I love Dukat because he exemplifies a nuanced, if not overly flattering, portrayal of a personality disorder that actual human beings deal with, and 99% of the time is just flattened into a thing you call people you don't like.

As a child, one thing that did a lot to mitigate the more negative social aspects of NPD was having it imprinted on my brain by anime and video games that being a Hero and as good as possible was the best thing to be. While praise and attention in general does scratch a powerful itch too, once my child-self internalized the values of the media I consumed - helped along by also being autistic - the standard for which I judged myself was set. I would literally cry if I accidentally picked up dark side points in a Star Wars game.

I think Dukat went through a similar process. Not all narcissists cling to a model centering morality, but Dukat, for one reason or another, did. He sincerely believes everything he does is altruistic and fair, and more than that, he wants to be altruistic and fair, having misidentified the origin of his cravings.

Another thing that helped me a lot growing up was a book called The Screwtape Letters. If you're unfamiliar, it's by CS Lewis and is presented as a series of letters from a high-ranked demon to his nephew, who works as essentially a shoulder devil attempting to guide his patient into sin and disconnection from God. I feel like Lewis would probably be annoyed with me not getting anything properly Christian out of it, but it is an amazing manual for teaching you how to examine your own thinking and subconscious impulses. It started me down a path of being very self-aware, which made it easier to navigate NPD, because I'm incapable of tolerating the flaws in my internal logic that I'm able to catch. If I may be excused for saying so, I think I do a decent job on that count, with the downside that I'm often far too hyper-critical and it results in regular anxiety.

But Dukat never learned that skill. As a result, his attempted nobility clashes with his other competing impulses, and all his actions are reinforced, rather than rejected, by his conscious, which his NPD assures him is being followed to the letter. As Lewis said:

The baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity at some point may be sated; and since he dimly knows he is doing wrong he may possibly repent. But the Inquisitor who mistakes his own cruelty and lust of power and fear for the voice of Heaven will torment us infinitely more because he torments us with the approval of his own conscience and his better impulses appear to him as temptations.

Dukat's inner struggle is fueled by the need to be a revered benefactor while also having served at the head of the bastard offspring of the Iraq War and Holocaust. His solution at the time was to make it more like the Second Boer War, the conflict that originally popularized the term "concentration camp" despite the fact that those concentration camps weren't even meant to eliminate the thousands that were killed in them.

DUKAT: So in my first official act as Prefect, I ordered all labour camp commanders to reduce their output quotas by fifty percent. Then I reorganized the camps themselves. Child labour was abolished. Medical care was improved. Food rations were increased. At the end of one month of my administration, the death rate had dropped by twenty percent. Now how did the Bajorans react to all this? On my one month anniversary they blew up an orbital dry-dock, killing over two hundred Cardassian soldiers and workers. "KIRA": We didn't want a reconciliation. We wanted to destroy you. DUKAT: So I had to order a response. But even then it was a carefully tempered one. I ordered two hundred suspected members of the Resistance rounded up and executed. Two hundred lives for two hundred lives. That's justice, not malevolence. Justice.

Throughout the episode the Kira hallucination embodies the disrespected and ingratitude he feels he gets for being "nice". Cardassian values, attitudes, and objectives came first. Dukat, however, was smart enough to understand some of what was being done to Bajor was wrong, but not quite able to tear himself away from his own identity as a Cardassian and the protagonist of the universe. That was just too much to totally upend, as would be required to fully comprehend the reality of the situation.

So he tries, in his own way. Because he wants to be a good guy, the hero, the main character, and he truly believes that he is. Unfortunately, it remains pointed solidly in the direction of his own ego. He's unable to recognize that to err is Cardassian, but repentance divine, because he's already invested in so much. His identity as a Cardassian, his own past actions, his impulsive grabs for power, and being convinced he's such a good man shields him from thinking critically because it would necessarily mean criticizing himself. Dukat can only truly appreciate that he's made mistakes when it makes him feel like he's being the bigger man willing to compromise and graciously admit fault, but he was in charge of the Occupation for twenty years. It's hard to walk back from that.

And I should know, because even understanding I'm the one at fault, it's pulling teeth to force myself through accepting I did wrong, much less admitting it to someone else. I don't want to be someone who fucked up, no matter how minor. Pulling teeth. Quite a lot of NPD can be described that way, in fact. While half-brained wannabee psychologists present narcissists as being sociopathic manipulators who skillfully terrorize those around them, most of NPD is horrible, chest-thumping anxiety. It's not fun at all to want to break my controller in half every single time I get got in a game of Splatoon, even when the round is far from over.

Most Cardassians involved with the Occupation seemed to be either outright monsters or falling under the "banality of evil", like Damar. They considered the Bajorans as, at best, a bunch of backwards hicks who needed to shut up and listen to their betters. Dukat, though, fetishized Bajor and the Bajorans themselves, as quite creepily seen in his string of Bajoran lovers and his dogged pursuit of Kira throughout the show (which horrifically took Nana Visitor putting her foot down to keep from being canon!). He pursed his tenure as head of the Occupation with the zeal of someone who truly wanted his subjects to see he was doing all this for their own good.

The Dominion and most other Cardassians don't give a fuck if your subjects like you except insofar as it's convenient and makes them less likely to rebel. That's the Dominion's whole thing, they just want control, and if the carrot doesn't work they'll shrug and without a hint of emotion give you the stick. It doesn't matter to them how they're in charge as long as they are. When Dukat makes his point about having only executed two-hundred (suspected!) members of the Resistance, the Weyoun hallucination comments:

"WEYOUN": The Dominion would never have been so generous.

It's telling that Dukat is fixated on the contrast between him and the people he allied with enough for it to show up in his breakdown. Just a little before that, Dukat says:

DUKAT: Major Kira knows full well I made every effort to heal the wounds between Cardassia and Bajor. Since the very beginning it was my intention to rectify the mistakes of the past and begin a new chapter in our relations.

Dukat is capable of saying, vaguely, abstractly, "mistakes were made", but it infuriates and honestly baffles him that it's not enough for him to be recognized as the most brilliant and loving extraterrestrial patriarch the Bajorans could ever wish for. In an earlier episode, he has this conversation with (the real) Weyoun:

WEYOUN: If you ask me, the key to holding the Federation is Earth. If there's going to be an organized resistance against us, its birthplace will be there. DUKAT: You could be right. WEYOUN: Then our first step is be to eradicate its population. It's the only way. DUKAT: You can't do that. WEYOUN: Why not? DUKAT: Because! A true victory is to make your enemy see they were wrong to oppose you in the first place. To force them to acknowledge your greatness. WEYOUN: Then you kill them? DUKAT: Only if it's necessary. WEYOUN: I had no idea. DUKAT: Perhaps the biggest disappointment in my life is that the Bajoran people still refuse to appreciate how lucky they were to have me as their liberator. I protected them in so many ways, cared for them as if they were my own children. But to this day, is there a single statue of me on Bajor? WEYOUN: I would guess not. DUKAT: And you'd be right. Take Captain Sisko, an otherwise intelligent, perceptive man. Even he refuses to grant me the respect I deserve.

Weyoun ends the scene laughing at Dukat. Because he was just advocating they exterminate all life on Earth, and yet he's amazed, truly stunned by how crackers Dukat is. The sheer depths of Dukat's psychological need for validation is as clinically fascinating to Weyoun as it is to the audience.

As it is to me, anyway. Like Narcissus and his pool, I peer into Dukat and see myself. Unsurprisingly, he's one of my favorite characters.

[iamnmbr3]

how do you think Draco reacted when he saw Harry dead after forbidden forest scene?! Obviously we didn't see him cuz Harry's eyes were closed and Draco wasn't one of those who shouted(ofc how JKR let that happen–and they didn't reach that closeness to shout for Harry, either) but how was his reaction, facial expressions and thoughts? In your opinion and imagination ofc..

You always send me such top tier asks! Ok so strictly speaking based on the book canon it's ambiguous whether Draco was actually present for that moment or for the duel that followed. However that's boring and narratively and thematically unfulfilling and we do know that Draco was still at Hogwarts because after the battle his parents find him. So I'm going to go ahead and decide he was there.

(On a side note, huge kudos to Tom Felton for his acting in the movie during this scene - love his expression in that moment where you can so clearly see that he is deeply upset but trying to hide it; I absolutely loathe everything that follows though. I'm not a movie fan in general but imho that hug scene is the worst moment in the entire film series. But I digress.)

So anyway, back to the books. I think Draco was absolutely horrified and devastated but also in utter shock and disbelief. I don't think he was even really was able to process it. He probably retains just enough presence of mind to try to keep his face blank, but he's lucky no one's really looking at him because he doesn't fully manage it. Also a small part of him probably feels like saving Harry at the Manor and sparing him in the Room of Requirement (because Draco could have cursed him from behind but instead alerted Harry to his presence and later tried to stop Crabbe & Goyle hurting him) was all for nothing and he blames himself for not having the nerve to at least secure his own family's future since Harry was doomed anyway.

Except somehow he can't truly bring himself to regret it. Even now. He can't really feel anything anymore. Except a dull sense of disbelief. Because Harry Potter can't really be dead. The world would have stopped surely. It can't be real. It just can't.

And then...it ISN'T real. Harry does the impossible and pops up alive and well right in front of them all. And he's striding forward with such purpose. And in that moment, for all that he's a bit battered looking and his clothes are torn and his hair is messier than Draco has ever seen it, he looks every inch the Chosen One his admirers have always hailed him as. He looks small and vulnerable standing there and Draco wants him to run but he doesn't. Instead he walks towards the most dangerous wizard in all of Britain, calm assurance and determination blazing in his eyes, seeming utterly fearless and untouchable. And somehow, against all odds and against all logic and reason, despite being more scared than he has ever been in his life, Draco hopes.

[chimonystack]

Alright,

so there's been an Orange Side™ teased for a long time now in Sanders Sides, right? And the common theory is that Orange will be some form of Rage or Wrath, and will either take over or split from Logan, right? Well, I want to voice my opinion on this, because I believe it's extremely accurate, and could also provide an amazing character to the mix to oppose all of the sides (yes, INCLUDING LOGAN.)

So, first point:

This point is very minor, but Logan was the first side to have his name revealed. If Orange is the last side to be revealed, that would mean he'll also be the last one to have his name revealed, which is an interesting parallel.

Second point:

Logan rarely shows any emotions. Yes, he gets excited about Crofter's, he has some small amount of pride whenever he's right, and earlier in the series he feels small amounts of remorse whenever he does something that hurts one of the other sides. But, most of the time, Logan doesn't show any emotions (and in "Alone on VALENTINE'S DAY!" he even says "Call me when you have something a little less feelingsy"). He shows nothing, except for one emotion (which is fairly obvious given the intro to this post, but I'll still save it for later).

Third point:

Logan has had excellent character development since the beginning of the series. In the beginning, Logan only cared about the logical solutions for any of Thomas' problems. He would constantly fight one of the other sides about a problem until one of the remaining sides or even Thomas himself forced him to see what he was doing wrong and concede or compromise. But as the series kept going on, Logan started becoming not just more academically intelligent, but very importantly, more emotionally intelligent. He understands the other sides more, and he eventually comes to realize that every side has their merit, even Janus and Remus.

Fourth point:

Logan often gets ignored or dismissed by the other sides and Thomas himself. Yes, Thomas calls on him for help for several situations, and Logan often saves the day, but even so, he doesn't always get the full credit he deserves. The most notable examples of him being dismissed or ignored are in "Moving On," and "Working Through Intrusive Thoughts." In Moving On, Logan makes a mistake and suggests they go to Patton's room, but once he realizes what Patton's room is actually doing (especially to Virgil), he immediately tries to get Thomas and the other sides to leave. Thomas, Roman and Patton ignore him, and Logan gets frustrated enough to leave. In Working Through Intrusive Thoughts, Logan constantly tries to get Thomas to follow his schedule for the day, but Remus keeps breaking Thomas' focus on his chores. Then, once Thomas finally gets called by Nico, the final thread of Thomas' focus on his chores is broken and he instead decides to go meet Nico to look at art. Despite all of this, Logan still tries to listen to everybody, including Janus and Remus.

Fifth point:

There seems to be a pattern with the sides and whether they're associated with more positive or negative traits. Logan, Patton, and Roman are all positive. Janus and Remus are both negative. Virgil is both positive and negative. If Orange is Wrath or Rage, this creates symmetry on both sides, with Orange joining Janus and Remus as a negative trait. This is also supported in the Sanders Sides Anime Intro (which I'm sure everybody already noticed but it's still worth it to me to bring up).

Now, to bring it all together:

If Orange is indeed going to be Rage or Wrath, it absolutely makes sense for him to either take over or split from Logan, because the one emotion that Logan shows consistently and often is anger. His frustrations whenever he makes mistakes, or when he gets ignored or dismissed, and especially his "FALSEHOOD" are all examples of how he commonly has outbursts (or at the very least, visible) bouts of anger. Logan's eyes glowing orange when he yells at Remus in Working Through Intrusive Thoughts only add to this. If Orange is meant to be a reflection/the opposite of Logan, then he'll likely show emotions constantly, with the only thing that stays the same being the outbursts of anger, just severely intensified for Orange. This also opens the door for the character development that Logan has had being completely reversed (no matter whether Logan is taken over or if Orange just splits from him). All of a sudden, the rest of the sides have somebody that simply does not care about their opinions or feelings. Orange likely will ignore all of the rest of the sides, or even lash out at them constantly, never giving them the time of day. Orange will refuse to see the merit in any of the sides' functions, which is the exact opposite of Logan, who tries to see everybody's merit. The new biggest problem becomes avoiding Wrath, but to no avail, as he keeps coming back angrier every time, until eventually they all realize that, just like with Virgil, they need to try to understand him. The only problem with that is that it's harder to understand and accept Wrath than it was to understand Virgil.

No matter what, though:

I am SO hyped for these teasers to pay off, no matter what Orange ends up being. I have no doubts at all about Thomas' ability to create an amazing and compelling character for all of us to love just as much as the other six sides.