#did i do this to revisit every suit? possibly

[thisismysecondrodeo]

what if reader went to college w ted (before he met michelle) just someone he casually knew from class and had a crush but never did anything

and they run into each other all those years later in richmond and they talk about how they both liked each other but never said anything

AN: This is such a good idea, which is why it took me so long to get to because I wanted to do it justice. Side note: never seen gone with the wild, this is probably not a scene people would pick. I could have written like 10 times this and maybe I’ll still revisit it!

Rating: General (series becomes Explicit)

Tags: Michelle Lasso, Henry Lasso, Second Chance Romance, Alternate Universe - College/University, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Time Skips, Ted and Beard have the purest friendship, Ted Lasso Deserves Love, Getting Together

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Fic Masterlist

TW: Canon-typical mention of suicide

-

Of course you recognized Ted the moment you saw him. You’d know him anywhere, even when it had been over 20 years and you were on vacation in a foreign country for the first time ever. You were sitting on the patio of the Crown & Anchor, and had just put a bookmark into your latest science fiction novel to accept a fresh pint from Mae, as Ted Lasso, in all his glory, arrived on the cobblestone path in front of you. He didn’t see you at first which gave you a chance to look him over: the long athletic legs, his middle a little softer and his hair a little more styled, and the ever-present mustache that made you smile just as it had when you met him in college. 

He looked up from his stylish sneakers—the khakis were new, but the sneakers he had always been a fan of—and there was a twinkle in his eye when he noticed you. His head tilted, and you could see from his expression that he knew you as well as you knew him.

“Well, I do declare, I was surprised to see you turn out to be such a noble character,” you said playfully, quoting Gone With the Wild, a movie you both had a shared history with. You wouldn’t expect him to remember the next line, but Ted had always been able to surprise you. 

Ted stepped closer to your table, placing his hands lightly on the top and leaning in as he spoke, “I can't bear to take advantage of your little girl ideas, Y/N. I'm neither noble nor heroic.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you grinned but there was no room to be embarrassed when you were too busy contending with every unrequited feeling you had in college flooding your senses. 

22 YEARS AGO

Ted Lasso was a terrible actor. He knew it and so did the rest of the theater arts class but most of the class wasn’t very good either. At least half of them were there for the same reason you were: need of an art credit and no discernable art skills. You’d picked it because you liked words and even if you were occasionally debilitatingly shy, at least you might enjoy reading the plays. From what you could tell, Ted was part of the other half of the class, who picked the elective with pure-hearted enthusiasm. At least you hoped it was an elective, it certainly wouldn’t be a good major for him. Ted was the constant volunteer scene partner, for the instructor and for other students, and despite recognizing that he wasn’t very good, you couldn’t deny that you liked to watch him. He had broad shoulders, a little lanky but strong looking. His hair was unstyled and flopped over his forehead and ears when he was excited and then there was the mustache. You had heard other students poke fun at it in hushed breaths, but you thought it suited him just fine. 

For weeks, you doodled Ted Lasso’s name (and attempts at his likeness) in the margins of your notebook, feeling safe to do so because he always sat as close to the front as he could. You waited in your last-row seat until he left, just to make sure there was no way he’d possibly know. He always left with the same person, a spindly pale guy with a scruffy beard and sunken cheeks, who a few times you'd seen leaning in to say something to Ted and then giving you a pointed look that you pretended not to see. 

And then one day you were doodling so hard you missed the instructor requesting that everyone pick a partner for your final project. No one wanted to be Ted’s partner, which was a shame because he would certainly make any partner look amazing in comparison. He looked around the room, unphased at the lack of interest, and then he spotted you, in the back row, not paying a lick of attention. If you had been listening, you certainly would have volunteered to work with Ted, but since you were distracted the man in question found you. He cast his shadow over your notebook…which was covered in his own name like you were a middle school girl. 

“Y/N, right?” If Ted noticed what you were doodling, he politely ignored it. You slapped the notebook shut, not wanting to look up but also not wanting to be rude. “Do you already have a scene partner?”

“I, uh, no… to be honest with you, I wasn’t paying attention.” 

“Oh don’t you worry about that,” Ted slid into the seat next to you and recounted word-for-word everything you needed to know about the final project, and you thanked him profusely. “So what do you say?”

“What do I say…to what?”

“Being my scene partner,” Ted grinned, and now that you were this close you could clearly see his dimples and smell his cologne and it was all so distracting that you were sure you were coming off as an idiot. For Ted’s part, he looked a little nervous—his hands were folded tightly in his lap and one of his lean legs was bouncing. “I know I’m not very good, but—”

“Oh, I thought it was already decided,” you smiled, not wanting to hear him disparage himself. “Of course I’ll be your partner. What scene did you have in mind?”

In an instant, Ted was still. He wiped his hands on his flat front shorts, and smiled, looking up at you through his long lashes, “Ya ever seen Gone With the Wind?”

PRESENT

Ted was now sitting across from you with a pint of his own, and the two of you couldn’t stop looking at each. Short glances, long appraising gazes—anything to center yourselves in the present. 

You’d gotten braver since college, for better or worse, and you couldn’t wait any longer to break the silence. “So what are you doing in Richmond?”

“Oh, I, uh, live here. I coach the team. Football—er, soccer,” Ted stuttered through his answer. “Sorry, it’s just been a while since I talked to someone that didn’t know what I do…or that called it soccer. God, I sound like an asshole. It’s just, I’ve been in the papers quite a bit recently and it’s been a little stressful.” 

Ted’s hand was resting on the wooden picnic table and you did everything you could to restrain yourself from reaching out to hold it. He’s married, isn’t he, you wondered, but when you looked again you didn’t see a ring. 

“You don’t sound like an asshole at all. I’m sorry to hear it's been stressful, but God, coaching in England must be exciting! I, uh, avoid social media as best I can otherwise I’m sure I would have known...  Last I heard you were married and coaching the ol’ alma mater.” It certainly wasn’t subtle but hopefully it would get the job done.

“Ah,” he wiggled his ring finger in the air, “divorced. Recently. One son, Henry, who’s in Kansas still, but there’s, uh, room to breathe here if you know what I mean.” 

You looked around at the green behind you, the sun setting gently in the distance. “Yeah, I’m starting to pick up on that.” 

Ted tapped the table near your left hand and it seemed he wasn’t in the mood for subtlety either. “What about you? Last I heard you had moved clear across the country with a husband of your own.” 

“Divorced and quickly. Didn’t even last three years, to be honest with you. No kids. Mostly single ever since.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ted said quickly, but he didn’t look very sorry at all, even a little optimistic, but then he frowned. “Was he nice to you?”

You took a deep breath, thinking deeply about how you wanted to answer that. It was a question you had never been asked before. “It was nothing dramatic, he just…wasn’t a very good scene partner.” 

Ted’s eyes locked on yours, and the conversation lulled but in a pleasant, amorous way. The two of you sipped your beers. 

“Can I ask you something,” you said softly, not shy but meaningfully. Ted nodded and his hair flopped in a way that immediately sent you back 20 years to the past. “Why did you take theater anyway? I’m sure you told me back then, but I always felt like there was some hidden reason.”

“What, because I wasn’t very good,” Ted asked with a laugh, but you could tell he was deflecting and only gestured for him to go on. “You never did let me talk bad about myself.”

Ted sighed, took a deep drag of beer, and then balled his hands into fists. “I wasn’t ready to talk about it then, and I still don’t talk about it much, but my dad died when I was 16 years old. Self-inflicted.” You didn’t know what your face was doing, but you tried to school it into something neutral. “He loved movies. Loved ‘em. He said if he could do it over again he woulda gone to LA and made a go of it. And so when I got the opportunity I thought I’d do it for him, do something he never got the chance. And it was the first in a long line of lessons about living for myself and not others because I was downright terrible at it.” 

This time you gave in. You let yourself reach across the table and slide your hand into his. He smiled, gently squeezing and you squeezed back. He had probably heard all the platitudes, it was 30 years ago, after all, so instead, you talked about class.  

“You know, I didn’t expect you to remember those lines. It’s been, what, 22 years? Clearly, you couldn’t have been that bad.” 

Ted smirked, “I don’t know that I could forget those lines, we worked on that for weeks… and maybe I just so happened to watch Gone With the Wind again a few weeks ago.” 

“God, I hate that movie,” you laughed, and Ted sputtered on his beer. 

“What?! Why didn’t you ever say anything? We could have done something else, anything else!” 

“Well, Ted,” you responded carefully, taking a sip of your beer, “when your crush asks you if you want to be Scarlett O’Hara to his Rhett Butler, you definitely don’t say no.” 

Ted’s cheeks pinked furiously and he looked down at his lap but he couldn’t hide his smile. “You know, Beard told me I should ask you out 1,000 times and I chickened out every single one. On the last day of class, I, you know, asked for your number and you gave it to me…and I wrote it down wrong. I asked around for a while and tried to run into you, but a few weeks later I met Michelle and, well I thought it was fate. Silly me, huh?”

“Not silly at all,” you responded seriously and before you could say anything else, Mae announced last call and you looked at him pointedly, hoping he’d invite you home. 

Ted’s hands were folded in front of him and one of his lean legs was bouncing, and it was easy to picture the flat front shorts and band T-shirt of his youth. “What would you say if I asked you to come over and watch Gone with the Wind?”

You dissolved into giggles and Ted joined you with a little apprehension, worried he was about to be rejected. “I’d say I’d love to come over but I’d like to watch literally anything else.” 

“You got it,” Ted laughed, for real this time, and pulled his coat on. He picked up yours and held it up for you to slide your arms into and it made you feel like you were being courted. And you nearly swooned when he picked up your book and tucked it under his own right arm, and then stuck his left arm out for you to hold. You considered, briefly that this is what you could have had 22 years ago, but somehow you knew that it wouldn’t have been better than right now. 

Part 2 ->

[polysprachig]

tell us more about these projects! i’ve struggled to pick up languages again after an extended break and no time and a project-based approach seems very refreshing!

Apologies in advance for the long post. I do plan on making a more detailed post on this at a later point hopefully a video but I make no promises these days.

Important note!! Before you start any short- or long-term learning projects, begin a polyglot journal outlining your objectives and check in every two weeks with an extra detailed summary of what you’ve done, haven’t done, dislike, feel needs changing, etc. either once per quarter or 2x year. Your micro-goals, methods and timeline should shift over time, showing that you can reassess the project and try out new things to suit your needs. If you don't update on time it's nbd, but at least try to write a note in your planner or calendar about what you did when because it can be extremely helpful one year later when you try to revisit where you are now and how you got there. 🧿🤍

The main projects from 2019 to today include the following

Greek - Conversational Speaking, 2019

Goal: meet for casual 30-minute lessons with a teacher, 2 or 3x per week to build up conversational skills and high frequency grammar in use as a passive bilingual (it being the native language which I actively lost growing up for various reasons).

Reflection: The real studies were repetition in speech and looking up key vocabulary I would need to use to tell my teacher about what happened in the last week, and my teacher supplied me with additional vocabulary to help me be more specific. Now I have a record of that vocabulary which I can review whenever by topic/story. Plus my family did notice my drastic improvement and asked if I had been studying.

Irish - The Merlin Project (Quarantine Project), 2020-2022 (+ ongoing, needs new methodology because I met my aims a while back at this point)

Aim: Go from A2 to B1 by learning to write so that you can have the skills to be able to read longer texts

Challenge: Rewatch an episode from the last show that you watched and write down what you see in as much detail as possible, making sure to use a grammar point you’re currently studying in your writing. Look up new words to make the text more specific and add them to the description. Correct your text. Watch the same scene again and add more detail, as in the following:

(Basically: first: do a grammar practice, then: watch 30 seconds, write using that grammar, translate dialogue if you want, consult dictionary, write again incorporating the new words and/or make the sentences more complex, at the end: correct your text yourself or with a teacher, start again and repeat until the scene or full episode is complete or you've exhausted the usefulness of the exercise.)

Alternatively just write or translate fanfiction, but I don't say that here.

By self-correcting you should become very confident on the basic skills at your level, whereas the rewriting itself allows for varied attempts at forming sentences and vocabulary acquisition in a specific context.

FYI I posted the project itself along with the notes to my website (here) and intend to share the presentation on the experience I gave in the Gaeltacht this past August soon enough.

Multilingual, select Romance and Germanic languages - The Diana Project, 2022-present

Challenge: dive deep into the rhythm, melody and sound of certain languages (which relate to a poet I’m analysing) via a slow read of poetry and familiarisation with the poet, poet-translator and poet-actor

Components: read, write, translate and recite poetry on the subject of Greco-Roman tragedy (now its shifting to satire after 1+ year or so of tragic influences) from select eras and in select styles, ex. ottava rima, rhyming verse & simultaneously learn about the rhetoric of poetics that influenced these authors and their poems or translations

These writings I’m still adding to my website as part of a translation, recitation and poetry portfolio.

Most recently, I’ve started what I call the Secret Senecan Project which requires reading certain ancient and mediaevil texts on stories I’m familiar with in the original, identifying key words based on context then extrapolating the grammar from their features (declinations, location in reference to other word forms, etc.). The next step will be to compare these predictions with the bilingual translation and consult my grammar books in those languages to confirm or improve my predictions.

If you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading! I hope to polish this up and make the details more learner-friendly sometime before 2024. (:

[streets-in-paradise]

New Memories - Andy Barclay x Reader

Warnings: Some phone call teasing, the rest it's just fluff. This is a sweet birthday fic.

Summary: Andy is far away from you, worrying because your usual behavior arround his birthday changed with the distance. From fearing the worst to finding himself amazed, he would discover nothing could possibly stop you from cheering him up in the most dreaded day of the year.

Tags: @barclaysangel @devonsawachucky2014

The day had been full of trouble and, once again, he got to spend another birthday having to see Chucky. The hunt was a win and he was feeling good about that, but on the occasions his mind would go back to it he sensed something was missing. More concerned than saddened by that, he wondered why you haven’t given any signs of life throughout the day. Ever since he started seeing you, things weren’t precisely quiet between you on the dreaded special occasion. Sometimes he wished it would, because you were making a fuss every year. Aware of how hard birthdays were for him, as his partner you have self assumed the task of cheering each one in hopes of helping him build new memories. 

Happy memories, the kind he could treasure and revisit whenever the horrible ones would hit. With Chucky reappearing and you so far away from him, all he had to relieve himself were those reminders of your devoted love for him. You did text him in the morning, but he was waiting for something else at a moment he needed it more yet it never seemed to arrive. The whole process leading to the slaughtering of the doll required all his focus, an important mission distracting enough to keep him away from his phone for most of the time. However, with the night falling and the immediate danger disappearing he got to think about that again. 

More than disappointment, what your silence caused was an activation of his paranoia. There was only one doll left, most likely far away from you, but maybe he didn’t know everything. There always could be others, maybe one taking advantage of his absence to pay you a visit. Your dead body could be already waiting for him as a birthday present, just like in the old times. Kyle tried to calm him down by showing the rational side of it, but there was nothing more than plain irrationality in everything they had gone through. Maybe you were busy at work, maybe you were planning something special … or maybe you were gutted on your living room’s floor. 

It became too much for him and he was about to call you, but when he picked his phone he found an unseen notification from you showing a smiling picture of you. 

“Miss you, handsome. Call you in a sec, get ready” The message underneath read. “ Did you think I would forget the birthday fun?” 

He sighed in relief, then began to wonder what you were up to. 

“ Beautiful as always, I miss you too.” He texted back. “ More than you can imagine.” 

Your reply arrived a few minutes afterwards, another picture quite different from the last one. You were dressed as if you would be going on a date with him, some romantic dinner to celebrate and there was a description added in the message. 

“ Bringing the party to you. “ 

Andy couldn’t help smiling, almost in disbelief with the sweetness of the gesture. He rushed to return it, suddenly reminding he had a perfectly matching visual he knew you would love. 

The tie was off, but he was still wearing a suit, so he took a picture and send it to you along with his answer.

“ Dressed for the occasion.”

The call entered almost immediately. His sister chuckled since she noticed as well that the fastness had to be related with the effect the picture caused. 

He got you so In love and you were so blissfully obvious, worshipping the fuck out of him at any given chance. Getting used to it had been quite an adjust to him, but your love made him feel on top of the world.

" You have totally outshined my gift, babe! " You sweetly complained to him. " Holy fuck, look at you. The open buttons of the shirt do it for me … is that the fucker's blood over it? "

He chuckled, proud of himself for your reaction.

" We got one, i emptied my gun on him and that has been all my celebration so far. Not the best birthday ever, but i had worse. "

" Can't argue with a man covered in blood. Whatever you say, handsome. " You teased him. " This is unnaceptable, you are giving me the better gift when i'm supposed to be celebrating you. Neck exposed, shirt splattered of blood … Are you trying to kill me? What can i give in return? A full nude? "

" Fuck, don't even mention it. My sister is ríght here. " He explained you ríght away." Not that I won't love it, but it's not a good moment. "

It made you chuckle, but that didn't mean you weren't backing down from making things up for him.

" What can i do for you to match this, birthday boy?" You purred sweetly. " Anything you wish for ríght now? "

He didn't hesitate a second before replying.

" … Just to hear your voice. "

The tender adoration in that statement disarmed any defenses you could have left. He had turned you into putty with his sweetness.

If what he wanted was to hear some of it, you were going to give him everything.

" I love you, Andy … like i have never loved anyone else before. You are the one for me, you know? No matter the shit that bastard tells you, we are meant to be. I can feel it, every single day i fall a bit more in love with you. Some nights I lay awake wondering how is it possible to love this much. I'm obsessed with you, in the harmless meaning of the word. I wouldn't lock you in my basement, but i'm perfectly aware you are the man i wanna spend the rest of my life with. Who cares if the doll comes in the package? I will get a dog house for him to stay outside everytime he's gonna try come to kill us. "

His laugh was hidding some of the very real flusterred reaction.

" You are insane, no person in their ríght mind would risk so much just for me. "

" Even if he would kill me, i still win. " You insisted. " I've meet the love of my life, got to spend good times with him. It's a good life, many people don't get the privilege before they are gone forever … Besides, I would have the comfort of knowing you would go berseker and destroy him in the cruelest way. If he freezes me, you will bath in his blood or eat his liver or some other fucked up inhumane sounding punishment and i will be rightfully avenged. Why would i want to ever leave the man that would hunt down my hipotetical killer to the end of the world? A man so tragically devoted who had me as his whole fucking world, who loves me like i'm the last person on Earth. Who gets love like yours nowadays, Andy?

" Wooow, woow. Where did that come from?" He wondered out loud, amazed. " It's not like i'm a romance hero or something. "

" I have two friends that have gone through ugly divorces and a third who is tired of trying on dating apps where most guys don't show any interest for long term relationships … I hitted jackpot with you, Andy. Call me crazy, but love like yours doesn't exist anymore. "

" To be fair, you changed every measure for what i thought love was supposed to be. " He sweetly admitted in return. " How do you expect me not to loose my freaking mind for you? The fuck is this? How are we having this conversation? "

There was a very simple answer for that. You couldn't be with him physically, but you wanted to shape a meaningfull memory at any cost.

" Happy birthday, love " You told him once more. " We can't have dates or gifts this year, but i can still give you my heart ríght here and now, just talking on the phone."

His stoicism fell in pieces, beated by the intensity of your affection.

[whimsicalmeerkat]

20 questions for fic writers!

Thanks for the tag, @thotpuppy! I've been thinking about this off and on the last couple of days. I really do enjoy this sort of thing, both reading others and making my own. Blank after the cut.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

135. 23 of which are drabbles

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

354,120 total, all since the beginning of 2020

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The big ones are Teen Wolf and Black Jewels., but I also write Perilous Courts and The Hollows, along with some other assorted SFF book fandoms. I have a lot of Men's Hockey RPF fics, but rarely revisit the fandom. Spideypool's another fandom I fell out of at some point.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Tell Me No Lies (Spideypool, 5k. Explicit, grocery store meet-cute)

my heart was connected (Teen Wolf Steterek, 11k. Explicit. fake SO for the holidays that grew legs and ran away with me)

I give hell my worst (Spideypool, 5.5k. Explicit, merman Peter Parker and pirate Wade Wilson)

just give me one thing that I can hold onto (Teen Wolf Sterek, 9k, Explicit, Derek and Stiles keep waking up naked in the woods)

Joke's On You (The Witcher, Emralt, 12k, soulmates get married for Reasons)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to respond, but sometimes it takes me a while, especially when I have a lot I want to say.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably it kind of vanishes away (Teen Wolf Dargent, 866 words, Explicit, two sad and lonely men getting off together)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I don't know what I would say is the happiest, so I'm going to go with the kitten is happy (Perilous Courts Julien/Whisper, 300 words, Gen) because it's the most unequivocally happy ending I've written in ages.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No, I've been pretty fortunate. I've gotten a few shitty comments, but nothing I felt the need to dwell on. Another commenter yelled at someone for one of them once, months after the fact. That made me laugh.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes. I don't know what this means by kind, exactly. I write a lot of wall/door sex and work knotting in whenever possible, especially if I can make it accidental.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

As a general rule, no, but I did co-write a Spideypool/Men's Hockey RPF one where Peter Parker was the guy inside the Gritty suit.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

nope

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Just the one mentioned in #10

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Daemon Sadi/Lucivar Yaslana from Black Jewels

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Black Jewels modern AU of sorts where magic comes back and I strip out all of the gender bullshit

16. What are your writing strengths?

Characterization is my greatest strength, without doubt. I'm also good at writing banter and funny moments during smut.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm really bad at planning ahead or sticking to a plan I've made. I think overall it's worked out in my writing, but it can get me in trouble during the process. Plot in general isn't a major strength for me.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've done a curse or two, but in general I avoid it both because I don't speak any other languages and because I don't think there are many good ways to incorporate translations.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Technically, it's probably the Wheel of Time message board RP I did on Dragonmount in the nineties, but if we're talking about actual fan fiction it's Men's Hockey RPF.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Man, this wasn't easy. I genuinely enjoy my writing and reread my stuff a lot. I'm going to have to go with no words needed (Black Jewels Daemon/Lucivar, 565 words, Explicit, zero dialogue smut with wink kink) because it's different and because I like it more every time I read it.

I'm going to tag @calenlily, @dear-massacre, @mswhich, @pterawaters, and @alondradina, but would love to see anyone else's answers too!

20 questions for fic writers!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

16. What are your writing strengths?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

19. First fandom you wrote for?

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

[wellntruly]

BridesM*A*S*H Revisited, Vol. III

I had finally had the wherewithal to start taking notes in this season, so comments for this one already exist, but now they exist more. Much more.

Did I adjust my viewguide again as well well of course!!!!

M*A*S*H Season 3 Notes Again Sorry!

3x02 ‘Rainbow Bridge’

Starting S3 with ‘Rainbow Bridge’ means it’s lights up on Loudon Wainwright III up on a knoll singing a song directly to the boom operator. Glad about it. 

I mean just absolutely love the move of it though, truly. Our camp we know but from angles we haven’t seen before---we’re back, but fresh! Season 3 crushes. Televisually.

So many scenes in this one I think, this scene is one of my favorites. Father Mulcahy so sweet bidding them farewell with “Be good! And if you can’t be good, be careful :)” ... Henry stumbling into him in the doorway and stammering “What the hell--?! Oh I’m sorry Father, I thought you were a regular person.” 

Without even really thinking about it, bleak cozy spiked coffee at the impromptu senior team meeting in the midnight mess tent is literally this blog’s “banner scene” of M*A*S*H, and why honestly not.

“Margaret I feel that if we absolutely have to we can be honest with each other.” Larry this line kills me.

Also unreal of them to pull out both “Could be a trap, Trap” and “Can I be frank, Frank” in less than five minutes of each other. It’s the most right way to do it though. Haha okay looked this up and: it was Larry Gelbart. ‘Course. He knows.

Trapper: “We got a ton of stuff, we could stay on the road for weeks.” Hawkeye: “Suits me, I don’t wanna open on Broadway until we’re ready.” There’s something about a Gelbart joke

Was talking with my dad recently about when Frank was Robert Duvall, and how they’d angled much more into Frank’s Christian faith in the movie. It’s an aspect of Frank Burns that is paid mention in dialogue fairly often in the show version, but rather less so in practice. Case in point, that he is never one to bolster the position of Father Mulcahy, but rather it’s Hawkeye & Trapper who are always like, here he comes! our most special chaplain! look how cute he is

ESSENTIAL update from Alex upon reading me say this:

Ah, but Frank is PROTESTANT. That does not ally him to the Catholic priest in the 1950s if you’re Frank, possibly not in the 2020s if you’re Frank. Recall Henry mentioning he won’t tell the Father that his golf club doesn’t admit Catholics. This was my thought literally as I was drifting off to sleep 😅: “Oh it’s not that Frank is a Protestant, it’s that he worships at the false idol of patriotism”

LARRY’S FALL WHEN THE BUS TAKES OFF I HORTLE

There is, as far as I can tell, no reason for Hawkeye to be wearing a knit cap for half of this episode. Everyone is just in mid-weight canvas, including him.

Oh there’s a random Indian Army officer in this 4077th crowd shot! Well that’s a nice detail.

Love this giant cracked ding in the windshield of this bus. Their equipment is all so…..ramshackle.

PROP COMEDY

Big ups to Mako btw, what a guest cast stalwart for this show

/

3x03 ‘Officer of the Day’

Once I started saying “I’m a symphony in coordination,” my life improved and so did my coordination.

I can’t start making M*A*S*H fanvids because I would put Hawkeye getting dragged upright from sleep with his hand still holding his pillow to his head in every one of them.

How did I forget that within minutes of Hawkeye having to be in charge of the 4077, FLAGG rolls up on them

This Korean man named his sons Marshall and Elroy

One of the reasons I love chain of command as a narrative feature is the way responsibility runs in all directions. Officers are responsible for looking out for the enlisted underneath them, and the enlisted in turn are responsible for the way their actions will reflect on their officers when they are called in front of *their* officers. It’s actually a very interesting power dynamic. And Klinger and Hawkeye are such good figures to play around with the nuances of this, as they’re probably the most resistant to being involved with the Army at all for each of their rank classes. So watching them have to step up and navigate this web of responsibility between them they’re reluctantly but unavoidably trapped in, is just really tasty.

Hawkeye: “Can you identify yourself?” Korean civilian: “Oh, this is me! :D” This is perfect

This episode really Flagg at peak monsteerrrr. I like this so much for him is the thing!!! It’s good to have a comedic villain who is also horrifying! It’s creepy, it’s unsettling, it’s good.

“Well gee I don’t think it’s too much to ask for one guy to ask another guy to turn his head.” Gary.. impeccable

Hawk & Trap real in sync together this episode too. I mean as always.

God, sorry, just still feeling about it a moment: the comfort of them always being on the same side. It’s a harbor in this godawful situation. “Whoever the them, we were always us!” My mischievous shabby turtledoves…

Weeping, Hawkeye what is a “hotel dick” even supposed to be, and why is Henry dodging them. And why must you do this in front of Flagg. Even Trapper askances a glance.

“a snootful of trouble” is unfortunately a VERY GOOD PHRASE tho

The amount of little LOOKS between these two this episode! And with Hawkeye looking so cute today.

Margaret: “If I didn’t hate violence I’d kick you.” Hawkeye: “Would you? With high heels?” Theerrre it is

Can’t believe Flagg called them both cutiepies and fruitcakes this episode. Lot going on.

Still dazed that we already thought the dropped-adjective construction “the pinstripe suit of all time” was hilarious all the way back in nineteen seventy goddamn four. M*A*S*H Anne Carson “There’s no such thing as anachronism all time is now” moments

/

3x04 ‘Iron Guts Kelly’

Is Trapper wearing nothing under his scrub top. Babe think of others.

Y’know, I’m beginning to wonder if we were supposed to think General Kelly was already experiencing like, small strokes

General Kelly: “Are we under attack?” Henry: “I always feel that way, sir.” Henry Blake’s canonical generalized anxiety

Love when Margaret just, glimmers at someone she’s interested in. World-class glimmerer.

SHE COMES TO THEM. IT’S THE RISK IT ALL FOR HELP FROM THE FAE THING gawd I go wild for it.

Igor: “Come on over, we’re having a party with some of the uh, local lovelies.” Hawkeye: “No thanks, I’m a happily unmarried man.” This is the way you’d say you were gay in a movie from the ‘40s

Even the way he remarks “Devil :)” to Trapper’s warning that they might have to ‘pinch’ the girls sounds, somehow, like a homosexual

Loretta Swit using Hawkeye’s elbow as an arm rest is one of my favorite moves I have seen, ever, in my life. And I’ve been watching a lot of Buster Keaton lately.

Looove them all just pulling on their MARGARET& HAWKEYE& TRAPPER shirts, and Frank’s like ….when did you even MAKE these??

“Margaret it’s so unlike you having them here.” “Well it’s alright Frank, it’s unlike them too.” LOlolol

Hawkeye’s funny fearful little “Trap-” as the dead-weight general starts collapsing on him was a moment on first watch that I felt a little hook lodge in the stuff of my heart, not likely to come out

Is this Alan’s cutest season?

Part of it is hair part of it is the half-sleepy eyes he keeps training on people. I’ve a thing for resting white under the iris. Sorry to be SO specific I just figured this out once looking at Diego Luna.

“I appeal to your patriotism, your sense of fair play.” “Make up your mind.” [mutedly] Yea

I love when an early seasons episode is just like, Ta-daa: Margaret Houlihan. You can tell by how extra funny she is, but also things like her face having this little twitch of “that’s not really fair” after nervously & irritably cutting back to Frank that of course perverts like Pierce & McIntyre would be fooling around with a dead body. One of the reasons why Margaret has been an enemy so far is because she appears to lack discernment. Her judgement meter seems broken, because she likes the Army and she likes Frank. But as her flat support of these things start to crack, a real character starts showing through, who isn’t flat at all. The third dimension of characterization is individualized tastes and opinions I seem to be arguing, and sure why not!

Radar’s breathy “Wohww”s a key feature of my M*A*S*H Soundscape ASMR

This episode’s derision toward the American military…sparkling

/

3x05 ‘O.R.’

I was very hungry but delayed dinner and had a martini instead, and am about to rewatch the episode that last time on the painkillers threw my nervous system into the nearest constellation. ABC Always Be Choices !

Hhhhgh see I love the no laugh track episodes when they were cut that way all along. The difference is Pronounced. 

“I got a repeater here—these look like your stitches, Hawk.” “If they look like stitches, he isn’t mine.” A joke I didn’t post last time but will now: me, already taking off my sweater: Goddamnit Hawkeye

Piping in the sound from the movie because they’re going to be there all night, the atmosphere this episode has…. It’s an all-timer, I wasn’t wrong on the opiates

Kissing the hand that fixed your wounds is!!!

“Frank & Hotlips of old Seville”

The Spanish guitar over all this—sublime sublime sublime sublime

I’ve thought about arranging a 4077th film festival, watching the old movies they watch on M*A*S*H. This one, the Gene Tierney picture... Reply if you’re interested, I will do it.

However they edited the heart scene….my own heart, IN my throat

Klinger giving blearily waking up Trapper concerned A-frame eyebrows, Radar walking in offering orange juice, “Freshly squozen”—adore the corporals, adore the vibes

Low on supplies, Henry, desperate, and knowing he knows: “Scrounge, Radar, scrounge.” This episode is everything. All texture, I can feel it against my skin.

Wait hey so who called Sidney ? Why is he here?

Oh my god he came for the poker game, and found this instead. God no wonder he’s so soft on them, his beleaguered besties.

The corporals literally fainting on their feet because of how much blood they’ve given!

Hawkeye: “Welcome to the club. [The blood] stains right through, I never wear underwear.” Fuck.

It’s so right that the heart patient doesn’t make it. 20 points to the writers for knowing that. And that Hawkeye didn’t.

Sidney: “Some patients insist on on dying, Hawk. You knew that going in. But you had to be a doctor.” Hawkeye: “I never had any choice, it’s all I care about, it’s all I ever wanted to do.” Fuck, fuck.

Hawkeye shaking with silent sobs over his next patient on the table jeeeesus!!!!

Trapper John McIntyre this episode the camp’s tall steady Saint Bernard. Work work work, catching a quick deep nap, get up and put out a literal fire, gently hold a sandwich in your mouth as you carefully check your partner just collapsed with sleep, then carry him off safely home.

What gets me with “No one’s seceding us, at all,” is the sense of them having just been left out here.

/

3x06 ‘Springtime’

Rewatching this one merely because I think “It’s spring, sir!” all the time. Let’s see if it lives up to it!

Ohh and this is also the one where Hawkeye gets adopted by the marine

Just realized Dylan of Dylan’s Kitchen delivers “Good night!” very similarly to Alan Alda, which means now I’m imagining being a patient and getting that, then a real life hard cut to Hawkeye rasping “Good morning.”

Just dragging his shirt up to show his belly to the sun, what…..who….

Giggled way too long at Radar “I guess that’ll be all”ing Henry after he relays that his comics have arrived and he evened out his cot legs for him

Once again, the things about each other’s bodies that Frank and Margaret find erotic is thrillingly bizarre. What’s the list, Frank flaring his nostrils, the sunlight shining through the hairs of Margaret’s ears, anything else I’m missing from their picnics?

Y’know I was probably unforgivably wrong to not include the one where Klinger flings himself upon the grass in his purple chiffon scarf reading Rupert Brooke

KLINGER PRANCING DOWN THE SUNNY HILL

Wait is this the one where he gets married???!!! Omg!

“Dear Dad, I’m bringing home a Marine. He’ll be the son you never had.” Several things. 1. Canon that Hawkeye self-narrates in the construction of a letter he’s writing his dad, terrific, had been imaging that 2. Trans klaxon 3. Linda Bloodworth & Mary Kay Place: Thank you, ladies

Really curious about the back-zip T-shirts the women wear in this unit. Like what’s that like.

Wait didn’t I see something about….oh my god, yes, THIS is Mary Kay Place. This woman was like, gonna write an episode where I’m seduced, successfully, by Radar O’Reilly, and then just made that happen. What a fucking hero. She Did That.

“Oh I’m always browsing up on a new poem.” Same. Real ones can ask for which poems I’ve reblogged in the last eight months that are actually about M*A*S*H.

Oh my gosh, baby, did you borrow one of their horrible Hawaiian shirts!

“You don’t give a girl a chance do you?!” MARY KAY PLACE I LOVE YOU. I mean couldn’t be me but HUGE RESPECT FOR YOUR CONCEPTS.

Wait omg omg Klinger is marrying Laverne Esposito! A Latina! Omg this household….

Hawkeye wore a hand-me-down tux and Trapper a kimono over his bare chest, a large side bag, and a tiny top hat fascinator. This is a gay couple fancy dress look, I don’t think I need to explain.

Klinger coyly peeking from behind his bouquet for Trapper’s pictures, stop

Hawkeye just called Frank & Margaret “Scott & Zelda,” LORD

Margaret: “You have your nerve, wearing white.” Klinger: “Jealous?” JAMIE LMBO

Do not you DARE insult Hawkeye’s nose! His nose is what makes his profile and his profile makes me insane!!

Father Mulcahy’s racing recitation of the end of the marriage ceremony to beat the radio clock blessssss

The wedding march as Radar walks in covered in lipstick, what an EP

How many times does Radar lose his virginity on this show anyway? Three times? Four? This is my favorite one.

“Why can’t you sirs just act like sirs, sirs?” Listen, you can’t ask them for the impossible, they’re tapped out from their surgery sessions.

/

3x08 ‘Life With Father’

Sometime, just watching the credits, it still astonishes me that M*A*S*H is a show that bazillions of people have watched and loved for 50 years, and not just a specific weird thing I’ve seen

Unexpected for me that one of my favorite running jokes is the Tabasco Film Company of Havana, Cuba. I just like the titles.

Simply LOVE slouchy wan theater jester and his golden jock boyfriend. Just strollin’ around camp, Trapper is literally tossing a football to someone with a grin while Hawkeye is furrowing a quizzical brow at a piece of paper. They’re like if two high school stereotypes ran the school together and were boning. This is why they’re so powerful.

We need more appearances by Captain Epstein, the paratrooper waterskiing rabbi

“Oh I don’t think she’d want anything flashy” sends me

Margaret: “I don’t know which one of you is more obscene.” Trapper: “He is, we took a poll.” Another for the “Am I winning, or losing?” records

Watching someone work from several live phone as satisfying to me as watching some sort of physical feat sometimes I swear

“...Do I know what you’re saying?” William Christopher <3

“Mea culpa, mea culpa” as his mic test, FATHERRR

Hawkeye stop commenting on Trapper’s ass, this is a bris

This plot line is just so sweet

Guffaw, I still can’t believe the horse. What was this show.

/

3x09 ‘Alcoholics Unanimous’

WATCHING A MOVIE IN THE TENT IN THE RAIN I’m sorry but atmosphere. The film screenings are so atmosphere.

Hawkeye leaning back on an elbow with his bent knee up making little remarks with Trapper at his shoulder: a photo set

Hawkeye: “Alright we drink. We drink so we can get through these lousy stinking 48 hour days.” Trapper: “We’re cold, filthy, lonely.” Hawkeye: “Scared, bored, tired.” Trapper: “Frightened, and very drowsy.” Which of these is your fanfic title, I’m going with ‘Scared Bored Tired’

Just another terrif S3 showing for Margaret. Again, notably *not* in lock-step with Frank, but has her own little motivations and storyline. Which once again sends her careening in with Hawkeye & Trapper, who increasingly welcome her into their shenanigans when she’s like this, because as Jody puts it, drunk Margaret is shaped like a friend.

The amount of objects Margaret has that her parents gave each other on their wedding night…was that whole night an exchange of gifts…

Trapper: [fidding with a lock and keys] Hawkeye: “C’mon, c’mon, Fingers.” Fun.

Loretta’s startled whoop of surprise, WHAT the hell she’s so funny

“You’re the woman my mother always hoped I’d be.” Hawkeye, again with this

GOD. The three of them together like this is the dream of that one S1 promo pic.

Margaret's “Who was that?” in the running for funniest line on this show imo

Interview with the editor who chose laughter with a slight “ohh” at hungover Hawkeye saying something blithely mean to Trapper

Freezing with their blunt force objects raised to stare at each other, my boys

“There’s no film. I’m live. Now, back to where you last heard from me.” This is beautifully surreal, Father, I’d go to every service you deliver like this.

/

3x11 ‘Adam’s Rib’

Radar going “Terrific outfit, Klinger!”, my little heart

Klinger joins this uprising like he’s walking into a dance hall

I like that a lot of them are being pulled along by just sheer force of energy from Hawkeye. Igor has the dazed look of someone half hypnotized.

The hard cut from the chaos to Henry’s face, irate, and then Hawkeye, staring unfocused into the skeleton ribs in his office, is good TV. What is it Potter says about him at some point, sometimes you just gotta let him get the bit in his teeth and run until he tires himself out?

Or in this case, gets a second wave when he pivots his efforts.

A real under-the-radar early entry in Hawkeye Is Kinda Mad For Real. Trapper is just sitting here watching him going “Henry, get him the ribs.” He’s now talking about getting a burn on his lip from them and keeping the scar alive as long as he could—“The pain was exquisite.” Babydoll…

Wait also realizing this is an under-the-radar Great River of Commerce episode!

The best thing about Klinger wearing curlers is that his hair is short enough that he doesn’t even bother trying to wrap it around them, they’re just pinned in bare. It’s all for the accessory of it.

“Korea! Rhymes with Dye-ah!” Radar hun what

Radar: “[shrug] It’s dialing.” Hawkeye: “I love her.” Radar: “It’s a him.” Hawkeye: “I love him.”

“And it’s beautiful. I hear.” Trapper. I love you. Why did you even make this comment about his lingerie. He’s just being supportive. Or hooking up with Klinger on the side.

This is also, incidentally, an under-the-radar Trapper episode, in which we learn he’s so good in bed that this woman is gonna do this favor for him after a one-to-three night stand SEVERAL YEARS AGO. Alright, Big John..

God, “honey” REALLY IS HIS GO-TO

I’m picturing all my favorite redheads trying to imagine who I think funny, sexy airhead Mildred is. Though I guess I need to go back to the 1970s. Who were the best 70s redheads, sound off in the comments.

Pierce do you need your hand on Big John’s shoulder with your fingers slipped up under the collar for this whole dictation to Radar

“He started with ‘drop dead,’ and then he got rude!” Radar, my beloved

Why on earth is it suddenly chilly this scene. I mean SURE THING because it means them standing around with their hands shoved in their pockets, an iconic silhouette, but also why

I love the supply major. What a good one-off antagonist side character. A fully realized guy.

SO ENTHUSED with his sergeant being who is actually in charge, of course of course of course

This script is fantastic truly though. The reveal that he’s from Chicagooooooo. The reprise of forgetting the coleslaaawwww.

LET HIM WOLF DOWN A COUPLE RIBS!!!

/

3x13 ‘Mad Dogs and Servicemen’

Introduction of Radar: animal lover

And also another by Linda Bloodworth & Mary Kay Place!

Nurse, remembering as she pulls up for air: “I’m engaged to a pilot.” Hawkeye: “So am I. Just hope it’s not the same one.” Bloodworth & Place: The Dreamteam

“Frank, I defy you to show me a medical book that lists the word ‘gaga’.” TRAP \o/

Trapper is absolutely ready to throw hands at “slug-nutty.” For once Hawkeye is the one placing a placating hand on his shoulder to let this one go, let’s just go help the kid.

Sometimes TV problem-solving is both obvious and elegant, and this is one to me. They haven’t budgeted Allan Arbus for this, either financially or in his availability, and so the fix is Hawkeye talks to him on the phone one-sided and then has to carry out the therapy himself: doubles as a win for DRAMA

Looove the wry reluctantly charmed little smile he’s giving to Sidney’s silent lines we later learn include “you’ll be wonderful”

Trapper is just really focused on this mental health case. It’s interesting! Several headcanons available here.

Radar: “Poor little doggy, all alone in a foreign country, lost…” Henry: “That dog is Korean, Radar. It barks in Korean.”

Rosie knows all the goss

Hottieness Spectrum by Wanda: __ Made in heaven __ Adorable __ Not bad __ Need help __ Really hurting Girl this is so funny

Kills me that Scrabble has not changed their design in 50 years

We don’t hear much about Trapper’s wife, but she sounds pretty great honestly. Her letter about adopting Kim, the fact that they clearly just casually chat enough that she’s told him he’s easy to talk to—I think they probably have a good relationship actually.

Frank, mystified, amazed: “Margaret, I was wrong.”

Trapper taking a quiz in Ladies Home Journal to find out if he’s a thoughtful wife was just casually in the coda to this episode---Linda & Mary Kay!!!

/

3x14 ‘Private Charles Lamb’

Radar is so sweet with the animals. You can tell Gary Burghoff really loves them.

Wait this is a Dear Dad episode! I forgot!

Henry: “I will Never understand how you can hear me before I ever call you.” Radar: “I guess it’s the same as cows lying down on all fours just before it rains.” Wait are we getting Radar clairvoyance lore

What GAME are they playing with the salt & pepper shakers

Radar once traded long johns slash a night with a nurse for a rack of lamb, and now here we are

My dad once texted me asking which episode it was where Hawkeye & Trapper are feeding each other, and I was just wrote back, you’re gonna have to be more specific.

PA: “And now, back to the Korean War. Because You Asked For It!”

Henry saying “Abyssinia!” into the phone on rewatch feels kinda like a ghost has flown through you

Henry: “Everything in this country disappears except me. Boy would I like to wake up some morning, look down and find myself gone.” Hey so actually, just watch this one instead of ‘Abyssinia, Henry’

The like, hallucinatory zooms on the guitars

Trapper’s meandering whistling, strumming this ukulele as they all slowly dance, too drunk to speak….riveting vibes

/

5x15 ‘Bombed’

I like how ‘Bombed’ just opens like this. Immediately it’s bombs. The smoke blowing toward the camera to gradually obscure the camp is so good.

Man they just really blew up Henry’s office windows, huh

“Anybody’s scared, just let yourself be scared. You have nothing to fear but fear itself. Eleanor Roosevelt.” Henry…

The Nurse Sanchez thing is all over the place. Defending her from Frank’s bigotry, also making fun of her constantly.

This episode is really like, So how many things can we throw at them before the mid-episode act-out? 500 live explosions, a North Korean tries to attack them from the table, Henry Blake and Father Mulcahy are blown up in the latrine and rescued but Mulcahy is heavily concussed and Henry now has his arm in a sling, then another wounded soldier comes in to the O.R. booby trapped with a grenade under his arm. It’s been less than 8 minutes.

This man at HQ telling Radar he isn’t being shelled is another great one-off side character. They’re not a dissimilar type, come to think of it. Both like, youthfully bureaucratic. 

Radar: “I did not hang up on you, I put the phone out the window and it BLEW UP.” This man at a desk: “Reluctantly I have to admit the latest intelligence tells me you are being shelled, but there’s nothing to worry about, you’re being hit by your own artillery!” “[pause] Well isn’t there anything you can do about it, we’re being wiped out!!!” “I tried to phone the observation post directing the fire, but they’re all at the Bob Hope show….”

Margaret: [is the one to get the jammed door open] Trapper, appreciably: “You ARE strong! :)” What a woman, what a man

Margaret: “—oh and Pierce needs rubber gloves.” Trapper: “Clothes horse.”

MARGARET’S LITTLE HIDDEN SMILE AT HIS BENCH JOKE

Goddddddamn, goddamn goddamn :)

One of my movie podcasts mentioned The Yearling last month and one of the hosts described it as quote, “the kind of movie that gets wheeled out in class, brackets derogatory,” and I had to remind myself again that they have a Tumblr (follow This Had Oscar Buzz)

I cannot get over how every note that Wayne Rogers plays here is so perfectly toned to make a girlie unravel. He’s genuinely so comforting and kind, then just has this *nearly* unresistible combination of being both warmly seductive and reassuring non-threatening—telling her about his youth as the most responsible boy in his grammar school on cracker day and assuring her he’s probably too beat anyway as they just curl up to sleep.

We haven’t seen Hawkeye since surgery ages ago, which I love on itself—it’s true that most stories ended up being about him as the show went on, and it’s fun to see other people living their little lives where he’s just a background character. But I also love it here specifically for the creation of this moment, where suddenly he reappears with Frank on what we immediately presume must have been their hilarious joint mission hunting through the camp for their better halves. “Hello hello hello!” he crinkles, so pleased at what they’ve found.

Alan Alda always looks so boyish in the helmets. They all do but he does especially.

“He didn’t even study medicine in his own state!” Frank, is that the way you’re trying to somehow make it a negative that Trapper’s an Ivy League grad. Fucking Dartmouth…I’m obsessed with this. Boston working class surgical wunderkind John McIntyre rolling into one of the most prestigious colleges in the country with his crooked grin and his curls and his dropped R’s, those boys didn’t stand a chance..

Ohhh I love when they incorporated Seoul City Sue! One of the most interesting little bits of historical propaganda

/

3x17 ‘The Consultant’

Radar careening into camp in a jeep with this jaunty number on the score…yes

Hey what episode is it where Hawkeye and Trapper come loping out of the mess tent or the Swamp or somewhere because of something going on outside and as they sort of skid to a halt Trapper reaches a hand out to steady Hawkeye by the small of his back? They’re wearing their lab coats I’m pretty sure. I couldn’t remember if I dreamt this up on the morphine derivative, but then I know I saw it or *possibly* another instance in a fanvid somewhere, because I remember it happening as they crossed from left to right in frame, and that bit was from right to left—this doesn’t happen *twice* does it?? Anyway help Me.

This shot of Radar and Henry bidding them goodbye against the blue sky is so cute

Hawkeye makes three jokes about girls in as many minutes and then as if he suddenly feels imbalanced, comes on to Trapper and then this surgeon in quick succession

Corrugated tin pool at golden hour….

Frank: “Degenerates!” Trapper: “You peeked!” Wow .

He just doesn’t need to hold and then draggingly drop Trapper’s wrist like that. Right in front of his coffee.

“Well it all seems perfectly grisly. And quite correct.” British camp has such a pronounced air of unreality. Somehow this too has a Catch-22 affect.

Frank standing on a stool to crane over as they all watch the arterial transplant….what an episode. There’s so much real stuff going on in this one! 

It’s such a perfect cautionary tale to have it be Alan Alda’s own father. This Is Your Future.

/

3x18 ‘House Arrest’

These two joyfully jostling into each other will be the death of me

The carefully choreographed physical comedy of this scene, you know they had so much fun. I like the very measured pace of it, everything is doled out with such easy precision.

Henry: “Look Frank, we’re all a bundle of nerves! The heck, I yell at Radar all the time.” Radar: “I know you love me, sir.”

Just felt such a warm wash of affection just looking at all the accumulated objects in Henry’s office

Hawkeye: “Ohh, stranger in town! Don’t talk to me, I’m bad.”

I do enjoy how randy the Colonel nurse is. If only this plot line went in just a little bit of an entirely different direction!!!

The Colonel: “Now then, tell me about that doll.” Margaret: “Ma’am?” Frank?

Henry: “Klinger! It’s four o’clock in the afternoon and you’re still in a housecoat? Put on a dress! You never know who might be coming around!” Is this peak

The mark on Frank’s cheek is honestly not a bad makeup job.

You don’t need to feed him like a baby bird! He doesn’t need to feed him like a baby bird! Godd! Boys!

“In the eyes of the Lord, a prisoner’s a prisoner. :)” Father Mulcahy lawyering within Christianity to help out his peeps with any tangible thing he can do is always a favorite.

I mean truly I really do need to see the movie with Vincent Price and Gene Tierney. I loved her in The Ghost & Mrs. Muir!

Hey something is occurring to me: are all the films they get in black & white, regardless of whether they were actually shot in color? Because I’m discovering Leave Her to Heaven sure was. Did studios also make like, cheaper black & white copies (IS it cheaper?), the discount cuts available for this kind of distribution? Or maybe like, their projector will just render everything without color as it doesn’t have like the projector version of cones or whatever? Oh I think I’m about to slip feet first into a real rabbit hole.

Henry inexplicably crying watching the movie….god it’s really like he’s already becoming half a ghost…

The thing is, she straight up is trying to get him to put out by promising him favors! She’s using her position of authority to pressure him! She’s lying about the strength of the drink to get him drunk! All played for laughs! It’s not great, Bob!!

Lol how does this plot line end up sucking SO bad. Real testament to the power of Hawkeye, Trapper, and the Father in this that they can even overcome it for me

/

3x19 ‘Aid Station’

Oh my god, I only know this because I’m suddenly remembering my dad saying it once or twice, but jesus “AC/DC” used to mean bisexual. That did NOT cross the generational divide!! Anyway Hawkeye just called Henry at least bicurious.

Incredible tone to just simply be like, the aid station surgeons were killed and we have to send replacements. They were killed.

The perfection of Klinger dictating his will to Radar of each nurse he wants each of his dresses to go to

This Loretta monologue one of the only things guaranteed to make me burst into an appreciated whoop at the end every time. It's been every time!

Hawkeye: “Listen—” Trapper: “Yeah?” Hawkeye: “While I’m gone…” Trapper: “Yeah yeah.” Hawkeye: “Promise me you’ll go out with other doctors.” What if I’ve run out of cope

“Come back soon. I hate to play solitaire alone.” Trapper, don’t…we’re delicate… Don’t make that face!! !

The tonal shift of arriving at the aid station and it’s gutted and the close sounds of battle are coming through the tattered walls and your head while soldiers sit everywhere red-drenched and silent: bellisimo

How are their radio codenames from Snow White

“Damn Stalin, Truman, whoever.” Wow love this coming from Klinger, the enlisted characters often aren’t the ones who are allowed the more specifically political lines

Trapper’s Worried Persons Sleepover, himself as the calming host, and god it’s so good for him too actually that Radar and Henry just followed their feet to Hawkeye and Margaret’s ties in camp. I’m still thinking about ‘Crisis’ and so many others how Trapper likes a responsibility, he likes something to be the watcher of, and these two tentatively putting him in the position of morale officer gives that to him, and gives him a reason to be able to say aloud reassuringly: “They’re okay.”

Captain Pierce pulling a blanket up around Klinger before finally crawling under his own

Captain Pierce and Major Houlihan easily relenting under the exhaustion, fear, and darkness to sleep hiding quietly against each other in their helmets. Hawkeye & Margaret’s Ragged Persons Sleepover.

I love the three of them just cheerily babbling the rest of the lyrics to that old Artillery March, they don’t know!

*****

Viewguides (selected episodes for each season; M*A*S*H reduced like a gravy)

Misc. MASH (formless notes from my watches)

#M*A*S*H hours (all this & More)

[mxdam]

one of margarethe's most important traits is that she is a liar. there is a streak of dishonesty that runs through every layer of her psyche; on the conscious level, she will calmly and freely lie to any person at any time if it suits her purposes. on the unconscious level, margarethe spends a great deal of time lying to herself.

the reason i am discussing this is because of her first husband, francis tremaine. margarethe has a scene with ella, after her discovery of the glass slipper and the mystery princess' true identity, where she tells ella the story of her life:

"once upon a time, there was a beautiful young girl, who married for love, and she had two loving daughters. all was well. but one day, her husband, the light of her life, died. the next time, she married for the sake of her daughters. but that man, too, was taken from her. and she was doomed to look every day on his beloved child. she had hoped to marry off one of her beautiful, stupid daughters to the prince, but his head was turned by a girl with glass slippers. and so, i lived unhappily ever after. my story would appear to be ended."

there is a lot i can say here about the conscious and unconscious mythmaking margarethe is doing here. she has many telling omissions, and i may revisit them at a later time, but rn we are here to discuss francis, the man she "married for love," the one who was "the light of her life."

francis tremaine was 15 years her senior, and was 35 when they met, when margarethe was 20. he was an established merchant with a position in the mercer's guild. in addition to being older with the gains in brain development and life experience that came with it, he also had the benefit of male privilege in a society that disenfranchised women, and was able to be fully independent, a legal person under the law, and own property. he had power.

margarethe ten broek was, again, 20 years old. she was the dependent daughter of separated parents who had a strong whiff of scandal around her for that reason; the split between her mother and father was the stuff of gossip and there was widespread skepticism about helena and her children, which helena had been combating for 7-8 years at this time by demanding a pulverizing obedience from margarethe and absolute social perfection at every moment--margarethe suffered for every flaw, every moment she let her guard down.

yes, margarethe loved francis. could she possibly avoid loving francis? he was the first person to really look at her, to fix her with serious attention, and to not just offer her the world, but make her believe it was possible to get such a gift. from her position of vulnerability, dependence, and inexperience, she believed every word he said and fell desperately, passionately in love with him. her need and his pleasure in her need were the foundation of their marriage. as you can imagine, this did not go very well for them.

[selfish-solace]

transcriped the page in this video... read it under the cut!

              We are children.

            This is always what I attempted to tell myself, as the plans and decisions were made, as our intentions became clearer with each passing day, as the bodies began to pile up. Therefore every monstrous idea that escaped from our mouths, I found myself grasping at the multitudes of excuses – less that I forcefully developed for the sake of justifying what was being done. The most prevalent one, which I found myself consistently revisiting, was that we are children. Naïve. Unaware of the damage we are causing. We are aimless and afraid. And it is because of this that we are doing these horrible things.

As a method of evading the harshness of reality, children create games – stories that they can actively partake in, and identities they can embody. They are able to liberate themselves from the world that consistently demands that they grow up. These games start out small and innocent but sometimes grow, so much so that they absolutely encompass the child’s life. The game becomes their reality, and until they are forced out of it, and turned towards the correct path adjacent to fantasy, it is all they want. For a while, this concept helped reaffirm the idea that I myself was a child, one that could never truly break out of my own game because I had nobody to pull me out of it. I had no family, no guardian, no friends to help me face the world. What I received instead was another boy that was playing the same game, and his sister, who was reluctant to play and therefore fell silent.

I was encouraged to remain numb to the world, to the emotions and realities I had lost sight of, the month I was forced o see my parents and brother removed from my life. The manufacturing of the false realities was all that I had left. It was all that the man in the black suit hadn’t taken from me. Morality was not a concern of mine, it was replaced by fear. Fear that I would end up like those I once loved. And as a child, I embraced that fear as yet another excuse to further the sick plans that my only friend would push in my direction. For a while I considered myself the child and him the parent – the teacher.

My teacher’s first lesson was that, yes, we are children. And in order to win this game – in order to stop the monsters from getting us and moving on to the next level, we had to conspire against the other children – to make them lose.

I did not realize how literal this game was becoming until we sacrificed our first child to the man in the suit.

I think his name was Sean, or maybe it was Gordon… I can’t say for sure.          There were so many children that came and went – children that were thrust into the game without being given the rules or a fighting chance to win it. We were cheating, but we didn’t care because we were winning. The game was all that mattered to us – well, to me and him, anyway. My friend’s sister who later became my girlfriend – wasn’t concerned with winning the game. She despised us for cheating, but was afraid to challenge us. We had become killers, monsters… something worse then the creature we were feeding. And eventually, when her brother left us alone to seek out and kill more people reusing to play, she tried to get through to me – to convince me that if we really are all children, then the best possible way to win the game is together; to help the other kids instead of hurting them. I wouldn’t immediately budge. I spat back, “Why would I do that? Why would I risk everything we’ve done, all the surviving we’ve accomplished, just to save some kids I don’t know?” There was a long pause. Each time I remember it, the pause gets longer. Her eye contact didn’t sever or fade… She looked at me, fighting back tears, and spoke in a hushed, piercing tone: “Would you have saved Erik if you could?” Game over. She won. Eventually, it was just me and her, forever. I got rid of her brother in the only way I knew how, and even for that I hated myself; but it was the first necessary evil that actually felt necessary. And from then on, my life was about helping everyone – making up for the games me and my sadistic friend played at the expense of others. I promised myself that I would do anything to never see another child suffer at the hands of someone else.

[daysofourlivesrecaps]

Friday, 14 July 2023

A couple of weeks ago, I thought I might be getting a little burned out on this show. At the very least, I wasn’t feeling particularly engaged in most of the plots, which didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

Boy, it did not take them long to turn THAT around.

Let’s start with Marlena, who’s still confronting Kristen over the whereabouts of Rachel (Kristen’s daughter, Marlena’s granddaughter). Kristen continues to insist that she has no idea where Rachel could be.

Then she pivots to that old standby: “but hypothetically, if I did know where she was, I might be more inclined to tell you if there was something in it for me.”

Marlena is, as I have mentioned many times, the moral center of this show (when she isn’t possessed by the Devil, anyway — and it’s been over a year since that was true). But she’s been making some pretty weird choices lately. Like this one, where she just agrees to Kristen’s hypothetical scenario and swears to use her Main Character powers to convince Brady to revisit the custody agreement that currently doesn’t allow Kristen to see her daughter at all.

So Marlena leaves to do that. And then someone emerges from the secret room. OH NO, IT’S A BEAR!!

Oh, whew. It’s not a bear. It’s just the daughter that Kristen is illegally hiding here. That’s entirely fine.

Apparently Rachel was hiding in plain sight up in the attic, amidst a vast assortment of stuffed animals that we apparently don’t have the budget to show.

They have, by my accounting, paid for two bear suits now, though: this child-sized one, and the adult-sized Duke. Duke’s heyday was a storyline from over a year ago, but he still makes the occasional appearance — one as recently as a couple of months ago!

Marlena finds Brady and Belle chatting in the town square and goes over her “just give custody back to Kristen and she’ll tell us where Rachel” plan. 

Brady thinks this is a terrible plan and so does Belle, but Marlena has Therapist Powers and Main Character Powers and, over these two particular people, Mom Powers, so there’s absolutely no way they can resist. My god, no wonder Satan keeps coming after this woman. She has an entire town under her thrall.

So Belle uses her Lawyer Powers to draw up a new custody agreement. 

Which Brady then takes over to Kristen.

Then, after making a big show of having Kristen sign it, he tears it up in her face.

Which… is a highly impractical way to make your point, but also, 10/10 for handling it in the most melodramatically soapish way possible.

And while all of this really was quintessential soap stuff that really delivers everything you want out of a show like this… trust me when I tell you that it was the much less interesting B-story today.

First, we pick up where we left off with Lani confronting Jerry about his part in Abe’s disappearance.

Lani might only be on temporary furlough from prison, but she’s still one hell of a detective. Jerry endures her questioning for all of about thirty seconds before essentially collapsing to the floor in a fetal position, weeping openly and confessing every last detail of Nurse King’s very stupid plan.

Meanwhile, at the hospital, Nurse King is being questioned by Steve.

She also folds almost immediately, but her plan is to just throw Jerry under the bus and resume fleeing town with Abe’s poor, drugged-up body.

So they’re all getting pretty close to finding Abe, who’s still zonked out on Nurse King’s couch watching Body and Soul. AND NOW HE’S SEEING HIS OWN ACTUAL SELF IN THE SHOW.

This is the dumbest thing I have ever seen and I love it so much. Best of all, they actually deliver on everything that “beloved character recovering from amnesia think’s he lives in a soap that exists inside our soap” promises. Up to and including an appearance by a fictionalized version of his wife, Paulina!

Jackée (best known for the 80s sitcom 227) has always looked great on Days, but her Body and Soul appearance is some real next-level shit. Honestly, sometimes I find myself wishing she was a little better at selling some of the heavier emotional stuff on this show but this camp comedy stuff is completely her wheelhouse and She. Fucking. Nails it.

TV Abe sort-of recognizes his wife, and other elements of his actual existence start seeping into the show. He even starts to remember that he and Paulina have a daughter together: Lani.

Fictional Paulina (whom they’ve given the surprisingly not-over-the-top name Sandra Clarkington) doesn’t know what he’s talking about. They’ve never even met before, so how could they possibly have a daughter?

But then Abe’s viewing is abruptly interrupted by a tap-tap-tapping on Nurse King’s chamber door and IT’S LANI! HIS ACTUAL DAUGHTER! SHE FOUND HIM!

Days of Our Lives, I am truly sorry that I ever doubted you.

[dancingamongstdust]

MHA Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 2)

Pinky/Alien Queen

The first time you met Mina was when you were much younger.

She had been in the friends group that you always admired and it had taken you a while to work up the courage to speak to her. Everything about her screamed her confidence and you looked up to her in almost every way possible. She was beautiful, her quirk was powerful, and there wasn’t a person alive who could dislike her.

But she had hardly noticed that you were there. At least, you had believed that you would slip under her radar. She wouldn’t know that she was your inspiration for your school choice and that was fine by you.

And yet…

Your name was called only a few minutes after you stepped through the main gates. A blur of pink nearly bowled you over and Mina practically picked you up with the strength of her hug.

“I didn’t know that you were coming here!” she squealed. “This is so cool! I was super worried that I was going to not know anybody here. Did you get into the hero course also?”

You laughed awkwardly, stepping away despite not really wanting to stop the hug. It was odd to stand before her and realised that not only did she know who you were but she was excited to see you.

You hadn’t just been a background character in her massive friend group.

“I didn’t try for the hero course,” you explained. “I’m here for the marketing course.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Wait, really? Your quirk would really suit being a hero though.”

“I know but it’s just not for me.”

Mina grabbed your arm then, walking closely by your side as you entered the large school. “That’s okay! I’m going to need a good marketing team one day when I’m out saving the world. Who better than somebody who’s known me since middle school?”

“You’re like the sweetest person in the world,” you pointed out. “Anybody with a brain cell will adore you when you’re a hero. Your marketing probably won’t have to do anything at all.”

She smiled proudly at your assessment. “Imagine if I make it to the top 10 without even working for an agency. I think I’d be like the first, right?”

You didn’t actually know the answer but, luckily, it seemed to be a rhetorical question anyway.

“I haven’t met anybody from my course yet and I’m super nervous,” she continued. “I saw a few kids during the exam that I am certain got in so I can’t wait to meet them. Hopefully they’re all super nice. Also, I can’t wait to see what they’ve done with my hero outfit! You should see what I sent in because I think you would love it.”

“I’m guessing it works for dancing as well as hero work?” you asked.

She nodded excitedly. “Do you expect anything else? I actually don’t think I’ve ever asked but do you like dancing?”

“I mean –“

You didn’t get much time to answer before she spotted somebody and excitedly grabbed your arm. “That guy was in my exam!” she said. “I just knew he was going to make it! You should see how awesome his quirk is. I’m going to go say hi.”

She raced off into the crowd, heading for somebody that you hadn’t quite seen. You couldn’t help the smile that graced your face at the thought of continuing to be in the same school as her. Perhaps now, without the distractions of others, the two of you could become actual friends.

You held your head high, excited to meet others in your course and learn some things to speak to her about in the coming days.

Red Riot

There was no place in the world quite like your home. Returning after far too long, you were extraordinarily excited to revisit all your favourite places and meet up with people.

Except that most of your friends had moved away from home in order to live on school grounds. And your favourite street food vendor had disappeared. Even the park had removed the swings that you had so many good memories associated with.

And thus, what had started as a great day had quickly gone downhill.

You found yourself just walking around, snacking on something small and hoping to just relax a little before having to unpack. Much of the place felt dull and uninteresting – not even the stuff that had remained being enough to cheer you up. It was honestly a little miserable and you had been hoping for some excitement.

Your request to the universe was thankfully answered when you finally spotted a familiar face standing outside the massive gates ahead of you.

Slowly, you made your way over and grabbed Midoriya’s shoulders playfully. The friend that you once knew would have jumped but laughed at it once he saw you.

He didn’t do that.

You yelped in pain as he spun around and grabbed your wrist tightly. He had never been strong before but now his grip felt like it could break bone.

The moment he recognised you, he released his hold and you backed away feeling thoroughly embarrassed.

“That was a bit excessive,” you commented dryly when he said your name.

“I am so sorry,” he said, quickly holding up his hands. “I thought that you – I mean, you gave me an awful fright.”

“No problem,” you said though your wrist still smarted. “I was going to do it to Bakugo originally.”

As though he magically heard you mention his name, the blond lifted his head from where you had spotted him beyond the gates. His ever-present snarl was still on his face and it only deepened when he spotted you. “I thought you had gone off and died somewhere!” he snapped, loud enough that many students turned to look curiously.

“You wish I had!” you responded. “I didn’t think they would let you into such a fancy school. I’m impressed.”

“And I’m disappointed that they let you back into the city!”

“He’s as sweet as always,” you said, turning back to Midoriya who looked at least slightly happy to see you. “I’m glad that you got into your dream school. You were always working so hard to make it happen. How did you do it?”

“I got a late quirk,” he chuckled.

A shadow fell over you and you turned to give Bakugo a glare. “You’re standing in my sunlight. Could you move?”

He was about to respond, undoubtedly with a cutting remark when a red-haired guy smoothly stepped around him. “You must be from their middle school, right?” he guessed, holding out his hand. “I’m Kirishima.”

You were beyond confused at having your impending fight interrupted. Bakugo didn’t seem to feel the same way, instead looking resigned. This happened often then.

You introduced yourself though, keeping your surprise well hidden. “It’s lovely to meet you. I’m sorry you have to be in the hero course with these two. I doubt they’ve gotten better with their constant fighting.”

“You’d actually be surprised. Their rivalry is just so manly and inspiring,” he enthused, looking for all intents as though he genuinely believed it. “But they’ve actually been getting along better recently.”

“Really? Tell me some details?”

Before anybody could protest, Kirishima began expressing how the two had slowly been growing to respect one another. Most of his praise fell onto Bakugo (who was giving you a look that promised you would die very soon) and you made sure to inject playful comments every now and then.

At the very least, your day was getting better by the minute.

Shoto

Sometimes people would call you a disappointment. They were rarely people of importance – at least in your life, and it was something you’d learned to ignore them in a healthy childishness sort of way.

Despite what all those people thought, you weren’t a disappointment.

And it certainly was unfortunate.

Your parents weren’t pro-heroes but they held great sway in other ways. Ways that earned them a seat at many tables and an introduction at others. And that was how you made connections and earned your own reputation. Though accourding to many, the latter wasn’t something that you should be proud of.

You walked with your head held high and accepted any words that they offered to you with a simple smile and the occasional rude gesture.

It had served you well enough until you found yourself at some stuffy gala with nobody to talk to. On the surface, you had expected everything to continue in the same way that it always had.

But your parents stuck closer to you than ever. Normally they would disappear to socialize but tonight was different.

You found out why when they marched you almost directly to one of the world’s most intimidating people.

The Number Two hero himself.

Perhaps it was because of your normal personality but he made you uncomfortable. Everything about him ate at you and made you want to fight. But you merely introduced yourself and wondered what it was that he wanted.

“Your quirk is admirable,” he said. “If rumours are to be believed.”

“They’re rarely reliable,” you said.

He glanced at your parents, seeming to have a silent conversation with them before nodding. “Wait here,” he said.

Your parents disappeared to go talk to people but both gave you equally strong warnings – though their own came mostly through looks than actual words. Leaving wasn’t an option, no matter how long it took. And it really felt like absolute ages before Endeavor reappeared, his youngest son trailing behind him.

“Shoto and you are close in age,” he said. “Speak to one another.”

That… wasn’t what you had been expecting.

Shoto Todoroki didn’t want to be there but his dislike for the event seemed to go even further than your own. Though he didn’t frown, his deadpan spoke volumes and an uneasy atmosphere settled over you both. Once Endeavor marched off, you were very much expecting him to leave but he remained, staring at you.

“Hey,” you greeted.

“Hi.”

You chuckled awkwardly and rubbed the back of your neck. “I haven’t really been told to make friends since I was much younger…”

“This isn’t about us being friends,” Todoroki said. “This is about creating a good reputation with your parents through our connection. They already get along well but this would undoubtedly benefit them both.”

“Oh,” was really all you could say.

“Business as usual,” he responded.

“So, you’re not up for being friends?” you asked, half-joking because you were unsure what else to say or do in this type of situation.

“I don’t care much either way.”

You could go off and cause trouble. It was tempting to be caught sneaking food into your bag again or climbing to the roof and taking selfies. But those were the things that you always did at these events. Never did you interact with anybody and you were, admittedly, curious about the burn that covered the younger Todoroki’s face.

“Well, we should talk then,” you declared. “After all, we are a ‘similar age’.”

He rolled his eyes at your attempt at an impersonation of his father’s voice. At the very least, he didn’t seem to consider talking to you to be that much of a chore.

(I’ve begun writing a much longer Todoroki x Reader story with a similar situation. You can find it on by clicking here).

Shinso

People loved gossip. That was a sad but inherently true fact. Some preferred to keep away from the stuff and knew nothing about their own reputation but you liked knowing what they said about you. Thankfully, the majority of the time, it was good.

But that was unfortunately not true for everybody.

You heard them whispering about him as you entered class the one day. He always kept to himself but after the sports festival, Shinso had garnered many positive things said about him. You had never spoken to him yourself but you had thought that he was proud of how he could impress people.

Originally, you brushed it off as more speculation but the gossip sounded meaner than ever so you chose to listen in.

“No, I’m telling you, it’s scary as shit,” one guy was saying. “I began thinking all these really dark thoughts about like what I could do to people and stuff. It must have come from his quirk, right?”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, it was wild. I know you guys all think that he’s some big shot but we should be careful trusting somebody with a quirk like his.”

You cleared your throat, quickly drawing attention to yourself. It would be plausible if you didn’t know the main person describing his experience. He was always complaining about not getting enough credit or attention – never seemed to be without something rude to say about every quirk but his own.

And he had been getting steadily more jealous of the general course’s most famous student.

“There is no way that Shinso’s quirk could do that,” you said firmly. “Don’t you remember how it was described at all? It doesn’t take over your thoughts, just your body.”

The guy scoffed. “No offense class rep but I don’t think you know what you’re talking about. I got hypnotized yesterday, not you.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, willing to take the bait but unable to yet. Shinso normally got to class shortly before it began. So you waited until he arrived and then stepped in front of him with a friendly smile.

“Hey Shinso! I’m sorry to do this but I’ve been getting some conflicting answers about your mind control,” you said, projecting your voice just loud enough. “Could you show me?”

“Show you what?”

He sounded as though he had just woken up. You would have given him some time but you were on a bit short on it with class starting soon.

“How it feels to be under your hypnosis thing,” you said. “Apparently it’s kind of awesome and I was wondering if you could do it to me?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Is this a dumb bet?”

“Nope. I just want to feel it.”

He sighed heavily as though you were asking for the toughest thing in the world which, admittedly, you may just be doing.  “Do you like ramen?”

“Yes.”

You felt as though you’d been plunged into an ice bath. All of your limbs grew cold distant, like they had been yanked from your grasp. Initially, you panicked but you focused on relaxing. Shinso was in control, that was all that was happening. You trusted Shinso wouldn’t make you do anything.

“Go and sit at your desk,” he said.

His words sent a jolt through your body and it began to moving, dragging itself to follow his orders. Once you were sitting, the warmth came back to you and you could feel your own limbs once again.

“That was so awesome!” you said happily. “Thank you! It’s pretty startling initially but once you remember what’s happening, it begins to make sense.”

He nodded and sat down at his own spot.

You made direct eye contact with the group who had been gossiping earlier and you gave them a dazzling smile. The main one gave you a dirty look but you ignored it, relishing instead in the proof that you now had.

Suneater

Everybody knew who the Big 3 within U.A. were. They were impossible to ignore but quickly made friends with everybody, at least, two of them did.

Having been in their class for your entire U.A. experience, you had watched their quirks develop and fought alongside them in many exercises. They tended to stick to themselves for team ups or wound up working alongside one another. You had respected that but now you were beginning to get curious.

So, the one day you walked up to Nejire and told her, “I want to speak to Tamaki.”

She frowned at you in confusion. You were friends and often hung out together which meant, “You’ve spoken to Tamaki before.”

“No, I’ve spoken to groups that happen to have him in them. That’s not speaking to him, that’s speaking around him. Whenever I try to address him directly, Mirio or you end up answering for him.”

“That’s just Tamaki,” she said, taking a bite of her lunch bar.

It was just after a pretty intense training session and everybody was feeling quite tired. Most of you snacked before returning to class, citing that you had had complications in removing costumes or something similar.

“But I’ve been in his class for three years now and I’ve never actually spoken to the guy,” you urged. “Can you blame me for being curious?”

“I guess not but he’s not going to have anything interesting to say. He’s pretty quiet about literally everything.”

“Still…”

“You can try.”

Later at lunch, you joined the group at Nejire’s request. She plopped you down directly next to Tamaki and grabbed Mirio’s attention from the moment the conversation started. They spoke about something arbitrary which left you to speak to Tamaki… who was making a point to stare at his food.

“Tamaki, how’s your training been going?” you asked.

He glanced towards Mirio who paused his conversation with Nejire to tell you all about this new move that Tamaki was working on. You smiled and nodded but you weren’t too happy with this.

Nejire sensed it and this time told Mirio that she needed to show him something. Tamaki made to go with them but she quickly said, “Nope, only Mirio,” and practically dragged him away.

Second attempt.

“You work with Fatgum, right?” you asked. “He’s one of my favourite heroes. Is he just as friendly in real life?”

Tamaki gave a small nod but said nothing else.

“Why’d you choose to work with him?”

There was a moment of silence and then Tamaki muttered out something about food-related quirks. It was so soft that he honestly may as well have not answered for all the information you got. You wondered if it was just you but you knew it wasn’t.

“During my patrols the other night, we found this gang with a guy who could create like spikes from his feet. They made him a surprisingly fast runner but we caught him eventually. I became a parkour expert during the chase.”

Tamaki didn’t respond at all.

So you sighed in way that you knew he wouldn’t notice and just resigned yourself to silence. It was better than speaking to yourself at least.

Minutes went by and you considered sending Nejire a message to tell her to just come back when Tamaki spoke.

It was still soft but it was actually directed toward you. “What happened to the rest of the gang if you were chasing one guy?”

You looked up with an excitement that you really hoped wasn’t too visible. “Well, thankfully I wasn’t alone and the other work study students got them. But of course, I ended up having to chase the fast guy.”

“They always try and get me to deal with the big groups,” he said. “Fatgum thinks my quirk is good for crowd control.”

“You know, I could really see that. Have you ever been like really out of your depth?”

“All the time. Once…”

And that was how you started your friendship with Amajiki Tamaki.

Tailman

Japan’s public transport system was one of the best in the world, that was something you believed with an utmost sincerity. But like anything, it always runs the risk of getting stuck behind a hero-incident.

You were on your way home from a day that felt like it had dragged by at the pace of a snail. Most of what you wanted to get done hadn’t happened so, though it wasn’t particularly bad, it was boring and bland. All you had been looking forward to was getting home and finally just sleeping for as long as you could.

The train jostled slightly as it left the station and you felt safe enough to let go of the grab handle for a short while. You knew the train route better than anybody else, having to ride it multiple times in a day.

You scrolled on your phone and just counted the minutes to each turn and hiccup in the train’s path. Everything was going accourding to plan.

And then, from somewhere outside the train, you heard a massive explosion.

A battle was happening in the city and you could see the glints of light from where you were standing. You reached up for your grab handle. Unfortunately, you moved too slow.

The train came to a jerking halt and you found yourself tumbling backward as it tried to continue forward. You accidentally slammed into the guy behind you, stepping on his foot and just about headbutting him.

The guy steadied you and helped you stand once the train had come to a full stop.

“I am so sorry,” you said, turning to face him.

“It’s no problem.”

He looked familiar enough that you stared a little – trying to identify where you knew him from. His blond hair and dark eyes didn’t stand out too much but then you spotted the tufted tail over his shoulder.

“You’re part of U.A.’s hero course, aren’t you?” you asked, a little too excited but unable to help yourself.

He seemed momentarily confused but a blush spread across his face, nevertheless. “Yeah, I am. How did you know?”

“I recognise you from the sports festival,” you admitted. “Sorry, I’m sure you get that a lot. And also, sorry for standing on your foot. Your quirk is really cool by the way and I’m talking a bit much now so I’m sorry.”

“You’ve apologised way too much now,” he laughed. “It’s okay and thanks. My tail often gets overlooked because of the flashier quirks.”

You frowned. “Really? But it’s so cool.”

He smiled and shrugged, as though resigned to a simple fact. “It’s just a tail.” He looked through the window. “Looks like the fight’s going to take a while.”

You couldn’t see much and most people were already clamoring to get to the best spot to watch. “That’s fine,” you said. “As long as Mountain Lady doesn’t break the tracks again… that’s happened to me before I had to walk for almost two hours to get home.”

He chuckled. “I’ve had something similar but my tram got overturned. Honestly, I hope to become a hero that never causes such extreme property damage.”

“I’m sure the city will thank you if nobody else does,” you joked. “And I will too… though, if I’m being honest, I don’t actually know your name.”

“Ojiro,” he said. “My current hero name is Tailman but it’s more of a work in progress.”

You giggled. “I like it. It’ll work great on merchandise, you know?”

“Thank you. What’s your name?”

You told him happily. Though the battle left you waiting on the train for almost a full hour, you didn’t mind at all because you spent the entire time talking about anything and everything. Right before you left, you had offered Ojiro your number and he had gladly taken it.

Tentacole

Some people said that you were far too skittish to be in a hero school. Well, most people said it. Honestly, it was quite offending but also very correct in almost every way.

Loud noises made you jump. Insects or insect-like quirks made you very uncomfortable. There was even somebody in the school who made lights flicker on and off, never failing to make you leave a room the moment that they entered. You tried to stick with your friends at all times but it wasn’t possible for them to always be there.

It was later in the afternoon when you walked through the halls to notice a dark sky overhead.

You shivered while staring up at it, knowing that a storm would definitely be rolling in soon. If you could, you would have headed home immediately and attempted to hide from the noise that was sure to come.

But you didn’t have that option available.

You made your way to your next class, avoiding people and keeping an unwavering eye on the weather. Perhaps you should have just pretended it didn’t exist because you saw the moment that lightning flashed. Thunder followed and you jumped.

Your bag nearly fell on the floor as you dashed to hide behind the least scary person nearby.

Who just so happened to be one of the hero course students?

You hadn’t meant to cower behind him but he was tall and gave off an insane feeling of protection. It had been instinct. But you quickly realised that you probably shouldn’t hide behind a complete stranger.

You forced yourself to step away from him and bowed your head in apology. “I’m sorry for my actions,” you said. “I just got scared by the thunder.”

He was incredibly tall and had a complete multiplex of limbs. A mask hid the majority of his face but when he spoke, you could still hear him clearly. “It’s alright. You don’t have to worry about the weather, you know? U.A. is well protected from any lightning or storm winds.”

“It’s more just the sound,” you said nervously, glancing toward the sky. “I’m a little skittish about it.”

“You’re skittish about literally everything,” somebody said as they walked past.

It was one of your classmates who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself. You chuckled nervously and fought back the temptation to follow her to class in order to feel safe. Everybody knew that you were a nervous person and many found it funny instead of worrying as they once had.

You blushed and stepped away from him, trying to hide your embarrassment. “Sorry again. I really do get scared of everything.”

“It can’t be everything if you were willing to hide behind me,” he pointed out. “I’m pretty terrifying in my appearance.”

You scoffed at that, catching your rudeness seconds after it appeared. Hurriedly, you explained, “I don’t think you’re scary at all. Like your quirk is awesome and all but it’s not like you could kill me by not paying attention.”

“And you know many quirks like that?”

“I’m sure you do also.”

He nodded slowly just as another crack of thunder rolled across the sky. You jumped a little but managed to not run away. “Do you want me to walk you to your classroom? It might make you feel a little safer.”

You blinked at him. “Are you sure? Won’t it make you late also?”

“It shouldn’t.”

The two of you walked side-by-side through the halls, his height practically shielding you from the storm outside. You were eternally grateful, especially when the rain picked up as you were nearing your class. When you arrived, you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you for the escort…”

“Shoji.”

Tsukuyomi

Being stuck in the dorms took some getting used to.

You found that you couldn’t sleep most nights, tossing and turning while trying to get comfortable. The need for them was clear but you couldn’t help hating the reason behind it all. Your home was comfortable and here you often found random mushrooms growing across the kitchen counters.

It was late one night and you had found yourself staring at the ceiling for about an hour before deciding to do something about it. You climbed out of bed and threw on your favourite jacket with little thought. There had to be something to be done.

You walked down to the main room and found that everybody had retired to their rooms. The kitchen was barren and the front door was… unlocked?

It certainly wasn’t meant to be but you didn’t question it.

Instead, you slipped out of the dorms and closed the door tightly behind you. The fresh night air invigorated your senses and you turned onto the main path. There was no destination in mind for you. All you wanted to do was walk.

When you initially spotted another person, you started getting nervous. What if the door had been a trick? Would villains try to lure students from their dorms?

But you soon recognised the bird-like features of a student from 1A. Tokoyami.

“Hey,” you greeted, waving so that he didn’t get a fright like you had.

He frowned and you both came to a stop, walking paths having led you face to face with one another. “I wasn’t expecting to find another person out here,” he said. “I thought these midnight walks were pretty uncommon.”

“So did I,” you joked. “Do you mind if I join you? Some company is always better than walking alone.”

He shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

You fell into step beside him and the two of you strolled through the main areas of U.A.’s grounds. Neither one of you wanted to leave which worked out well. Fireflies drifted past your nose and crickets sang their cheery tune.

“Do you struggle to sleep?” Tokoyami asked.

“A little. The dorms are quite an adjustment from what I’m used to. What about you? What are you doing out here so late?”

Tokoyami looked up at the sky. “I’ve always liked the night,” he said. “The darkness is welcoming and filled with far less expectations than the day. It’s unfortunate that my quirk keeps me away from it as much as it does. Otherwise, I often think that I may just become nocturnal.”

“I get that. When I was a kid, I’d sometimes drag my blankets out to the garden and just sleep under the stars.”

“I never thought that the two of us may have something in common,” Tokoyami mused. “Though, if I’m being honest, I didn’t think too much of you. I know your class and your quirk but little else.”

You giggled. “I was just thinking about it. It’s surprising how little our classes interact even though we’re all working toward one goal.”

“It’s a pity, honestly.”

You glanced around at the darkness and a thought occurred to you. “Would you be fine with bringing out Dark Shadow here? Or are the streetlights not strong enough?”

“They’d be fine but I often like to have my thoughts away from him,” Tokoyami said. “With training, I’ve grown used to having him around constantly but sometimes, the quiet is nice.” He glanced at you. “I appreciate your company quite a bit though.”

“Oh, thanks.” It was a good thing that the dark could hide your blush so well.

Uravity

The roof of U.A. had become your safe spot for many reasons – not least of which was your ability to get there with an ease that befuddled many other students. Even you didn’t know if it was more because of your quirk or if you were just talented at climbing.

What you did know was that once you were up there, the rest of the world fell away and all you had to worry about was the clouds and an occasional bird.

One day, while you were relaxing close to the edge, a pen drifted past you. It was pink and adorable – floating through the air as though the laws of gravity meant naught to it.

You reached out and took it from where it was floating. It continued trying to leave your hands but, after a little while, the effect seemed to wear off. You twirled it between your fingers, wondering if it belonged to somebody in specific.

Then a second pen appeared and you took that one too.

It became a slight game. You allowed them to get high enough before capturing them and soon, you had a small pile of stationary in your pockets. They were surely coming from somebody and you planned to return them as soon as you got down.

Then, a small notepad appeared. On the first page, a little ‘Hi’ was written in cursive with a heart doodled beside it.

You flipped over to a new page and wrote your own greeting aside a quick flower. Then, you allowed the notepad to drift back over the edge. It rose for a short while but then gravity came back and it plummeted toward the ground. You watched it go and hoped that it didn’t land in dirt or anything.

Thankfully, it didn’t seem to because it soon came up with a new message. ‘I’m Uraraka. What’s your name?’

You wrote down a response and the notepad dropped again. Soon, it returned, telling you that your name was very pretty. That made you laugh and blush a little.

In return, you asked why she was sending notes to you and she said that she had been trying to get her quirk more accurate. Apparently, she could take away gravity from objects and she’s working on holding it for longer.

You asked if she wanted her stationary back and she said no, it was okay. You could give it back later.

Being a bit flirtatious, you had asked if she wanted to get a milkshake when you gave it back and, to your immense surprise, she said that sounded like fun. The conversation continued through the notepad with much laughter until you realised something sad. You had run out of paper to write on.

Uraraka realised this also and she put a sad face on the final page.

So you leaned over the top of the roof and glanced around to see if anybody was looking up. Sure enough, you quickly spotted a brunette who was almost directly beneath you and wearing a soft pink outfit.

You waved and received one in return.

Flipping to the front of your notebook, you scribbled down your number and put several arrows to make sure she saw it. To your surprise, she actually caught the notepad when you dropped it instead of letting it hit the ground.

She gave you a thumbs up when she noticed that you were watching. Soon, your phone buzzed as a message from an unknown number came through.

‘Hi!’

You took a picture of your view and sent it through, mentioning that she was smaller than you thought. She laughed and asked if you had good signal up there. The best, you were sure. Then your phone began ringing and you answered a video call with the cutest girl you had ever seen.

“I didn’t know you could get to the roof,” she laughed.

“With the right dedication, you can do anything.”

[the-scandalorian]

Tempered Glass: Chapter 7

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M (will become explicit) Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: slow burn, canon-typical violence, cursing, pining, Din in suspenders, fluff Summary: Din takes a job with his old crew, and you and the kid wait for him on Arvala-7. Notes: Sorry this took me forever!

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Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

After you left the atmosphere of Tatooine and jumped into hyperspace, Din swiveled his chair around to face you in the copilot’s seat.

“I should take a job. Everything we made went to Peli, and I don’t like being low on credits. There’s a crew I used to run with...I can reach out to them...” he hesitated then added, “but you and the kid can’t come with me.”

“What do you mean I can’t come with you?”

He sighed, shoulders dropping. “I mean, I don’t trust them enough for you and the kid to come.”

“If you don’t trust them, wouldn’t it be better to have backup?”

“I just—,” he looked away, “I don’t want them to know either of you exist.”

“If you don’t trust them, should you be taking a job with them?”

“We don’t have a lot of options.”

“I could get work somewhere. We could go somewhere safe enough for a few weeks. There are some places where I have contacts, and non-bounty hunting work is usually less conspicuous.”

“I don’t think we should stay anywhere that long right now.”

“But—”

“I’ll feel better if you and the kid are safe together.”

“I—”

When he bowed his head in a silent appeal, your determination crumbled.

“Ugh, fine.”

He sighed in relief, reaching out to rest his hand on your knee briefly. His touch was reassuring.

“But, just so you know, this is only going to work once, so don’t think that my staying back with the kid is going to be a regular thing.”

He removed his hand and turned back around to face the viewport.

“I am taking your silence as tacit agreement,” you said to the back of his helmet.

He chose to ignore that, fiddling with the controls instead.

***

Now that you’d both admitted you wanted to stay together, abandoning the pretense of strategy and convenience all together, things were a little off between you and Din. Neither of you were used to being vulnerable, so conversations were slightly stunted again. You found yourself being overly polite, and Din was doing the same.

That first night back on the Crest, he offered you his bunk.

“I’m not taking your bed. You need it to take off your helmet.”

Besides the unshakable lingering chill of the hull, sleeping there wasn’t that bad. You usually slept with every sweater you owned on and that kept you warm enough.

“Use it when I’m not. You shouldn't have to sleep on the floor.”

“Sure, thanks,” you agreed, knowing you’d never take him up on that. You didn’t want to be on a different sleep schedule than he and the kid.

You did try to nap with the kid in Din’s bunk the next day because there wasn’t all that much to do in hyperspace. As soon as you lay down, though, you knew it was a mistake. First of all, it was crazy uncomfortable (somehow not better than the literal floor and the close walls made it slightly claustrophobic), and second—and far more importantly—it smelled overwhelmingly like Din. It smelled like his pine-y soap and beskar and blaster residue and leather and whatever else made up his infuriatingly good scent. It conjured images of crackling fires and golden skin and warm embraces and taut muscles.

Shit.

There was no chance you were going to be able to fall sleep when all you could think about was him.

The kid, on the other hand, was snoozing contentedly beside you. When you’d fully given up on napping, you edged your way out the bunk carefully, doing your best not to wake him.

Din was sitting in the hull on a long crate against the wall, cleaning his blaster, the pieces spread out next to him. Usually, when you were in the hull at the same time, you’d find a place across from him. Instead, you purposefully sat next to him, drawing your knees up to your chest and leaning against the wall.

You decided you were going to push through this awkward phase and make things not weird right there, right then. And you were going to do that the best way you knew how.

He tilted his helmet toward you momentarily then refocused on the blaster in his hand.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes,” he said, running a rag along the barrel.

“How does one develop a catchphrase? Does it happen organically or is there an iterative brainstorming process?”

Din paused, sighing dramatically, set his blaster and the rag down next to him, and pushed himself back until he was also leaning against the metal wall. His helmet clunked slightly as he relaxed it back. “This is the way is not a catchphrase. It’s a tenet of the Creed.”

“And ‘I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold’ is also a tenet of the Creed?”

He lolled his helmet to the side, looking down at you. “Okay, fine, that one isn’t,” he conceded.

“So you admit it—you have at least one catchphrase that you regularly use on bounties.” You smirked up at him.

Without missing a beat, Din fixed you with that unreadable visor and quipped: “I’ve been told I have a sexy voice. I’m just giving the people what they want.”

Your jaw dropped, a shocked laugh echoing through the hull. You had planned on teasing him and had not expected him to turn it around on you so smoothly.

“Uh... I was sort of hoping we’d stick to our unspoken agreement to not bring up the stupid things I said when I was drunk.” You looked down at your hands, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

“Oh, definitely not.”

You looked back up. “Alright, well then in the name of fairness, we’re going to have to get you really drunk the next time the opportunity presents itself, so we can see what embarrassing things you say.”

He paused for a moment, considering, then said, “Does that mean you’ll carry me home?”

You cracked a smile, nodding vigorously. “Of course. That would only be fair.”

A warm laugh rasped through the modulator. You crossed your ankles in front of you, letting your knee rest against the cold beskar on this thigh.

“I feel skeptical of that promise.” He dropped a gloved hand to your knee.

“Okay, okay I can’t promise to carry you home, but I can promise to tie your shoe if needed.”

“My boots don’t have laces.” He lifted a foot off the ground to show you.

You shrugged playfully: “Well, that’s not my fault.”

“This doesn’t sound like a very good deal for me. I tied your shoe and carried you home.”

“To be fair, both were against my will.”

“But necessary.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Okay, okay, I can’t carry you, and I can’t tie your shoe... so I’ll...,” you bit your lip as you fished around for something else to offer, “...hold your hand? And not let anyone tickle you.”

He huffed and rubbed his thumb over your knee: “I’m not ticklish.”

You pursed your lips. “Right, sure, of course not. My mistake.”

He harrumphed. “Can I ask you something now?”

“I’ll allow it,” you intoned seriously.

“Where are you actually from?”

“Naboo. Most of my back story was true—I just left out the one major detail.”

“Your favorite color?” he deadpanned.

You laughed. “Yes, exactly. What about you? Where are you from?”

“Aq Vetina.”

You waited, hoping he’d elaborate.

“When my parents died there, I was rescued by the Mandalorians and raised in the Fighting Corps.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, placing your hand over his and squeezing gently. “That sounds like a tough life for a child.”

“It was all I knew,” he explained, shifting slightly.

“Still, that can’t have been easy. It makes sense that you couldn’t leave the kid.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, solemnly. There was a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there moments ago.

“Less serious question,” you replied, changing the subject to something lighter.

“Okay.” He relaxed a little.

“Why don’t you ever use a straw to drink with your helmet on?”

“These are the things you think about?” he laughed. His laugh was usually a quiet, muffled sound through the modulator, but it was getting easier to pick up on it. “There’s a seal on the helmet, otherwise the filters wouldn’t work,” he tapped the release on the side of his head. “So a straw isn’t a possibility, unfortunately.”

“Mmm,” you responded, “that is disappointing.”

He gripped your thigh lightly, turning toward you. “I, uh, heard back about the job... while you were asleep. It’s a go.”

“Ah... great. I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t hear back.”

“I know. It will be fine.”

“Okay... So, any ideas for where the kid and I should stay?”

To your surprise, Din explained that he had a trusted friend on Arvala-7. When you agreed to the plan, he disappeared to the cockpit to set the nav—a two-day trip.

***

That same evening, you discovered a new favorite activity on the Crest. Before bed, the kid was being particularly fussy, so you pulled out your data pad and downloaded the first children’s book you could find. It worked liked a charm.

From then on, it became a daily routine: you’d read to him until his eyelids drooped before his nap and before bedtime. Regardless of his mood, listening to you read seemed to soothe him. You’d pull him into your lap and settle onto your stack of blankets against the wall. He’d watch your face, enraptured, as you relayed story after story to him. His favorite—the story that elicited the most chirps and grabby motions and ear wiggles—centered on a family of frogs. You revisited that one at least once a day, sometimes more if he was grouchy.

You weren’t sure how to feel about his hyperfixation on that particular story given his appetite for frogs.

At this rate, your digital library was going to be largely children’s books. You didn’t mind.

You noticed that Din would find something to do in the hull while you read. The first couple times, he sat and cleaned one of his many weapons or sewed a hole in his flight suit. Very quickly, he stopped bothering with an ostensible task and would just sit and listen.

When you were still 15 hours out from Arvala-7, Din was seated on his usual crate in the hull, the one next to the weapons cabinet, as you finished the final page of a particularly thrilling story about a snail. The kid was snoring softly in your arms, so you clicked off your datapad, and got up to settle him in his hammock for his mid-day nap.

“You’re good with him.” Din was leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“I guess,” you shrugged, snapping the door to Din’s bunk shut and turning back to him. “I just think about what I liked as a kid. I loved when my parents would read to me.”

He nodded, helmet trained on the floor between his boots.

“I’m sorry—” you started, realizing how that must have sounded to Din.

He looked up and cut you off. “Don’t be. It’s nice for him to have some normal kid experiences.”

“You know what he’d really love?”

“What?”

“If you read to him.”

He dipped his helmet slightly in acknowledgement, rolling his shoulders back at the same time like he was uncomfortable agreeing with that.

Several hours later, you pulled Din down next to you in your normal pre-bedtime story time spot. He had the kid in his arms. You switched on your datapad and toggled through the catalog of books you’d downloaded, all of which had colorful covers and silly, whimsical titles, until you found the frog book.

“Here,” you offered, passing it over to him.

You leaned your head back against the wall and closed your eyes, listening to Din’s serious, even voice narrate the heartwarming hijinks of a family of frogs. The kid cooed and babbled along.

To your (and the kid’s) utter delight, Din’s rendition slowly evolved into a full-on dramatic reading, complete with sound effects and slightly different voices for each character, as he leaned into whatever prompted the most enthusiastic responses from the kid. You kept your eyes closed and said nothing, worried that if you drew attention to this new development, he’d get self-conscious and stop. You couldn’t help from smiling a little though.

When the story came to its conclusion, you opened your eyes. Din was scrolling through the library of options, browsing for the next book. “What do you think? Which one next?” You looked at him, but he wasn’t asking you. The kid let out a string of gibberish, pointing with a teeny finger. Din read out the titles of several options, selecting the one that triggered the most animated trill.

As Din began the story, he shifted until his body was flush with yours. The places where his beskar made contact with you were cold, even through the fabric of your clothes, but you didn’t mind.

By the time Din finished the second book, the kid was displaying the telltale signs—drooping ears and unfocused eyes—that bedtime had arrived.

Din handed you the datapad and stood to tuck the kid into bed.

As he shut the door to his bunk, you said, “I think you just put me out of a job.”

He scoffed, but you could tell he was pleased.

***

As you got more comfortable around each other, Din took to walking around without his armor—beside his helmet—on. Most of the time, he’d even leave his gloves off. He wore either a flight suit that zipped up the middle or a black shirt and pants...with suspenders. The first few times, it was jarring to see him like that, without his armor. He looked wrong. It was like seeing a turtle without its shell... but if turtles were sexy.

The first time he emerged from his bunk with the suspenders hanging loosely by his sides, you stopped dead, mouth hanging open. He tilted his helmet sharply at you: “What?”

“You sometimes wear suspenders under your armor?”

“...Yes?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you and the goofy grin that spread across your face.

“What?” he prompted again, shoulders pulling up toward his neck.

“I just really wasn’t expecting that,” you laughed.

“What were you expecting?” The playful note in his voice left you flustered. He took a step closer, much more relaxed now that he was the one doing the teasing. He was getting too good at flipping things on you.

Instead of answering—because you were not about to address the fact that you had absolutely thought about what he wore under his armor—you strode up to him and pulled the suspenders over his shoulders. He stood uncomfortably still, arms hanging awkwardly by his sides.

“What are you doing?” He looked down at his shirt then back up at you.

“I just want to get the full picture.” You looked him up and down.

“Thought about this a lot, have you?” He quirked his helmet down at you suggestively. It was only the second time you’d gotten that particular flavor of head tilt, and you...didn’t hate it. It made your neck feel hot. You disregarded the intense desire to grab him by the suspenders and jerk him toward you.

Instead, you narrowed your eyes at him, enjoying this new bold flirtation. Without looking away from his visor, you hooked a finger through one of the suspenders and pulled it out a couple inches, letting it snap back against him.

“Ow.” He stated it so matter-of-factly that it obviously hadn’t hurt, but for dramatic effect, he rubbed the spot on his chest where it hit him.

“You’ll survive,” you assured him, patting his shoulder and brushing past him to climb the ladder to the cockpit. When you sat down in the pilot’s seat and kicked your feet up to rest on the console, you still had a smile on your face.

***

A few hours later, you were seated in the copilot seat with the child held tightly in your lap as the Razor Crest descended through the atmosphere of Arvala-7. On the way, Din shared how he’d met this friend—he had helped Din when he was originally tracking down the child months ago.

However, when you asked what his friend’s name was, Din said he didn’t know. Honestly, you weren’t even that surprised. Just exasperated.

Din told you the details of when he tracked down the child, including the assassin droid he'd crossed paths with. He explained how he’d teamed up with IG-11, but in the end, he had to destroy the droid to protect the kid. The anger in his voice was raw when he described watching IG-11 point his blaster at the child.

As the dusty, cracked surface of the planet came into view, you asked, “Is that what caused your thing with droids?”

“What thing?”

“Din.”

He was silent for a long moment.

“Droids destroyed my home planet, killed my parents. They’re the reason I was a foundling as a child.”

His words washed over you, and your heart dropped. You leaned forward in your seat to put a hand on his shoulder. He stayed perfectly still, helmet trained on the controls in front of him.

“I’m sorry.”

He nodded stiffly and reached up to squeeze your hand briefly.

“We’re about to land.”

You took that as a cue to drop the subject for now.

***

You and Din, the kid in his arms, approached a small collection of low structures. You swept your eyes across the uniform landscape—all was dry and sienna and flat. The Ugnaught’s homestead was the only sign of habitation in sight. The buildings were brown and domed, and windmills creaked slowly in the warm breeze. Three blurrgs in a large corral watched you balefully.

“Mandalorian!” the Ugnaught greeted, emerging from the door of his low home.

“Ugnaught,” Din replied with a nod.

“I did not think I would see you here again. What business brings you back to Arvala-7?”

“I was hoping that my friends could stay with you for a couple nights—I’ll pay you for the lodging.”

Of course he'd refer to me and a literal infant as his "friends."

You introduced yourself, offering your hand.

The Ugnaught bowed his head slightly as he clasped your hand: “It is nice to make your acquaintance. I am Kuill.”

At least Din knows his name now.

Kuill turned back to Din. “The child remains in your care,” he observed.

“Yes,” said Din, offering no explanation. He set the child down on the ground, and he toddled his way slowly over to Kuill.

Kuill scooped up the baby, and he chirruped happily, reaching toward his whiskery mustache.

“It hasn’t grown much.”

“I think it might be a Strand-Cast.”

You shot Din a skeptical look. He’d never shared this particular theory of his with you.

“I don’t think it was engineered. I’ve worked in the gene farms. This one looks evolved. Too ugly,” mused Kuill.

You raised your eyebrows at the frankness of his statement. He is not ugly.

“Your friends are welcome to stay with me. No payment will be necessary. I have spoken.” Kuill turned and headed back inside without so much as a backward glance.

“I insist,” Din said to his back.

Kuill disappeared into his home.

Din turned to you: “He does that. Just ends a conversation like that.”

“I understand why the two of you get along so well. Men of few words.” You raised an eyebrow at him.

Din nodded, reinforcing your point inadvertently.

You and Din stepped closer to each other at the same time. For the first time, you let the concern you were feeling color your features.

“I’ll be back in three days, if not sooner.”

He was padding his timeline in response to the worry that was etched across your face. You knew Din could defend himself—that wasn’t your fear. It was that, whether he liked to admit it or not, he occasionally let trust blind him. The irony of that wasn’t lost on you, considering how long it had taken for him to trust you. This was the trademark paradox of Din. He was loath to fully let people in, but he had a tendency to take people at face value and assume they would keep their word—because he always kept his word. He had a surprisingly generous worldview for someone with such a violent profession and brutal past.

Din reached down to grab something small that was tucked in his belt—the metal ball from one of the controls in the cockpit that the kid loved to play with. He occasionally pretended to be irritated whenever he wanted to play with it, but you knew he found it endearing.

He handed it to you. “He’ll want that.”

You smiled and nodded, looking at the sphere in your palm. Din raised a hand to your chin and tilted your face back up to his.

Do we... hug? He doesn’t seem like a hugger.

So instead, you offered, “Be careful, okay?”

“I will,” he promised. He stayed there for a moment longer, looking at you and rubbing his thumb along your cheek. Before you could decide if you should also try to hug him, he turned abruptly to walk back to the Crest.

You stayed and watched him as he walked the distance back to the ship and disappeared up the ramp. You stayed and watched as the Razor Crest rumbled to life and took off. You stayed and watched as it ascended through the atmosphere and vanished from view.

***

It was a relief to be off the ship for a few days—even if Arvala-7 wasn’t exactly your ideal planet. It would be a treat to eat real food, instead of shelf-stable ration packs, and to have more than the limited space of the ship to move around in... not to mention an actual bed.

Kuill was a kind and welcoming host. He offered you his spare room, where you placed your things, and you sat down for tea together in his small kitchen.

“How did you come to be in the company of the Mandalorian and the child?”

“I guess he has a soft spot for people who are wanted by the Empire?” you chuckled, and Kuill nodded somberly. “Now, we’re just helping each other out.” You weren’t really sure how else to explain it.

Kuill didn’t press you anymore than that, nodding sagely. Instead, while you sipped your tea with the kid on your lap, he told you about his background—decades of indentured servitude to the Empire before he worked off his debt and bought his freedom—in the solemn, frugal way that was clearly characteristic of the Ugnaught. You understood why Din trusted him: he was forthright, calm, wise.

“What can I help you with while I’m here?” you asked, already anxious to find something to occupy your time.

“You are my guest. You do not need to do any work.”

“I would be happy to,” you insisted. “I would rather be busy. I can help with cleaning or repairs—whatever you need. My formal training was in programming, but I’ve picked up general skills along the way.”

Kuill nodded and said, “Come.”

He turned and walked out of his house. You set down your tea on the table and followed him, the child tucked in the crook of your elbow, happily clutching the silver ball. Kuill stopped in front of the workstation that was a short distance from his doorway. Tools and wiring and various speeder parts were arranged on and around a long workbench and a collection of smaller tables and shelves. The circular backdrop of the workbench was the repurposed window of a TIE fighter.

An assassin droid was laid across the tabletop.

“Is this the droid that Mando shot?”

“I believe so, yes. It was left behind, in the Mandalorian’s wake of destruction. I found it lying where it fell—devoid of all life. I recovered the flotsam and staked it as my own in accordance with the Charter of the New Republic. Little remains of its neural harness. Reconstruction will be quite difficult.”

“What are your plans for it?”

“To convert it from an assassin droid to something more useful: a protocol and nurse droid.”

You nodded. “Handy.”

“I will have to reconstruct the neural harness, and then it will have to relearn every function from scratch. It will be a blank slate on which to program something nurturing instead of destructive. You may help me restore him if you would like.”

“Of course.”

The two of you got to work.

***

That night, when you lay down to sleep, you tossed and turned. The child was snuggled in a makeshift crib next to your bed. You found yourself sitting up periodically to check on him. Every time you checked on him, he was sleeping soundly.

Eventually, you slipped out of your bed, tiptoed quietly through the house, and walked out into the cold, clear night. You walked aimlessly for a while, circling the corral of blurrgs. They were asleep, eyes shut tight, standing in a close clump. Then you turned to head out across the open plain and watch the stars through the thin veil of clouds that dusted the sky.

You were starting to regret that you hadn’t pushed harder to go with Din. He was with a whole team of people who sounded untrustworthy at best, malicious at worst. You couldn’t help but think of all the things you should have said to him before he left. You hadn’t even hugged him.

It was freaking you out a little just how attached you were to a man who you’d known for a couple months.

You walked until the chill of the night air became too much, then turned back.

In the morning, you sat at Kuill’s kitchen table again, feeding the child. Kuill moved around the small food prep area, pulling together breakfast and making tea.

You followed Kuill as he went about his daily jobs, caring for the blurrgs, doing routine maintenance, and continuing the work on IG-11.

You were sweating in the sun, hands covered in grease, concentrating on refitting a damaged arm joint when Kuill’s calm voice brought you out of your train of thought.

“It is curious that the Mandalorian elected to keep the child.”

You looked up at him. “He secretly has a soft heart,” you said, smiling to yourself.

“Yes, that much is clear, but he is also set in his beliefs, and this choice went against the Guild Code. What is curious is that such a small being could inspire a change of heart in such a rigid person.”

You considered his words.

“I... think he was just waiting to find a greater purpose than hunting, to find someone to love, you know? It comes naturally to him, but I don’t think he’d ever had the chance.”

Kuill hummed thoughtfully. “Is that not what we are all doing—looking for a greater purpose?”

“I guess?” You shrugged.

“And have you?”

“Have I what?” you asked, wiping a bead of sweat off your forehead.

“Have you found the greater purpose you were looking for?”

You considered for a moment then said, “Well... I found a purpose a long time ago, when I joined the Alliance, and since then, I’ve been too busy trying to escape the wrath of the Empire to really think about what’s next in the larger sense... Staying alive has been the main priority.”

Kuill hummed again, glancing over at the kid. “You weren’t looking for something greater, but it appears to have found you.”

“I...,” you started. You watched the child, who was siting on the hard ground admiring the silver ball clutched in his hand. “I’m not sure.”

“I have spoken,” said Kuill, bowing his head, and he lapsed back into silence.

You watched the kid as he dropped the ball and staggered to his feet, squealing excitedly as he chased a lizard that darted past him. You wondered where Din was at this exact moment, and your heart squeezed in a familiar way.

***

The second night was much like the first. You walked outside for some time, thinking of all the awful things that could be happening to Din.

What if they turn on him?

What if another hunter finds him?

What if he doesn’t come back?

It wasn't a crazy thought. You were used to people not coming back.

Until that moment, you hadn't considered that you'd be the sole guardian of the kid if Din didn't return. For a split second, you felt the crushing weight of responsibility for the life and safety and happiness of the tiny green child that Din must feel at all times.

Eventually you fell into a fitful sleep, waking early, and the day dawned bright and cold. As the sun climbed, the chill rapidly dissipated, making way for a dry heat that seemed to be the only weather condition on Arvala-7.

You spent the morning helping Kuill continue the repairs on IG-11. You did your best to not count the hours that slipped by. He’d said it could take three days, so there was no reason to be concerned yet.

But... did he mean he would return ON the third day? Or the fourth day?

And for that matter... did the day he left count as day one? Or was yesterday day one?

Did he mean seventy-two hours from the time he left? Or that he’d be back at the start of the third day?

How did I not clarify this before he left??

That evening, you were in deep in discussion about artificial intelligence when Kuill said, “I believe your Mandalorian has returned to you.” He pointed behind you, and you whipped around to see the Crest touching down in a cloud of dust in the distance.

“Will you—?” you asked, turning back to Kuill.

“I will watch the child.” He seemed vaguely amused by your enthusiasm.

You sprang to your feet and walked as fast as you could toward the Crest. You briefly considered running, but that felt dramatic. He’d only been gone a couple days.

Why did he land so fucking far away?

You’d made it about half the distance when the ramp of the Crest finally began to lower with a hiss. Your resolve snapped, and you started to jog. Din descended the ramp, and you were so relieved to see him that you weren’t even embarrassed anymore that you were literally running to him.

Din cocked his head—a curious head tilt—when he saw you sprinting at him across the dusty ground. He paused at the bottom of the ramp.

“Are you—?” he started to say as you crashed into his chest and wrapped your arms around him. He barely budged upon impact.

His shoulders relaxed immediately, and he pulled you tight against him.

Well, if he wasn’t a hugger before, he is now.

“I’m okay,” he reassured you.

“Good,” you said into the fabric bunched around his neck.

After a moment, you released him and stepped back, the steadying weight of his hands remaining on your arms. He looked like he was in one piece, but the slight heaviness in his shoulders told you that the job had taken a toll on him.

“I, uh, missed you too,” he said, a little awkwardly.

You smiled at him and took his gloved hand in yours to walk back towards Kuill’s home. You felt slightly giddy that you were casually holding the Mandalorian’s hand. He seemed taken by it too, his helmet tilted down to where your fingers were intertwined.

“The kid?” he asked, looking up to your face.

“He’s good. Misses you, I think. Ate several frogs. And one lizard. The usual. He is disgusting,” you laughed.

Din made a sound that you would almost swear was a snort. “Yeah, he is,” he agreed fondly.

Kuill was waiting outside his home, the child in his arms. When you and Din were close, Kuill set him down, and the baby tottered over to wrap his tiny arms around Din’s calf.

You watched as Din bent stiffly, slowly to pick up the kid.

“You’re hurt,” you realized.

“I'm fine,” he said.

You felt sure that wasn’t true, but you let it be for the moment.

“Thank you,” Din addressed Kuill. He reached into the pouch of his belt for credits.

“I will not accept payment,” Kuill insisted, shaking his head. “In fact, your friend here helped me make great progress on my current project.” Kuill raised his eyebrows at you.

“Very well,” Din acquiesced.

You gathered your things and said your thank yous and goodbyes, returning to the Crest, which—with a jolt—you realized was already starting to feel like home.

***

Chapter 8

***

Taglist: @bbdoyouloveme @beskarhearts @bookloverfilmoholic @elinedjarin @eury-dice3 @dincrypt @dunderr @honey-hi @jagi-yaaa @just-me-and-my-obsessions00 @mbpokemonrulez @red-leaders @speakerforthedead0 @tuskens-mando @spideysimpossiblegirl @theflightytemptressadventure @ubri812 @zoemariefit

If you want to be added or removed, let me know!

[peralta-guaranteed]

Wishing I could read something about Peraltiago talking about how they feel on all Teddy's proposals to Amy. They are really akward, uncomfortable moments and Teddy really crosses the limits every single time, and wish we knew more on their takes about it. Once I read a fic about Jake sending Rosa to stop Teddy and take care of Amy but it just not the same.

lol I have a fic on that topic exactly - I have a proposal for you - where I had the cathartic experience of writing about Rosa breaking Teddy’s hand for being so awful, but I agree with you, Teddy reappearing in the show is so uncomfortable each time ugggh. I thought the wedding one was the worst but then he shows up literally fathering a child with someone else and still does it, disgusting.

So maybe take this as taking place before that fic of mine, where Jake does mention how bad Teddy's proposals make them feel!

Jake can tell, just from the simple drop of her purse in the hallway, that it wasn't a good day.

Weird, how it's these tiny things that he's learned to read instantly - or maybe not, given that he's a detective trained to focus on details others would overlook, and being unable to stop the habit when it comes to the most important people in his life.

She tries to be all smiles when she comes into the living room, though, where Mac is happily rolling around in his playpen while Jake is folding laundry on the couch, the very picture of domesticity as she leans over the pen to kiss their squealing, giggling little baby. The view of her in one of her old pantsuits instead of her Sergeant's uniform is already making his hearts do little leaps even before she makes her way over to Jake for their customary Welcome Home kiss.

"How was that inter-department meeting today?" He asks as she shrugs off the suit jacket and continues her pace into the kitchen, setting aside a set of Mac's bibs that can't be folded anyway.

"Okay." She replies, and that's enough to make him abandon the laundry alltogether and follow her (one eye on Mac, of course, but he's not even crawling yet, and couldn't roll himself into any danger on his foam-based playmat - probably). It's rare that she doesn't have at least one inspiring, 'interesting' or just generally informative story to share from her meetings, the only person in probably all departments looking forward to them.

She's staring into the fridge when he reaches the room and leans against the counter, trying to gauge her level of upset. From the raised shoulders and the fact that she doesn't need to check the fridge to know they were going to order Chinese tonight, he guesses it's at a solid 8, at least.

"Teddy was there." She mumbles into the cold, bright space in front of her, and Jake's shoulders tense up just as much as hers even as he tries to sound as chill as possible.

"How is he?"

"Still extremely boring." Then, after a pause. "Still hung up on me."

So much for chill.

"Did he propose again?"

She nods and sighs, her shoulders dropping as she closes the fridge, but doesn't turn toward him.

"I don't know what's wrong with him." She says through gritted teeth, suddenly. "He has a child with someone. He has a wife. How can he look at them and turn around and-"

Mac's little happy cooing from the living room interrupts her, as do Jake's arms as they wind around her middle, his chin dipping into the space between her shoulder and her neck.

"That's probably a question only a therapist could answer, babe."

Amy sighs as she leans back, falls into the warmth and support of her own husband, the father of her child that she can hear happily babbling to himself from a room over, and wonders some more how Teddy could ever think he would be a better option for her.

"He wasn't like this when we were dating." She muses, and feels Jake's kiss against her jaw - a reflex action she's noticed whenever she mentions a past partner or anything, frankly, that reminds him that there was a point where he wasn't Jake Peralta-Santiago yet. But she kind of needs to finish this thought, and she knows he can handle it. "He was nice and kind and he wouldn't- he wasn't manipulative, pulling something like that in public, or deluded enough to think he was in the right for it. I mean, he thought he was pretty great, but he wouldn't have -"

"You musta broken something pretty major in his brain when you left him." Jake's voice is joking, luckily, but she can sense a hint of something more. "The absolute devastation of a Santiago break-up speech, rehearsed or not."

"Harsh, Jake."

"Remember manbun musician? He went downright insane after your split - not that he was probably the sanest person around before that, but-"

"You promised we'd never mention him again."

"I'm just saying. I don't think any man left by you is going to be completely right in the head after that."

"You're making me sound like some black widow monster." She smiles, though, hearing the awe and affection in his voice bleed through.

"I'm not judging those guys, anyway." He continues, and that tinge of something else in his words is back. "I mean, I can't imagine what I'd be like if you ever decided to take Teddy up on one of his proposals."

She straightens up from her lean on his chest, twists in his arms without breaking the hug, and stares right into him as she studies his face - his actually slightly scared face.

"Jake, you know that's not ever-"

"I was joking babe."

"No. Jake. That's not even an option. Not even an idea. Never. Not in a million years. Not if-"

She grabs his shirt where it's unbuttoned, right next to his heart, and his hand reaches up to squeeze hers like it always does, thumb swiping along her rings.

"I know, Ames." The soft kiss that follows calms her just as much. "I cashed out that jackpot and I'm not giving it back."

She hums as she kisses him again, leans her forehead against his for a deep breath.

"It's just... sad." She returns to her original train of thought. "That he can't move on despite his life doing so. I mean, it's been years. He's got a new job and a new partner and a new baby, and he's willing to, what, dump all that? For me? For that idolised image he probably has in his mind of me now, because nothing between us has been real since ages ago?"

"Wow, this is really bugging you."

"Yes! He's barging into my life and thinking he knows what's best for me and that it's him, like I'm some love-struck silly dreamgirl who's going to drop her entire world because he's romantic enough to go down on one knee in front of our colleagues and superiors who have no idea what's going on-!"

Mac's noises from the next room turn from content to disagreeing, growing into what is sure to be a cry any minute now, and it's the only thing that can make them break apart from their hug. He calms down immediately when Amy lifts him out of his pen, and holds him close while she settles on the sofa next to the half-done laundry basket, snuffling against her chest in a very obvious I’m hungry mom couldn’t you tell?! move before she can even unbutton her dress shirt.

He latches on immediately when her shirt is open and her bra pulled down - not a nursing bra today, considering she got ready for an important work meeting - while she feels Jake rearrange the pillows behind her and to her side to get her comfortable, without a second of hesitation or having to think about it. He moves on to pick up the jacket she's dropped onto a dining room chair, drapes it on a hanger in the hallway, and she feels the soft prick of tears in her eyes before he settles down again next to the two of them with a glass of water for her set on the coffee table.

Jake only hums as he notices the shine in her eyes too, and wipes across her cheek. He knows that nursing can get her into a pretty emotional state sometimes, but this is probably a bit more than that.

"I love you." She says, and barely waits for his return of I love you too to continue. "I can't believe Teddy expects me to look at Mac, and look at you, and still think he could ever be a better offer for anything I want."

"Aw, babe." He grins softly in return while playing with Mac's foot that is kicking in his direction, covered in the fuzziest green socks with red apples on them. "You scored a pretty dope 2-for-1 deal with us, I admit."

“Before that, too.” She insists, leaning to unlatch Mac and hand him over to Jake to burp as they always do while she buttons back up, thinking about Teddy’s many proposals before Mac was even planned on. “Jake, you know that, right? You alone were the best deal first and foremost.”

He smiles at her, Mac’s soft little curls right next to his cheek as he sways and pats his back, but it doesn’t fully reach his eyes.

“Jake-”

“You were happy with him.” He says, quietly, while Mac lets out his usual milky burp and smiles at him much wider when he wipes him clean with the linen cloth pulled from his shoulder. “I know it’s in the past and I - I’m not jealous or anything that stupid, but. Like you said... He wasn’t like this back then, and you were happy.”

His eyes seem forlorn, even as he smiles at the now sleepy baby in his lap that looks so much like him it always makes her heart twinge, that little bundle of joy with Amy’s dark hair and skin that seems to know the Cuban sun without ever having been there.

“And I know it’s not - and it doesn’t make sense to think about, but - sometimes his stupid proposals made me wonder what would’ve happened if he’d done that while he still made you happy.” His voice turns low, and it’s probably not just to avoid waking Mac back up as he falls asleep. “And that just makes me think about how I had to watch you be happy with him, and that’s not - that’s never a good memory to revisit, honestly-”

“I wouldn’t have said yes.” She leans over into his field of vision, the most serious look on her face. “Even back then, I wouldn’t have said yes to his proposal.”

Jake’s eyebrows scrunch up in question, his eyes turning into those puppy dog eyes that she knows as a direct hit to her heart when he’s actually sad or worried, and she can’t not hold his face in her hands again.

“Yes, I was happy with Teddy for a while, but looking back at it I realise I was- there was always this feeling of waiting for something. Hoping for something to be different.” She kisses him, careful and short and barely there, but enough to make him close his eyes and lean towards her a bit more. “And maybe back then I thought I was waiting for him to change somehow, but really I was only waiting for him to change into you.”

“Teddy couldn’t change into me if he had major brain surgery.” Jake scoffs, and Amy huffs a laugh with him.

“Yeah. And that’s why he’d never been right for me. That’s only ever been you.”

He finally, properly smiles now, eyes open again and set on her with a soft shine to them before he leans over more, as much as he can without waking the deeply asleep baby in his lap.

“I’m glad you figured that out when you did, in the end.” He quips and earns himself a shy nod. “And said yes when it came to the only good proposal you got.”

She snickers at that, thinking about the gaudy but wonderful boxing belt in her mementos box, and leans in the last few inches she needs to kiss him again, neither careful nor short this time, but equally as soft. 

“And the next time I catch Teddy trying to propose to you again I’m going to punch him out before he can even get down on one knee.”

“You are not assaulting a fellow officer.”

“Kick in the balls?”

“How very mature, Mister-I-have-an-actual-child-now.”

“Can I at least tell him where he can stick his ridiculous ideas of marrying you at any point in the future, no matter the circumstances?”

She hums for a second.

“You can. If you add in how ridiculous the idea was in the past as well.”

“Oh now, that’s a good deal.”

[lowkeyorloki]

Stolen

yes i already posted a fic today... but i didn’t want to wait for this one ;)

smut, only 18+ please

~

Loki Laufeyson has never done anything in his life but take.

He doesn’t say that to make himself out to be a villain. He’s not fighting for some noble cause, he’s not under some impression he’s an entirely moral man. No one is.

But Loki is somewhat justified. He was stolen himself. By taking, he was simply getting back what the universe had pulled away from his grasp.

Loki was done giving, is really what it was. He pledged, all the way back when he found out he was a Jotunn, that he would never give again.

You were no exception.

Loki took everything from you- your love, your lust, your whole being really. Well, you gave it to him. Loki was a prideful man though, and he liked to pretend in the back of his mind he was the one in control, even if that wasn’t always the case.

He’s pretending that now. 

You’re nude, just like Loki, and your back is pressed against his bedsheets. You’re all around the room, your pants your moan, your sweet smell. Loki dips down, taking your nipple in his mouth, and moans. You taste sweet too, like honey. Like the most expensive wine on Asgard, catered specifically to Loki. That was what you were like. You were a drug to him. 

You want him, right now, all of Loki. You don’t seem to be in a teasing mood tonight, and in all honesty, Loki isn’t either. He feels a carnal desire in the pit of his stomach when he looks at you. You, with your messy hair and blown-out pupils. Arching your back off Loki’s bed just feel your skin against his for a second.

You were a needy girl. Naughty, at times. Just the way Loki liked you to be. 

Loki’s prepped you for his cock already, letting you fuck yourself against his fingers for a bit. He licked your juices right off his hand, letting you watch as he did so. You had trembled underneath him, surely holding back a whimper. You always did that. Loki hated it, when you hid your pleasure from him. But it was no matter, it was always apparent at one point or another. 

Loki lowers himself to catch your lips against his before he enters you, feeling sparks behind his closed eyes when you bite down on his bottom lip. It’s one of those nights sex is more of a physical act than a loving one, when you and Loki both needed to relieve the tension. 

And Loki wants you right now, he even needs you. You’re so eager, so ready to want him back.

Loki kisses his way down your body, between your breasts and stopping at your lower belly, just above where you need him the most. Your muscles shake with anticipation, and Loki grants you a searing kiss on the inside of your leg. It’s going to leave a mark, one Loki will surely revisit later. 

Loki draws in a breath as he enters you, watching his own cock disappear into your willing body. Your nails rake down his back, and Loki prays there will be scratches tomorrow. Anything to remind him of you.

He thrusts, so deep inside you he almost fears you’ll break. But that’s something about you Loki loves so much; is that you never do. You cry and you scream and sometimes you become a different person entirely- but you’re always there the next day, picking up the pieces of yourself. It’s admirable, it’s enviable. Loki doesn’t dwell on it, it makes his heart too full.

Almost as full as you. Loki is so far inside you, your warm walls clenching around him. Your hips cant every time Loki’s do, as if he is the governing force of your body. 

“You’re alright.” Loki says, voice as steady as it can be when you’re making him feel so good. You squirm underneath him, struggling between needing to adjust to Loki’s girth and needing more. Loki shushes you, threading his fingers with yours as he allows you the time you need. When you’re ready, Loki exits and enters you again, setting a swift pace you can both handle.

Watching you experience euphoria is a priviledge, one Loki doesn’t ever want revoked. He reaches between your bodies, his fingers quickly finding your clit. He catches sight of your cunt when he does this, and feels his cock throb inside you. You’re so wet, the curls at the base of Loki’s girth glistening where they’ve touched you. Loki revels in the moment, knowing this part of you was Loki’s. The rest of you he had to share with the world, but this part- the awe-inducing, intoxicating, earth-shattering orgasm part- was Loki’s alone.

The rest of the world. What would they do, if they say you like this? At the mercy of someone else, red-faced and breathless and absolutely wrecked. The idea of Midgardians looking at Loki, knowing he was the one to provide you such excitement, makes him stroke your clit faster. You let out a cry from underneath Loki, begging for more and less all at once. Between your body, your smell, your noise, Loki almost comes right then and there. But years of self control spare him the humiliation, lets him focus on you.

“So wet.” he coos, driving you as close as possible to your limits. “Is it all for me, love?” your answer if muffled, toyed with by the sheets. Loki bucks his hips, causing you to let out a moan. “I can’t hear you.” he growls. You open your eyes.

“All for you.” you say breathily. You’re about to say more, but Loki silences you with a kiss. That was enough surrender for tonight. 

“I’m going to cum. Fill you up with my seed, ruin any other lover you may take if I haven’t done so already.” he had. The first time Loki fucked you he took away every other man’s ability to provide for you. It was selfish to do, but Loki couldn’t help it. Everything about you was delicious, and Loki wanted everything about you to be his. 

He makes good on his promise, coming inside you with a shout. You knit your eyebrows when he does, sweat forming an even sheen on your forehead. Drops of Loki’s seed trickle down your legs as he eases himself out of you. Loki gathers them on his fingers, then inserts his digits back inside you so you can have your release.

It’s not often that Loki lets himself come first. You’re the only one he’s been comfortable doing it around. But, when Loki’s head is light and hazy with afterglow, he can coax you to the edge, watching you respond and react to his touch with more efficiency than if he were still chasing his high. That’s what Loki does now as follow suit, your moans echoing off the small room. 

Your body goes limp, so Loki gathers it in his arms, placing chaste kisses to your head and murmuring what’s practically a love letter in your ear. 

Loki was always taking from you.

But for the first time in years, he was also giving. 

[plus-size-reader]

The Only Girl pt.2

Minho x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1951 words

Warnings: Invasion of the reader’s space, but nothing too much

Summary: Minho noticing the other guys making the greenie uncomfortable, and doing his best to help her acclimate to the glade

——————————————————————————————————

Minho could feel his jaw tightening as he walked with you toward the center of the maze.

This was a bad idea.

Maybe it was because he was the first one to meet you when you got up or maybe it was just the kind of guy he was but in any case, Minho knew that someone was going to have to taste his fist today.

You had been so adamant about going right out and meeting the rest of the gladers, and he couldn’t stop you, though it wasn’t for a lack of trying.

He knew these guys, far better than you did, and he could only imagine how bad this would get. They could be horrible to each other, and that was just over little things.

Minho could only imagine how aggressive they would get when it came to you.

“Hey, slow down a little bit” he called, noticing how your pace sped up a little bit at the prospect of meeting new people. The rest of the gladers had just come into view and it was clear that you were excited.

He just wished you would calm down a little. He’d tried to tell you already that they weren’t all like him.

Minho loved all the guys, but that didn’t mean he was blind to the truth. Bringing you into this place was going to cause some issues, and he also knew himself well enough to know he wasn’t going to make it better.

He didn’t have it in him to be calm and casual like Newt did. If they made one wrong move, he knew that he’d knock them on their ass. It was just in his nature.

Normally, it was fine, and gave him the strength he needed to go into the maze every day. However, when it came to stuff like this, it wasn’t his strong suit.

“I’m not afraid of a couple guys” you sighed, stopping to let him catch up to you, a teasing smirk playing at your lips.

By this point, you were pretty comfortable around Minho, more than you could be with anyone else, but you figured he was being dramatic.

He had been good enough to help you when he didn’t have to, and you wanted to believe that the rest of them would be too. Looking at it that way, you didn't get why he was being so dramatic.

“I know, just stay close okay? At least at first” he asked finally, more for himself than anything. In the last couple hours you’d been spending time together, he’d grown kinda fond of you.

The last thing he wanted to have to do was worry about finding you in the crowd of people. He was already going to be worried enough as it was.

“Fine” you sighed, slowing your pace to match his own.

The friendship you’d formed came rather quickly, but considering the circumstances, it wasn’t all that surprising. In a place like this, all you had was each other, and you needed at least one person you could trust.

In helping you, Minho had become that person, whether he meant to or not.

That one word was enough for Minho to calm down a little, but not much, as the two of you approached the crowd of boys. They had just finished dinner and were setting up for the nightly bonfire.

Knowing they were going to be busy should have relaxed him, but in fact, it did the opposite. .The male just felt like he was leading the lamb to slaughter, as dramatic as that was.

It worried him.

Though, he decided that you’d been warned enough already and kept quiet for most of the walk over after that. Silently, he even hoped that he, Newt, and Alby had been wrong.

Maybe they would all be on their best behavior.

“Hey, she’s up” one of them called, having seen the two of you approach from a bit out. It was a single voice in a sea of bodies, so Minho couldn’t pinpoint who it was, but it didn’t really matter.

All that mattered was every face in that crowd of people turned toward you immediately, curious eyes searching for what they had missed out on.

Even Newt looked shocked, though it was more at the fact that no one had come to get him when you got up. Minho hadn’t gotten very much time between finding you and trying to explain himself before now, in his defense.

He’d been busy.

“Alright you shucks, this is Y/N! She’s still trying to get the hang of all this, so be nice” he suggested, calling out to the crowd as casually as he could, though even you caught onto the bit of venom toward the end of his sentence.

That part wasn’t so much a suggestion as it was an order.

You smiled, trying your best not to get overwhelmed at the grooling feat in front of you. When Minho said there were others here like you, he hadn’t exactly mentioned how many others.

There were at least fifty boys in front of you, all looking at you expecting something, though of what you weren’t yet sure.

There was silence for a moment or two as they all tried to process what they were looking at. You were unlike anything they’d ever had the privilege of seeing before, and that left them searching for something.

More than anything, they were searching for what to say.

They’d never seen or talked to a girl before.

“You okay?” he asked, bumping you with his shoulder gingerly. You hadn’t said or done anything since you’d found yourself in front of them, and he was worried.

You hadn’t even known your name when he first approached you, but you’d talked more then than you were right now. Clearly, this wasn’t exactly what you’d been expecting.

Minho told you.

“Yeah” you tried, though you couldn’t even bother to look over at him as you kept your eyes on all the men in front of you. Each had a different expression on their face, as they tried to make out how this was supposed to go.

However, not one of them felt more lost or confused than you were, you knew that without a shadow of a doubt.

“Hey, get back to work. We have a fire to start” Newt yelled finally, noticing that nothing was going to get back on track if he didn’t intervene.

A pack of bloody idiots, the lot of them.

“Minho” Newt greeted, making his way over to the two of you once he was satisfied with the way the others had dispersed at his order. They wanted to keep watching with the jaws slack, but they knew better than to disobey.

There were rules around here for a reason.

“Hey, I found her in the clearing” he explained, but Newt wasn’t upset. He knew that his friend could be trusted, unlike most of these sorry shucks around here.

Of all of them, he trusted Minho most of all to help you get used to this, only followed by Thomas.

“And you must be Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, I’m Newt” he tried, offering a hand to you. His voice was gentle as he addressed you, a soft smile on his face.

He had that same energy about him that Minho did, though it was different too. Newt was softer somehow than the other male, with a more stern demeanor about him.

You liked him.

If first impressions were important to begin with, they were even more important when you couldn’t remember much of anything about who you were.

The fact that you felt like you could trust him too was a good sign, and that was only solidified more when you saw how Minho reacted to him. It was clear that he had a lot of love for the man.

It was good enough for you.

“Hi”

Minho smiled slightly at the way you reacted to the other male, yet to warm up to him completely. You had been that way with him too, a few hours ago.

It wouldn’t be long at all before you warmed up to him, and made Newt your best friend, in the same way.

You were just a friendly person, evidently.

However, there were some things that being friendly couldn’t get you out of. For example, a little later as you were all sitting around the fire, a couple of the other guys started getting friendly as well.

They slid in close to you on your log, and asked you all kinds of questions, each more intrusive than the last.

You didn’t know them well enough to comment on it, nor did you really understand their interactions enough to express how strange it was. All you did know was that you didn’t like how close they were to you.

...And what you liked even less was when one of them reached out to touch your skin.

The man in question, Jet, smiled at you as he leaned over into our space and gingerly stroked your cheek with the back of his hand. It was far too close for your liking, and you weren’t alone in that.

At your side in an instant was Minho, who grabbed the man by his arm, twisting it in the opposite direction of where you were sitting.

He wasn’t entirely sure if it was because he was touching you or because of how clearly uncomfortable you were with it, but it didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that he got him away from you as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately, Alby had been right. Some of the guys here just couldn’t be trusted with you.

He had hoped they would be better, but evidently not.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” He asked, practically yelling into the man’s face as he held him there, so tightly that by the time he’d finished, Jet was kneeling in the dirt.

His shoulder was surely dislocated but he would have been in for a lot worse than that if Gally hadn’t finally pulled him off the other glader.

Personally, the builder would have happily let Minho pummel him, but Alby had requested that he put an end to this, in the way only he could. If anyone mirrored Minho’s strength, it was Gally.

“We’ll take care of him, trust me” Gally promised, letting Minho go only once he was sure that he’d calm down. If it got too out of hand, the other guys would join in and it would just be a huge mess.

It was better to just let the rules of the glade take care of this. Speaking of, they would now have to revisit the rules for your protection, Newt made a note of that.

Minho held the other man for a moment more, before finally letting him go with huff.

As gladly as he would have broken Jet’s forearm, it wouldn’t have made it any better. He was a creep, and he’d learn his lesson, but Minho had better things to do.

Most notably, he wanted to get you out of here.

When he looked back at you, still sitting on tht log, you looked pretty shaken up.

Minho took a second to collect himself before he looked at Newt across the fire, searching for something, anything, to tell him what to do next. All the other male had to do was nod and Minho got the message.

It was permission to take you back to your room, where they were both sure you’d rather be right now.

He knew this was a bad idea.

[ushidoux]

Be My Last - Iwaizumi x  Reader (Pt. 2)

Summary: You have trouble getting over a past relationship and it’s preventing you from moving forward. (~2.3k words)

Warnings: nsfw, poor communication tbh, angst?

A/N: There’s always trouble in paradise.... 

So I haven’t written a plot-heavy fic in a while. Anyway, I hope this is as dramatic as I intended it to be but not excessive.

Part 1|| Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5

---

Your phone vibrated loudly, nearly falling off the edge of your office desk but before checking the text, you were already scooping your personal items into your messenger bag and rising to leave the office.

Iwa had intended to meet you after work to grab dinner together before going home, and you quickly glanced at your phone to confirm his arrival while you made your way down multiple flights of stairs (turns out having an athletic trainer as a boyfriend made you a lot more fitness-conscious) to meet him in front of the large skyscraper.

You met him only slightly out of breath, hoping he hadn’t waited long, and he grinned as he saw you, arms uncrossing to take your bag from you and greet you with a kiss on the forehead.

“How was today? More good news?” You inquired cheerfully, linking your arm around his tightly as you started walking. He hummed, his pace still leisurely and his other hand casually resting in his pocket in mock humility.  

“What, I haven’t impressed you enough?” He teased with a laugh, earning him a playful slap on the shoulder. Learning that he was going to be head athletic trainer for the Japan National Volleyball Team just last week was still fresh, and while you were excited for him, you were a tiny bit apprehensive about how much it would change his schedule. Even though he was already quite busy, you’d gotten used to Iwa’s schedule being predictable and being home every night, especially once he’d moved in with you about a year into your relationship.

While this new position was the biggest event on the horizon, quite a lot had changed since you’d met Hajime and lowered your emotional defenses to let him in, and that simple fact was evident by the way your hand unconsciously snaked down the length of his arm to interlace your fingers with him, as you continued to tell each other about your days.

He’d always impressed you from the very moment you met him. His confidence, his pure kindness and his genuine love for you were only a few of the things that made you love him wholeheartedly. The only regret that you had these days was that you hadn’t met him sooner, or rather, first.

Now, back in the quiet of the apartment you’d lived in for almost four years now, you and Iwa were locked in an embrace shrouded by the steam of an excessively warm shower. Despite the fact that you felt heavy with a generous dinner, the current somewhat pleasant turning of your stomach had more to do with the expert way Iwa’s fingers worked your center without compromising attention to your lips and tongue.

Soft moans of his name earned you the privilege of being gently lifted and pressed back against the shower tile, to leverage you steadily against the pressure of his heavy cock pushing past your walls into you as many times before. 

He always knew where to touch and what to fill. 

It occurred to you again as he coaxed one orgasm then another out of you with firmly delivered strokes, aided by the slick coming from your legs and the water that ran over the two of you, that you loved him. Fully and without reservation.

Especially when he pulled back to look at your flustered, wanting face, slightly tilted upwards to look at him with eyes enamored, your body fitting him like a glove, and you could practically see his heart swell.

A reckless, all-encompassing sort of love.

---

“This is… a lot of food,” your friend pointed out with raised eyebrows as she watched you toss possibly a 15th packet of thinly sliced marbled beef for shabu shabu in your cart before moving along to the condiment section. You were grateful that she was accompanying you on this errand because even though you enjoyed grocery shopping, it seemed like you’d been here for a lot longer than you expected and you weren’t too familiar with most of the ingredients on the long grocery list you’d brought with you.

Besides, the cart was overfilled and you felt that eventually you’d need two hands to push it.

“Iwa wants to invite I don’t know even know how many hungry athletes into our tiny apartment, so I’m just trying to be prepared,” you shrugged.

“By buying the entire butcher shop?”

“Yes.”

“He better be paying at least, this looks expensive,” she murmured, only to open her mouth in a teasing ‘O’ once you flashed Iwa’s credit card in her face with a grin.

Amused, she tossed a pack of vermicelli noodles in the cart then let out a loud, wistful sigh before leaning on the shopping cart handle. You frowned in response, knowing exactly what that sound entailed. 

“So when did Oikawa say he’d be back?”

She let out an aggravated groan. “Not for months and then by the time the Olympics start, he’ll be even more busy… This shit is so annoying, to be honest. It’s like he’s never off season!”

You tiptoed to reach a highly placed bottle of shoyu and another of rice vinegar and drop it in your cart. You sympathized with her frustration, you had known intimately once what it was like to be made second priority, even if that wasn’t your life now.

“At least you know he would still choose you over volleyball, no matter how much he loves it,” you reassured her.

You had said the statement without any deeper intended meaning, but when you turned your friend was still eyeing you carefully, concern written in her knit eyebrows.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she replied, deciding to drop it. But two paces later, she paused to a standstill, and asked, “Do you know exactly who Iwa is inviting over?”

You shrugged your shoulders again. “Honestly, I don’t care, it’s not like I follow sports anymore.”

To that, she replied with a soft hum of assent before choosing to talk about dessert instead.

---

Seated at a corner table at the small coffee shop at the base of his hotel, Ushijima Wakatoshi looked carefully at the email invitation, noting the address more carefully this time, a wash of unsettling nostalgia rushing over him.

You wouldn’t notice it from the neutral expression on his face, but ever since he had made it back to this side of Tokyo, the concern of going back in time and revisiting old mistakes weighed heavy on his mind. Of course, he was excited about his new accolades and the opportunity to represent his country nationally, but with few people to share that news with, the reminder of what he had sacrificed to get here seemed less like a badge of honor and more like a condemnation. 

For someone who insisted on moving forward, no matter what the pace or price, this was a particularly unwelcome feeling. 

And of course, this sentiment was made way worse when it occurred to him that he was being invited to his old home as a guest. Well, he wasn’t exactly sure - while the apartment building itself was definitely the same one where he had lived so many years ago, he wasn’t completely sure whether or not the floor and suite number were the same. It would be an odd coincidence that Iwa lived there too now, but it was a nice apartment building after all, so he assumed it must be a popular place to live.

Still, he couldn’t help the mild uneasiness he felt at the prospect of turning up on that street.

What if by some unfortunate twist of fate, he ran into you? Whether in the lobby, sharing the elevator, maybe even in passing at the konbini where previously he’d surprise you with a custard taiyaki or melon bread to eat in the dead of night... What would he say? What could he say?

He had once practiced some silly assortments of words, many times ages ago when the ache in his heart for you became too much to bear and he thought maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too selfish to ask to come back into your life. He would come up with ways to explain why he’d decided it was better to remove himself from your life altogether over putting aside more time for you, or to explain that he’d made the decision for both of you in order to free you to be loved properly by someone else. 

But the more time passed, the more ridiculous it seemed for him to try to ask you to forgive him for breaking your heart, and now three years had gone by. 

Was three years enough time for you to forgive him for ending things without explanation? Or for moving out of your apartment while you stayed over your best friend’s house for an entire weekend so that he wouldn’t see you cry?

Ushijima took another sip of his coffee. He was overthinking it; the similar address was just a happenstance. You had probably long since moved on from that apartment just like you’d moved on from him.

---

Paper plates, forks, knives and napkins were set aside on your living room table, and you’d cleaned out the patio to allow for more space on the thankfully warm spring evening. Iwa had rushed out with a kiss on the cheek to go get some ice after helping you set up everything, and now you were waiting, hotpot soup base boiling on the stove.

You’d finished just a half an hour before six, and you leaned over the kitchen counter to browse through your text messages. One had just popped up from your friend before you heard an early knock on the front door.

Surprised at the prospect of someone showing up early, you put down your phone and sauntered over, and without even checking the keyhole to see who was standing there, you swung open the door wide, cheerfully giving a warm “Welcome!”, only to find yourself staring your ex-boyfriend in the face.

There was a pause where it seemed like everything that kept your heart beating and your neurons firing had turned off for the split second it took you to recognize him. This was disregarding the fact that he too looked like all the blood had drained from his face when he also realized you were standing right before him. 

“___…,” he pronounced in shock.

The sound of his voice calling your name made your heart pound and your head pound and quickly, impulsively, you moved to slam the door.

Reflexively, he blocked it with his palm, not meaning it as aggression, but spurred by the fear of immediately being locked right back out of your life, where he belonged.

“Wait, can we please talk?”

The desperate tinge to his voice was too much to bear.

It had been three fucking years! Why now?

But instead of forcing the door closed against him again, you found yourself running into your bedroom and locking the door behind you, heart pounding in your ribcage in a frenzy. It was hard to think, maybe you were being a little bit too dramatic, but you couldn’t help the panic pumping through your veins.

Relax, relax, relax.

Ushijima, too, immediately forgot that this was no longer his home.

Even if he knew this place like the back of his hand, he recognized the same sofa in the center of the living room, where he’d held you and had you just like every other place in this wretched space, it was no longer his.

It didn’t stop him from breaching the entrance without your invitation, boldly following after you just to knock on the bedroom door that kept you safe and secure, begging for your attention.

“Please, ___. Please, can we talk?”

It didn’t take a genius to realize that he was in fact in the right place, this was his - no, your shared apartment - and traces of another man, Iwaizumi, were all over it.

Your voice was choked up in your throat but you weren’t yet crying, however you were terribly frustrated. Frustrated that three years after a breakup you were taking shelter in your own bedroom all because your ex showed up at your door. Frustrated that he wasn’t being mean, but instead he was being kind; in fact, you were worried there was a wisp of something more you could see in the pained look he had on first regard.

Too much.

Ushijima knocked again.

“Please.”

The correct thing to do would be to face him properly and ask him to take a seat and maybe if you were feeling extra generous, ask him how he was doing politely, limiting yourself to polite conversation, but instead you didn’t say a single word, biting your lip to hold back anger and hurt.

Three years and you were still like this.

“___!”

His voice raised this time, and again the desperation was clear and tugging at your heartstrings, but you would be damned if you were going to move from this spot. He didn’t bang on the door though - Ushijima always had too much self control to do anything fear-provoking out of anger, but he let out a heavy sigh you could hear directly from the other side of the door.

“I’m sorry-” 

Whatever he planned to say was cut short by the slam of the front door and Iwa’s harsh voice yelling, “What the fuck are you doing?”

Your eyes grew wide as you heard the shuffle of quick moving feet and the thud of bodies hitting the wall, and then you realized that what this looked like was way worse than it actually was.

You fumbled to unlock the door only to see Ushijima pressed against the wall, hands to his side but fists clenched as though he were deciding whether to fight back; you could tell Iwa had already landed a heavy blow from the red spot blooming on his face, and the fact that Iwa still had a solid grip on the collar of Ushijima’s shirt, his fist still dangerously close to his face.

“Hajime!” You yelled, pulling at his arm. “Stop!”

He resisted your plea for him to stop initially, and you could tell he was seething even if he was still. Who wouldn’t be, if they thought their girlfriend was being accosted in their own space?

“T-toshi wasn’t going to do anything… we’re exes.”

Exes?

Iwa gave you a blank look, taking in the info all at once, but what stunned him the most at this very instant was the painfully familiar way you’d said Ushijima’s name.

[kadeu]

THE DECK; OCTOBER 2024

Sweet breeze! Good riddance summer. Now, usually we adore the summer season, the fashion, the events, the lively shows and all the trouble the socialites get up to. And yes, the fashion was there but eyepatches in the heat are not ideal. Our beloved socialites flocked to the beach and we have enough tales of drunken debauchery yes, and even those who remained in the city with their enchanted blocks of ice and selective guest lists, we still have heard the deeds. But the heat, something about this summer’s heat, made it not as enjoyable.

Speaking of the beach, there is mourning up in the highranked hills of Diamonds. Once Kings, demoted in scandal to Jacks, the Sobongs have met rough waters while enjoying what was supposed to be a calming row out to sea in Umibe. Their staff reported that, “the once peaceful seas suddenly became enraged as if a Tempest beset it and pulled them under.” The Sobong fortune is now up in the air as the only true heir, their son Korain, has long been presumed dead. Korain's only heir is none other than Ace of Diamonds Moon Ara, but sources say the Sobong's will doesn't name their estranged granddaughter at all. 

It is rather fortunate though, inheriting a vast sum, especially when one half of the marital income pool couldn’t even afford box seats at the other’s place of employment. We wonder just how much money is in that estate. Enough to kill for? Only time will tell.

In Hearts, once jeweler to the elite facecards yet now blacklisted from those circles, Lee Hyeonju seems to be looking from Hearts for a way into Diamonds. Formerly disgraced now reinstated Academy Professor Parker Luke, seems to have accepted the advances of Hyeonju and has been spotted every night for two whole weeks within his apartment. Sources close to both men say that Hyeonju has been giving the professor the royal treatment in hopes he sponsors his defection!

Whispers throughout Heart society say that the Ace of Hearts, once an avid patron of Hyeonju’s has refused his service in lieu of newly popular Fae artisans. The Ace’s mood as of late is unreadable on that topic, but sources say Hyeonju has been barred from his presence and that has other highrankers and artisans have been following suit, preferring to not gain the Ace’s disfavor. This has lead to instability in Hyeonju’s prospects in Hearts. No wonder he is looking to flee to Diamonds. 

But he’s not the only one out of favor in Hearts. Ex-courtesan turned restaurant owner, Meesong Nari has been seen without her usual entourage of Zuihuo guards and attendants. Rumor has it she has been kicked from that mansion she was gifted and the Clan favor mark is gone from her arm. Not sure what she did to separate herself from that protection and comfort but we are sure all those bridges she burned ascending in the ranks will happily revisit her. They tell us as kids right? What goes up must come down. Watch your back Nari.

THE TENSION BETWEEN CLUBS AND SPADES;

Amidst the growing tensions between Clubs and Spades, Ace of Clubs Mallick Sai Shah,  held the opening for his Hunter’s Lair. It seems it was mostly a hit, with fights breaking out away from the venue, not in it! One club said, “it’s better to just enjoy things now than wait for whatever comes next,” and we’re considering stitching it on tunics and selling them as aid relief! Business owners suffering from Spade mandated ban through the Joker found it hard to mingle and feast while their own stores suffered. Worse, a gag order was in place against all negative comments on Spades. We sense a lot of fake smiles and grumblings over bread but can’t confirm as we were refused an exclusive invite to report the event!

Still, as an unbiased news source, we gladly accepted the request for a sit down with Ace Shah to address the actions taken in his faction. Our reporter braved the streets of Clubs to give a completely impartial interview. 

How has it been as an Ace? The jump from low ranker to sitting atop the faction must be hard.

Hard? Surprising and unexpected would be the words I would use to describe how this whole situation feels. I used to be a highranker after all and making my way up to even higher ranks before a tragedy struck me, was that an unknown fact?

But you’ve never been Ace? How is that jump?

No, never been. The title itself is not omnipotent, it has its limitations and brings forth unwanted attention that stands in the way of the current progress we wish to bring to the faction. But it's an important role even if only in word, one has to still use it respectably. But the short answer is the jump is still happening. Ask again in a few years when I've landed where it takes me.

How did you think of the Club council? Is it true you were inspired by the Diamond council?

I didn’t think of the Club council, it was a meeting of minds, I wouldn’t have been able to have any council at all if it was only my contribution going into the making of said council. While I have a deep respect for Diamonds and how they tend to go about their politics, I can’t say I was thinking about them when the idea came to be, I was more concerned on how it would affect Clubs in general and how it would be accepted within the faction. But I can now see why they have one, it has its benefits and I applaud them for having the idea to immediately instill it in their system.

How many people really support you as ex-resistance? Can we even believe you’ve left the criminal enterprise?

I can’t possibly begin to tell who truly supports me as ex-resistance or not, but so far I haven’t had anyone personally challenge me in the faction so in this case I think that means even through reticence people might just believe in the good I want for this faction. 

That’s definitely a tough one, all I can say is I was young, hurt and I made mistakes. If I can be forgiven for them then I will be happy, if not I will understand. However, to be judged for the mistakes of your pasts when you’ve recognized them and clearly show that you’ve completely turned away from them, that’s an unfortunate way to see the world or the people around us if you ask me. But yes, to your question, you can believe that I’ve left the criminal enterprise.

I suppose you maintain your innocence in the killing and raid on spade? If you didn’t do it then who is behind such a foul act?

I absolutely do, I had nothing to do with the unfortunate incident even if allegations brought forth the information that some key evidence might link me to it. My hands are clean and I can’t even begin to think of who would be behind this. But whoever it is, the council has decided to lead an investigation into the matter because it’s not just my name and reputation that is on the line, it is also the honor of this faction that will be yet again tarnished. If you find any more clues before we do, I’m certain you’ll pass the message to the rest of the city, won’t you?

Of course! So you suppose you are being framed? Why would anyone frame an already known murderer?

I don’t take lightly to being called a murderer, but if that’s a title I have to wear for ridding the faction of an Ace who cared none for the lives of the people he wanted to lead to an unending civil war and unrest, then there’s not much I can do about it. But yes, I’m being framed, because of the criminal enterprise’s affiliation I had in the past and the label of murderer I have on my back. I mean, wouldn’t you say it’s easier to believe that I would be the one behind someone’s death and demise considering those two demeaning factors? It’s even a little unfair to not see how blatantly obvious they went about it.

You must know, the Academy was attacked a few years ago with your resistance taking ownership. Were you not involved?

The resistance I was part of and that I do not own, you mean? I did hear of it when the incident occurred. I was not involved and I found it disheartening. I'm against attacking innocents and causing the loss of innocent lives.

We’ve heard that your people were harassing Spades in your faction? Our sources say, ‘Urine and feces were tossed on a patron in a popular tavern for saying ‘Spades should be respected.’ Should Spades not be respected?

I’ve had no time to hear these rumors but of course Spades should be respected. Everyone deserves respect for that matter, tossing urine and feces doesn’t seem like a respectful action taken either. But if this rumor is true I can simply apologize for the mistreatment and ask that less impulsive measures are taken in the future because, as you can see, I don’t have any means to control anyone to stop tragedies from occurring. If I did you wouldn’t be here as no shipment would have been ambushed and no lives would have been lost. Unfortunate, isn’t it?

This Ace of Clubs only brings more questions when questions are asked.  He made it clear to our interviewer that the resistance was a mistake he made in youth and he acknowledges them as all as criminals. He even seemed scared to admit the inspiration for the council he created in Clubs. Maybe those on his council are the real danger here. ‘A meeting of minds’ he claims, but it sounds more like he was coerced by darker agents. We’re certain this council is filled with the same resistance criminals he is trying so hard to claim he has separated himself from.

And yet he proclaims his innocence, insists he is being framed. In round about words he points to some conspiracy with no proof of innocence offered. And where is this council if they are unified in their ruling? Should they not have joined this interview to show their unified cause? The future of Clubs is bound to be as blood soaked under this Ace as the last. At least that Ace stood solidly on one point without a questionable background and motive. 

His unwillingness to out other vagrants that would no doubt bring that peace to the faction like he claims to want, make his alleged innocence and investigation a joke. Our own investigation finds King of Clubs, Wainwright Rook, with high suspicion for the fight that broke out in his tavern. There a Spade had feces and urine thrown on them which led to a brawl that left the very foundation of the tavern with a cracked that travelled up the building.  Yet Ace Shah acts ignorant of it. No wonder Spades must do their own investigation.

In Spades, they are increasing drills and the policing of their border. We wonder if an invasion will come soon. Whispers amongst their ranks lean to disdain for the Club Council. Refugees who chose to leave the safety of Spades were met at the border with medical personnel and fighters as if the Club Council thought that Spades were abusing those they rescued during the terror of the war between their last Ace and the new one and his resistance criminals. The council passing suspicion to Spades who have done more for their corner of the city is laughable.

Well, at least the weather is cooling down. Hopefully that eases some of the tensions. The weather is predicted to be far more comfortable though still a bit warmer for the season. We’re calling it a second attempt at summer.  

NOW PLAYING AT THE PALACE;

Fresh from the mind of director Ace Moon Ara, comes a gruesome tale of lost love and revenge. With intense, dark themes, The Palace recommends not bringing children to this production and reminds all of it’s patrons that the theater is NOT responsible for the adverse affects the production may have on younger minds or weak stomachs.

The Fiendish Barber of Kadeu

Evil Judge Turpin (Budrelda Beryl) lusts for the beautiful wife of a simple barber, Benjamin Barker (Adrian!). In order to claim the beautiful woman for herself, Turpin frames the barber, and has him transported to a far away prison for a crime he did not commit. Returning after 15 years and calling himself Sweeney Todd - the new name given to him by the fiend he managed to conscript, the now-mad man vows revenge, applying his razor to unlucky customers and shuttling the bodies down to Mrs. Lovett (played by Ara’s protégé from Wing Theatrics), who uses them in her meat-pie shop. Though many fall to his blade, he will not be satisfied until he slits Turpin's throat.

Its a wonderful start to the fall season, our reporters loved their screening but warn of its hauntingly good effects.

[takahero]

in honour of finishing inkspell, here are some basta observations I picked up along the way. also, inkspell spoilers warning! i also have MANY MANY thoughts so i’d love to hear what you guys think to some of the questions raised

“He hadn’t changed: the same thin face, the same way of narrowing his eyes, and there was an amulet dangling around his neck to ward off the bad luck that Basta thought lurked under every ladder, behind every bush.” — pg.138

“Basta’s left hand was bandaged, Elinor noticed when he took his fingers away from her mouth.” — pg.139

“‘I’d have been here much sooner, believe you me, but they put me in jail for a while on account of something that happened years ago. No sooner was Capricorn gone than all the people who’d been too scared to open their mouths suddenly felt very brave.’” — pg.140 (see they never tell us WHY he was in prison, do they? the possibilities are endless. we know he committed atrocious things, like arson, but imagine if he got put in jail for something completely different…LOL)

“‘You wouldn’t believe how often I’ve told him there’s nothing to be ashamed of in going to jail, particularly when your prisons here are so much more comfortable than our dungeons at home.’” — pg.140 (OHHHTMGOD MEME IDEA)

“Basta flung his arm so roughly round Orpheus’ neck that his glasses slipped down his nose.” — pg.141

“‘Hold your tongue, Basta!’ Mortola interrupted him abruptly. ‘You’ve always liked the sound of your own voice.’” — pg.141

“‘Well, Silvertongue, I’m sorry it’s taken some time,’ he said in his soft, cat-like voice.” — pg.180

“‘My son always said revenge was a dish best eaten cold,’ observed Mortola.” — pg.181 (question. did basta find out about mortola’s true identity between inkheart & inkspell? do u think he realised it when mortola cried when capricorn died?)

“Basta passed a finger over his throat and winked at him.” — pg.186 (wink 2 LMAO)

“Basta bent down and picked up a rusty helmet lying at his feet. ‘What do you expect me to say?’ he growled, throwing the helmet back into the grass with a gloomy expression, and giving it a kick that sent it clattering against the wall. ‘Of course it’s our castle. Didn’t you see the figure of the goat on the wall there? Even the carved devils are still standing, though they wear ivy crowns now — and look, there’s one of the eyes that Slasher liked to paint on the stones.’” — pg.190

“‘So Basta was right after all. He’s dead, here and in the other world too.’” — pg.191 (interesting….so Basta knew Mortola’s plan wouldn’t work? he just wanted a ride home?)

“‘I’d really like to know what happened!’ he muttered. ‘I always said Capricorn wasn’t here, but what about the others?…What are we going to do if they’re all gone?’ Basta sounded like a boy afraid of the dark. ‘Do you want us to live in a cave like brownies until the wolves find us? Have you forgotten the wolves? And the Night-Mares, the fire-elves, all the other creatures crawling around the place…I for one haven’t forgotten them, but you would come back to this accursed spot where there are ghosts lurking behind every tree!’ He reached for the amulet dangling around his neck, but Mortola did not deign to look at him.

“‘Oh, be quiet!’ she said, so sharply that Basta flinched.” — pg.192

“‘You’re going to leave them here?’ That was Basta’s voice.” — pg.193 (at first I was like oh so he has a heart….but then he was mean to resa straight after this 🙄)

“‘Sorry, but he must have overlooked me, shut up in that cage as I was,’ purred Basta in his catlike voice.” — pg.377

“‘Wasn’t it Mortola who had you put in the cage to be fed to the Shadow?’ Basta just shrugged his shoulders and flung back his silver-grey cloak. Of course, he had his knife. A brand new one, it seemed, finer than any he’d ever had in the other world, and undoubtedly just as sharp.

“‘Yes, not very nice of her,’ he said as his fingers caressed the handle of the knife. ‘But she’s really sorry.’” — pg.377 (okay so it SOUNDS like he threatened/made some kind of bargain with his knife, but I strongly doubt that considering how afraid he seems of her?? i know he’s technically working for the adderhead but even by the end of the book, it seems he is far closer to mortola than adderhead. what is their relationship? or does he sincerely think she’s sorry/has deluded himself into believing such? UGH SO MANY QUESTIONS)

“Basta had always liked describing his own and other people’s abominable deeds in detail.” — pg.378

“‘But we’re not going to shoot you.’ Basta came a little closer to Fenoglio, his face as intent as that of a stalking cat.” — pg.378 …. living for all the cat references tbh

“‘He wants you to crawl on your belly to him, that’s what our noble lord and master likes. But never mind, he pays well!’” — pg.378 (yes basta all abt getting that bread LMAOOOO)

“He slowly drew the knife from his belt. Its blade was long and slightly curved.” — pg.379

“‘Hey Basta, I know you like the sound of your own voice.’” — pg.379 (AHAHAHAHA HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE CALLED OUT BASTA ON THIS NOW? IVE LOST TRACK)

“With a regretful sigh, Basta put the knife back in his belt. ‘Yes, very well, you’re right,’ he said in surly tones. ‘I need to take my time with this sort of thing. Questioning people is an art, a real art.’” — pg.380 (LMAOOOOOOO HE IS SUCH A DRAMA QUEEN)

“Basta. The same thin face, the same twisted smile. Only the clothes were different. Basta was no longer wearing his white shirt and black suit with the flower in his buttonhole. No, Basta now wore the Adderhead’s silvery grey, and he had a sword at his side. With a knife in his belt too, of course. But he was holding a dead chicken in his left hand.” — pg. 455

“‘Yes, they are!’ purred Basta. ‘The little witch, and the fire-eater into the bargain. It was well worth the wait. Even though I’ll probably never get that damned flour out of my lungs again.’” — pg.455 (ok….so who’s gonna draw basta sitting amongst the flour AAHHAHA)

“‘Servant? Who’s a servant here? Just listen to him. As bold as if he’d never felt my knife! Have you forgotten how you screamed when it cut your face?’” — pg.457 … don’t call basta a servant…..noted

“‘Oh, don’t look so disbelieving, little witch, I still can’t read and I don’t intend to learn, but there are enough fools around the place who can, even in this world.’” —pg. 457 (i wonder how much capricorn influenced basta’s views on reading. because capricorn said that he learnt how to read from a maid, right? so basta certainly wouldn’t have trash-talked reading in front of him. and even after living in OUR world for nine years, I’m still surprised that he never attempted to learn, given how dependent we are on it. anyway my headcanon is that he secretly wants to, but doesn’t want to give others the satisfaction of knowing they have something he doesn’t. also nobody he knows would be willing to teach him (unless he threatened them) bc of his obviously violent and short-tempered nature…and learning requires so much patience. still, though, would love a fic of basta being taught how to read in secret and having some kind of positive interaction)

“‘You’re even more talkative than you used to be, Basta.’ Dustfinger’s voice sounded as if he found this tedious.” — pg.458 HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH IM DYING. honestly the animosity between them was just. A+++

“Basta was in an even worse state. He was sitting close to Mortola, his face so red and swollen that Meggie almost failed to recognise him. But he had escaped death once again. Perhaps the good-luck charms he always wore worked after all.” — pg.526

“The sunlight falling into the room made Basta’s face look like a boiled lobster.” — pg.575 

“Basta put his hand to the amulet hanging around his neck. It was not a rabbit’s paw, as he had worn in Capricorn’s service, but something that looked suspiciously like a human finger-bone.” — pg.581 (THIS STILL IRKS ME SO MUCH)

“The Piper straightened his back, as ready to attack as the viper on his master’s coat of arms…He was a good head taller than Basta.” — pg.582 WHY DO I KEEP FORGETTING HES NOT TALL LMFAO

“The two men were standing so close that the blade of Basta’s knife wouldn’t have fitted between them.” — pg.582 HAHAHAJAHAAJAHAHHAAHAHAHAH PKESJENE I LOVE THIS SO MUCH … IMAGINE BASTA SQUARING UP W HIS NOSE JUST SMACK BANG IN THE MIDDLE OF PIPER’S CHEST OR SOMETHING

“The Piper struck Basta in the face so hard that his head hit the door frame. Blood ran down his burned cheek in a trail of red. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. ‘Take care to avoid dark corridors, Piper!’ he whispered. ‘You don’t have a nose any more, but one can always find something else to cut off.’” — pg.582-583 THIS SCENE WAS SIMPLY……CHEF’S KISS

are you serious is he dead??? WHAT. okay I knew dustfinger’s love for farid would be the end of him and basta being the instrument to rip that away from him was totally heartrending. i WISH it had been more climactic? like dustfinger unleashing his fury and fighting basta, blind with anger and grief. THE DIALOGUE POTENTIAL BETWEEN THEM AS THEY FINALLY TALK ONE-ON-ONE, and then some revisiting of the scene where dustfinger has the opportunity to kill basta but AGAIN withholds because killing is not in his nature….THEN MO IN SHINING ARMOUR SWOOPS IN TO DO THE JOB

now, off to inkdeath!