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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

Crackin’ the Code

prompt: Harry and YN tie the knot in a beautiful castle off the coat of Italy. Harry reflects back on his life before his love. YN has past insecurities creep on on her before the wedding.

note: this is the necklace that YN receives as (one) her wedding gifts from H and she wears it during the ceremony.

word count: 9k

warnings: smut

***<-- click for visuals throughout (super important for this one shot!)

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---

The world expected an extravagant wedding with week-long festivities, celebrations in destinations only the richest could afford, and all the big names of the business world who ran in his circle.

The media outlets were just waiting, quite impatiently, for the day that the richest man in Europe settled down with a significant other. They would have news stories for decades when it came to the couple.

Of course, Harry Styles was going to marry a household name - the public thought.

Whether it be an heiress, a model, maybe even an actress? The choices for the most eligible bachelor were limitless.

Any time he was at an event, usually a charity gala or black-tie dinner, paparazzi would take candid pictures of him with any female and then the following day publish an article about how they were a couple.

However, what the world didn’t know was that he’s been in a relationship for a year and a half, has already been engaged after the eight month mark, and moved into pretty soon after but that was hushed.

Nearly no one except a few key employees and family members knew about the couple. Everyone in his office building in the heart of London had to sign NDA’s at the beginning of their job - though almost all of them didn’t know she existed.

Harry did not put any limits on YN for the wedding planning.

No price, no expectations, nothing. If she wanted ten-thousand people or zero people in attendance that was her call. If she wanted to drop ten million dollars on a wedding or a hundred that was fine too.

The CEO never fantasized about a wedding.

Well he had but no in the terms most do. He didn’t sit and imagine the venue, the food menu, or the decorations.

No, he didn’t care about any of that, he daydreamed about the fact that he and someone would commit themselves to each other for the rest of their lives.

Harry wanted to marry his fiance after their first date.

He was usually a very patient man, couldn’t have gotten where he was if he wasn’t. When it came to this, each day he wasn’t married to the love of his life felt like torture.

Since he proposed to her in his briefs in their bedroom, he had imagined her looking immaculate in whatever she chose to wear, exchanging vows of devotion, and then being tied together for life.

He never thought he would get here. He’d never felt a connection with someone like he had with the feisty waitress who bumped into him. Begin to believe that he was broken or lacking emotion because no matter how sweet the girl was he couldn’t see himself with the person.

Don’t get him wrong.

He took many women out on dates that were downright awful. Asking him about money, suggesting he take them on expensive vacations or buy them a designer item, being too forward and palming his crotch in the middle of dinner.

One of the last dates he went on before he gave up was the one that made him stop looking all together, about six months before he ran in YN.

---

It was an expensive restaurant in the heart of London. It had a waitlist for months but one call and they could magically make an available booth for the billionaire within the hour.

The girl he was sitting across from was a so-to-speak blind date.

A set up by one of his business partners who stated that they would be a good match. Harry had rolled his eyes at that but couldn’t come up with an excuse fast enough to say ‘no.’

Her name was Aria, she had a respectable job at a local law firm as an assistant to a very well-known lawyer in the area.

She was beautiful in the way of looking just like an instagram model with long dark extensions, false eyelashes that made it hard to determine what color her eyes were, and an outfit that made Harry a bit embarrassed to be seen with her - short and low cut at a five-star restaurant.

“Yeah, I just got back from Mallorca with a group of friends,” She tells him, flipping through the photo album on her phone to show him pictures.

When she ‘accidentally’ swipes (and slowly swipes) again so that Harry definitely gets a glimpse of a nude selfie.

Harry internally groans, couldn’t be less turned on by that, and doesn’t acknowledge it - much to Aria's disappointment.

She was fishing for a compliment, maybe a request for him to take the phone and look closer at the picture like most men would.

Instead he sits back, takes a sip of his wine, and nods curtly, “It looks like you had a good time.”

She stumbles for a second, confused by his sudden standoffishness, and clicks her phone locked before putting it next to her on the table, “Did I offend you?”

He was already done with the date, with the dating scene, with fucking everything honestly.

What a goddamn waste of a night.

Harry barks out a cruel laugh, “It takes a lot more to offend me than a picture of y’tits but it’s a bit offensive that y’think so little of yourself that you think that’s how y’going to impress me. Those tits didn’t impress me much, darling.”

Aria’s eyes narrow in blatant disbelief at how much of an asshole he was being.

Granted, she did feel a bit of embarrassment creeping up in her stomach about thinking showing him that picture was a good idea but still, he didn’t need to react like that.

“It really makes sense why you don’t have a girlfriend, it’s because of what an asshole you are,” The girl sneers with venom as she tucks her phone into her clutch, swigging down the last drops of the expensive wine.

He shrugs like he’s unbothered, a nasty feeling quilling in the pit of his stomach as he keeps an outward expression of nonchalance and ease, it make the raven-haired woman even more furious as he replies cooly, “I’m not being an asshole, honesty hurts sometimes. Maybe if you think the way you attract someone is by nude pictures, you should try Tinder or Bumble.”

“I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have,” Aria tells him before pushing out her chair and leaving before the main course even arrives.

Harry sits there for a moment, swallowing and pleading with himself to not let the nasty words set in because they felt too real and too personal - she had actually struck some type of chord within and it had his stomach churning.

When he pays the bill, apologizing profusely for leaving dinner before the entree arrives but with an excuse of a company emergency - it’s eerily quiet in his car as he drives home to his massive home with no one in it.

It doesn’t happen often.

He should call his mum, Gemma, Dorothy even to talk it out but he feels so fucking alone because he can’t get it right. He can’t connect with anyone and it is starting to feel hopeless.

He is angry, so angry at himself, that he can’t shake the feeling of it and he feels like he’s losing control because he never fucking talks about his emotions.

A beautiful set of dishware was sitting out his dining room table, the housekeeper had carefully unwrapped them earlier in the day.

They were imported from Beijing, decorated with real gold, and handcrafted. It had cost him nearly forty-thousand dollars for a set of fucking plates and bowls.

I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have.

It is repeatedly on a loop in his head, glares at the items on the dinner table like they’re mocking him, and he has no wits about himself before he’s taking one of the beautiful bowls and throwing it against the wall as hard as possible.

I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have.

By the time he’s done, his chest is heaving, and his face is red.

When reality starts to set back in, every single item from the set is destroyed on the floor, the wall’s paint chipped from where he’d hurled them.

He was so fucked up.

Harry couldn’t help but relieve the feelings of that nasty flashback. He couldn’t believe that he had been at that point in his life - not when he had the most all-consuming, amazing in every single way woman laying next to him in his bed.

YN had shown Harry that he had never been broken, he had just been waiting.

She was his soulmate and he had been waiting for her since forever. He truly believed that as he looked at the girl next to him with enough emotion his heart might burst.

She was just...everything.

YN was so fucking funny - the funniest person Harry had ever met. She was loving in a way that made you feel like you belonged. Compassionate in a way that makes you want to be more selfless yourself. Intelligent enough that it was breathtaking and unreal - and that was just the tip of the iceberg.

She was uncaring of who Harry was - in the most perfect way.

Money wasn’t a personality trait that she defined him with. She loved him for who he was at the bare basics, stripped away from his public life.

She was confident in a way that girls rarely were.

Bared face and more beautiful than the highest-paid models.

Her body was her own, embracing every curve and inch of it without any shame. Let herself be authentic in front of Harry which made him feel like he had won a secret lottery.

Right now, she was fast asleep next to him in bed after stuffing herself full of oreos that she was dunking in milk. She ignored Harry’s looks of disgust at the soggy cookies and munched away happily which made him happy in turn.

She still had a dark crumb on the corner of her puffy lips, her mouth parted just the slightest amount, and her face smushed halfway into the pillow.

The shirt she had on was so oversized she was swimming in it and a pair of soft pink cheeky underwear.

Currently, she was the farthest thing from graceful and Harry loved that so fucking much.

As they lay mere days away from their wedding, remembering that nasty flashback, he can’t help but remember their first date and how he had known from them that he had finally found a spark, a connection to another human being.

Harry cannot remember the last time he had been nervous.

Maybe back in his teenage years? If that.

It was an unsettling feeling that was currently pooling in the pit of his stomach as he changed his outfit for the third time before finally being somewhat satisfied with the suit he had picked out - tighter black jeans, black button-up, black blazer - couldn’t go wrong there. ***

YN had texted him asking what she should wear for their first date when Harry told her he was going to keep it simple and take her to a restaurant.

He had to dress nice, it was an expensive restaurant that he had not taken any other dates to before, it was right outside of London - going towards the countryside with a beautiful view of a meadow and stream.

When he had arrived in front of her apartment, well he had never been on this side of town, and it quite frankly looked like the roof of her building was about to collapse at any minute. It was rough to say the least.

Harry had picked out a car he thought would impress her. He remembered her saying the doors of his Lamborghini were stupid so he picked a car with normal doors this time. It was his new Audi Quattro that had cost him upwards of 170,000 pounds. ***

YN had popped out of the front door, her face didn’t read impressed when she saw the car like he had hoped. It was interesting before YN, he did not care whether or not his dates were impressed by him - now he craved it.

She looked extraordinary in a form fitting silky black dress that hugged every single curve of her body perfectly while accentuating them at the same time. Minimal makeup, loose waves, and simple high heels - it was like a dream that he was taking this girl out on a date. ***

When she slips into the passenger seat, the smell of her floral yet cinnamon perfume makes the car smell heavenly, she looks over at him and says, “You didn’t even come open the door for me. We’re off to a bad start, Harry.”

His heart sinks, fuck - he had been blindsided by her beauty that he wasn’t even being a proper gentleman, “M’so sorry, I wa-”

She chirps out a tender laugh, patting his arm, “You’re face, oh my god. I was just fucking with you.”

Harry’s frown turns into a pout, “S’not nice, pet.”

YN shrugs before a bit self-consciously adjusting the fabric around her midsection, “Erm, I hope this outfit is nice enough? It’s really the only semi-decent thing I own.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, “Y’look absolutely stunning. I can’t even believe y’real to be honest, so fuckin’ pretty.”

YN gives him a shy, unsure smile but he can tell she’s preening at the compliment internally (which she totally is).

The restaurant is one of the nicest in England, let alone London.

There wasn’t even a menu, they just served eight courses over a few hours time by servers in suits with bowties on.

YN had never felt more out of place.

As they sat down, Harry was proud that he was able to show off his abilities for a good date, YN was looking around nervously before looking up at the server and saying, “We didn’t get menus yet.”

The man gives her a humorous expression before telling her, “We don’t do menus here, miss. Your date is a regular, I am sure he can fill you in. However, we are starting off with a Cabernet from 2001 imported from Napa, California.”

As he pours the wine into their sparkling glasses, she asks unknowingly, “I don’t really like wine. Is there any way I could get a Coke?”

Harry frowns when the server laughs meanly at her, “Ma’am this isn’t McDonald’s. We do not carry soda. I can provide you with water, if you so wish.”

Harry can’t help but snap at the waiter, “Oi, she’s never been here before. Lay off with the attitude alright?”

“My apologies, Mr. Styles,” He murmurs obediently before finishing the pouring off the whine and retreating from the table.

YN is trying to hide how uncomfortable she is but it is still obvious with how she fidgets in her seat, doesn’t quite know what to do with her hands as she doesn’t even bother to reach towards the wine glass.

“This isn’t really your scene, is it?” Harry murmurs, embarrassment with his failure to impress her with an expensive car and dinner.

It was falling flat and it was the only thing he knew how to do - flaunt his wealth, everyone else had always been impressed.

“No, it isn’t,” She agrees quietly, fingers folding the edges of the cloth napkin to keep her anxiousness directed somewhere, “I appreciate this, er, dinner. I thought we were going to go somewhere like Mary’s.”

Mary’s was a restaurant that was considered ‘nice’ to the commoners in the city. It was a bit more expensive than a pub and the attire was a bit fancier than if you were going out to a bar.

For someone like Harry, that was not considered a fancy restaurant.

However, YN was not him and this was not something that she had ever been accustomed to. He now definitely felt like an idiot.

It’s made even worse when a massive plate is put in front of each of them.

The plate is huge but the dish is merely one scallop with a lemon sauce and sprinkle of parsley on top. YN can’t even try to hide her confusion at the food.

“I’ve mucked this date up,” Harry sighs, nearly thirty minutes into the actual date.

YN had taken a small bite of the scallop before setting down her fork and not touching it again - it tasted like dirty feet. Did rich people like that taste?

She decides not to answer directly, “I already know you have money. It doesn’t ‘wow’ me. I was hoping for a fun date, this is….nice but quite truthfully, not for me. I prefer a pub or bowling - this feels more like a business meeting.”

Harry usually doesn’t have dates that are this honest with him.

He feels embarrassed but he really did appreciate her honesty. He should have known to do something different than this but he was comfortable with his normal pattern.

“Can we get out of here?” YN asks, placing the napkin back on the table and gathering up her small purse to swing over her shoulder.

He feels defeated as he nods, paying for the meal in full as he accepts that he’s fucked up the date beyond repair by being an arrogant, ignorant asshole who doesn’t truly know how to talk to a girl he likes.

It’s quiet as he starts the car and pulls back onto the road, he startles a bit when YN points to a glowing sign of a golden arch and demands, “Go there.”

With a bit of confusion, Harry pulls into the McDonald’s parking lot and then to the drive-thru as she motions for him to do so.

God, he hasn’t been to a fast food joint in years now if he was being honest.

When they pull up to the screen, YN leans across and shoots out their food order with ease before sitting back with a smug smile, “We’re going to have a date my way.”

Harry sighs with relief when he realizes the date isn’t over - but really just beginning. They sit and chat in the parking lot. He is thoroughly impressed when YN manages a box of nuggets, a fry, and a milkshake without shame.

Not like she should be shameful - just usually on dates women were hesitant to actually eat and instead picked carefully at their food instead. Their conversation in the car is bright, at some points deep and meaningful, but refreshing. It made him feel young again.

After they finished eating, she’s ordering him to drive a bit further out into the country where he can’t help but make the joke, “Are y’taking me somewhere to kill me?” YN smiles happily with a wide grin, “You’ll just have to wait to see.”

It ends up being a lake. A beautiful body of water that was surrounded by trees that were being reflected into the ripples with the light of the moon. The only sounds were of crickets chirping and the light lapping of the water against the small shore. ***

“I used to come here a lot in the summer in high school,” YN murmurs as Harry takes in the scenery of everything. It had been so long since he had appreciated nature - not the bright clear waters in the tropics but something like this.

“S’beautiful,” Harry replies, can’t help but observe this girl he’s infatuated beauty in the moonlight.

Her skin looks like it’s glowing, the moon sparkling off the twinkle of her iries, and she just looked...ethereal. Like she belonged in the beauty of the wilderness.

He couldn’t believe his eyes - had to blink harshly a few times to make sure he’s not imagining it when she pulls the thin straps of her dress down her shoulders and shimmy the garment down her body until she’s left in a delicate lace bra and cheeky pair of underwear.

Harry, always the gentleman, keeps his eyes (with effort) on her face. Unsure of what is going on in her mind before she turns around with a little run and dives headfirst into the deep waters before popping back up and giggling, “Jump in!”

She’s just so...carefree, adventurous. Harry hadn’t felt free in fucking years.

It has him shucking out of all of his clothing, just down to his tight black briefs before he’s diving in, right next to her, and feeling around. He wraps his hand around her ankle to teasingly tug her under with him before they both surface.

As they wad in the water, YN swims over to him, and wraps her legs around his waist, arms around his neck. Her soaking wet hair was dripping and he was breathing heavy, feeling his ribcage expand against her soft tummy.

She murmurs quietly over the light lapping over the water, “You haven’t even looked at me once.”

Harry swallows, feeling like a schoolboy again, “I...I didn’t want to without permission.”

“I want you to look at me,” YN replies, letting her nose nudge his and her eyes searching into his nervous ones.

He nods, closing his eyes when he feels her lips brush his, letting his large palms grip at her sides and pull her closer to his chest. Their lips not breaking when his hands begin to explore the intricate, plush curves of her body.

They don’t do anything else, don’t go any further but he groaning when she traces her fingertips down his muscular, defined abs and thumb rubbing over the trail of light hair leading into his briefs.

After a swim, filled with splashing and dunking, they retired to lay in the grass. Both of their backs, looking up at the clear night sky, moon full and stars glittering against the stark darkness that surrounds it.

YN wriggle until she’s tucked into his side, hand running up and down his chest, as she says, “I’m sorry your date didn’t go as planned. I ruined it.”

“Y’didn’t ruin anything. I...I haven’t felt like this in a long time,” Harry admits as he gives off an embarrassed laugh, “I..I’m a little bit scared, to be honest.”

“Scared? Of what?” YN asks, lips pressing against a tattoo on his bare shoulder.

“Because I already am falling for you,” Harry utters, heart racing and his eyes glued upwards and pointedly not wanting to see her interaction.

“That’s a relief.”

His eyebrows shoot up, “A relief?”

“Yeah, I would say. I’m falling too,” YN whispers before leaning up to connect their lips once more as the moon rises further in the sky and the crickets sing a little louder. They lay like that for a very long time.

Harry went home that night for the first time not feeling the empty weight of his loneliness, instead he feel asleep imagining the beautiful, spontaneous girl next to him in his bed.

It wasn’t going to be the wedding everyone expected for The Harry Styles. **

There was not many invites set out for this event. It wasn’t the wedding of the century or the most expensive wedding of the decade.

Harry would have let his wife-to-be have this day however she wanted without complaint but could say he was very happy that it was going to a be a low-key event. It was going to be some of YN’s family, though she didn’t have much, and Harry’s extended family. No one from work or business. Just family.

They had just gotten finished with the rehearsal dinner, the couple being ordered to separate rooms for the final night before they were married. It was tradition.

Harry had walked YN to her hotel room, they were staying at the venue, and pressed her up against the door. His hand coming to weave into her meticulously curled hair and cupping the back of her head, bring her mouth to his.

He wastes no time in letting his tongue find hers, hips coming to press her further back against the aged wood, and his teeth nipping roughly at her plump bottom lip, “Baby, y’gonna be m’wife tomorrow.”

YN’s eyes twinkle up at him like they did during their first date, “I can’t wait. I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”

His fiance laughs kindly as he gets a bit watery eyed, her thumb coming to swipe under his eye, she jokes, “Are you regretting proposing now?”

“Just never knew I could be this happy,” He murmurs against her lips, can’t help but reach around to grip a generous amount of her backside and pulling her flush against him where he’s hardening quickly.

“Mm, down boy. You don’t get the goods until tomorrow,” YN scolds, hand wrapping around his wrist and squeaking when he squeezes harder to get the point across - how much he wants her, all the fucking time.

“Want it now, pet,” Harry whines lowly, grinding his hips forward into her, “Give it t’me, y’mouth, y’cun-”

“Alright lovebirds! Separate now!” Gemma barks to interrupt with the laughter of their childhood friend Chloe.

They pull Harry by the back of the shirt and push him forward towards his room, Gemma smiles back at YN, “Make him put a ring on it before you give it to him!”

“Gem!” Harry scolds with a whine, giving his fiance puppy dog eyes and a pouted bottom lip, “Baby, don’t let them take me!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, I love you!” YN shouts back, waving and smiling to herself as she opens up the door to her room and then locking it after she steps in. It feels weird being in a hotel room without him but she was a bit sweaty and her nerves were wiry so she decided a nice bath would be a good idea.

It’s past two in the morning and she was no less ready to find sleep. The worries of whether everything will be set up properly, if she’ll stutter during her vows, there were just so many things that could go wrong.

Life didn’t even seem real at this moment.

She was marrying her husband at an amazing castle on the coast of italy with family to surround them in love. She had the perfect dress, the perfect flowers, the perfect partner. ***

She had never had it easy. Never thought she would deserve something like this. Harry had made her feel worthy of all this, they deserved to have a happy ever after.

When it hits three in the morning, she can’t stand the quiet of the italian countryside anymore, and is swinging her legs over the bed. She pockets the keycard Harry gave her earlier in the day in her cotton shorts before sneaking out of her room.

After she taps the card to the sensor, the large oak doorknob clicks, she slips in and closes the door as silently as possible. YN steps in to the room, Harry's asleep in his bed on his stomach, face smushed into the pillow.

Harry’s facial expression and body language while he was awake was so severe, serious, intimidating. In sleep, his face was lax and his limbs loose. He looked more boyish when he was dreaming.

YN’s heart aches at how much she loves him, pulling the covers up, and crawling under them until she’s jostling him unintentionally, waking him from his light sleep with a mumble, “Baby, y’okay? Wha’s wrong? Y’alright?”

She giggles at his dazy panic, “I just missed you.”

“Mmm,” Harry agrees, pulling her all the way down and rolling on top of her, “Missed y’more.”

“You’re like a toaster!” YN squeals as he’s encompasses her, laying on her with his weight. His lips finding her pulse point and gently sucking. He was barely awake and he still couldn’t stop himself from her finding comfort in her body.

“I’m warmin’ y’up,” Harry growls against her neck before giving her a lick which has her giggling even more and pushing him off until he falls on his back and she’s swing her legs over his waist, straddling him.

“Y’breakin’ the tradition, m’heart.”

YN shrugs, humming while he palms at her belly, and she (much to his disappointment) ignores where he’s hard and waiting for her.

“I want t’sleep with you,” She pleas sheepishly, leaning all the way over to connect their lips in a quickie peck before she’s moving off of him and into his side.

“Never say no to you, y’know that, dovie,” Harry replies as if it’s obvious (it is).

“We’re getting married tomorrow,” YN whispers into the dark, like it’s a secret just between the two.

Harry nuzzles his nose against her temple, “Never wanted anythin’ more than I want you.”

YN can’t help but sniffle softly, overwhelmed with emotion and love, “You’re so good to me. I don’t deserve you.”

“You saved me. You saved me from myself, from where I was going. You gave me hope, feeling again. Y’are m’heart, it fuckin’ beats for you.”

It may not be tradition but YN wouldn’t of had it any other way, sleeping in a magnificent castle on the ethereal coast of Italy in a classic hotel room, and the excitement of their wedding rumbling in both of their stomachs.

“You sneaky bastards!” Bethany screeches, door flinging open with Gemma in tow as they intrude into Harry’s room - finding the couple curled up under the covers with Harry spooning YN with his face tucked into her hair.

“Fuck off,” Harry groans, pulling his fiance closer into his chest as she wriggles awake and whimpers lowly, “Mornin’ lovie.”

“Out out!” Gemma shoos, pulling the covers off of them and the sisters showing no mercy while they yank YN out of the bed and titter about how she needs to start getting ready, no time for cuddles, breaking traditions.

“Bring her back!” He whines childishly, hurling a pillow at his sister’s retreating back as they guide YN back to her own room.

“You’ll see her in a few hours!” Gemma shouts back before slamming the hotel room door and leaving Harry to doze off for just a few more minutes.

Hair and makeup went fast.

It was getting closer and closer to actually walking down the aisle towards her soon-to-be life partner and she’s never felt more nervous.

Rosemary and Bethany were all rushing around - attempting to get ready in the midst of getting the bride ready.

YN didn’t want to look like a doll or have any intense makeup. It was a soft champagne smokey eye with dewy skin and a glowing highlight. A nice lip with a bit of glittering gloss.

Her hair was in big, loose curls that cascaded down her back with the front pulled off of her face. A real white flower holding it back.

Then it was the dress. She was anxious about whether Harry would like it or not. She wasn’t sure what he was expecting her to wear - a massive ball gown, a form-fitting mermaid, or something less over-the-top?

It was a show-stopper that had her memorized when she had first seen it - could automatically imagined herself getting married in Italy with this on her body.

It was also one of the only times she didn’t even care about the price tag - she knew this was it. Yes, it was absurd to spend fifty thousand pounds on a dress but it was the one time she took advantage of Harry’s wealth.

It was flowy, reminding her of the soft waves that lapped at the coast of the italian beaches. It was sophisticated, classy with a sharp starch white that billowed into a dreamlike beauty.

What had made her fall in love was the sheer, detailed sleeves that gave the dress more of a vintage, glamour appearance than the modern tight-fit, overly sexy gowns that most brides wore nowawadays. ***

The train was long and sleek. It would trail beautifully down the aisle before being bustled for the reception. It made her feel confident in a way that an item of clothing next had made her feel before.

“Your tits look amazing,” Bethany compliments before giggling when their grandmum pinches her arm for her crude language.

YN couldn’t find it in her to laugh. She felt like her voice was stuck in her throat and it wasn’t moving.

It started to feel real.

The fact that Harry had proposed, had planned a wedding with her, that he was agreeing to marrying her today.

It was starting to scare her - no, not cold feet but anxiety that he would realize that he could do better than the lowly waitress.

Now, on a normal day, she wouldn’t be having these irrational thoughts. Today was different and it felt too good to be true.

Rosemary and Bethany sense the tension in the room, rub her shoulders, and respect her wishes when she asked for a moment alone.

YN debates picking up her phone, knowing he was busy with his bigger side of the family in the groom’s suite.

She finds herself picking up her mobile, dialing his number, and waiting with bated breath for his syrupy, warm voice to pour through the speaker.

“Everythin’ okay?” He answers, she can hear Anne and Gemma tittering about in the background, yelling at him to get a move on.

“I’m scared,” YN whispers, she holds back her tears because the last thing she wanted to do was ruin her meticulous makeup.

“Leavin’ me at the altar?” Harry jokes lowly, stepping away from prying ears.

YN giggles at his teasing tone, “Never. I…I feel like this is all too good to be true. Like it’s a dream and I’m going to wake up.”

Harry huffs, “Sweetheart. Y’my soulmate, if y’wake up - I’m right there with you, okay? God, if anyone is dreamin’ it’s me. I get t’marry the most beautiful, intelligent -“

Gemma’s voice interrupts him, “You already seduced her into marrying you! We don’t have time for this sweet talk!”

The line goes dead but YN feels much better now.

—

Rosemary was going to be the one walking her down the aisle to her new husband. It didn’t feel right to have anyone else do it as she was the one who raised her into the strong, independent woman she was today.

YN knew she wanted to have an outside wedding.

What would be more perfect than a cool evening in Italy? It was what she had dreamed about since she was little without the idea that it would ever happen.

The weather was absolutely perfect. There was a slight warm breeze that would keep the guests from being overheated, the sun was peeking in and out of vibrant white clouds that complimented the blue sky.

She knew exactly where Harry would be standing.

Underneath a beautiful, dated archway with intricate designs about.

The old material had lovingly grown luscious ivy that kissed the walls in a swirling, natural design.

YN would never forget how beautiful that ivy had looked on her wedding day, encompassing the magnificent that was her soon-to-be husband.***

The venue was open, airy but still gave off an intimacy. There weren't many rows of chairs because not many were invited to share in such an ethereal experience where soulmates have found each other and were announcing their commitment to the world.

“Are you ready, my daughter?” Her grandmother had asked quietly as they lined up behind the expansive, old brick wall that hides them from the rest of the ceremony and crowd. She could hear the whispering as people took their seats.

YN nods, her vocal cords refusing to cooperate as she imagines Harry just as nervous on the opposite side with his family.

When the twinkling, traditional music begins from the small orchestra off to the side - the realization hits her - it is actually happening, right now.

Bethany puts her bouquet in front of her, giving one last meaningful smile at her sister before she takes her cue to turn the corner and begins her walk down the aisle.

It meant Harry was up there, watching as she was about to appear.

Then the orchestra’s melody became louder, more grand in the signaling for the guests to stand and turned toward the back of the room - awaiting the bride’s entrance to the ceremony.

Rosemary takes the initiative to hook their arms and guide her past the wall.

YN clutches onto her own flowers as if it’s her lifeline. ***

Every fear, insecurity, moment of self-doubt dissipates when her eyes connect to Harry’s. There is no longer a doubt in her mind that she wasn’t enough. It was a deep, unbreakable stare as Harry’s mouth parts in a gasp of awe.

He was in a suit that was undeniably him. It displayed how fucking regal he was, how it looked like he was handcrafted into the italian design, how it fit him just perfectly.

It wasn’t a normal tuxedo. It was a perfectly tailored, custom (of course) Gucci suit that excentuate his broad shoulders and the nip of his narrow hips *** ***.

YN can’t even hear the noise of the guests - whispering about how beautiful she looks.

All she can see is her future husband, who swallows harshly as an unexpected sob wracks through his chest at the sight of his bride.

The guests can’t help but look with wide eyes as the man they know - who they’ve barely ever seen smile, let alone cry, cannot control his emotions.

Gemma, who was his ‘best man’ which they deemed ‘best woman’, rubs his back soothingly with a watery smile herself at seeing her brother so estastatic as he looks at the woman of his dreams.

Harry rubs his eyes before meeting hers again.

YN is holding back her own tears as she reaches the end of the aisle.

In tradition as old as time, Harry steps forward and Rosemary passes her hand over to him in a signal that she trusts him to take care of the girl she’s spent meticulous time raising and cultivating into the person she is today.

“I trust you to take care of my girl, she is now yours,” Rosemary tells Harry, her tone is calm and full of emotion as she allows Harry to lean over to kiss her cheek softly.

Harry nods, his usually stable voice shaky as he replies, “I promise, I’ll take care of her until the day I die.”

Rosemary nods before patting his cheek and finding her seat in the audience.

When they are finally standing face-to-face, YN reaches over to thumb off a stray tear that was sliding down his cheek before he turns his head to kiss her thumb then kissing her palm.

Harry didn’t even acknowledge that there was anyone else watching - it was just him and her.

“Y’look breathtaking, can’t believe y’mine,” Harry murmurs trembling, his chest moving faster than usual and it felt like it was nearly impossible for him to catch his breath as he looked at the woman in front of him.

When it comes to the vows, Bethany hands over her small piece of paper that she had scribbled onto and scratched out multiple times - never quite able to get the wording just right and she says just that.

“I couldn’t find the right words to explain my love for you,” She starts, voice raspy as she looks up to see Harry watching her raptly, eyes intense and only focused on her.

“And maybe there aren’t even words to explain it because nothing felt like enough. It is how I feel a lot of the time with you. I’ll never have enough of you because you’re all-consuming to me. I have never felt happiness like I have with you.”

YN is trying to stifle her tears as she continues, Harry reaches out to rub her arm in reassurance then he lightly brushes over the new necklace he had gifted her, “You’re by far the most complex, closed-off person I have ever met. I feel like you’ve allowed me to crack the code and once I did, I wasn’t disappointed. I’ve cracked my own code, you see.”

“The code to explaining my feelings for you will come with my dedication, love, loyalty to be your wife for the rest of our lives.”

Harry can’t help what he does next despite it not falling in line at the ceremony.

His hands come up to cup her jaw and he sears his lips to hers, kissing her with all the passion and emotion he cannot seem to keep in any longer. It’s too much, has to show her in that moment how much he loves her.

A few of his uncles whistle from the crowd as their wives smack their chests in warning.

YN giggles, returning the kiss before pushing him off.

The look in his eyes is one she knows extremely well - it sends shivers down her spine and makes her hair stand on end -, the stare down of lust and want.

“Mr. Styles,” The officiant redirects, nodding towards the piece of paper he has in his hand.

“Yeah, sorry,” Harry mumbles, unraveling the wrinkled notecard he had tucked in his inner suit pocket.

“I knew I was in love with you the moment you spilled that drink on me and undressed me in that dodgy employee bathroom,” Harry says with full sincerity, smirking at YN’s blush when he brings up the way they met.

“I tried to talk myself out of it. It was impossible to fall in love in mere minutes of meeting someone but it was the truth. I knew after our first date that I wanted y’to be m’wife. I knew after the second that I wanted y’to be the mother of my babies one day. And by the third date, I was planning on buying you a ring.”

“It sounds insane because it is. I’ve never been an impulsive, spur-of-the-moment, hopeful person before you. You made me throw all that out of the window, you make me feel alive, and when I tell you that you saved me. You saved me, m’love.”

“There is a lot of uncertainty in this world but I can tell you one thing that is absolutely fuckin’ certain -”

“Harry,” YN hisses with an eye-roll at his crude language.

“The one thing that is absolutely certain in this world is that I will always love you, always take care of you, and always do everythin’ in m’power to make you happy.”

The guests in the chairs are quite speechless.

They’d never heard such passionate, meaningful vows from a couple.

This was not what they were expecting of Harry who had never once put his heart on his sleeve and right now he’d laid it all out on the table.

“YN LN, do you agree to take Harry Edward Styles as your husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until the end of your time on earth?” The officiant asks, voice ringing against the walls of the castle.

YN has to take a big breath before she replies in a strong, firm voice as her eyes bore into Harry’s, “I do.”

“Harry Edward Styles, do you agree to take YN MN LN as your wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until the end of your time on earth?” The officiant repeats.

Harry, in ever typical fashion, in his loud, booming voice replies, “Of course I fuckin’ do.”

The guests in the audience laugh lightly as the officiant states, “I now announce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Styles. You may now kiss your bride.”

It doesn’t take more than a second for Harry to step forward, grip her face and pull her in for a kiss, it doesn’t matter that their family is there to him as he licks into her mouth which is bordering on obscene before YN brings it back to a softer, more appropriate one.

He whispers against his lips, barely audible, “Can’t believe y’my fucking wife, m’fucking heart.”

As people are moving towards the reception area, Harry manages to find a secluded area of the outside gardens where there is no one in sight.

“Baby, baby, y’married me,” Harry is nearly chanting, like he’s in disbelief, at the same time he’s cornering his new bride up against the brick wall with his mouth trailing sloppy wet kisses down her shoulder.

“Mmm, it was everything I ever imagined, it was so beautiful. Everything I had imagined for our day,” YN replies blissfully, hands running carefully through his meticulously styled hair.

When he bends down and lifts up the bottom of her dress, she giggles when he ducks his head underneath all the tulle and fabric, finding a very skimpy pair of white lace panties that are supposed to be saved for later.

“Harry,” YN scolds half-heartedly, it would only take one person to find them in this undeniable inappropriate situation but she willingly let him push her further against the brick and take one of her legs over his shoulder.

“Baby, these fuckin’ panties,” He groans, muffled by the barrier of the heavy fabric, and she hisses when pulls them down to the thick of her thighs and his mouths finds her center within moments.

“Fu-fuck,” She hisses, trying to keep her moans down as he wastes no time in pushing in two thick fingers to curve towards her front as his tongue laps quickly and sloppily on her clit until it feels like she’s about to explode.

“S’right, fuckin’ m’cunt. I have it f’the rest of my life, found the best one,” Harry mutters against her wet skin, almost to himself like he can’t even believe the words, before he’s back to speeding up his fingers to match the rhythm of his mouth until she’s quivering for a whole other reason now.

It takes a few minutes for Harry to calm himself down enough to be able to go into the reception, he tells YN that he can’t even look at her right now because if he does he’ll be perpetually hard throughout the whole thing.

The reception is more of a dinner than a party.

Fairy lights strung above the two long tables where decadent, mouth-watering food was served with the orchestra playing light, melodic music in the background. ***

It was perfect.

Their family drank, laughed, ate, and were merry.

Everyone was basking in each other’s company, congratulating the new couple, and enjoying all the beauty that was surrounding them at the castle.

There is not much more to say than that.

The honeymoon suite was located on one of the highest floors of the castle, away from all of the other wedding guests and staff.

YN was sure it was beautiful but from the moment she was carried over the threshold, she didn’t see anything but her new husband - he was blinding in his beauty. His skin was glowing, a slight sheen of sweat from the reception, and the still warm bite in the breeze. ***

“Sweetheart, baby. Please let m’undress you, y’my wife,” Harry pleas softly, his hands are everywhere - her face, her shoulders, hips - continuously wandering as if it’s impossible to find one place to settle.

“Please, c’mon. I need you, H,” She agrees, letting him take down the zipper on the side of her gown.

The expensive garment discarded on the floor in a pool of fabric as he fully takes in her lingerie set. ***

“Fuck me, darlin’,” Harry chuckles in amazement, fingertips tracing over the delicate lace that was stitched by Alessandro Michele himself for the bride, "Y’body is a god damn dream, look at you. - fuck.”

“Please,” His wife whimpers, voice desperate as his light and careful touches are no longer enough.

She needs him close, she needs her husband.

“Okay, okay,” He simpers, moving her back until he can have her right where he wants her, on her back in the middle of the massive, blanket-ridden bed - her white lingerie standing out against the dark duvet.

Harry had always imagined this night.

To have someone laid out underneath him.

No rush, no urgency but to truly, physically show that person through touch that you love them.

He starts near her collarbone, feathery heated kisses that warm her skin as she welcomes him with heavy weight on top of her so eager he wasn’t even undressed yet.

When his mouth finds her nipples through the sheer fabric, she pushes her chest up in encouragement as he bites at the nubs with sharp but careful teeth that wet the fabric.

“It feels so good, baby,” YN mewls, letting him nip and suck for a moment before pushing him up until he’s rid of every inch of fabric that had been covering his body.

“M’always gonna make y’feel good. I’ll fuck you wherever, wehenver cause you’re m’wife,” Harry grunts, impatiently reaching behind to unclasp the corset until her breasts spill free and jiggle in a way that makes his mouth water.

“Wait, wait,” YN puts a hand to his cheek when he already has his mouth darting out to lap at her hardened nipple.

“Don’t make me wait, m’heart,” Harry grumbles with a furrowed brow, his hand still unable to stop from reaching up to palm at her full breasts, thumbs rolling the nipples as he stares fiercely up at her.

“You know how you got me a present?” YN murmurs, biting back a whimper when a zip of electricity shoots from her nipple down to where she’s already dripping for him, “I got you something too.”

Harry’s face relaxes, it’s like he finds his grounding again, “Baby, didn’t need t’get me anythin’. Y’the best fuckin’ gift I could have gotten. Does look beautiful sittin’ between y’tits though.”

His new wife giggles, “Well I really hope you like mine….it’s non-refundable.”

He looks at her with confusion even more so when she wriggles down her panties and flips on her belly with her arms resting under chin.

Of course, Harry finds it immediately and she can tell by the deep, pleased growl he emits from the back of his throat, “You fuckin’ didn’t.”

“I did.”

It was his name, small and cursive right on her bum cheek.

After they got engaged, he went out and got her name tattooed on his pec - much to her dismay.

She had never talked about returning the favor and had kept it the ultimate surprise.

“I think I almost just came from this,” Harry rasps, his fingers tracing the small ink over and over in awe, “Baby, y’put m’name on your bum. It makes y’look like my property, sweetheart.”

“I am yours,” YN giggles, yelping when she feels his teeth graze the sensitive skin before he’s suckling and licking at his name - can’t take his eyes off the beauty of her.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ are,” He agrees whole-heartedly, his hands calming to cup and palm at her cheeks as he fawns over his wedding present, “This is the best present I’d ever fuckin’ received, fuck - never goin’ to get over this.”

He doesn’t want to look away from the tattoo but knows how he wants to fuck his wife for the first time so he flips her onto her back once again, lips finding hers.

She whispers, hand wrapping around his cock, “Still have to pay you back for earlier.”

“No blowies tonight, pet. We’re goin’ to do it the right way, m’gonna make love to you,” Harry murmurs, his lips finding hers as he bats her hand away to grasp at his thick base. He teases the sensitive head over her clit and entrance a few times before slowly sinking in.

“Ohh, been ready for you all day. You looked like a fucking wet dream standing at the alter, waiting for me,” YN sighs happily, wriggling her hips to adjust a bit before she spreads her legs and lets Harry rest in between them, “Ever since I saw you in the suit, I’ve been waiting.”

“Yeah, baby? I can tell, y’so wet, warm f’me,” Harry praises, his movements are slow and unrushed, their hips meeting gently as he pushes in each time with care, “Can’t believe y’gonna let me have this for the rest of m’life.”

“I love you so so much,” She utters breathlessly as he continues to make her feel so fucking full - emotionally and physically, “Best husband ever, can’t believe it.”

Harry chuckles tenderly, “Baby, I need y’to come soon. I’m so close, never come this quick. The thought of y’being my wife is making it impossible to last then with the tatto-”

YN soothes his hair in understanding, pushing up to meet their lips and allow their tongues to dance as he lifts her thigh against his hip to thrust in with a bit more force. His thumb comes to her clit to spur her along which doesn’t take much with how aroused she’s been all day.

Harry follows right after, much to his embarrassment of his lack of stamina but can you blame him? He has the hottest fucking wife on the planet.

“Round two?” YN smirks as he leans down to pepper kisses all over her cheeks. She knows the night has just begun.

“Mmm,” He agrees instantly, “Now that we made love, m’gonna fuck y’from behind so I can watch my name jiggle on your arse.”

And that’s what he does. It takes nearly no rebound time, flips her on her belly again to gaze and worship his name as he fills out in no time again. His fingers occasionally dip back between her thighs to tease at her entrance before he swipes her own wetness on the tattoo to lick it off.

She’s tired, exhausted from the events of the day but wants to reach that last orgasm before sleep overtakes them.

On her hands and knees, Harry doesn’t pound into her like he normally would.

Instead, he eases back in with eyes darting between his wedding present and where they’re connecting, his thumb diligently rubbing hard and steady circle on her nerves.

“C’mon wifey, need y’to not be stubborn,” Harry goads, feeling his release coming again - he pinches her clit with just enough pressure that has her whining before Harry has to hold her up by the waist as she quivers.

It has him finishing right after with a gentle smack to her bumcheek, the skin already tender and sore from all of his attention on the spot as it was.

“I loved your vows,” YN murmurs against his chest. He had wrapped her up in one of the plush blankets and he had pulled on a tight pair of briefs and they were laying on a lounge chair on the blacony under the italian stars.

“I loved yours just as much, y’did crack the code m’love ‘cause now I’m yours forever,” Harry rumbles, his voice raspy with drowsiness.

Little did they know that in a few short years, they would be back under these italian stars with knowledge that they were growing a little product of their love in her belly.

A litte baby named Ivy, just like the beautiful, lucious nature that had decorated the place in magneificent as they spoke vows - dedicating their lives to each other.

if you’ve ask to be on my taglist and you’re not here - please check your settings because i’ve tried to add you and it didn’t work.

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immaturityofthomasastruc · 3 years

Text

IOTA Reviews: Rocketear

The Rocketeer is a 1991 Disney movie set in 1930's America where a test pilot gets a jetpack and uses it to fight Nazis and— Wait, what? “Rocketear”? Oh, damn it!

Let's get into the eleventh (chronologically the seventeenth) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Rocketear.

We start off with Carapace and Cat Noir struggling to hold back some T-Rexes brought back to life by a scientist Jurassic Park style. Seriously, they reference the movie in the same scene.

Why wasn't this the plot of the episode again?

After managing to tame the dinosaurs with a whistle of all things, Ladybug notices something's wrong with Nino after he gives the Turtle Miraculous back to her. Apparently, he's wondering why Rena Rouge (who he knows is Alya) wasn't recruited with him today. Ladybug tells him that he was the only help she needed today. In reality, it's because Alya has adjusted to her new role of supporting Ladybug behind the scenes in her new form, Rena Furtive.

And I'm not a fan of the new form. I get the camo, but it doesn't really help her blend in when her suit is bright blue. I think it's based off the arctic fox, but that animal is able to camouflage itself because it's fur matches the snowy environment. I'm sure a bright blue jumpsuit won't stand out when she tries to blend in at all. Also, the fact that Alya can just change her hero form gives even less excuses as to why Ladybug's new form is only when she uses her Lucky Charm.

Alya is struggling to keep this a secret from Nino because they don't have a lot of secrets in their relationship. Marinette says she can kind of get it because she had to keep her identity a secret from her friend and has to keep keeping her identity a secret from everyone else. Basically, she's telling Alya to suck it up because this is what being a superhero is.

So the next time she sees Nino, Alya tells him she's no longer Rena Rouge, but not about Rena Furtive, which troubles her. The very next scene shows Alya showing Marinette pictures she took of her new costume and asking her which version looks better.

You could always try reviewing Akuma fights. I heard there's one blog that does it when they're not criticizing the famous director Thomas Astruc on social media.

Yeah, in case you can't tell, Alya was only able to rent her brain for a few episodes because she really doesn't seem as understanding about being a superhero as she was in earlier episodes. In episodes like “Optigami” and “Sentibubbler”, we saw Alya use more strategy and show discretion as Rena Rouge, seemingly taking her job more seriously, but then this episode just had to go and piss it all away. I also love how the first time the animators made Alya's skin the same when she's transformed is in a single frame for a joke.

Alya thankfully deletes the picture, but Nino overhears her talking about struggling to find more content for the Ladyblog, and decides to go to the movies with her to help take her mind off things. Nino, in turn, proceeds to give the same reaction to the in-universe Ladybug movie that Astruc gives to the PV.

Apparently, that movie's already getting a sequel and it has a teaser. So was the sequel animated at the same time as the original like Back to the Future Part II and Back to the Future Part III?

Nino gets pissed the next movie in the Ladybug Cinematic Universe will feature Rena Rouge and not Carapace... even though Rena Rouge debuted first. The teaser then shows Rena Rouge falling for Cat Noir (yet another creative liberty taken by the writers or something Astruc's self-insert threw in himself), and takes it like it's the real thing. Dude, the first movie said Ladybug was afraid of cats, and the director yelled at the person it was based on for judging it. He clearly has a hard time distinguishing fiction from reality.

Alya leaves Nino early so she can go on patrol, but Nino sees Cat Noir heading out as well. He then watches a video on the Ladyblog where Alya praises Cat Noir which is totally not Astruc projecting or anything.

I don't know what your definition of a prince is, Alya, and I honestly don't want to know.

So Nino takes this as evidence that Alya is in love with Cat Noir and decides to tell Adrien, who naturally laughs him off. And just before you think we have an episode where Adrien plays the straight man, Adrien decides to visit Alya because he's afraid he accidentally charmed Alya.

Yes, because Cat Noir is so charming, girls are just fighting over him, aren't they?

We then cut to a black and white film noir monologue by Nino (dressed like a detective with a fake mustache), who decides to spy on Alya. When Cat Noir asks Alya if she is attracted to him, she naturally laughs him off, though Cat Noir is thankfully a good sport about it, even giving her a hug to apologize. Unfortunately, Nino took this the wrong way.

The next day at school, Nino takes Adrien into his “office” (it's really an excuse to reuse the boiler room setpiece), and shows him the picture of the hug. Adrien says that Alya would never fall for Cat Noir because she's always dedicated to finding out the truth and telling her boyfriend everything. What's Nino's retort?

Okay, several problems with this bit. First of all, why would Nino even tell Adrien any of this? What would it accomplish? Why not say all this to Alya while confronting her about her alleged unfaithfulness? Second, Ladybug didn't give Nino and Alya their Miraculous at the same time until it was an absolute emergency. She outright said in “Hero's Day” that she didn't have time to recruit Nino and Alya separately.

Ladybug: I'm sorry for what I'm about to do. I know I'm revealing your secret identities but I don't have time to find a good excuse to give them to you separately. Rena Rouge and Carapace, I need you both!

Nino and Alya kept their identities secret from each other until then, with Alya even keeping the fact she knew who Carapace was a secret as well. Nino didn't find out because “they don't hide anything from each other” (which I plan to talk about later).

Other than that, I actually liked Adrien in this scene. It was really investing to see him try to justify the whole secret identities rule while Nino blatantly said there was an exception. This is the kind of stuff I wanted to see when it came to Adrien doubting Ladybug, not him destroying things in his anger.

While Nino rants about how Cat Noir “stole” Alya from him, Shadowmoth sends an Akuma his way, turning him into Rocketear.

And the design he has is just boring. It's just a blue jumpsuit with some black spots that look like teardrops, a teardrop-shaped head and a visor. I think the reason this season's been relying more on past Akumas and using more Sentimonsters is because DQ is terrible at character designs. I mean, compare this suit with Aigraon from Zyuden Sentai Kyoryuger (his Power Rangers counterpart is Wrench from Dino Charge).

The design does so much more with the teardrop motif, giving him a perpetually miserable face with tear lines going all over his body. Add that to a more diverse color scheme, and you have a much more visually stunning design. And this was created in real life, not rendered on a computer. I'm not sure if this is a budget thing or a laziness thing, but if it's the former, you really need to do better, animators.

The powers are meh, giving Nino the ability to fling explosive tears at enemies. It's a clever idea, and it makes sense he gets a power that parallels Cat Noir's, but I think maybe it would have been more interesting if he couldn't control the tears at all. Like, imagine if he was constantly crying like Blue Diamond, and with every tear he shed, Rocketeer could send it at whoever he felt was causing him misery, mainly Cat Noir, all while serving as a metaphor for people who blame others for their own personal issues. Better yet, make him look like the detective outfit Nino wore for the second act. It would have made him more unpredictable instead of making his tears generic projectile weapons.

Marinette and Alya see the fight and transform into Ladybug and Rena Furtive respectively, the former summoning her Lucky Charm, a projector. Is it just me, or has this been happening with Ladybug a lot recently?

Back to Rocketear, we get a good moment where Cat Noir intentionally lets the Akuma hit him so he can get a chance to resolve things diplomatically. See, this is a moment where Cat Noir's self-sacrificing nature feels heroic and not selfish like when he does it without Ladybug's permission to spite her. Unfortunately, it doesn't really go anywhere as Ladybug shows up and plays the recording Nino took (Alya found his phone earlier), while Rena Furtive uses her Mirage to give the audio to what actually happened that night.

Rena transforms back into Alya and embraces Rocketear, who apologizes to her for his behavior. And then he just... rejects Shadowmoth's power while looking like it wasn't that much effort.

At least when Chloe and Alya did it, we saw them struggling for a little longer. I guess maybe it's because Nino is motivated by his love for Alya, but I think it should have been fleshed out more. So Ladybug purifies the Akuma, gives Nino a Magical Charm, and Cat Noir is still unsure about his feelings for Ladybug at the moment, though they still pound it.

Back in his room, Adrien ponders why Alya and Nino get to know their identities while he and Ladybug can't, but Plagg points out it's because she's the Guardian. It's brief, but I do like seeing Adrien start to doubt Ladybug's judgment, and it looks like it'll foreshadow future episodes. This is a problem I've had since “Hero's Day”, and I'm glad the writers are finally acknowledging this double standard. I just hope they don't end up blaming Marinette for whatever happens later on.

Marinette, of course, apologizes for what happened between Alya and Nino, and I have to say... yeah, no. It's obviously Nino's fault here.

Nino really pushed personal boundaries in this episode, much like Marinette's friends in “Gang of Secrets”. Yes, honesty is a valuable trait, but sometimes, people have secrets they want to keep to themselves. Nino's idea of “not hiding anything from each other” is somewhat controlling, like he's demanding Alya tell him everything whether she wants to or not. The fact that he immediately assumed Alya was cheating on him without giving her freedom to make her own choices doesn't make him look good. Let's be honest, a more realistic outcome would be Alya choosing to break things off with Nino or at least lecture him about how she can do what she wants and keep the secrets she wants. But instead...

And that's how the episode ends.

Okay, Marinette just said she trusted Alya to make the right decision, but I highly doubt she meant this. Marinette strictly said Alya had to keep Rena Furtive a secret, and now she's telling Nino this despite the risk? The whole reason Marinette and Luka broke up was because Marinette had to keep her secrets from Luka, but now it's okay for Alya to be completely honest? How is this not a double standard?

This episode was just dull, and there’s not even much I can really say about it.. There were a handful of standout moments, and the stuff with Adrien was somewhat compelling, but Nino's behavior was just insufferable and dragged the episode down. The Akuma fight was weak, only lasting about four minutes at most, and while the Lucky Charm was more creative this time, the plot was just frustrating. It's really one of the weaker episodes this season.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to watch the better Rocketeer.

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folkloreguk · 3 years

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🍒Cherry Ice Cream🍒

A/N: Happy July! I planned this almost a year ago and finally got around to writing it...I hope you like it! As always, I appreaciate feedback a lot! Hope everyone has a lovely day <3

pairing: optional bias (male) x reader (gn)

words: ~ 3.7 k

genre: fluff, comedy, lifeguard!bias, reader is the most awkward and chaotic person ever (are we at the public pool or the circus?? seriously I’m so second hand embarrassed for her lmao), bias is the hottest man in existence, the universe has something against the reader apparently (rip)

PART 2 (nsfw, both parts can be read independently)

You approached the front entrance of the public swimming pool. Everything was still going by plan. Ever since the weather had gotten warmer, you’d had swimming on your mind. And every single person in your life had been made aware of it. Despite the friendly asking and the occasional begging, you still hadn’t found anyone to accompany you to the public swimming pool. You had heard all the reasons: Work, already planned vacations, a sick pet, a hatred of water, a hatred of people, you name it. After all the searching you had come to the conclusion that you were tired of waiting. Nothing could possibly rob you of your excitement about swimming pools. You’d go alone and have a wonderful time. It would be a relaxing day with loads of time just for you. So you had told yourself. But let’s face it, nothing could have prepared you for the utter chaos you were about to walk into.

It began before you had even set both feet into the facility. Your steps were light, and you beamed, ready to enter after you had paid. The strap of your sports bag had caught in the turnstile in the entrance area. Stubborn as you were, you yanked on it, instead of turning around and manually freeing the fabric from the steel contraption. You had put your entire weight on the line, tugging and pulling, when the strap finally came loose from the turnstile. As expected from such antics, you tripped and struggled in your flip-flops, blundering into the compound like a baby giraffe walking for the first time. By the time you tried to compose yourself to look cool and relaxed after such a mistake, you noticed him.

He, who looked like a Greek god blessing you with a visit on earth. He was all tan skin, red life-guard swim trunks, perfectly sculped shoulders, pushed back hair, a smile that put the sun to shame and sunglasses sitting on top of his head. Instantly you thanked yourself for not seriously injuring yourself. The young godman crossed the lawn, presumably to take his seat by the pool, watching out for the visitors. Only he made it look like he was strutting on a runway at Paris fashion week. All you could do was pray that he hadn’t seen you entering his workplace headfirst like some impatient six-year-old.

As people passed you, you realized you were standing in the same spot where you had almost fallen a minute ago. Manifesting that this was just the silly beginning to a perfect day, you paraded into the shaded grassy area to find a spot to set up your things. Countless groups of friends, families, and lone visitors like yourself had already settled down, but you managed to find a fine spot. It was the superb balance between sunny and shady and not too far from the swimming pools and water slides. In seconds you had shed off your clothes to reveal your swimsuit underneath. Although you could barely keep yourself waiting, you decided it was best to stay there a short while before you threw yourself into the waves. Just until the sunscreen had absorbed into your skin. Meanwhile, you would unpack the catchy book you had recently begun to read.

Now and then you raised your head and peeked at the cute lifeguard. You seriously had no intentions of coming across like a creep, but you couldn’t stop yourself. The way he patrolled the side of the large pool had more coolness than the prettiest shot of a hot movie star in a film. You allowed yourself a few seconds, then you’d go back to your novel. The sounds of summer floated through the air – children laughing, water splashing, birds chirping above you – and the scent of the sunscreen catapulted you straight on cloud 9. It felt like your own small piece of paradise. Little did you know, the universe had so much more in store for you.

You hadn’t been buried in your book for even 10 minutes when a group of kids ran by. They were passing a water ball from one to the other and giggling uncontrollably. You saw it coming in your peripheral vision but had no time to react. As they had reached your level, one of them punched the ball especially hard. And instead of catching it, the dark blue ball bounced off one child’s hands and straight into the side of your face. It knocked your sunglasses off the bridge of your nose, but more importantly gave you the fright of your life. You dropped your book while the children’s mother scolded them from the side. After the initial surprise you couldn’t accept their apologies quickly enough. Anything if it could spare you from even more attention from random guests around you. Impulsively, your eyes searched for the cute lifeguard. But he was looking into the opposite direction. At least fate had saved you from embarrassing you in front of him. The last thing you wanted was to look like more of a clown than you had when entering the facility earlier. But against your expectations, the train of unfortunate events was only beginning.

Surely things would be more peaceful in the water, you had thought. When you finally entered the cool pool, it felt like heaven on earth. Fearing a case of recurrence, you avoided the shallower areas, where the children crowded and went straight for the deeper waters. Finally experiencing some form of relaxation, you swam and dived a few laps around the pool. Now and then you caught a glimpse of the lifeguard on the far end of the pool. Just to make sure he was still there. Just to make sure he’s still as handsome as when you first spotted him. And you weren’t disappointed. Gesturing kindly, he helped an elderly woman find directions to the restaurant on the far end of the site. From up closer, his smile and his jaw were even prettier – even though it had seemed impossible for him to become even more perfect.

After a while, your limbs became tired and you retracted into less busy waters, close to the exit and entrance area of the swimming pool. As you paddled your way through bodies, a bug startled you. It had by all appearances chosen you as its victim, as it took direct flight into your face. Even when you swat it away and turned around to change directions, it kept chasing you and only you. Like some crazy, obsessed stalker, it followed you to the edge of the pool. Eventually, you became tired of running and turned to it. If some random flying beetle wanted to fight you, so be it. To the untrained eye, you might have appeared like a lunatic, fanning the air, and squinting against the bright sunlight. But it was war, and you would square up against the most annoying of bugs. After a while, you realized that you were waving off the air – no more bug in sight. Only then you noted the little girl laughing in your direction from the poolside. You were way too mortified to turn into his direction at first, but when you found the lifeguard, he was conversing with one of his co-workers. Once again, you were safe.

Your next approach at a good time was the colorful waterslide close by. Certainly, these heights would not include micro-aggressive bugs. Instead, they included something far more unsettling. Considering there were toddlers going down the waterslide, you deemed it safe and fun. Your mind changed in the first sharp turn, when you tumbled over and hit your elbow from the sudden change of direction. Maybe you should have just stayed in the ring with the bug instead of choosing this more than violent escape. But it was too late. Once on the slide, you had to make it through to the finish line – more or less in one piece. Your grand finale composed of a semi-somersault off the edge of the waterslide into the pool. Although it wasn’t intentional, you still hoped it looked somewhat graceful to the audience at the bottom. Hint: No, it didn’t. You looked like a baby monkey that had been sent down a self-constructed-waterslide in someone’s backyard. It was a disaster.

Feeling over-heated and exhausted from the sun and your embarrassing antics, you found a drinking fountain by the showers to refresh yourself. Patiently, you waited in the short line until it was your turn. As fate wanted it, the next messy incident wasn’t long in the coming. In fact, it only took four sips of water before you accidentally inhaled some of it. You stepped back, choking, coughing, and gasping for air all at once. A helpful woman showed mercy with you and your awkward behavior and softly pat your back. “Are you okay, dear?” she asked. Unable to speak just yet, you smiled and nodded gratefully. Great. Maybe you should add “clown” onto your previous professions in your CT. By now, half the visitors probably knew who you were – a walking safety hazard to yourself.

After retreating to your bath towel set-up in the shade for a while, you had almost found new hope that the universe wasn’t against you that day. You managed to lie there, for a whole hour, without any issues. But then, slowly, another idea crept up on you. After all, what was summer without ice cream? By chance, you happened to know the little ice cream truck next to the yellow waterslide sold your favorite brand of ice lolly. So off you went, money in hands and wild determination in your head. The visual of the handsome lifeguard lingered in your mind even after you had passed the chair he was sitting on by the poolside. You acquired your ice lolly successfully and ripped the wrapper right away. It tasted like summer in food format, and you reveled in the cold treat for a while, as you strolled back in the direction of your bath towel.

Fully aware that you would have to walk by the insanely cute lifeguard again, you tried your best to look cool, next to the large pool. In your imagination, you were glowing in the sun, hair slightly flowing in the warm breeze and steps bouncing happily. You were the personification of summer bloom and radiating everything good about the season. For a moment, you closed your eyes and actually indulged in the warmth on your face. That was when the next mishap struck.

You didn’t even understand what was happening at first. Someone accidentally bumped into you – or did you bump into them? Upon the impact, you opened your eyes. Your ice-cream had vanished from your hands. Turns out, you had dropped it and it had landed only two feet from you. Out of balance, you stumbled ahead even after the impact. And of course, only a second later your foot stepped directly onto the ice lolly. Inevitably, you skidded and struggled to stay on your feet by means of flinging and waving your arms in the air. As if you were some stranger, trying to attract the attention of an aircraft whilst stranded on a desert island. One thing was for sure, you had everyone’s observance tied to you. With an involuntary but comedic performance of theatrical extent, you fell and hit the water surface.

The cool hit you so suddenly, you had swallowed a gulp of water before your instincts had time to set in. Quickly, your limbs began paddling to get you back to the surface. At that instant, a pair of arms suddenly linked under your armpits and swooped you up from underwater. Your brain processed what was going on. Without a doubt, someone had jumped after you and was pulling you out of the water. Stubbornly, you tried to avoid the idea of the cute lifeguard helping you out. Christ, that would really be the peak of all your embarrassing moments. No, it was probably the person you had run into, or someone who had already been in the water.

When you were placed by the poolside and blinked against the blending sun, your worst concerns came to pass. There he was, so close you could have touched his face. His worried expression changed when you opened your eyes, and he smiled, relieved. “Is everything alright?” he asked. You’d think this would make you into the most shamefaced person on the planet. And yet, all you could wonder was how two people’s genes could combine so flawlessly, so beautifully, to create such a man. When he got no answer from your moonstruck figure, he furrowed his eyebrows in alarm.

“Oh my- my god,” you stammered. “Yes! I’m fine, I’m sorry!”

You weren’t sure why you were apologizing. For worrying him? For inconveniencing him? For causing another scene? Either way, he grinned, and you felt your cheeks heat up terribly. You had to get away from there before something cringy came out of your mouth. Although you weren’t sure there was any way you could have made this more awkward than it already was.

“Make sure you have no injuries, okay?” he asked, helping you up. “If you need any medical assistance, just let me or one of the other lifeguards know.”

“Um…okay,” you said. Wow. That was no way to flirt with the most attractive person you had ever met. With all this drama you had gone through on that day, the universe could have at least blessed you with a romantic, your-life-savior-realizes-he-just-met-the-love-of-his-life moment. But no. The movies really were one massive hoax.

“It’s probably best you take a little break from the surprise, before you go back into the water,” he advised you. “And don’t hesitate to ask, if you need any more help.”

If only he knew how many times you had already tried to take a break from the surprise after everything on that day. You stood on your feet safely but felt like a cat that had fallen into the bathtub. At last, you managed a smile in the lifeguard’s direction. “Thank you.”

Funny enough, the stares people gave you bothered you only slightly as you walked back to your spot under the trees. Maybe you had used up all your embarrassment for the day. Nothing could intimidate you anymore. That meant, whatever happened from now on, it couldn’t get worse. Somehow after the pinnacle of chaos, you finally felt some inner tranquility. You went back to your novel, now and then keeping an eye out for potential water balls coming your way. But everything was calm. As time went on, you lost yourself completely in the story line and forgot about everything around you. Maybe this was all meant to happen. Perhaps it was a message, that you should have waited for your family to have a free day, or for your friend to come back from vacation. Would the same things have happened? There was no way to tell. Just as you reached a specifically exciting scene in the novel, a figure suddenly appeared in front of you. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“Hey,” the handsome lifeguard stood there, smiling kindly. Wide-eyed, you straightened up and greeted him shyly.

“I couldn’t help but notice how happy you were about that ice cream earlier,” he said. “But then you…lost your ice cream.”

“What an interesting way of saying I stomped on it and made an absolute fool of myself,” you smirked. He chuckled.

“However you want to put it, I thought maybe you could use some cheering up,” he went on. “So I got you a new one.”

He pulled two ice-lollies from behind his back. “One for you, one for me.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. “You bought me this? I don’t want to sound rude… but aren’t you supposed to be looking out for the next victim to repeat my foolery?”

“I’m on my break,” he laughed. His eyes crinkled up cutely when he smiled, and it only made your stomach flutter more. “If you want me to leave, I will. I’m not trying to be weird or obtruding. Just making sure you’re okay, because I noticed you’re here alone.”

“Oh. No! Feel free to stay here for as long as you want!” you said, and now maybe you were the one sounding obtrusive. You scooted over and let him take a spot on your bathmat. You thanked him for the ice cream and gleefully unwrapped it. “My friends and family weren’t available today. But I really, really wanted to come here today. Maybe not my brightest idea.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve seen way worse plunges than yours. You were lucky, really. You got away with a small shock and nothing more. It was pretty impressive, actually.”

“I’m glad I have entertaining qualities, at least.”

“I’m just messing with you,” he laughed. “I’m glad you’re fine. This place gets a little wild during the afternoon, especially on weekends.”

“You don’t say,” you chuckled.

“I recommend coming here in the mornings or late evenings, if you want a little more peace and quiet.”

“Thanks, I’ll probably consider it. Do you work here full time?” you asked.

“No, this is just a summer job,” he said. “It’s great. I get to swim for free and be outside a lot. Not to mention this is one of my favorite places in town.”

“You love swimming too?” you asked and regretted it right away. A lifeguard who hated swimming made no sense, after all. But he didn’t seem to think your words were silly.

“I do! I come here a lot to swim, when it’s not as busy and I don’t have to work,” he said. The thought of seeing him again when you came back in a few days – which you already knew you would – made you feel some sort of way. You had been embarrassed, but his sweet words had appeased you. You could definitely get used to seeing his face all summer long. The two of you talked for some time, while you both finished your ice cream. You learned his name, which was just as beautiful as its owner, and that he thought you had actually looked pretty cute (!) when you fell into the pool. You swore he wasn’t even real. Perhaps he was merely a hallucination, a product of your imagination, to cheer yourself up after your messy day. Either way, your head was up in the clouds as long as he was sitting there, next to you, with his perfect shoulders and charming voice. Soon, he had to excuse himself, though. His break was over and as he had put it, he needed to prevent any more ice cream-murders from happening.

After your conversation, the universe had apparently shifted in your favor. You spent the entire rest of your day without any more misfortunes. Like you had talked to a lucky charm who had done miracles for you, you had a fantastic time. You were even brave enough to face a few more go’s down the ever-so-threatening waterslide. As it got later, more people went home, and just as he had predicted, things calmed down. And you were convinced you would stay until the bitter end. Only when a female voice announced over the speakers that the swimming pool would close in 30 minutes, you slowly started to pack up your things.

As you approached the exit, you scanned the area for your favorite lifeguard. But he was nowhere to be found. You assumed he had already finished his shift and gone home. But as luck would have it, as you neared the bicycle stands to retrieve your bike, you saw him already there. His eyes beamed when he noticed you.

“Wow, you held out a long time,” he said. “Had fun?”

“I did,” you said. You could only be grateful your ice-cream massacre was the sole of your antics he had witnessed that afternoon. Who knew how he would look at you if he had experienced your full chaotic capacity? “Thank you again, for making sure I was fine. And for the ice cream.”

“It was no big deal,” he said. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“To buy random girls ice cream?” you teased.

“No, only the special ones get the ice cream.”

“Define special.”

“To be honest? I was genuinely concerned you would feel down. I’ve seen you almost trip over when you first came in, you got hit in the face by a ball, I’ve witnessed your little quarrel with that bug and your somersault from the waterslide looked pretty rough. After all that you choked on water and then ended up falling into the pool and losing your ice cream. I supposed you could need some serious cheering up.”

Oh my god. If only you could have opened a portal straight to hell, you would have taken the chance on the spot. All this time he had been watching you? It couldn’t get more mortifying than this.

“Sorry, I sound like some creepy stalker,” he said. “I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just you-“

“I looked like a clown in a neon suit?”

“You’re really pretty,” he said. Your cheeks warmed up and you could have yelled out loud.

“But you have to admit, at least the clown part is true.”

“Maybe,” he joked. “Don’t be embarrassed. I thought you were – are – adorable.”

“Thank you,” you managed to say. What the hell were you doing? The most handsome guy was complimenting you. You had to take your chance. “Maybe sometime I could buy you some ice cream too? If you feel like it-“

“I’d love that,” he smiled. It was only the beginning of summer, but it was a glorious one. You already knew it could only get better. Instead of cursing the universe, you had to say your thank you’s now. Without your string of bad luck, things would have never led this way. Perhaps fortune was on your side, after all.

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bloededhoine · 3 years

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world building cause twn doesn't part 12: the hen ichaer

i realize i've been mentioning the hen ichaer without really explaining it, and for that i apologize. but without further ado, let's go

colour code cause i fucking love colour codes - already happened/introduced, probably s2, important background info, stuff that might be in the prequel, extras

series masterpost

general

the hen ichaer is basically a magical gene that originated with the elven sorceress, scholar, and princess, lara dorren aep shiadhal

it can lie dormant or inactive for generations, but when someone is an activated carrier of the gene, they are called a source

sources have an insane capability for magic, it's so intense that without instruction they are a huge danger to themselves and/or others. remember pavetta's betrothal feast? hurricanes should not happen indoors

same thing with ciri's sonic scream.

obviously, the hen ichaer is highly weaponize-able, but it's difficult to put this into theory since the magic is so strong that it can easily kill the person who carries it

most important is that the hen ichaer can open ard gaeth, the gates between worlds. you may remember that the witcher is a multiverse, and the continent is just one of countless worlds

aen elle

the aen elle, elves who live in another world called tir ná lia, controlled at least one gate that they used to get slaves from other worlds

however, this was before the hen ichaer was seriously studied. unicorns are also capable of opening ard gaeth, and were present in tir ná lia, so the aen elle would kidnap them to be used as their world-hopping-genocide key. yeah, the aen elle are seriously fucked

the king of the aen elle was named auberon muircetach, and he was very well known for his wars with the unicorns, who weren't too keen on being enslaved for the purpose of conquering other worlds

the hen ichaer came into play when auberon noticed that his daughter, lara dorren, had pretty intense magical abilities. like, ard gaeth opening abilities.

auberon, lara, and a few other elves began studying the gene and trying to figure out how it works and how to use it.

through this study is how we got the title aen saevherne, which is used to distinguish an elven mage with extensive knowledge of history, science, magic, and, most importantly, the elder blood.

both lara and auberon were aen saevherne, as was lara's husband-to-be, avallac'h, and avallac'h's foster son, caranthir ar-feiniel

ithlinne's prophecy

ithlinne aegli aep aevenien was an elven prophet known for her incredibly dark prophecies that she delivered at totally random times. how dark were they? ithlinne's prophecies were almost exclusively about the death of all humanity and/or the end of the world. she was fun at parties.

anyway, when we talk about ithlinne we really only mean one specific prophecy, aen ithlinnespeath. to be confusing it's usually referred to as ithlinne's prophecy

here's the prophecy itself:

Verily I say unto you, the era of the sword and axe is nigh, the era of the wolf's blizzard. The Time of the White Chill and the White Light is nigh, the Time of Madness and the Time of Contempt: Tedd Deireádh, the Time of End. The world will die amidst frost and be reborn with the new sun. It will be reborn of Elder Blood, of Hen Ichaer, of the seed that has been sown. A seed which will not sprout but burst into flame. Ess'tuath esse! Thus it shall be! Watch for the signs! What signs these shall be, I say unto you: first the earth will flow with the blood of Aen Seidhe, the Blood of Elves...

what does that mean? well, the white chill (aka the white frost) is a massive ice age that has been approaching the continent for years. don't believe me? the white frost has destroyed countless worlds in the past, and it literally cannot be stopped. the only way to save the world is by the power of the hen ichaer.

here's a perfectly frightening visual of the white frost

ithlinne didn't elaborate on the how, but we now know that the only to survive the white frost is by finding a new world and massively evacuating the continent through ard gaeth, which can only be opened by the power of the hen ichaer.

genetics

clearly, the hen ichaer is important enough to literally save, or end, the world, but the aen elle did a famously terrible job of studying it. like, you'd think they'd be good at that, but no. to their credit, it is a bit complicated

first, there are multiple types of elder blood genes, the main gene, the latent gene, and the activator gene. to actually show the powers of the hen ichaer, someone would need to either have one latent and one activator, or the main gene.

let's go back to secondary school biology for a second, remember punnet squares? these fuckers

the letters in a punnet square represent a genotype, or the two alleles that are inherited from the parents. phenotypes, on the other hand, are what you see on the outside. for example, a genotype would be Aa but a phenotype would be brown eyes.

while the main gene is a simple dominant allele (shown by a capital letter on a punnet square), both the latent and activator genes are semi-dominant, meaning that when they meet they create a new phenotype: the innate magical ability that makes you a source.

it gets a little less scientific here so bear with me; this new phenotype is so powerful that it sometimes creates a whole new genotype. so instead of having one activator gene and one latent gene, the two would merge and you'd be left with only one (very powerful) main gene. this is the only single gene that actually has magic and it's a dominant gene, so you only need to have one to have the power.

but, the latent and activator genes don't always combine. you still have the full powers when they stay separate, but it is then less likely to pass the hen ichaer your children.

complicated? very much so. but in practice it's a lot easier.

for simplicity's sake i'll call the activator gene g/a, latent gene g/L, main gene g/m and a regular nonmutated gene g/r. to be a source, the genes you inherit would be g/a g/L, but they may combine to be just g/m. your average person would be g/r g/r and a carrier would be either g/a g/r or g/L g/r.

clearly, this makes tracking it pretty messy, since generations of people can be carriers without having a single source

tracking the hen ichaer

for now, let's do what those elven sages couldn't and track then hen ichaer, starting with lara dorren

eventually, lara met an exceptionally talented human mage, cregennan of lod, and they were lab partners (oh my god they were lab partners) in the study of the hen ichaer.

for all the studying, lara and cregennan's own genes have always been something of a mystery. elven mages don't tend to have any issues with using themselves as lab rats, so it's entirely possible that lara and cregennan, knowingly or not, mutated their own genes in their research.

ultimately, it doesn't matter what lara and cregennan's genes originally were. by some happy little accident, the two eventually ended up with at least one activator gene and at least one latent gene between them.

later, when lara and cregennan made their own happy little accident, riannon, she inherited one of each gene (g/a g/L), making her a source. however, riannon's genes did not combine as the elves expected, which made her a little harder to study.

riannon eventually met king goidemar of temeria (g/r g/r), and they had two children named fiona and amavet. i'll start with fiona, who the aen elle managed to figure out had the latent gene, making her g/L r

fiona ended up having a baby with king coram II of cintra (g/r g/r), they named him corbett, and he inherited fiona's g/L and one of coram's g/r.

the aen elle lost track of the hen ichaer when they studied riannon's other kid amavet. see, amavet was kind of a whore. he had twins, muriel and crispin, with the married countess anna kameny. obviously, these children weren't legitimate, and when the angry count kameny murdered amavet a few months later, he was officially childless

the elves did, however, manage to figure out that amavet had riannon's g/a gene and goidemar's g/r gene. anna kameny was just g/r g/r, and crispin ended up being g/r g/r as well. destiny does favour the hen ichaer, but sometimes it's just not meant to be. muriel, on the other hand, did inherit her father's activator gene and was g/a g/r.

let's hop back to corbett, fiona and coram's g/L g/r son. he and princess elen of kaedwen (g/r g/r) had a son, dagorad, who got corbett's latent gene and one of elen's regular ones, meaning he was g/L g/r

muriel married robert of garramore (g/r g/r), and their daughter adalia, the dramatically posed lady right there, had the same genetic combination as her mother, g/a g/r

this is where it gets even weirder

the lovely adalia married dagorad. her second cousin. they shared riannon as their great grandmother. feel better in the fact that it was not intentional, adalia's mother, muriel, was not officially riannon's granddaughter. no one would have even known, but adalia's g/a met up with dagorad's g/L in their daughter, calanthe

for the first time since riannon, the hen ichaer was back, and calanthe's parents genes combined to give her g/m g/r

while it took generations of destiny and accidental incest to make the hen ichaer happen again, now that calanthe had the main gene there was a 50% chance she would pass it to her child, which, of course, she did

calanthe and her husband roegner (g/r g/r) had pavetta, who inherited the g/m from her mother. no one knew about this until pavetta literally created a source hurricane, and was already pregnant

pavetta and duny's (g/r g/r) daughter, ciri, inherited the main gene from her mother and was a source.

sources

it's important to note that a source is not necessarily an incredibly powerful sorcerer, merely a person who has the genetic predisposition required to channel very intense magic

sources, like anyone else, can be bad students, allergic to potions, or just generally averse to magic on all levels except heredity. there is also no way to guarantee that even the most willing source will be good at using magic, in fact it's far more common that they will be really really bad at it. sources are extra susceptible to the chaotic state of magic in the world, and many end up pretty seriously harmed by it.

magical talent tends to make itself known in very emotional situations, like the death of a parent or a war. the same applies for sources, but they have an extra rule: their full powers are off limits until they lose their virginities

now, netflix has not mentioned that rule to be true or false, but i'm going to think of it as strictly book/game/etc canon, because ciri is 10 years old when netflix shows her using her source powers for the first time

the virginity rule makes things even more complicated, as customs about premarital sex are pretty strict in the witcher world (well, among nobility), and the dudes didn't seem to have fast reflexes. what i'm saying is that getting pregnant the first time you had sex was not uncommon. sources couldn't even use, and likely weren't aware of, their powers until they were already passing them on to another generation.

and even still, there is no guarantee that someone who is a source will ever actually show their powers. calanthe had the genetics, but she wasn't a mage. what happened? we don't really know. after calanthe married, cintra was pretty peaceful; there were no invasions or massive upheavals that could put enough stress on her to show her powers. plus, her parents didn't know she had any magical powers, so they didn't give her the training that would develop them, and she was a very level headed person who would likely be unaffected by many of the things that would make another source lose their shit.

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pi-cat000 · 3 years

Text

BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (4)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters: Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

START / PREV / NEXT

Doctor Wada makes an unscheduled appearance the same morning. Kakashi has the doctor’s schedule memorised and knows the man usually spends his first work hour in his office before checking in with various patients. The change is not unexpected.

“Ms Iori finished her rounds, marked everything as normal and handed the ward off without incident.” Wada and one of the floor’s morning shift nurses talk, voices lowered, too quiet for a regular person to pick up.

“It was called in around 4:15 am. We confirmed it as a burst blood vessel behind his quirked-eye, but we don’t know what triggered it. Without examining the eye itself it is hard to draw any definite conclusions. Since we don’t know what his quirk does, we didn’t want to risk staff safety without a specialist on hand.”

“Nothing else? No other symptoms?” Wada asks.

“No external bleeding. No signs of irritation around the eye socket. Clear, coherent verbal responses from the patient. Vitals are stable. The dressings on the eye were changed yesterday, and nothing was flagged then either.”

“I see. Thank you.”

Depressed at the thought of what amounted to a forced long-term infiltration mission, Kakashi’s attention drifts away from the hushed conversation. Kakashi has never been assigned to any extended infiltrations. Long, tedious things that they were. Jōnin were usually too valuable to waste on them. Even before he had made jōnin, his skillset lent itself to tracking, assassination, ambush and one on one combat not undercover assignments. It was just his luck -or maybe it was karma-that he had been shunted into one. Three years of ‘mingling’ amongst these soft-acting civilians, waiting to build enough chakra for an attempt at a technique he wasn’t even sure would work. It was enough to make even the most battle-hardened shinobi depressed.

Maybe he should run off and hide somewhere. He would skulk around for three years avoiding the locals. Less of a hassle that way. Kakashi lets out a weary breath.

“See if you can bump up that MRI. We need to make sure this isn’t anything serious,” Wada’s voice breaks through his musing as the doctor starts in the direction of Kakashi’s bed. The nurse he is talking with nods and leaves.

“Well, you have certainly had an eventful night,” Wada greats when he draws near, leaning in to visually scan Kakashi, “Let’s see what we have going on. Can you close your left eye for me so I can unwrap it?”

He habitually pushes down his natural discomfort at having a stranger close to his sharingan as the doctor reaches to tilt Kakashi’s head to the side for better access. If he was going to be stuck here then he should maintain his complacent, harmless persona. At least, until he leaves the hospital. Besides, if they had wanted to hurt him, they would have done it while he was unconscious.

“No swelling around your quirked-eye and the bleeding has stopped, that’s a good sign. We’ll run a few tests and get to bottom of this, not to worry.”

“Yeah. About that,” Kakashi rubs the back of his head to look sheepish and apologetic, “I might have tested out my, eh, quirk. You know…I wanted to see what it would do…”

There is a beat of silence, the older man drawing away, too surprised to respond.

“I think it lets me memorise things it sees?” Kakashi continues. Even if he wasn’t 100% sure about what he would do next, he is not about to abandon his shaky amnesia cover story.

“Of all the reckless, irresponsible decisions!” the doctor snaps out of his surprise moving straight into anger, “I expressly told you to wait and not to mess with it. You had no idea what sort of quirk it was! What if you had injured someone or yourself.” The concern seems pretty genuine and Kakashi almost feels bad for manipulating him.

“Young people these days…honestly. No patience.”

Young? It had been a while since anyone has called him that. Kakashi is practically ancient by shinobi standards. The response prompts a semi mournful, almost amused sigh from him, “I know, I know. I just wanted some sort of clue as to how I got here.”

The doctor takes a frustrated breath, calming “Yes. I know it’s frustrating, being restless and hold up in this bed for three straight weeks, but there is a procedure to these things. You got lucky that the only side effect was a burst blood vessel. Next time you want to test your quirk we’ll make sure it is in a controlled environment with an expert on hand. I don’t care if you have some sort of passive regeneration, quirks can be dangerous. The hospital has offsite testing facilities for a reason.”

“Yes. I understand. I won’t do it again,” he says dutifully and gets a huff of disbelief and a head shake.

“You better not.”

A pause.

“So.”

“So?” Kakashi raises a brow.

“So what did you discover? Explain it to me again.” Wada motions, impatient, repositioning a nearby chair so he can sit comfortably beside the bed.

“It lets me remember things…” Kakashi had given a lot of thought to what he wanted his fake ‘quirk’ to do without giving too much away, “I’m pretty sure I remember anything it looks at perfectly.”

A somewhat true explanation, in that recoding information and prefect recall was one facet of the sharingan; a side effect of its primary function which was to copy ninjustu and taijustu. The explanation also played into the diagnosis Wada had already written into his medical files, making it more believable.

“Then, lucky for you, something good came of your reckless behaviour.”

Kakashi just smiles which elicits the beginnings of another lecture. “Not that you should ever take quirk safety lightly. Quirk licenses exist for a reason. People can’t go about throwing their quirks around willynilly. A licence, I might add, that you don’t have.”

“Sorry. Sorry.”

After witnessing several televised reports on police arresting people for quirk misuse Kakashi knows the people here, for whatever reason, are leery when it comes to using their abilities. To the point where they actively outlaw it. He is banking on Wada being sympathetic enough not to push the matter.

Wada sighs again, “I’ll write it up as accidental use this time. Now. If your quirk lets you remember everything perfectly then what about your past memories. Any change on that front?”

“No. Still gone.”

“I see. That might mean the part of the brain linked to its memorisation function was damaged, disrupting the memories stored by the quirk,” Wada rubs his chin thoughtfully, “We’ll have to run a few more tests…a lot easier now that we know what it does I suppose.” Good. That was the conclusion he wanted Wada to come to.

“Alright, before we get to testing, were there any other side effects. Aches, pains, fatigue?”

Even as the man asks, he is pulling out a familiar penlight to shine in Kakashi’s regular eye.

“No. Nothing.”

What follows is his standard check-up routine. His vitals are recorded, his head checked over, the area around his sharingan examined thoroughly. Again. Well, as thoroughly as it could be examined without uncovering it. Next is an inspection of the chest wound he now knows is from Obito alongside a glance over his shoulder, arm and leg. Wada nods to himself as he goes, signalling that all is well.

“Your blood pressure is a little high for my liking. I’m guessing you didn’t sleep much last night what with how you were messing around with your quirk. Make sure you get a good night’s sleep tonight,” Wada instructs as he fits Kakashi with a padded eyepatch instead of the usual wrap of bandages. He pauses to wait for a nod of confirmation.

“I will,” he blatantly lies. Kakashi hasn’t had a proper night sleep since waking up the first time, dozing for shortened intervals only. With so many squishy doctors around he doesn’t want to accidently hurt one of them should he be woken from a nightmare. It did put additional strain on his body.

Doctor Wada peers at him, “We’ll give you another week of monitoring then get some authorised quirk testing done. A brain scan as well. Depending on what we find, we’ll see what we can do about getting you a diagnosis and then discharged.”

“Hmm,” he answers, noncommittally. Not like he has anywhere else to go until then. If this were Konoha, he would have taken off long before now and seen to his remaining injuries alone. This would be the first time in a long while that he is waiting for an official discharge.

Guess he would be finding out how the hospital dealt with amnesiac patients after they healed. In Konoha, a displaced citizen would be given a menial labour job as part of the village’s many reconstruction projects and sent on their way. But this wasn’t Konoha and he should really stop with the comparisons.

He needs to decide what he wants to do: Take off, find somewhere secluded and wait the years out. Or hang around to try and salvage the situation. This world did have a lot of interesting technology so there might be value in getting a better feel for the society here. Maybe he would find something useful to take back as an apology for abandoning everyone…

What a mess this all was.

...

The following week has Kakashi splitting his time between gathering supplies for a chakra storage seal and reading through Wada’s patient files to get a sense for his upcoming quirk tests and ‘brain-scan.’

He also takes the time to read through everything else Wada has in his office - mainly medical journals - to better understand the biological differences inherent in a place without chakra. Primarily, the people were physically weaker. However, there were a lot of mutations or ‘secondary quirk factors’ which reinforced the body to better deal with the stress of the primary quirk. All interesting and potentially relevant information to remember when he got into fights. Once he knew a person’s quirk he would be able to guess how their body was reinforced and act accordingly. A fire quirk would make someone naturally heat resistant but not impact resistant, is what Kakashi concludes as he re-reads the profile of current number two hero ‘Endeavour.’ The magazines gifted to him by Iori all contain a statistical breakdown of the top 10 heroes, their strengths, weaknesses, and their criminal apprehension and crime prevention rates. It is a list that rarely changes between issues. He commits it all to memory, idly planning out combat strategies that didn’t involve obvious ninjutsu or chakra use. It helps pass the time when he is not trying to make sense of what he sees on television or stalking various people around the hospital.

At the end of the week, he steals Wada’s fountain pen, adding it to his growing pen hoard which he stashes in a vent on the roof. The storage seal he wants to make is complex and would need ink to complete. A mix between a chakra-draining-seal-trap and a storage scroll, it is well on its way to completion.

The seal would drain his chakra at a consistent and manageable rate, store it efficiently, and give him a way to turn the chakra drain off and on at will. Also, as a precaution, he includes an emergency stop in case his chakra levels became dangerously low, so it didn’t accidentally kill him if he fell unconscious.

The seal would need to be positioned somewhere on his body in a spot where the doctors wouldn’t immediately notice. He doesn’t what to explain why he suddenly has a tattoo. If he had had access to properly made fūinjutsu ink, the seal would be invisible. Alas, he would have to make do with chakra-infused pen ink.

Kakashi manages to keep himself busy enough that he expertly avoids making any concrete decision on what he wants to do with the next three years.

Note: this is slowly turning into a medical drama

#bnha #naruto #CrossOver #my hero academia #hatake kakashi #kakashi headcanons #dimension travel AU #fanfiction #world building #culture shock

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karikarasuno · 3 years

Text

The Sun Doesn’t Shine in Tokyo, Part II

Pairing: Tanaka Ryunosuke x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Angst, Character Death(s), Violence, Graphic Descriptions of Injuries, Mentions of Blood, Grief, Smut, Soft Sex, Vague knowledge of Computer Engineering (once again, please bear with me)

Summary: The end is near. Time is quickly running out. Hope is fleeting, but not entirely gone.

Part I | Part II

Word Count: 9.8k

June 17, 2065

8:24am

It’s morning. The digital clock on his bedside table flashed 8:24am, the angular digits barely seen through the grogginess of your sleepy brain. You shift to go back to sleep, which easily draws you in until there’s a stinging burn on your side. Your wound is itchy and uncomfortable.

“Shh,” fingers are brushing the hair on your forehead from your eyes. “Just gimme a second. This is gonna hurt.”

A wet cloth is pressed to the wound, the stinging sensation returning as you feel the alcohol clean out the dirt and grime from the night before. You squeeze your eyes shut and bite your lip to deal with the temporary pain. “I’m sorry, a little longer then I’ll be done.”

The cloth is removed as you sit up to rest on the headboard, too awake after the cold stinging to go back to bed. A calloused hand comes to stroke your cheek, chapped lips pressing a tender kiss to your temple. “Morning,” you croak, voice rough with sleep.

“G’morning, baby,” you can tell he’s been up for a while, the hoarseness that usually cracks his voice almost entirely gone.

“I should probably shower and then head downstairs. I never actually got the chance to brief everyone on what happened.”

“Don’t worry about it. Yamaguchi already did late last night. So just shower and meet me in the conference room for breakfast,” Tanaka explains before he pushes off his side of the bed, fully dressed as he places clean clothes for you on his dresser. Yachi probably gave them to him this morning and you remember you have to apologize to her today since you most likely sent her into cardiac arrest last night.

Lethargy and anticipation dictate the way you go about your morning, hardly remembering how you ended up sitting between Tanaka and Yamaguchi at the first officer strategy meeting of the day, showered and your gash freshly wrapped. Suga and Daichi are running it, images of the city’s infrastructure holographically displayed above the switchboard. The 3D landscape spinning and flickering as they outline different plans for tonight.

You didn’t realize your leg was bouncing beneath the table until Tanaka’s hand spread out on your thigh to stop it. “You listening?” He questions staring at you intently. Your thoughts have honestly traveled elsewhere, so you shake your head no.

“Do you have the tracking device?” Daichi repeats.

“Oh, no I don’t,” you lean forward and adjust your posture. “I slipped it into Oikawa’s pocket before he lost his shit, but I’m not sure if it survived the crash,” you explain, recalling the exact moment when he was gripping your chin, the distraction of your dagger on his sternum giving you enough time to plant it on him.

“We’ll have to ask Kenma then, maybe he can still locate it. And if that’s the case we’ll be able to see where he is, what he’s up to.”

The meeting continues, your attention drifting in and out trying to formulate a solid plan of your own. Something to ensure that everyone makes it out alive. After your encounter with Iwaizumi you were especially concerned about fighting an army of volunteers. Not that you weren’t confident in the people here, but you managed to plunge your dagger into one of his arteries and he still got up at Oikawa’s demand.

“The tunnels are a no go,” Yamaguchi says at some point when they began deciding on entry routes. “The grenade I threw blocked the only entrance we had into the basement.” You nod in confirmation as you remember the chunks of rubble and debris that were now closing in the stairs.

“The main entrance is our best shot. It’s bold and what they’ll least be expecting. There’s also a chance we could disarm the alarm system if we can break through the firewall. We have the manpower, the only unknown are the volunteers and what they’re fully capable of,” you add on, the floorplan of the estate replacing the flickering city. You stand to describe the various points of entry and what you assume would be the places they are most likely going to have guards stand outside.

“You should have the long range fighters stationed here,” your finger hovers over a patch of tall trees near one of the side doors. “And here,” you shift to point out an area near the front that is also beneath the shadows of the woods.

“Those specialized in hand to hand combat should form the frontlines, while everyone else flanks out in a diamond formation. Yachi in the middle with y/n and Yamaguchi,” Suga suggests while he visually demonstrates the formation on one of the large screens. “Since Yachi doesn’t have much combat experience Tanaka and Terushima will go with them,” he tacks on, giving Tanaka a pointed look.

“And obviously because the two of you are practically useless with your injuries,” Suga teases before he proceeds to assign and explain other roles. The rest of the meeting moves forward without a hitch and everyone agrees on the plan that factored in as many uncertainties as possible. The chairs scrape against the floor as the officers shuffle out to start preparing for tonight.

You stand with Tanaka’s hand in yours and start to make your way through the first floor before you stop in front of one of the only staircases in the building. “I’m actually gonna go visit Kenma,” you explain as Tanaka looks at you silently confused.

“I wanted to ask him a few questions before tonight,” you add as you slip your hand from his and he gives you a solid shrug.

“Alright, I’ll be in the vault, checking the inventory,” he grins, his hands circling your waist to pull you into his sturdy frame. “Maybe I’ll be able to find you a better weapon,” he bends to toy with the dagger on your thigh that you refused to travel without after last night.

“Better?!,” you feign offense. “You don’t think my dagger makes me look sexy?” You grin cheekily at him as his own teasing smile spreads across his face.

“Oh, I always think you look sexy. But you know what would make you look even sexier,” he leans down so that he’s staring directly into your eyes, voice dipping low. “Protection,” his eyes glint with mischief and a knowing smirk settles on his lips.

You shove him lightly and playfully smack the side of his head, his beanie shifting sideways. “Haha so funny,” you roll your eyes as your smile brightens. “Gimme some options and we’ll see.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he responds when you turn around to walk away, his palm smacking your ass as you bound up the steps. “Payback for the beanie,” his hands rise in defense before he winks at you and turns to keep walking down the hall.

You take the steps two at a time like you usually do, except now you have your healing gash as a reminder to slow down. Unlike the other floors in the building the second level is a single large room coined the “Zone” by many of the guys. One half hosts Kuroo’s test lab, usually unkempt with sulfur and boiling chemical concoctions covering the surfaces. The other half belongs to Kenma with his various half built devices stuck between keyboards and multicolored wires.

While Kuroo often ventures out into the other rooms of the hideout to seek socialization, you can always find Kenma sitting exactly where he is now. Headset nestled over his ears, hair pulled back in a messy bun with his controller tight in his hands.

You walk up behind him and pull one of the cuffs from his ear. “Hey loser,” you release the set from your grasp so it snaps back on to his head, this time all lopsided.

“Not a loser,” he responds as he shakes his head so that the headphones fall back around his neck. His screens flashing a bold ‘victory’ to affirm that he is, in fact, not a loser.

“You are the only person I know who can play video games the day our world might end,” you say with a laugh when he shoots you an apathetic stare.

The relationship between you and Kenma developed rather naturally, a sibling connection unfolding before either of you realized. On your many sleepless nights wandering and exploring the compound you often found yourself here. At first, you stumbled upon him accidentally in the middle of the night, while everyone else was either asleep or working on their own projects to prepare for the upcoming conflicts. He awkwardly invited you to sit with him as he played or tinkered with new or semi thought out inventions. You really only watched at first, curiosity overcoming your intentions to not disturb him, but you soon found yourself asking questions. The questions turning into overnighters where he would teach you how to play his favorite games or help him code software he would embed in his tiny devices.

He puts his remote down and swivels in his chair to face you. “I was brainstorming,” the corner of his lips quirk up a little as he gets up and bumps your shoulder with his to step around you.

“Brainstorming what exactly?” You ask, your eyes following his thin frame as he walks to his crafts table and picks up a few things. He tilts his head to signal for you to walk over to him. “I’ll show you.”

You move to stand beside him and he hands off the small devices to you. You inspect them and realize they are watches, complete with a touch screen center and small dials on each side.

“These are reinforcement devices,” he says. “I don’t have enough for everyone but you clasp them around your wrist and twist the dials. A shield will manifest from here,” he points to the watch’s face, and what you incorrectly assumed was a touch screen surface is actually a reflection of the software’s veil.

“This is actually the code you helped me develop a few weeks back.” You smile up at him fondly, remembering the argument you got into after he refused to explain what it was for.

“How many do you have?”

“Six are complete,” he answers. “But I also have this.” He grabs a larger cylindrical device from a shelf attached to the wall.

“This is essentially a bigger version of those. The shield covers way more surface area. You can stick it to a wall or door, enter the pin and the shield will reinforce the structure to protect whatever’s inside,” he finished explaining before he places it back on the shelf.

“When did you have time to do all of this?” His production rate when it comes to his inventions is impressive to say the least.

He takes some of the reinforcement devices from you to organize them beside the others. “You know I hardly sleep,” he shrugs as if his lack of rest doesn’t bother you.

You open your mouth to voice this for the millionth time, but he lifts his finger to shush you. “Don’t. I get it,” he interrupts.

“Fine. But this doesn’t explain why you were brainstorming,” you say instead of nagging him about his awful sleep schedule, not that yours was really any better.

“Right,” he slides you over by your shoulders to switch spots. “This is for you,” he opens the locker in the corner of the room to pull something out. It’s another round device about two inches thick with small legs to hold it up.

“What’s this?” Your intrigue successfully piqued.

“Just watch,” he walks to Kuroo’s lab table and pushes some stuff around to clear a spot.

“I’ve been working on this for a while now,” he grabs his phone from his back pocket and punches in his password and then opens an app. The device begins to illuminate as streaks of ultraviolet waves burst through the top. “It’s a simulation machine that kinda works. I can’t seem to get the graphics right for some reason, hence the gaming,” he explains.

“So you’re saying you wouldn’t have been playing regardless,” you say, which earns you an eye roll from him and a chuckle from you.

“Pay attention,” he points to the device, redirecting your attention instead of answering you. There’s a distinct humming noise before the room’s image starts to ripple. A pixelated version of a beach envelopes the room warping and disguising the furniture.

“It’s not perfect, but it’s an illusion that can trick enemies into believing they are somewhere else,” he whispers, looking a bit sheepish. “I’ve only been able to generate this stock photo, but eventually I want it to replicate different rooms or even scenery we haven’t experienced in a while.”

“Kenma,” your voice is wistful as you absorb the sway of the palm trees, the gentle rolling of the waves lapping the shores. “This is amazing. H-how did you do this?”

“I had Yachi’s help. She came up one night freaking about the control center’s algorithm and asked if I could help since you and Yamaguchi were already asleep. We ended up talking about sunsets, mainly her rambling,” he lightly snorts. “So I showed her some games with high resolution graphics that had some pretty cool sunsets and she came up with this. She coded it really quickly while I built it. I just haven’t been able to fix the kinks.”

You were near tears. The words escaped you, but mostly because you could never describe what you were feeling out loud. The snapshot of a panicking Yachi running to Kenma makes you laugh because there is no way he calmed her down without having a silent stroke of his own.

“And this is for me?” You ask for clarification before the tears really start falling.

“Yeah,” he raises his hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Other than computer engineering, you are really the only thing we have in common.”

“Kenma, I-,”

“Woah!” You both turn to what used to be the floor’s entrance, which is now limitless sand. “The beach! This is so cool!” Hinata squeals, his eyes lighting up with wonder and amazement.

“Oh hey, Shoyo,” Kenma fumbles with his phone to turn off the display.

“What’s up?” You’re grateful for his interruption, afraid you were about to become a sobbing mess in front of Kenma, which he would not have appreciated.

“Tanaka asked me to come get you,” his smile is wide and enthusiastic. “Said something about your options being ready.”

“Of course he actually went through with it,” you shake your head not the slightest bit surprised.

“Also said if you don’t hurry he’s not afraid to kick some ass,” Hinata adds on, his smile turning impishly cheeky.

“Of course he did,” you laugh before turning back to Kenma, who’s a subtle shade of red.

“We aren’t done here,” you tell him, knowing how flushed he gets when he’s alone with Hinata and you walk away from him backwards until you’re standing behind your new guest. “Watch him, he’s known to cause trouble,” you whisper to Hinata but it’s still loud enough from him to hear you.

“Oh, I know,” he plays along, only for Kenma’s neck to burn a brilliant red as Hinata steps further into the Zone. You make kissy faces behind his back to tease him as much as possible before you run down the stairs, narrowly missing the object he threw at you.

June 17, 2065

4:57pm

The gun is spinning on the turntable in front of you. The gun you and Tanaka compromised on. It’s a small black pistol, the deep metal drinking in the harsh light from the screens lining the walls as it spins and spins. In the center of the room, Yachi is typing vigorously, the reversal code practically finished, but she tended to be a perfectionist, so you sit beside her waiting for it to be done.

“I can help,” you offer, hoping she will let you this time. She just glances at you, a flick of anxiety flashing in her gaze before she shakes her head no.

“Why not?”

“It’s already done,” she responds, fingers still tapping on the keys. “I just have to double check if everything is in order.”

“Well, what is it?” You’ve been begging for her to share the code with you, trying to convince her that it would be smarter if more than one person had it, especially if she’s not able to reach the control center in time.

“Not telling you,” her hair falls to cover her face as she looks down at her stilled hands. “It has to be me. I just need for you to get me there.”

“Yachi, c’mon, at least tell Yams,” you argue, not understanding why she won’t share the information with anyone.

“S-sorry,” is all she says in response, and you let out an agitated sigh because you won’t win this argument. “What’s with the gun?” She motions towards it with her hand as she leans back in her chair, avoiding the initial topic.

“Tanaka doesn’t believe my dagger is enough protection,” you look back down at the spinning gun and your chest tightens at the mere idea of having to use it. “It was this or a fucking katana.”

She laughs, the abruptness startling you, but she doubles over and wheezes. A blush is blooming on her cheeks at the lack of oxygen going to her lungs, her laugh turning into hiccups and breathless gasps. It’s contagious, your own laugh soon wracking through you.

“I don’t get it,” you say through snorts. “What’s so funny?”

“I cannot imagine you wielding a katana,” tears of laughter are decorating her face. “You’d probably accidentally cut off your own arm before you manage to land it on anyone else.” She’s wiping the tears from her eyes as her breath slowly returns, her cheeks still flushed a pretty pink.

“I take offense to that. I would be such a badass with one,” you rebuttal.

“Sure,” she squeaks out.

“I just might need a little practice first.”

She falls into a fit of giggles again, probably imagining you tripping over the long blade forgetting that she’s the clumsy one. Your cheeks are hurting from smiling, a warmth rooting itself within you, and for the first time in weeks the flower of hope feels like it will bloom soon. The delicate petals unfurling with a promise of prosperity, a promise that things will be okay.

“Hey,” Tanaka bursts through the door, a little out of breath like he ran here. “Kenma was able to track Oikawa. He’s still at the estate, probably never left.”

“You think he’s still alive?” You jump from your seat, Yachi at your side in an instant.

“Definitely. Yamaguchi said you left him in the basement, but Kenma can see his movements and he’s currently on the move.”

“But what if it’s not him? What if someone just found his body and is carrying it around?” You are skeptical, unsure if Oikawa was able to survive two gunshot wounds and a crash.

“First of all, that’s nasty,” he wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Second of all, I don’t think it matters. The person, Oikawa or not, is heading to the control center. We have five hours before the thing is set to explode, so we leave in four.”

“Got it. The reversal code is ready,” Yachi interjects before you can. “I’m ready,” she straightens her shoulders, eyes determined as she meets yours.

You grab the gun that is now still on the table and place it in the holster on your hip. “Me too.”

June 17, 2065

9:22pm

The front of the estate is surrounded by steel poles, roughly 16 feet tall. Weaved between each pole are copper wires that conduct heat and electricity constantly, making it difficult to enter without burns or electric shocks. Fortunately, Kenma was able to hack into the compound's firewall rather easily since it had been abandoned for months and disconnected the alarm system.

The group gathers around the front gate, those who specialize in combat form the first row and once you enter the plan is to split into various smaller groups. You would head straight to the control center with Yachi and Yamaguchi, while Tanaka and Terushima serve as bodyguards. Yamaguchi’s ankle is doing better, his limp gone and the reinforcement device adorning his wrist. You are all wearing bulletproof vests, the material surprisingly thin and breathable as it’s strapped over your tank top. Your cut is safely hidden beneath it.

The gates are set to open at 9:30, the distance fighters successfully hidden in the trees while everyone else fans out on either side of your group. Kuroo managed to hand out flash grenades and smoke bombs to every unit, the sulfur in the lab results of failed bombs that blew up prematurely. You search the crowd counting the bodies, committing the number to memory; twenty-six, hoping that it will be the same when you exit tonight.

Kenma is standing next to Kuroo and you watch as he sends up a mini drone. The device flying into the trees and an image of Hinata and Nishinoya flash on his phone. The boys are settled high up in the trees, Noya’s crossbow strapped to his back, while Hinata is busy tying knots into rope, his knives and shuriken hidden beneath his clothing.

You start to feel the signs of a tension headache strain your neck, the anticipation sucking your soul from the confines of your skin. Tanaka is kneeling in front of you and you stare at the muscles of his back flex and relax through his black sleeveless shirt as he laces up his boots. Once he’s finished he twists on the balls of his feet to face you, hands going to check your laces and tucking the hem of your cargos into them, your ankles thanking him for the extra support.

“It’s almost time,” he whacks your thigh so you look down at him. “You ready?”

You give him a small nod, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“You remember the plan, right? Once we enter those doors you stay behind me. I’ll say when the coast is clear, but if things get too crazy, Yachi is the priority,” he rises from his position. “Get her to the control center, then find me. Don’t do anything irrational,” he finishes.

You give him a nervous laugh, “I’ll try.”

“No, it’s not you’ll t-”

“I’m kidding, Ryu,” you cut him off.

“Not funny, love,” he turns around to settle next to Terushima, whose arm is extending behind him, pinky linking with Yamaguchi’s.You link your arms with Yachi’s as you wait, only five more minutes left.

“Welcome!” Everyone’s attention snaps to the balcony above the double doors of the entrance. Oikawa is standing there, pale and bloody. “I wasn’t expecting to have this many guests come to watch the end with me. This is so heartwarming.”

The gates creak and shudder as they shuffle open. Volunteers begin to reveal themselves from their hiding spots to gather at the front doors, but no one on your side of the gates moves. Your hand wraps around the hilt of your dagger and your stance shifts so that Yachi is partially blocked by you.

He spots you in the crowd and he has the nerve to smirk at you, the once endearing gesture looks pained on his hollowed cheeks and sunken eyes. A daunting beauty transforming his features. “Oh, darling, I’ve been expecting you,” he waves with his good hand, his injured arm is supported with a sling.

“I’m sure you’re glad to see me alive, but Iwa didn’t make it,” you can’t tell if he actually is pained by this with the way he sulks and leans on the rails. “So obviously I can’t let you leave here alive,” he giggles, almost drunkenly. “An eye for an eye or whatever they used to say.”

“I’ll kill him,” Tanaka snarls, gun pointing at Oikawa. You grip his arm to yank it down, fully aware that now is not the time.

“What was that about being irrational?” You hiss at him so he lowers his weapon. Oikawa sees this and you watch his entire demeanor change, his taunting gaze igniting into something far more terrifying.

“Who’s this, princess? You brought me a new toy?” His tone is flat, monotone. “Since you killed my last one!” You flinch at the rise in his voice, the rebels frozen in disbelief, a motivating fear beginning to billow through the crowd.

“We need to move,” Daichi’s deep voice diminishes Oikawa’s immediately. “NOW,” he screams and he’s the first on the move, gun firing shot after shot in the volunteers’ direction.

“STOP THEM!” Oikawa’s shrill shriek is hardly heard above the sounds of battle, but the volunteers do not hesitate. Their smell smacking the air from your lungs, no description adequate enough to warn you. Yachi’s hand is now firm in yours as you run close behind Tanaka. Your dagger unsheathed as your biceps tense with untapped energy. You slip through the front doors quickly, most of the fighting designated to those who formed the front lines.

You deduce that the volunteers are abnormally strong as you witness them tear metal like paper, and crack the estate’s concrete in single punches. Luckily, they are incredibly slow, their limbs swing and jerk in unsynchronized movements, as if they are babies taking their first steps. The rebels on the other hand are nimble, even the largest members fight with the agility of trained ballerinas, their movements fluid and graceful.

You yell for Tanaka and Terushima to take the stairs down to the basement. The claustrophobic idea of being stuck in an elevator is enough to stop your heart. Terushima reaches the door first, the force with which he tears it open rips it from its hinges.

You fly down the first flight, your grip on Yachi never loosening. Yamaguchi brings up the end, he’s holding nunchucks that you have no idea where he got them from. He flicks his wrist to swing them at one of the volunteers that followed you, the wood thwacking against her nose, splatters of blood erupt from her skull and dot Yamaguchi’s skin as she crumples to the floor, her body splaying out across the steps. “Don’t stop running!” He yells, hand grabbing Yachi’s elbow pushing you down the final flight to the basement.

The elevator dings at the end of the hallway, a ghastly Oikawa steps through and you catch a glimpse of silver. At first, you thought it had to be his veins visible through his milky skin, but now you can see the thin lines of silver snaking throughout his body. “He did not look like that yesterday,” Yamaguchi skids to a stop behind you.

Tanaka and Terushima have their weapons raised in front of you, a spear twirling in Teru’s hand. “Where’s the control room, Oikawa?” Tanaka calls out, his voice dripping with poison.

“Why would I tell you when they already know?” He quips, his retort losing substance when a wet cough breaks through his chest. “As you can see I can’t put up much of a fight,” he coughs again, dribbles of thinning blood leaks from his lips. “Iwa’s device doesn’t suit me too well,” he leans his neck to the side, a sickening pop coming from it.

“Iwa’s what?” You say it before you mean to, the situation only becoming creepier with every drop of new knowledge.

“You see, when Iwa was crushed, I found his body in the rubble. The implants we use jutting out from the skin between his shoulder blades, so I tore it out,” he staggers towards your group, the leg he was shot in scraping against the floor with each step. “I inserted it into the bullet wound above my knee,” he points to his twisted leg. “That way Iwa and I will always be together.”

“Dude, what the fuck,” Terushima says behind his hand as he gags. The smell of rotting flesh and rusty metal wafting through the hall with each drag of Oikawa’s leg.

You know he’s not down here alone, that he probably has volunteers stationed somewhere near the control center, but that’s down the hall, through another room. The five of you don’t stand a chance alone without knowing exactly how many are here. You also know that Oikawa’s breaths are numbered, his body actively rejecting the implant stealing away his time like he’s stalling yours.

“But if you really want to know,” he draws in a shallow breath and stops a few feet away from your group. “The control center is down this hall through that room,” he points to his right, the door cracked open. “I’ll let you pass, but good luck. I already input the code,” he inches towards the door and dramatically looks at his watch. “Seems like you only have 8 minutes.”

He wags his fingers at you as he leans into the door, his weight pushing it open fully and he disappears in the darkness. Tanaka’s running first, fluidly rushing to the open door, but before he reaches it many of the other ones open. Decaying bodies hauling the burden of their transformation into the corridor. “Ryu, wait!” You call out to him but he’s already surrounded. He unsheathes the sword strapped to his back and swings it out in a swift circular arc to force the volunteers back. You count seven in total, all focused dangerously on your boyfriend.

Terushima bends down in front of the three of you and unzips the pouch clipped around his hips. “Fall back,” he says.

“What’re you gonna do?” Yamaguchi bends at the waist to look over his shoulder. “I’m gonna use one of the stun grenades to distract them. Tanaka’s quick on his feet and he’ll know he only has a split second to escape. But first I need you guys to fall back.”

You’re hesitant at first, but Yachi tugs you away from them while Yamaguchi follows, still a step ahead. “Tanaka, get ready!” Terushima yells before he pulls the clip and tosses it. The grenade rolling to a stop at Tanaka’s feet.

“Get down,” you turn to tackle Yachi in your arms, your body shielding her from any fallout. The flashes and popping noises signaling its detonation. You look up when some of the noise dies down, the door leading to the control center swinging wildly while the volunteers trip over themselves, disoriented and scattered at the end of the hall. You missed the exact moment, but three of the volunteers were now on the ground, their implants sliced out from their shoulder blades. The pincers on the devices opening and closing in search for their host.

“Thanks, Tanaka,” Teru whispers in awe. “Impressive bastard took three of ‘em out on his own and discovered that you disable them by removing those creepy shits,” he laughs.

“Okay, babe, we’ll go in before the ladies,” he stands and helps Yamaguchi to his feet. “You take the small one in the corner. Leave the three big guys to me,” he smirks.

“Now’s not the time to compete, Teru,” Yamaguchi sighs, grabbing a switchblade from his pocket, while clutching the revolver in his other hand.

“A little healthy competition never hurt nobody,” he nudges Yamaguchi with his shoulder, sending him a sly wink. “Trust me.”

The boys bolt forward, weapons in hand as they twirl in combat, the first heavy body thumping to the ground. They clear the path for you and Yachi quickly, the space in front of the door now empty.

You grab Yachi and book it. Your concern for Tanaka’s safety rises exponentially as you rush to the control center, where he and Oikawa surely are.

The room opens up and near the center you see Oikawa and Tanaka arguing loudly, Tanaka’s gun pointing at Oikawa while he grips the sword behind him to keep the volunteers at bay. The control center is blinking, digital numbers floating above the panel counting down ominously. You have five minutes left and the prospects of disabling the system are low. The ring of volunteers lining the perimeter is your main obstacle because at any given moment their motionless blank stares could be activated.

“What do we do?” Yachi whispers hurriedly beside you, no one noticing the two of you enter the room yet.

“We get you to the panel in the next five minutes. How?” You’re trying to think as fast as possible. “I don’t know yet.” Thoughts are racing through your mind, words popping out to form some coherent thought before you rattle out your best plan.

“I’ll distract Oikawa. You run as fast as you can to the panel,” you suggest. “And we pray some of the other rebels show up as back up.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very good plan,” Yachi bites the nail on her thumb.

“Well unless you have something better, I can’t think of anything else,” you respond, eyebrows raised and she shakes her head no.

“So just walk behind Oikawa and hopefully he won’t see you. Once you’re out of his line of sight I’ll say something to get his attention,” you explain.

“Got it,” she nods, releasing your hand as she steps across your body to start moving towards the control center. The boys are still arguing and you get the sense that Tanaka knows you're there. Coincidentally, maneuvering his body to obscure Yachi until she isn’t visible to him.

“Tooru,” your voice echoes in the chamber. “How about we talk this out?”

His voice dies in his throat once he notices you. Somehow surprised that you would chase them down here. “I know I blew up on you in the past but just give me another chance. We can stall all of this,” you wave your hands around at the control center and all the volunteers. “And maybe come to a compromise.”

Four minutes.

“Compromise? As if you even know the meaning of the word, princess,” there’s no endearment in his tone anymore. Just condescension and disgust. “I’ll start by killing your boyfriend and you can watch me. Then I’ll kill all your pathetic friends. Saving my sweet, sweet love for last,” his voice is eerily flat, similar to when he was speaking from the balcony earlier.

Three minutes, twenty-three seconds.

“You son of a bitch, I’d like to see you try,” Tanaka growls, the sword that was pointed at the volunteers now positioned over Oikawa’s chest. “I’ll tear your heart out before you can lay a finger on her.”

“I sense a challenge,” Oikawa chuckles and steps so the tip of the sword is touching his chest. “Let’s test that. You heard him, right guys? Why don’t we see if this knight in shining armor can save his damsel in distress,” he knows he’s going to die here, he’s smiling from ear to ear at Tanaka and he reaches to wrap his hand around the sharp edge of the sword, blood spilling from his palm down his wrist. “Kill them.”

The volunteers bumble forward, their numbers overwhelming the three of you. Tanaka pulls his sword from Oikawa’s hand to go after them. Yachi is almost to the control panel, but a volunteer suddenly blocks her path, lunging to crush her beneath their fists. You sprint for her, she has a knife on her leg but it’s clear she forgot to reach for it. She ducks beneath their arm, she’s surprisingly agile despite her frequent clumsiness. There’s an opening between the monstrosity’s legs as they stupidly move to follow her. You slide on your knees straight between their legs to slice through their achille’s heel, cutting off the function of their lower body. They faceplant by Yachi’s feet as she shrieks from nearly being crushed as you climb the limp body, your fingers locating the implant and stabbing into the tough skin, the implant wiggling in your hands as you tear it out. The device latches on to your pointer finger to dig into your skin. You scream and shake it off immediately and it lands at Yachi’s feet before she stomps on it like a bug, the crunching resembling the sound of a cockroach beneath her boot.

There’s a grunt from Tanaka’s direction and you see he’s pinned Oikawa to the floor between his knees. The tussle looks like it’s in his favor when Oikawa rips the implant from the wound above his knee and attempts to insert it into the smooth skin of Tanaka’s neck. You stare as he screams in pain, the pincers scratching and cutting into him. You’re too far to use your dagger, you won’t make it before the implant is successfully transferred to him, so you reach for the pistol on your hip. You hold it out in front of you preparing your shot but it’s too risky. Tanaka’s back is to you and only with perfect aim will you be able to land a shot on Oikawa from over his shoulder, the trembling of your hands only worsening the situation.

Two minutes, twenty-five seconds.

The time will be out before you shoot your gun, before Yachi will make it to the control center. Despair ruining your disposition and any confidence you would have had taking this shot is snatched from you as Tanaka screams in pain. You position the gun as best you can, praying to any divine being who happens to hear you to bless you with perfect aim. You begin to squeeze the trigger, forcing your eyes to stay open, when an arrow comes whizzing past your cheek, the speed of it burning the soft skin. You stare in astonishment as it lodges itself in Oikawa’s eye, blood spraying everywhere from the impact and his body slumps to the ground, hand still clasping the implant as it fidgets in his fingertips. Tanaka cringes when he gets off of him and turns to Nishinoya, whose crossbow is still aimed at them and the tension in your shoulders ease slightly.

Your relief is short lived as you survey the situation. Nearly all of the rebels are here, but there are simply too many enemies and they don’t have enough energy to continue to fight. You jump from your spot to look for Yachi and she’s still running to the panel, the disaster gathered in the room preventing her from reaching it. You know it’s too late. Your naive dream beginning to wither away before your eyes so you rush to go get her.

“Yachi, stop! It’s over,” You scream over the noise of the chaos around you, bodies strewn across the floor while blood begins to pool and smear everywhere. You are holding her arm, pulling her away from the control center in the middle of the room.

“It’s not over, how could you give up so easily?! I can do this, you have to trust me! I am the only one who can decode the software. It’s my fault any of this is happening anyway. I did this!” Tears are flowing down her face in a violent stream. Her cheeks red with frustration and stress, eyes pleading with you to let her go. “I put all of you in danger! I’m an idiot and I should’ve been able to figure out their plan, but I had to go and try to prove myself to my mom! I-I had to ruin everything because I was so stupidly naive,” her voice was breaking around every syllable, guilt ripping through her.

“But I can’t lose you!” The lump in your throat was making it difficult to speak as the only option dawned on you. The only option she is pleading for you trust her with. Tears are stinging at your eyes, threatening to spill over while you try desperately to hold them back. “Y-you’re my best friend,” you’re exhausted, the words sincere as they slide through the space between you. Yachi steps towards you, hand coming up to rest on your cheek to catch the stray tear slipping down.

“I know and that’s why I need to do this. I need to save you. I need to save Yams. And the others. We can’t lose anymore lives because of something I created,” you let your eyes shut, all the fight you had leaving your body as your grip loosens on her arm. She wraps her arms around you for a final embrace, her body still for once, the trembling gone from her nerves as your arms hold her. “I know I can fix this, but I need for you to get as many people as you can out of here first,” she untangles herself from you.

“There’s a large safe at the end of this hallway. The code is my birthday. Grab anyone left, anyone still alive and shut yourselves in there. I won’t be able to disconnect the devices in this building because I won’t have enough time so there will still be a loud explosion. When you hear that it’s safe to come out,” she takes a step away from you, expression fixed leaving you no room to argue.

“O-okay,” you force the word from your lips because this was far from okay, “j-just know that, um, that I love you. So fucking much,” her figure begins to blur as the tears gather in your eyes.

“I love you too, y/n. Promise me that you will make it out of here. Promise me that you will get to watch the sunset. A real one. For me,” she pleads and you blink to clear your vision, hot tears burning the raw skin of your under eyes. “Yes, I p-promise,” you choke on these last words.

“Thank you. Now go, please” this is the calmest you have ever seen her as she steps away from you, body turning to clumsily run to the control panel. Time is moving in slow motion. The bodies around you moving in vivid detail. Every swing, punch, and kick are stuttering like a stop motion film. You don’t know if you’re breathing anymore, all of your functions glitching in a solitary moment of grief.

“Hey, look at me!” You can hear Tanaka’s voice, see his figure pummeling towards you, but he’s fuzzy, out of focus. You think his hands are on your arms, but it feels distant and cold, a ghost of everything he is. “Hey!” He shakes you aggressively, your brain fighting against the current of sorrow dragging you below the murky surface. “Don’t let the last words you said to her be a lie! Don’t break this promise!”

You cut through the surface and see Tanaka clearly. He’s covered in blood, his neck bleeding from where Oikawa punctured his skin with the implant. “We have to go. You have to go,” he shoves you to the exit, your motor functions working on autopilot. You grab who you can as you run for the safe. Yelling orders and instructions to anyone who can hear you.

One minute, seventeen seconds.

Suga’s at your side holding up Ennoshita while Daichi is calling for people to rush to the safe. You make it there first, and incorrectly punch in the code at first, the small numbers duplicating, but you get it right the second try. The heavy door swinging open with surprising ease as you move out the way to let Suga and Ennoshita in before you. A few of the other guys bolt in soon after and you just stand there waiting for Tanaka, waiting for Yamaguchi, and Kenma, and Yachi.

Yamaguchi cuts the corner first, Terushima on his tail. You feel a flash of relief when you see them, the distance between you closing rapidly. Yamaguchi trips over the step into the safe, but Terushima catches him before he makes contact with the ground, mumbling something to him that you can’t quite make out.

Tanaka’s next and he’s screaming at you but you hardly hear him over the commotion. You hardly register the distance until he’s right in front of you again. “What are you doing just standing here?!” He yells. “Let’s go,” he practically lifts you into the room and holds your back to his chest against one of the metal walls, preventing you from running out again.

You can’t tell who else enters the safe, your panic and grief merging in a merciless waltz. The door slams shut and Daichi is the last to come in, his strong hands holding firm on the handle. Your eyes now begin to scan the bodies in the room, some fine with just a few cuts and bruises, others worse, bleeding dangerously from various points in their body. You count like you did before any of this started.

Twenty-six. Minus one. Twenty-five.

You start from the corner opposite you, whispering number to face to name.

Twenty-one, orange hair, brown eyes: Hinata. Twenty-two, flash of blonde, fixed glare: Nishinoya. Twenty-three, disheveled black hair-

“Where’s Kenma?” Kuroo’s voice breaks your trance. There’s only twenty-four people in the safe.

“Where’s Kenma?” You repeat, fighting Tanaka’s grip to bolt to the door.

“Daichi!” Kuroo screams. “Answer me!”

“He stayed behind,” Daichi’s shoulders fall in defeat. “Said something about this being his final move. That this was game over for him and the prize for winning would be our lives. Then stuck something on the door and told me to tell you that he’s,” he pauses, his usually solid voice wavering. “He said he’s not a loser.”

“And you let him?!” Kuroo runs at him, intent on pulling him away from the door and ripping it open. “He’s an idiot! I have to go get him!” Daichi locks Kuroo’s arms behind his back. “Let me go!” He’s kicking and shoving, but Daichi refuses to stand down. “There’s still time! I HAVE TIME TO SAVE HIM!”

“There is no time, Tetsuro! We are out of time!” At this moment the floor rumbles, the walls vibrate as they shield you from the brunt of the blast. Kuroo’s reaction is visceral, a primal scream blowing out his vocal chords as dust starts to fall from the ceiling. You watch Hinata fall to his knees, the inhibited light dimming in his eyes as his head falls in his hands, body convulsing with sobs.

00:00

You’re drowning, your lungs are full of water, air sticking to the lining of your esophagus, the burning pain of no oxygen clouding your brain. Your head heavy on your neck, the effort of holding up your body wearing away as you let all of your weight fall back on Tanaka. His own body sliding down the wall until you’re both on the floor, you wailing pathetically between his legs and he just holds you to his chest, even when you resist and scream for him to leave you alone, he silently holds you.

No one makes a move to leave. The burden of losing people weighing heavy in the tight, crowded room.

You don’t remember too much after this. The solemn, dreadful walk back to the hideout is syrupy, your body hardly moving through the thickness of desolation. You stumble over bodies and slip on spilled blood, the aftermath of the explosion evident on every surface, making your ascent cumbersome as you climb out. The familiar fog an odd comfort concealing you from intrusive eyes.

The hideout is stale and uneasy. Your heartbeat pulsing irregularly in your chest, grief induced anesthetic numbing your bloodstream. Tanaka’s room is dark and his bed looks unusually comfortable. You lurch towards it, but Tanaka stops you. His arms pulling you into the bathroom, the shower already running with steam creeping over the top of the glass door. He helps you undress and step into the tub, tying your hair up in a messy bun before the water hits you. He steps in behind you and swipes a wet cloth over your body. Blood, dirt, and dust turning the water at your feet a translucent brown as it disappears down the drain.

Tanaka wraps new gauze around your waist, the sting of the alcohol barely noticeable anymore. You’re wearing one of his t-shirts as he tucks you into bed. His body settling in beside you, his strong arms cradling you in his embrace as he whispers gentle words of affirmation into your hair. His soothing voice eventually lulling you into a dreamless slumber.

You wake up unexpectedly, the sounds of your own whimpers breaking the awful silence. “I’m here,” Tanaka pets your hair. “I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here,” he reassures you as his arms press you deeper to his chest. Your fingers clinging to the sheet draped over his bare torso.

He leans down to pepper kisses across your tear stained cheeks. His lips connecting with every inch of skin. You tilt your face to catch his lips in a slow kiss, his movements initially hesitant. You drift your fingers to outline his collarbone, tracing along each line of muscle and ridge of scar tissue, determined to memorize all his imperfections. Determined to cement the entirety of his physique into your memory so he will never fade if he ever leaves you too.

Your fingers stop at the waistband of his underwear, toying with the elastic before you venture further down as you sketch the dip of his hip bone, the sharpness of his pelvis, and the strength of his relaxed thigh behind your closed eyelids. He stops you before you can delve deeper. “We shouldn’t,” is all he says, lips still slotted perfectly between yours.

“I want you, Ryu,” you’re aware of the desperation in your tone, aware of your need for physical touch emitting off of you in heady rays. “Please.”

He screws his eyes shut, his internal dialogue written all over his handsome features. It’s not because he doesn’t want to, the evidence of his quiet arousal mere inches from your fingertips. He’s afraid of hurting you, afraid of pushing you too far even though you’re asking for this, but you want to show him how much you want him. How much you need him.

How much you love him.

You gently pry your wrist from his loose grasp to massage the soft skin of his erection, slowing your motions when he stiffens. “Let me,” you plead beneath your breath.

“Let me feel you, let me know you’re here.”

You feel him nod above you, his body relaxing into your touch, his hips rutting gently into your palm until he’s painfully hard. He shifts to caress the back of your neck, tilting your head to look at him as he places a lingering kiss to your forehead. His lips smoothing over your features before he melts into you again. His kisses are slow and passionate, a welcome distraction to the flurry of disheartening emotions plaguing you.

He rolls the both of you over so he’s resting on his elbows above you and removes your hand from his cock to place it over his heart. The action is cheesy but you can feel the heartbeat beneath his muscle. The steady, rhythmic pulse pumping blood through his veins, a sign that he is alive, that he’s breathing and he’s with you.

You fight the tears begging to spill over, fearing that you might ruin the moment. He strokes your cheek, thumb rubbing soothing circles beneath the skin of your eyes.

“I’m gonna touch you, okay?” His voice is broken from exhaustion and vulnerability, but his hand moves to shift your panties to the side when you nod for him to continue. His fingers slipping between your folds to gather the slick at your entrance, circling your clit lightly. You lift your hips to roll into his fingers, silently asking for more as your pleasure begins to prickle at your nerves.

He begins to move away from you and for a moment you think he’s going to stop, instead he pulls himself from his boxers and strokes whatever slick he gathered over his erection. The tip of his cock a blossoming red as he continues to touch himself. “Ryu, hurry,” you whine, impatience beginning to nag at you, body seeking the delirious sensation of pleasure.

“I’ll take care of you, don’t worry,” his voice is soft, the meaning of his words holding avenues of interpretations as he positions himself at your entrance. His arm shakes with strain beside your face as he pushes his head past your initial ring of muscle, stopping midway to thrust shallowly. Despite your begging for him to hurry up, you’re still tense, your walls clenching tight around him.

“Baby, I need you to relax,” he says through gritted teeth, the efforts of restraining himself lock his muscles into place, but you take a deep breath at his words, allowing your legs to fall open around his hips, crossing your ankles behind the small of his back.

“Move,” your breath catches in your throat as he thrusts a little deeper that time. “I’ll be fine, just move.”

He looks at you for a long moment, eyes searching yours for even a semblance of doubt. When he doesn’t find it, he rests his forehead on yours, eyes closed as he sheathes himself inside you entirely. You feel too full when he doesn’t follow through so you wiggle your hips to press firmly into his, a low groan reverberating through his chest as you grind against him, your arms stationed securely around his neck.

Not too long after he begins to meet the rocking of your hips, his movements deliberate and measured. You keen into his touch as his head falls to rest beside your neck, mouthing the skin to muffle his moans as his pace quickens.

He slips his arms beneath your back, hugging you tightly to his chest. The new angle sends a jolt of electric pleasure through your veins, his thrusts are determined as he searches for your release.

“Not gonna last long,” he groans into your neck, fingers digging into your sides as he tries to stall his own release. You’re closer than he thinks though, your head is swimming with euphoria, brain clouded with the tastes of ecstasy.

“Don’t stop, Ryu. I’m so close,” you beg, your voice dripping with desire. You feel one of his hands move to fist the sheet below you as he breaks his steady pace, the force of his hips jostling you passionately. The pressure building in your abdomen is unbearable, his cock slamming into your sensitive walls fervently.

“Fuck,” you moan into his ear as your senses crash, your body singing with unexpected bliss. His thrusts begin to falter, his own release on the horizon as his grip on you hardens.

“M’gonna come,” he stutters out, voice gravelly with need. “Need you to move, so I, shit,” he’s struggling to get his words out as the hand fisting the sheet moves to wrap around your calf. “So I can pull out,” he groans and pushes on your leg to unlock your ankles.

“No,” you refuse. “Inside, just come inside, please Ryu” he never has, the implications too dangerous for him to ever consider, but right now you need to feel every part of him.

“Baby,” he whines, his voice an octave higher. The desperation in your tone crumbling his resolve and before he can say no he’s spilling inside you. The sporadic contractions of your walls around his cock coupled with the way you whimper his name against the shell of his ear is what ruins him.

He collapses on top of you, his dense weight flattening you into the mattress as he twitches inside you. You don’t mind the heaviness, content with falling asleep just like this but he rolls the both of you on your sides, probably realizing he was crushing you.

His face is still nestled in the groove of your neck when you feel him chuckle against your skin. “Can’t believe you tricked me into doing that?” A small smile stretching his lips on your shoulder.

“Trick? I wouldn’t it call it that,” a matching smile plays on your features.

“It was sneaky and you know it.” You laugh despite everything that happened today.

“I love you,” you never said it back, but you’re certain now as your body flows with appreciation.

“I love you too.”

June 18, 2065

6:38am

It’s too early to wake up, but your mind disregards your obvious fatigue when you find yourself on Tanaka’s balcony. The events of last night looping perpetually in your head as you stare at the city that was supposed to be demolished. There’s no movement, hardly any noise beside the buzzing neon sign flickering four floors down. It’s as if everyone is in mourning. A victory cause for celebration, but the density of grief burdens the atmosphere.

“What’re doing up?” Tanaka appears behind you, arms enclosing around your waist.

“Couldn’t sleep anymore,” you reply dryly. He hums behind you and rests his chin on your head as you two watch the sky change from a deep purple to the dull pink that never cuts through the fog.

“What now?” You ask, not really expecting an answer.

“I’m not sure,” he shrugs, this transition stretching into miles of uncharted area.

“We leave,” he says, finally.

“Where would we even go?” Confusion laces your tone. The two of you have never left Tokyo, partially because it was impossible with the barrier surrounding the city.

“Miyagi,” he says as if he’s familiar with the prefecture.

“I don’t know,” you hesitate. “There was a project I wanted to complete for,” your voice fades into the early morning. The image of the simulation machine popping into your mind as you remember the pixelated beach glitching in the large room. The last moment you had with him.

“Bring it with you,” Tanaka suggests as he turns you in his embrace to look at him.

“What’s in Miyagi?” His adamant stare confusing you further.

“My sister,” he’s never mentioned her before, and you raise your eyebrows in question. “A few of the rebels left here right before you showed up to search for others. She led them,” he explains.

“I hadn’t heard from her until she called me two days ago. I was worried something happened, but she’s fine,” he shakes his head.

“I obviously didn’t get the chance to tell you, but she’s there and they found more than they were expecting.”

“How did they even get past the barrier?”

“Kenma.” His tone softens around his name, but you're not the least bit surprised that he managed to break down the barrier.

“Of course.” You rest your head against his chest.

“The rebellion is stronger there. We may have a chance to save all of Japan. Not just Tokyo,” you process his words, unsure of how to respond.

“And,” he cups your neck so you’re staring into his eyes. “The sun sets in Miyagi.”

#tanaka ryunosuke #Tanaka x reader #tanaka smut #tanaka fanfic #apocalypse #the smut pile collab #hq #cyberpunk

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themadauthorshatter · 3 years

Text

It's been a while since we last checked on Flippy, so let's see how he's doing!

We start with Cuddles this time, who's sitting upside down on a bench when Petunia and Flaky approach him, asking if he's seen Flippy anywhere.

He has not, because he thought Flippy was with Petunia.

Petunia folds her arms and asks why Flippy would be with her for about a half to a week and a half, and Cuddles shrugs; maybe they got REALLY intimate and just needed all of that time together.

Flaky squeals, because it's dirty, and Petunia tells him to get his mind out of the gutter because this is crazy serious.

Cuddles gets up and relentls and asks if they stopped by his house.

They did, and he wasn't there.

Did they check the woods?

Not there either.

The GYM?

He doesn't even BELIEVE in going to the Gym, most days; why GO to a place to workout when you have the equipment at your house or just outside in general?

Cuddles finally realizes that Flippy's MISSING missing, and gets up, joining the girls with finding their friend.

Flaky hopes that Flippy's okay, but Cuddles assures her that he's smart, he wouldn't do anything stupid like run away.

Funny he say that because Flippy IS doing something stupid, staring at a projector that's showing a bunch of war footage, like pictures that NO AVERAGE PERSON should see.

Splendid cringes as turns a small dial on an IV line and watches Flippy struggle to both handle the medicine that's being pumped into him and not flip out.

Thankfully, all that happens is that he vomits in a bucket.

Splenedid stops the medicine and hands Flippy some water, asking if he's really okay with continuing; they've been at this for a while and they're making very debatable progress.

Flippy washes his mouth out and nods. He can keep going.

Splendid hestitately changes the image to a collage of very familiar faces:

Tiger General, Sneaky, and Mouse Ka-Boom.

Flippy gasps at seeing them and asks how the hell Splendid got these pictures.

Splendid admits it was a simple internet search, because people spread information around like it's a puff puff pass, especially if said information is a tragedy and a victory. He can give Flippy a few minutes, if he needs it.

Flippy only takes a few seconds seeing the faces of his dead partners and nods.

Splendid gets the IV and medicine going again and Flippy takes a few deep breaths as what I call the "Make Me Sick" medicine(MMS for short)(if MMS is a real thing, I deeply and sincerely apologize. I know there's a name for the drug/"medicine" used for aversion therapy, but I forgot it🙏🙏🙏) runs through his system. TV perspective, his eyes dart between Mouse Ka-Boom and Sneaky and he sees old memories of the three in training, i.e. standing still while a drill sergeant yells in their faces and/or tries to make them laugh, having a meal together, goofing around before bed, and even comforting each other after getting tased and pepper sprayed as a part of training.

Flippy's eyes go 'killer instinct-y' and he fights a gag as he remembers how they all promised to meet again once they were out of the army, and how both looked at him with shock, sorrow, and betrayal because of how he accidentally killed them.

The memories change to taking on Tiger General 1v1, how he had to fend for himself, got his hands removed, and was almost strangled to death until he ultimately came out on top amd took down the rest of the enemy base.

When I say he vomits, I mean he VOMITS until there's nothing left to get out of his system and he's dry heaving.

Splendid quickly turns off the projector and gets Flippy off the IV, though the veteran tells him he can take more, he just needs a few minutes.

Splendid, however, tells him to call it a day; they've been at this for hours and he's already making phenomenal progress; of course Splendid is not going to TEST it right now because his friend just threw up all of his digestive system.

Flippy sighs and agrees, relinquishing for the day.

Splendid helps him up and asks if he's okay to walk home and Flippy states he's fine; he just wants to go shower and clean himself up after throwing up so much.

The two bid their farewells and Flippy begins a very uneasy walk home.

A bit of context: it's been a week or so since the last part and they've been doing this all day everyday since then, from dawn to dusk, and today they started around MAYBE 4 am in the morning and it is now 12 or 1 pm in the afternoon, so yeah it's time for the Flipster to go home and rest.

Back on track, Flippy's not exactly the best because he needs to get the vomit taste out of his mouth and just feels like crap, so he takes a shortcut home.

He gets there relatively fast and flops onto the couch and falls asleep, exhausted.

He dreams he's with Sneaky and Mouse Ka-Boom, all three playing a mix of Spades and Poker, Sneaky and Flippy speaking in english before translating for Mouse Ka-Boom to understand them; yes, Mouse Ka-Boom speaks french. He understands English well enough, but isn't the best at speaking it, aside from, 'Sir, yes, sir,' 'Sir, no, sir,' and a few insults he picked up from Flippy on accident; he may or may not have gotten the three in trouble because he repeated one of these insults in front of a commanding officer.

Regardless, the three are having a good time before Sneaky asks Flippy a question: How did it feel to throw that knife at him rather than the General? Did he enjoy it? Did he hate Sneaky that much he had to throw a KNIFE through his chest?

Flippy deflates and clarifies that he did not mean to miss the General; it was a heat of the moment thing and he's, admittedly, not good under stress.

Mouse Ka-Boom lowers his cards and asks if cutting him in half was another 'heat of the moment thing,' along with getting them both blown to smithereens.

They change before Flippy's eyes, both mangles and burnt, and Flippy leaves the table, backing away from them.

That is until a hand claps on his shoulder and his own voice tells him to admit that he actually did enjoy killing his friends; it's what he's been trained to do, so what better way to see the reward of all that effort?

Flippy turns and sees himself, who demands he admit it, admit that he's never going to change, that he won't let himself because not only does he like it, he also wants to go back to fighting and wants out of Splendid's Aversion therapy.

Flippy barely gets a word out because his other self tackles him to the ground and starts to choke him, calling him weak, a liar, and a coward, saying he should've died on that mission, not Sneaky or Mouse Ka-Boom.

Speaking of which, the two appear and grab both of Flippy's arms, holding him while he's practically being strangled again.

It gets worse when his other self turns into Tiger General, who laughs that he wouldn't be surprised by such an admission because it took Flippy how many tries to kill him. Might as well return the favor.

Flippy, breathless and trying to break free screams out and wakes up on the floor, though he gets up and runs to the kitchen sink, where he dry heaves and coughs up spit.

He stops after a while and sits against the cabinets, having regrets about the choice to go along with Splendid's idea.

These regrets linger as he walks outside the next day, catching a toy Cub dropeed while and Pop are on a stroll, though Cub is in a wagon.

They walk off, Pop thanking Flippy, and Flippy gets a surprise attack hug from Flaky, who's close to tears because he's been missing.

Cuddles, Giggles, and Petunia also approach, asking where the hell he disappeared to, because they've been looking all over for him.

Flippy apologizes for worrying them and straight up lies, saying he just left town for a little bit to enjoy some quiet time; and to restock on his medicine as soon as he could because he ran out.

Cuddles still lightly punches Flippy on the arm and tells him not to scare them like that again, or they'll put him on a harness or walk around with him in a wagon.

With Flaky now piggybacking him, Flippy muses that it sounds tempting, because he could see everyone getting some excerise because of it.

The group laugh it off and start toward a diner, because they all skipped breakfast and lunch on accident.

Flippy decides to join them, having NOT skipped breakfast, and they head to the diner.

On his back, Flaky asks Flippy if he's okay, because he looks pale and feels tense.

He nods, claiming he's fine, just a little sore from a workout he did while he was away.

Flaky is suspicious, but drops it. FOR NOW.

Cut to them at the diner, all talking and looking over the menu to see what they want, and a visual gag of Cuddles and Giggles having a contest of who can spin longer in their chairs(they're all sitting at the bar).

Flippy is a little uneasy because ANYTHING can trigger his instincts and he doesn't know how well this aversion procedure is going to qork because neither he nor Splendid went out and actually saw if it was working.

Petunia sees his unease and asks if he needs to step outside for a second.

He shakes his head and admits he's just trying to figure out what to eat.

Good thing he's having a hard time, too, because Petunia is not in the mood for grease.

Flaky fakes a gag or an "Eugh," and jokes, "Ew, flirting."

While Flippy laughs, Petunia DARES Flaky to repeat that, because it was her that helped the two get closer.

His laughter dies when a kitchen fire starts on accident right in front if them.

TV/anime perspective, we see the reflection of the fire in Flippy's eyes as they widen and he gasps/whimpers. We don't see his flashback, but we hear about a bomb going off and people screaming in pain. Flippy clenches a fist on the countertop, silent as the fire is put out and everyone relaxes.

While everyone talks about how crazy that just was, Flippy spontaneouly gets sick to his stomach and gags, excusing himself really quick to go to the bathroom.

The group watch and are now very confused, because usually flame triggers him, but he did not go off on them.

Cuddles, being the only boy, follows Flippy, saying that he'll try not to die in the process.

He does not die, but he does see Flippy vomiting into one of the sinks, very violently, I must say.

Cuddles asks if everything's okay, which scares the crap out of Flippy, but the ex-soldier claims he's fine; the fire just got him scared.

Cuddles doesn't really buy it, and asks another question: Has he been eating, AT ALL? Because he looks like he lost a little bit of weight and sick as hell.

While he waters away his mess, washes out, and wipes off his mouth, Flippy admits he has been, as much as he can, at least.

Cuddles still doesn't buy it, asking WHAT he's eating and when.

Flippy leans over the now clean sink and measures his options.

If he tells the truth, there's a chance his friends are not going to take it well.

If he keeps them in the dark, they will be fine, even though he'll feel even more like garbage.

Flippy turns and holds up his hands in surrender. He's been eating venison to build immunity, and because it, honestly, tastes really good.

Cuddles reels on him, asking why he'd do that when he's almost deathly allergic to the stuff.

Flippy apologizes and admits that, yes, he knows it's stupid, but he's just trying to make himself better, in case they have a cookout and someone accidentally brings venison instead of steak.

Cuddles points out that's BS because NO ONE eats venison(whatever it is)(Flippy corrects him that it's deer), but still drops it because Flippy clearly doesn't want to talk about it; guy code.

Flippy thanks him anyway and they rejoin the group, everyone keeping an eye on Flippy as he eats, Flaky especially, because, having known him the longest, she canntell he's both hiding something and isn't as good as he's pretending to be.

HMMMMMMMM????

#happy tree friends #htf flippy #htf splendid #htf giggles #htf cuddles #htf flaky #htf petunia #ptsd tw #nightmare tw #strangle/choking tw #medicine/drug use tw #aversion therapy tw #vomiting tw #thank you for being patient

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theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 3 years

Text

Friday Night Stabby best quotes part 7 (30/12/20)

this one is quite long, cuz this is the 5 hour stream PLUS there was just so many incredible quotes from this one so apologies for the length lol

...

*speed has been cranked up in the lobby to the highest setting* Skizz: So… did we enable cocaine, or…?

...

*fifteen seconds before meeting ends* Etho: So I saw Joker vent, by the way. I just wanted him to sweat a little bit. Joker: WHAT?!

...

*Brody has been caught venting by Etho* Mrs Tango: Etho is safe. I saw him dump trash because apparently, visuals are on. Etho: Ohh Mrs Tango saving the day, thank you :D Brody: Yeah, every time you watch Etho play, it’s trash >:( Mrs Tango: You shut your filthy mouth!

...

Brody, at the end of the round: Etho, I was partially joking. You’re not trash. Etho: Oh. Thank you.

...

Tango: Brown body in O2. Evil: Eh, it’s just Bdubs. Tango: Move along. Next round. Nothing to see here. Skizz: Everybody skip right away! Brody: That’s sad. Etho: Poor, poor potato. Brody: Yeah, he’s just a little potato man.

...

*Tango has reported a body*

Mrs Tango: Wait, wait, wait. You saw a body?! Tango: *deep sigh* Endless: Oh daaaaang! Etho: This is very suspicious. That’s a good point, Mrs Tango. Mrs Tango: That’s suspect right there. Tango: How often do I self-report? Mrs Tango: How often do you see a body?

...

Skizz: Sorry, Mrs Tango! Mrs Tango: No you’re not. Don’t lie to me. Impulse: Thanks for playing the third imposter, buddy :) Skizz: Shut up. Tango: TOTAL third imposter there. Skizz: Hey, I SAID it was a guess!

...

*Skizz’s body is reported* Tango: I think it’s Skizz. I think it’s Skizz. Brody: You think it’s Skizz? Tango: Yes. Let’s all vote Skizz. Etho: Interesting detective work…

...

Etho: Joker, what’ve you been up to? You’ve been kinda quiet. Joker: Oh, my wife just gave me food. I have jambalaya. *everyone skips except Evil, who votes for Joker* Brody: EvilNotion thinks you should be voted off for jambalaya, evidently. Endless: Wait, who voted for who? Evil: I voted for Joker just cuz he’s got jambalaya and I’m jealous.

...

Bdubs: To be fair, he’s eating jambalaya, which is a hot food, and he’s trying to play imposter at the same time. Brody: Wait, IS he eating jambalaya or was that a ruse? Joker: No, I’ve got- Bdubs: Was the jambalaya a ruse?!

...

Bdubs: I heard Etho say, like, five words and he was smiling when he said them. Sounds guilty to me. Etho, audibly smiling: Oh you got me with the- Bdubs: See! He’s guilty! He’s smiling again!

...

*a body is reported* Etho: Brody killed him, Brody killed him! No, I mean, he’s safe. Brody’s safe. Brody: You’re killing me right now, Etho.

...

Tango: That was the most unsatisfying win ever, by the way. Brody: It just made me sad.

...

Endless: For the record, only one person can medbay scan at a time, so Joker got away with that fake. Joker: I totally did. Etho: I thought he was just doing Joker things. Joker: Yeah, I was just doing Joker things!

...

Skizz: I accidentally collapsed my tasks and I didn’t know that was a thing! I do NOW, but- Bdubs: I’m gonna call my uncle and see if he can fill a spot in this group. Skizz: Hey, I didn’t have to tell you guys ANYTHING! Brody: Being dead, you were still somehow third imposter. I don’t understand how it’s possible. Tango: That’s a talent, right there.

...

Etho: *calls emergency meeting* Joker, immediately: YEAH, I wanna talk to YOU, Etho! Skizz and Bdubs at the same time: UH OH! Tango: These are the best kinds of meetings! Etho: What is it, Joker? Joker: I wanna know why you’re going to that gas can so many times without emptying it! Etho: I’m trying to avoid you, cuz you’re freaking me out, man. Bdubs: I just saw him there at the gas can. Joker: Yeah, I saw you- He- He walked away- Etho: How about instead of watching me, you go do your tasks, Joker? Bdubs: Wow, he’s pulling a dad move. Brody: You ARE freaking out, man. Joker: A dad move again. I’m in trouble. Alright, fine. I was just trying to make friends, man.

...

Etho: I stumbled across a body and as I entered the room, Skizzle ran out instead of doing lights or reporting the body. Skizz: Always throwing me under the bus! Brody: Is that throwing you under the bus or is it- Tango: -is it you crawling out of the bus saying “vote me”? *pause* Skizz, miserably: Just do it.

...

Mrs Tango: I have both tasks in medbay. Brody: Really? Both? Is that even a thing? Mrs Tango: It is. If you’d like, you can come watch me scan my sexy body. Brody: I-I don’t wanna watch that, I’m okay.

...

Tango: It’s clearly Joker again, can we just vote him off? Joker: W-Wait, what? I-I’m just sitting here! I didn’t even do anything! Skizz: Jeez, he’s just messing with ya, homie. Joker: Oh, okay. Good. I wasn’t really listening anyway.

...

Etho: Joker, sorry for voting you out. Joker: Uh huh. Bdubs: Classic Canadian.

...

Etho: *calls emergency meeting* Etho: Oh, they killed Tango! Nooo! Etho: Uh, I saw Brody vent.

...

Impulse: Okay, I’ll buy it for a dollar. *votes for Brody* Endless: Yeah, what’s the worst that can happen? Brody: What’s the worst-? Thanks, Endless. I appreciate that, buddy.

...

Endless: Were you paying attention this time, Joker, or…? Joker: Well, my wife gave me some truffles with, like, strawberries in the centre and chocolate so it’s super tasty. So I was half-paying attention. *long pause* Endless: I’m voting Joker just so he has time to finish his truffles. Joker: No no no no no no, listen, I’d just finished the weapons thing and I WAS with Impulse but I watched him go somewhere else and then I went down to communications to finish my thing. And if I was the killer, I wouldn’t say that cuz that sounds horrible, now that I say it out loud… *Joker is voted out* Joker: Someday, you guys’ll see that it’s really just not me.

...

Endless: For the record, I also want some jambalaya and some chocolate truffles. Brody: Endless, you get NOTHING.

...

Tango: So Etho, did you really just cut task mid-task and run away? Etho: Oh yeah, if I think the killer’s just walked in with me, I’m outta there. There’s no way I’m hanging around. Joker: Then everybody should know that if Etho is hanging around with me, we’re both the killers. Endless: Noted.

...

Impulse: I literally saw Brody vent. Brody: You did. You did see me vent. I killed Etho. I’m gonna say it out loud. I killed him because every time I’m near him, he sees me in a vent. Every time. He deserved to die every single time. I’m calling it right now. You should vote for me. Etho- Bdubs: This is dark…

...

Evil: I found Bdubs’s dead body at lights. Mrs Tango: I think it’s Joker. Joker: Of COURSE you do.

...

*Mrs Tango is ejected* Mrs Tango: Y’all are WRONG and I’m not doing my tasks. Etho, dead: Hell hath no fury like a Mrs Tango scorned.

...

Endless: Best of luck to you later tonight, Tango. Tango: I am locking my doors, just so you guys know.

...

Tango: That was an unproductive round for me. I was in admin, now I’m in reactor and my task got interrupted. Brody: I don’t think it’s unproductive; Skizz is dead.

...

Bdubs: I saw Brody go right early on with the whole reactor meltdown, he went the opposite direction. Then the second emergency meeting, he deflected and didn’t really truly answer, and then he voted against Mrs Tango with me and Etho without really saying much. And I- I’m kinda- I’m really feeling… *sounding like he’s crying* I think he did it! I think he’s a killer! Brody: You’re using the fake tears right now? That’s where you wanna be? Bdubs: Yes that’s where I wanna be.

...

Tango: No, okay, wait a sec! Listen. Just imagine for a second that I’m innocent right now. *long pause* Impulse: You… You just wanted us to imagine? Etho: Okay, so you’re innocent and…? Tango: No, I’m guilty.

...

*after the Tangos lose an imposter round together* Mrs Tango: I have the best husband ever. Tango: So close! Mrs Tango: Just so you know, I have the best husband ever. Tango: We were on a murdering rampage! Mrs Tango: My husband is better than all of your husbands,. Joker: I don’t… have a husband? Endless: Yeah me neither. Tango: Her husband is better than your husband, Endless. Mrs Tango: My husband is better than all of your husbands. Endless: Your husband called you a liar earlier.

...

Endless: *calls emergency meeting* Endless: I don’t have any information, I just saw Tango was dead on vitals. Etho: But now we don’t know where he died. Endless: It literally just happened, so has anybody seen him recently? *long pause* Skizz: ...so essentially this meeting is “the vitals machine works”?

...

Joker: Am I really always suspect? Impulse: Yes. Tango: Yes. Brody: Yes. Joker: All the time? Endless: Yes. Brody: Yes. Evil: Yes. Brody: If you’re voted off, it’s either good or good. It’s just like- It’s fine.

...

*everyone skips except Endless who votes for Skizz* Endless: Payback >:) Skizz: ENDLESS-!

...

Impulse: Joker, don’t kill me right away. Joker: *kills Impulse* (wouldn’t be one of these streams without Impulse inadvertently predicting his own death a second before it happens)

...

*Brody calls an emergency meeting after Joker has been chasing Tango around the map* Tango: OH THANK GOD, OH GOD! PLEASE VOTE JOKER OFF! Joker: Look! MAN! I’m-! Tango: He’s been chasing me for twenty minutes! Bdubs: Hold on, hold on. Brody- Brody, what? Brody: Uh, I just called this cuz I wanted to see where everybody’s at with tasks cuz I’m done, and, uh… Tango: Guys, I nailed Joker already, now just vote him off! Joker: Look, dude, I’m just trying- Tango: He just chased me for twenty minutes! Endless, Endless-! Bdubs: Is this Tango’s guilty voice? Skizz: I wanna hear Tango only. Tango: Everyone, SHUT UP. Endless. Endless. Endless? Endless. Are you there? Endless: Yeah, I- Tango: Did you not see me sticking to you like glue for that entire round cuz Joker was chasing me for the last thirty seconds? Endless: I saw Joker come into communications, go to leave, then come back in and hang around you, so… Skizz: Tango, are we voting for Joker? Tango: Yes! If it’s not Joker, he’s a jerk and needs to be voted off anyways. Joker: I’m always a jerk!

...

Joker: Sorry, Bdubs, I blew that last round. Bdubs: Oh don’t worry, I blew it too. Brody: Yeah, you both equally blew it. Joker: I wasn’t talking to you, Brody.

...

Brody: Endless? Etho? Etho: I was on my way over to lights. Endless: I’m just waiting to die.

...

Impulse: I said my BONES are good, not my eyeballs.

...

Skizz: You are a NINJA, Endless. I totally forgot you were playing for a second there.

...

Skizz: Impulse, your body had fully decomposed and had been consumed and turned into fossil fuel. Impulse: I love how your ghost was hovering over my body for half the match, just waiting for somebody to find me. That was cute. Tango: Just like “aww my buddy is dead :’(“ yeah. Skizz: It was killing me! D:

...

Tango: Skizz, how did you get into the lab? Skizz: ...I don’t understand the question. How’d I get into lab? Through the door…? What is happening? Joker: I see where you’re going with this, Tango, and I support this. Skizz: I don’t-! *votes are revealed, everyone has voted for Skizz* *pause* Skizz: ONE time. I wanna be imposter ONE time where my partner is not voted off in the first six seconds!

...

Impulse: I’m about to be killed, anywa- Etho: *kills Impulse*

...

Bdubs: Mrs Tango! What are you doin’? You just walked out of communications and Impulse is dead in there! *pause* Mrs Tango, audibly grinning: I don’t think so! He was alive when I was in there. Bdubs: Busted! Tango: Hang on, guys! I will decipher this with my extensive wife knowledge! I think she’s guilty! Mrs Tango: He was alive while I was in there! Bdubs: He was? He just dropped dead of starvation, maybe? Mrs Tango: Maybe an icicle got him, I don’t know. Tango: Right, right! Stalactite fell from the heavens and impaled him. Bdubs: A flesh-eating disease, maybe. Tango: Maybe Endless starved to death. Did you think of that? Joker: A wire was loose and he got electrocuted.

...

Joker: Brody, you just love killing me. Brody: I mean, I do, but that’s not why I’m voting for you.

...

Joker: Tango, I’m getting people coming into my chat and telling me you’re saying I’m useless now. Tango: *cackles* Tango: I dunno what you’re talking about.

#friday night stabby quotes #friday night stabby #impulsesv #tangotek #skizzleman #etho #bdubs #misterjoker #brodyman #evilnotion #theendless #mrstango

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blankd · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on The Mitchells vs the Machines

I watched it a while ago and kept forgetting to post my thoughts on it, but some posts here on tumblr recently reminded me.

I disagree with the majority takeaways I see but is that not the spice of life?

As a standalone movie its inoffensive and the writing of it will likely exit my brain in a few months. However I can appreciate that the visual style was different from the typical fare and the mixture of 2d elements for visual embellishments were mostly enjoyable and well-suited for Katie as the POV character.

It's a bit "hyper" for my liking, but that's fine, it's likely intended for an audience that's accustomed to the flood that is the current norm of the internet. It was probably made with GIFable moments in mind and that is the most frequent content that is shared about it, so it certainly succeeded in that regard.

My more critical take is that jokes are delivered at the expense of what could be more authentic themes. Quips are made that draw attention to character flaws or undercut questions the movie should try to answer, but inevitably they are ignored to move onto the next joke or story beat.

The rest would fall more into spoiler territory, so read more for that.

--"They Were Both In the Wrong"

I personally disagree heavily with the thrust of how "both sides" were wrong when the degrees are disproportionate.

I've seen claims that Katie was "as in the wrong" as her father, but she's incredibly patient to the man who does her material harm.

I've yet to have seen someone say specifically what Katie did *wrong* to her father that is at all on par with the *years* he at best hasn't been able to interact with her or worse, actively refused to engage with her interests.

I would generously venture that her flaw was that she was more willing to communicate her feelings to strangers, but she easily talks to her mother and brother- her brother even helps her with her movies and she happily engages him with his own interests, which pivots the point back to how her father is physically/emotionally unavailable and led to the erosion and distance between the two of them.

Due to this, MvM comes across more as Kaite having to do so much more to guide her father rather than a more mutual learning experience for the both of them.

--"Technology that [Dis]Connects"

It's probably beyond the scope and intent of the film, but I was surprised there was no examination about why technology can be more alluring than interacting with physically present people.

For better or worse, the internet can be used as a means of supplementing the validation and acceptance of family. It can also lead to no longer connecting to people around them because of the validation high of appealing to a constantly 'awake' sea of strangers- the spotlight is warmer than the cold reality that they are not the internet image they have cultivated.

For example, the rival 'perfect' family was never revealed to be a carefully constructed highlight reel that Mrs. Mitchell envies, they really were actually that perfect- because that provides an easier punchline than an examination or acknowledgement of how the internet can create unhealthy expectations.

I also can't expect MvM to acknowledge the reality that LGBTA+ people who are rejected by their family resort to seeking a new one through the internet because it would be much harder to redeem/rehabilitate a man defined by being tethered to "old values" if he was homophobic instead of "overprotective" and apprehensive at his daughter's departure from home and her dubious art career.

But hey we got that quick line at the end that Katie likes a girl, so that's a diversity win or something.

(To be clear I'm not expecting a whole parade or even an A or B-plot dedicated to it, but I think it should be acknowledged that this kind of "surprise inclusion" is very easily erased with a change of audio and would be completely unsurprised if this were the case for countries that are homophobic. People can be happy about it, but it is dishonest to pretend that this is a bolder statement than it is.)

In that sense, I do and don't hold MvM to taking a "safer" route about how family always has your back, but this still feels like an important omission considering the focus on technology and its dynamic with the Mitchells.

I will also say that it was also bizarre, to me at least, that the obvious route that her father sees the value of home videos didn't become an active point between him and Katie. Or that Mr. Mitchell's carpentry never really amounts to anything despite having a sentimental wooden moose.

Lastly, I think it's an unintentional, but it's interesting that Katie going to college to pursue her passion is viewed as a Terrible Thing by her father even though if he had his way, he'd be ostensibly living in the woods away from everyone else except his wife.

This isn't a problem, people are a collection of contradictions, but It's fascinating to see what the *narrative* treats as a difficult sacrifice while simultaneously pulling at heartstrings when PAL cites how children ignore their mothers. There's an unexamined comedy that Mr. Mitchell's losing out on his 'passion' to live in the woods away from people is treated as tragic despite the movie's insistence on staying connected with your blood family.

--"The Inconsistent Personhood of AI"

PAL is rightfully angry at being discarded for something new; it's provided as a glimpse of what Katie will do when she finds 'her people' at college.

This in of itself is a good hook, because there is no one universal answer to when a flawed relationship should be mended with compromise or if it's better off being broken for the wellbeing of the ones involved. Family and relationships are not programming, it's a choice and a gamble for whatever it brings but is nonetheless something that must be mutually worked upon.

Initially I thought that PAL was being set up as an exaggerated parallel to Mr. Mitchell. PAL and Mr. Mitchell did their best to provide for their family. PAL and Mr. Mitchell are in different stages of being 'discarded' by their family. PAL and Mr. Mitchell both retaliate at their lack of power in the scenario by using the power granted by their roles to infringe on the autonomy of others for selfish reasons.

PAL even gives a 'chance' for her plan to be halted with, I had assumed this was being set up as the thesis of the movie, about humanity and the value of family, relationships, etc. being used to help someone who is already hurting.

But despite Katie looking at the camera and explaining herself, it is never actually directly resolved or challenged because a punchline was deemed more desirable for this narrative climax.

This begs the question of why PAL bothered with the pretense that she could be reasoned with, especially since this is not some question leveled at all of humanity, just two people.

I'm curious how the writers came to the conclusion that this was the best execution of the scene or if Katie's speech was considered immune to any challenge from PAL. Would anyone have accepted this outcome if PAL were not an AI but instead a person?

It's not necessarily bad writing they went this route, but I doubt anyone would consider this good writing either.

By the end of the movie, PAL is no longer a 'person' who was betrayed and is lashing out, she is an object to be destroyed because the movie has to wrap up. No compassion or chances are spared to this AI that did literally everything asked of her except take being discarded quietly.

Did PAL deserve a redemption arc? For this length of movie, probably not. But it could have concluded with a commitment to doing no further harm. Instead it is an accidental glimpse at how easily the pretense of compassion can be quickly discarded and mostly unexamined with the right framing.

A likely unintentional example is the conditional humanity given to Eric and Deborahbot who are adopted as "family" while the rest of the robots are mowed down without another thought. Some are even beaten and broken while begging for mercy, because again, it is a funnier punchline.

Far be it for me to advocate that the murderbots needed 'a second chance uvu' but for a movie whose conceit rests on 'sticking by family' and 'giving chances', the writers certainly made a choice in deciding which AI get honorary humanity and spared violent death- perhaps PAL had a point about humanity's callousness after all. Bad robots are discarded, good robots get to live.

Even the CEO who realizes he enabled this mess (easily the most unrealistic part of the movie, honestly) is given another chance and he manages to take away a completely wrong lesson.

Speaking of-

--"Maybe I Shouldn’t Have Used Tech Like This"

There's a particular image/gif set posted about MvM with the CEO apologizing for the machine uprising, attributing it to unchecked technology and monopolies. I've always seen it accompanied by people congratulating the scene as if any of this is at all relevant to the movie.

Charitably, these are people who haven't watched the movie and don't know that PAL is a phone AI single-handedly doing this, but most take the stance that this scene is proof the movie is not saying technology is bad, only corporations are.

The speech isn't technically wrong but it is so utterly divorced from what happens in the movie that it's surreal to see people congratulate it as anything but a moment of soapboxing.

None of the datagrabbing was used at all as part of the takeover. It's all magical kid-friendly terminators with no relevance to what anyone's browsing history is. If the company was one that produced robot assistants instead of a being a super tech monopoly, there would be no narrative difference.

The closest to a predatory tactic that is used in MvM is the offer of free wifi which is used to lure most people into their cells which they happily comply with. Curiously this... commentary of people’s mindless addiction to technology is not acknowledged by the Tumblr Court with the same intensity as the CEO’s speech.

But more constructively, I do feel it’s a missed opportunity that Katie who's supposed to be an extremely online person apparently never said any bad things about her family or made any petty vent films for PAL to weaponize. Instead an in-media audio at one of the outskirt locations was used to accomplish its Traitor Revealed moment.

IN CONCLUSION

MvM is a movie that involves topics that ought to be touched on and explored properly in media and chickens out on all of it due to possible concerns with age-appropriate handling or because it was more committed to its comedy than whatever it has to say about family, change and how technology affects people.

It also reminded me that I hope media will finally graduate from the trope that if you spec into any ‘outdoorsy’ hobby you are incurably afraid of technology.

#the mitchells vs the machines #let me ramble to you #text post #hot takes probably

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magnhild · 4 years

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A Happy Review (kind of) of Ikenfell

Having ADHD means that I have a lot of trouble getting into new media if I’m hyperfixating on something else. As any follower of mine is no doubt aware, my current one is RWBY, and has been for a while. But with the show’s mid-volume hiatus underway, I ended up left in a void with nothing to fill it.

Two days ago, I had a friend reccomened to me a little indie RPG called Ikenfell. I’d never heard of it, but I was told it has a great number of LGBT+ characters, options to make gameplay easier, content warnings, and music composed by the great Aivi & Surasshu, who you might know as the composers of Steven Universe. This grabbed my interest, but I found myself sketpical that it could be that good, and that the representation, in particular, was largely exaggerated and probably just mild implication.

Nevertheless, I started the game the next day, intending to play for an hour or so before putting it down again, warning my friend that I was unlikely to get too invested in it.

Almost exactly 12 hours later, I found myself watching the epilogue play out with misty eyes, having finished the game and having gotten deeply pulled into it.

This game was everything it was promised to me and so much more. Between the representation, the accessibility options, and the overall charm of the game, Ikenfell ended up being laregly enjoyable and something truly special; a hidden gem in the plethora of video games released in 2020.

The game follows Maritte Hildegaard, a non-magical teenage girl, on the search for her yes-magical sister Safina, a witch attending the school of Ikenfell. A basic premise on the surface, but the story itself has a lot of neat little twists and turns that all come together for a satisfying story worthy of being animated someday. It probably won’t be, but hey, I can’t dream, right?

To begin with, I didn’t find myself too fond of the battle system, not because I found it flawed, but simply because I personally struggle with video game battles and they can also cause me a great deal of pain due to my connective tissue disorder and chronic shoulder pain. I was getting way too frustrated, even agaisnt smaller enemies, and was ready to put the game down after yet another failure agaisnt the same single boss. Tied alongside the fact you cannot see your enemy’s HP, making strategixing more difficult, I was ready to say that I wasn’t a huge fan of the game.

That is, until I found out about instant victory, an option in the settings that allows you to be given the chance to instantly skip literally any battle in the game, with no negative conequences and all of the rewards. For more avoid gamers, it might be tempting to mark this as a flaw that makes the game ‘too easy’, but is very much optional, and anyone who wants the challenge can play without it if they wish. But for disabled people like me, who also get easily stressed, it was an absolute Godsend that allowed me to focus more on the story and characters, which was what I really cared about.

On the note of characters, the representaion mentioned earlier is certianly no exxageration, with just about every named character being explicily LGBT+ in a way that I’ve never seen before in officially published media. I’m not just talking wlw and mlm characters, though there were plenty. No, the characters aren’t only diverse in sexuality, but in gender as well. Of the six playable characters, three- an entire half- of them are nonbinary. Several human nonbinary characters. And it goes even further- only one of these characters uses they/them pronouns. Why is that good? Because not all nonbinary people do. And that’s something that is severely overlooked by those with binary genders. One of them uses he/him pronouns, and the other uses ze/zir pronouns. You read that right. A main character in a video game, in media at all, that uses neopronouns. Now, I am fully aware that neopronouns have been used in media before; my own set were coined by a book, in fact. But in all of these cases that I’m aware of, they are used exclusively for non-human characters; aliens, bringing an implcation that neopronouns are nonhuman. This case, as far as I’m aware, is the first case that they are used to reflect and represent real human beings, and it is absolutely incredible. The LGBT+ representation in this game is amazing, but there is something very special and signifigant about a black, human, adult character, using neopronouns.

Even better yet is that this is all in the game completely casually, with no fanfare, no dramatic coming-out plotlines, no treatment as if it is anything but normal. Even the one instance of a character accidentally misgender another comes with a quick apology and correction with no big deal. Better yet is that terms like ‘gay’ and ‘nonbinary’ are explicitly used in-text as well, rather than avoiding the use of them as many other instances of LGBT+ characters in media do.

Aside from individual LGBT+ characters, the game also boasts five LGBT+ couples over the course of the story, though one is only sen in flashbacks and another is only mentioned between scenes. Nevertheless, it’s easy to become invested in the slight romantic aspects of the story.

SPOILERS AHEAD

One of these romances is between Ibn Oxley and Bax Twiford, and it’s the first one we see hinted at in the game. During the stoy’s climax, Bax is fatally wounded and I felt a heavy weight in the pit of my stomach, even tweeting an out-of-context ‘OH NO’ to confused and concerened followers. MLM couples in media are all-too-often doomed to fail, usually by way of having one half of the couple be killed off. I feared this would be the same case here, to the only MLM couple in the game, and resigned to it with a hevay heart.

Except, the game surprised me again, and saved Bax before he died, allowing for both characters to get their happy ending. In fact, all of the characters get at least somewhat of a happy ending, a refreshing detail for a sap like me. I was espeically pleased when I sat through the credits, praying for an epilogue that would confirm soemthing I was hoping for, being sure I wouldn’t get it, and then i got it. Every writing choice made felt like one of my own, albiet excuted better, with far more professionalism. It felt so utterly refreshing to have everything turn out the way I wanted it to.

Even decisons made outside of representaion satisified me, like Safina not being forgiven by Maritte after everything she’d done, including keeping Maritte’s entire existance from her friends. In many instances these days, it’s all-too-common for a character to do terrible things, only to be forgiven by everyone the moment they apologie, and it can be a bit frustrating if you’re someone who knows that nobody should ever feel obligated to forgive someone who hurt them, and that an apology is more than just saying ‘sorry’. It was yet another case of the story going exactly as I’d wanted it to.

END SPOILER WARNING

Ikenfell feels just like a fanfiction, and I mean that in the best possible way. Not because it’s exceedingly trope-y, or because it feels amature in any way, but because it doesn’t feel like something that was written for pleasing the (cishet and white) masses when it comes to its representation. The large majority of creators looking to publish their work will avoid going all-out with representation in fear of the classic ‘it’s not realistic’ critisism, with only fanfiction authors usually having the guts to make all of their characters LGBT+, because they’re writing for themselves and a small audience of people who enjoy the same things as them. Ikenfell has this same feel; it wasn’t created to be a huge, wildly popular, chart-topping game, it was created to be something that the people it represented could enjoy. It is the purest kind of video game, not one made for profit or attention, but simply because the creators wanted to create it. The fanfiction vibe also makes a lot of sense, considering the fact that was inspired by them- which may explain why I, laregly a fanfiction writer, agree with so much of its choices.

The game may not be everyone’s thing, but if you’re disabled, LGBT+, a POC, of even just someone who ejoys cute fantasy RPGs, I implore you to buy and play the game, because even my words can’t fully capture what an incredible game it is. There’s stuff I haven’t even mentioned, like the beuatiful music, the great visuals, and the many, many cats, so please, go and check it out for yourself.

Thank you for reading, and thank you to every single person who worked on Ikenfell for crafting such a lovely and inclusive game.

#ikenfell #essay #my writing #long post

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humbughana · 4 years

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The Set-Up

Part Two of After. - s o read this first obvi

Lucy comes up with a plan to ruin Kiara.

warnings- absolute kiara hate, cursing.

Fatal flaws. The downfall of a person.

The Pogues had the tendency to believe that the entire world was out to get them; that we should all fall at their feet because they were not handed the right cards in life. As if it was any of our faults but low and behold, they made it their mission to make it our problem. Lucy had always been sympathetic to them but now she realized that the festering within them, the entitlement that they all possessed.

Kiara was the worst of them. The self righteous bitch that thought she was all too good for the Kooks because she liked to surf for god's sake. As if it made her oh so special that she liked animals and the ocean.

Oh, spare us all.

She was a Kook, and when she didn’t fit in as she wanted, she left them all as if we were nothing. At least Lucy and her friends were well aware of what they had but Kiara didn’t seem to realize just how far she could fall.

Lucy would relish in pushing her and watching just how long it will take her to hit the ground.

A week had passed since the day she went to the restaurant, a week for her to realize the truth and a week to figure out how she wanted to hurt them all. Sure, Lucy knew how the girl pined over JJ but she also knew the girl had a thing for Rafe Cameron when she graced us with her presence at the Academy; before ditching everyone for the Pogue life.

“Are you sure?” Topper asked with a fighting smile, Rafe and Kelce wore matching full grins as Lucy laid out her big plans for Kiara. Lucy nodded with a smile of her own, “Make her suffer.” She directed at Rafe because this was all in his hands now. Lucy had proposed that Rafe flirt with Kiara, make her feel special, lure her in, and then break her into little pieces so she could watch.

So now the three of them pulled up to the Boneyard in separate cars, a party already in full swing, Lucy jumped out of her car and the boys followed suit as they met up, “Apologize to her, use me as an excuse. Tell her you're sorry for what I said to her.” Lucy turned to Rafe who was looking as confident as ever as he nodded in exasperation, “You know I do know how to flirt, Luce.” Lucy rolled her eyes and gestured for them to go.

She wore a pair of jean shorts that hugged her thighs and a tank top that showed a sliver of her stomach, let them all see, Lucy didn’t really care anymore. So the four of them walked onto the sand, eyes turning to watch them before adverting when they saw the healing marks on her face and body. Topper threw an arm over her shoulder when Rafe split to carry out his part. Topper led her over to the designated Kook side of the beach before placing a red cup in her hand, “water,” he mumbled, placing a kiss on her temple when she nodded in thanks. They weren’t here to party, they were here for something more as she kept a watchful eye on Rafe and Kiara throughout the night. Her entitled, bitchy expression when her friend approached, the little laughs she let out when he said something charming to the red flush on her check when Rafe touched her. Topper kept a hand on her the whole night and it was a comforting thing she relished in.

But it would be a lie that her eyes didn’t narrow when Kiara touched his arm or when he leaned in to whisper in her ear, Lucy’s hand tightened where it is laid on Topper's leg and he leaned in, “Want me to take you home?” and she nodded, deciding she didn’t really need to watch Rafe flirt with Kiara all night. Topper pulled her up and she looked to Kelce, “Keep an eye on him, please.” The boy nodded with a slight smile as Topper led her back to his car.

She could wait until tomorrow for the good news.

Topper took her home in silence, his hand on her leg the whole drive home, a thumb tracing the welts on her legs carefully. When he pulled up in front of her house, intending to drop her off and go home himself, she grabbed his hand and squeezed, “Please don’t leave me alone tonight.” It had become a common theme for her to coax one of the boys to stay with her, they never said anything about it but they knew she couldn’t stand to be alone. Last night Kelce stayed and the night before it was Rafe. Topper nodded but told her he needed things from his own house and that she could just sleep there instead but she didn’t care about the terms only that he’d be there.

So when the two of them finally laid down for bed she could deal with the thoughts in her head and close her eyes in peace knowing someone was next to her.

She woke up alone. Topper’s white sheets were wrapped around her as the sunlight perfectly shined through into her eyes, Lucy groaned in annoyance, shielding her eyes as she sat up. The sound of loud laughter sounded from downstairs and she followed it, clothed in a long shirt Topper gave her and some running shorts she had left here over the years.

She saw the three of them laughing in the living room, all lounging on different couches, still groggy and tired from the sun waking her up, Lucy trudged to the couch Topper was on and plopped down next to him, “morning luce.” he smiled at her. Rafe only looked her over hesitantly and she grinned, “Well? How’d it go Cameron?”

Kelce let out a laugh, “Oh this is going to be so much fun.” Rafe shook his head with a shit-eating grin, “He’s got a date tonight,”

Lucy laid down, her head in Topper’s lap as she let out a laugh at the visual of Rafe and Kiara together, “Don’t go falling in love now.” she teased as Topper ran his fingers through her hair but Rafe only rolled his eyes in response. The boys fell into another easy conversation while she stared up at the ceiling in thought. They must have arrested JJ but they couldn’t hold him; there was a large chance they let him go. Lucy wondered if he went back to his friends as if nothing happened or if he thought of her. If he would pretend he couldn’t remember, that it was the alcohol, if he would try to find her and explain himself. The excuses he’d think of or the apology she deserved but didn’t quite know if she wanted.

Lucy didn’t know that Rafe was watching her. The way her fingers fidgeted and the growing look of anxiety on her face before he cut in if only to wipe that pained look off her face, “I’m going to head out. Do you need a ride home Lucy?” And she was gratefully internally as she nodded, sitting up. Lucy grabbed Rafe’s hand when he neared and waved goodbye to her two friends as Rafe took her to his car. She was quiet as he pulled out of the driveway and to the familiar road to her house, “Are you regretting this?” Rafe asked quietly and she just shook her head slightly. It was true, she wasn’t regretting her path of revenge, “Then what's got you so quiet?” Rafe put the car in park in front of her house, the drive a very short one between all of their houses.

How could she admit that she was just scared? It was an annoying fact she had to deal with, she should just feel the burn of anger but the truth itself was bitter; Lucy was scared of seeing JJ. Scared of accidentally running into him in public or seeing him with his friends. Scared of how he would act or how she would react.

Rafe laid a hand on the side of her face to bring her attention back to him. Lucy sighed shakily, “I’m scared. I never want to see him again.” Rafe nodded, he could understand that so he settled for pulling her in, placing a kiss on her forehead, “We won’t let him near you again.” She knew he couldn’t promise that but appreciated it anyways.

“Come over after your date tonight, tell me all about it.” She smiled as she still slightly teased him. Rafe groaned with a grin, “I'd rather spend the day with you,” His usual sweet words made her warm inside. Lucy just kissed him on the cheek and opened the door, waving to him when she got to her front door.

She was much too tired to dissect her feelings for Rafe and it was pointless anyways.

Lucy spent the day with her mom at the club, lounging in a chair by the pool and basking in the sun. It was something they would do all the time before she met JJ. When the sun began to set they went home and ate dinner. It was a taste of normality again.

That night, she must have dozed off because Lucy awoke to the door opening to her bedroom. She sat up on her elbows as Rafe walked inside looking worse for wear, “Rafe?” Lucy mumbled in the dark room, the sun long gone.

He only ran a hand over his face before tugging the shirt over his head and sitting on the side of her bed. Lucy slid to where he was and ran a hand up his back, reveling in the warmth he gave off; but something was wrong, “What happened?”

She laid her head on his shoulder and Rafe turned his head to be able to see her face, “She kissed me,” Lucy’s eyes widened and she couldn’t help but smile against his shoulder, “That’s a good thing, Rafe. That's what we wanted.” He only hunched over, his elbows on his knees.

“Come lay down,” Lucy spoke quietly as she slid back and made room for him. Rafe slid off his pants, leaving him in his underwear before he laid down next to her. The faced each other, Lucy’s eyes scanning over his face to figure him out, “Rafe-

“I don’t want you to freak out.”

She frowned but his hands reached out, wrapping around her waist under the comforter, pulling her into his chest. Their legs tangled together, one of his thighs wedged in between her legs and an arm behind her head with the other on her waist. Lucy tried to relax, her head resting where his neck met his shoulder, “Not freaking out.” She whispered to try and lighten his mood and was pleasantly surprised when she looked up and saw a slight smile on his face. Lucy could tell he wasn't in the mood to chat so they laid there in silence, in each others arms until she finally couldn’t keep her eyes open and drifted off to sleep.

And so weeks flew past them. Bruises faded, now she only had her memory to remind her of the horrific night. Kiara was as good as a lost puppy whenever Rafe was around; just as we all wanted her. Rafe would come over and spend the night with her after every evening he spent with Kiara, sleeping in each others arms, Lucy grew way too attached to her friend. When he would tell her of the things he did with Kiara she tried not to let it get to her, even though it was all her idea; things had subtly shifted.

It would be soon now, Midsummers were coming up and Lucy would attend on Rafe's arm, humiliating the girl he had strung along all this time.

Kiara would fall in front of them all. She made it perfectly clear she wanted nothing to do with any Kooks so we’ll give her exactly what she thought she wanted.

Kiara Carrera would become nothing to those on our side of the island. You get what you give, baby.

And she would get exactly what she deserved.

#rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x oc #rafe #kiara carrera

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first-and-last-neocount · 3 years

Text

Whumptober Day 6

While still falling under the definition of whump, I intentionally aimed for something a little less soul-crushing this time, since I figured I would be evoking some Feels with that last one. XD

This one isn’t directly tied to anything else, and it shouldn’t be so heart-wrenching; it’s just me projecting pandemic feels all over poor Damien, because I’m an introvert who isn’t physically affectionate with more than a handful of my closest friends anyway, but even I really felt it when we all had to go months on end without touching another human being. Not fun, dude.

Day 6 - Theme Chosen: Touch starved

Theoretically, it should never have happened. With the way their journey had gone so far, when he thought about it, Damien was almost surprised it hadn't happened sooner.

Trapped aboard the God's Glory for months on end, isolated from the crew by their enduring wariness of the Hunter and his companions, unable to hasten their progress and weighed down by the growing fear of what would be waiting for them when they made landfall again, Damien was slowly driving himself insane. With every day that passed, the knot of frustration and dread pulled tighter in his gut. His temper shortened in response, and by now he had grown so tense and snappish that he couldn't even blame the crew's avoidance of him entirely on Tarrant; he knew he wasn't exactly great company anymore.

The death of the girl from the Eastern Continent had only worsened his already foul mood. The toxic mixture of guilt, resentment, and panic that had filled him upon realizing what her death meant – that he himself would have to go back to feeding his dark companion, at least until they made landfall in Faraday – still lingered, even though it had been two days since Sisa's suicide. He'd been given those two days as a grace period, time to mentally prepare himself as best he could, but the Hunter had given him clear warning; tonight, the nightmares would start again.

All of this meant that, when Damien laid down in his bunk that night, he was wound tighter than a springbolt at full draw. He had fully expected the turmoil in his mind to keep him up for hours, but with the forced inactivity of being at sea came a paradoxical lethargy, and he wasn't alone with his circling thoughts for more than an hour or so before he gradually sank into an uneasy slumber.

The dreams came almost at once.

Vivid as all the Hunter's carefully-woven nightmares were, Damien could feel the awful wrenching shudder that went through the ship as the hull ground onto the unforgiving rocks, hear the shattering of wood and the screech of metal as they collided with the outcropping of black stone that had been masked by the thick fog lying over the turbulent waves. Terror ran like acid through his veins as the deck tilted under his feet, the ship listing badly as water flooded through the gaping hole in the bow; he grasped the rail to keep himself upright, the screams of the crew ringing in his ears – but as he stared down into the churning black ocean, something sparked in the back of his mind.

The dark waves. Drowning. A girl.

Sisa.

His awareness that it was a dream blended with the hot spike of rage at the thought of another innocent life lost to the Hunter's insatiable hunger, and the scene around him shattered like glass. The deck was level again, the ocean calm; the stars glimmered down from a cloudless night sky, the ship deathly quiet and seemingly deserted around him.

You're resistant tonight.

The Hunter's voice slithered through his mind, soft and thoughtful, edged with hunger – and reality bent around him once more.

The village of the Terata. The hideous corruption that had lurked beneath its veneer of normalcy. The acid sting of desperation in the air as the villagers made their supplication to their sadistic god. The illusion of childhood's innocence, and the terrible reality that it hid -

But the sight of the children made Damien's thoughts turn to Jenseny, and the grief that rose up and choked him was so strong that it nearly brought him awake, a cry of pain catching in his throat as the image of the village dissolved around him. Tarrant's will wrapped around him and pulled him back under, an almost soothing tenor to the thread of fae that stroked his mind.

Too raw, still. Perhaps...

Another shift, then another. Scenes of terror from Damien's memories, or half-formed fears of the future, woven into shape by Tarrant's power. Every vista that presented itself, though, Damien fought against; though his awareness of what was happening was subsumed at the beginning of each dream, his mind rebelled continuously, breaking through to lucidity each time and shredding the delicate fabric of the nightmare in the process. As one dreamscape dissolved and reformed into another, there was a moment where Damien surfaced enough to actually feel a bit guilty; he'd agreed to this deal after all, once in the rakhlands and again after Sisa had killed herself, and he didn't even know why his mind refused to settle enough to be fully immersed in any of the scenarios Tarrant was weaving.

That moment stretched as he lingered in unformed darkness, as though the Hunter had hesitated. Finally, new scenery shimmered into being. Still caught in that state of half-awareness, Damien watched the dream come to life around him, willing himself to just let go and fall into it -

The chamber that formed around him was the throne room of the Undying Prince's citadel.

Nothing else had taken shape yet. There was no time for it. Before any figures could form, before a single sound had echoed through the room, Damien's mind spun out of control. The terror he'd felt, realizing that he was once again powerless before a mortal tyrant with the power of a sadistic demon backing them; the utter grief that had devastated him when he realized that Jenseny was gone; the gutting betrayal of believing that the Hunter had betrayed them; the sheer blinding fear, realizing that Tarrant had still been an ally after all, and that he might pay for that with his life before Damien could reach him -

Damien snapped awake violently, breathing so hard that his chest ached and the room spun violently around him, nausea thick in his throat and his skin drenched in ice-cold sweat. He sat bolt upright in his bunk, clenching fistfuls of his sheets with shaking hands as he stared blindly at the wall of his cabin, adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

Before he had even coaxed his breathing back to something resembling a normal rate, there was a firm but quiet knock at his door.

Damien let his head fall forward, biting out a soft curse under his breath. It didn't take much luck to guess who would be knocking at his door at this hour – he was fairly sure he hadn't actually cried out aloud when he'd catapulted himself back into wakefulness, which meant there was only one other person likely to even be awake right now.

“Come in,” he said hoarsely.

The door opened, then clicked shut again. Damien didn't look up, his gaze still fixed on the crumpled bedclothes he was gripping with white knuckles, but he didn't need to visually confirm the identity of his visitor; he could feel the shift in the air, that insidious chill that the Hunter wore like a shroud. Swallowing back the bile that still roiled in his throat, Damien beat back his pride enough to offer a quiet apology.

“Sorry. I didn't do that on purpose. I don't know why I couldn't just...”

“I could hazard a guess.”

Startled, Damien finally looked up. Tarrant had stopped only a couple feet away, and was leaning against the cabin wall with his arms folded across his chest, regarding Damien thoughtfully. Despite the lack of hostility, the Knight still shivered a little under the scrutiny of those cold silver eyes. Cocking an eyebrow questioningly, he stared back at the adept.

“Alright, then. Let's hear it.”

Of course, the Hunter couldn't simply state his theory. He studied Damien a moment longer, then murmured, “You haven't been sleeping well, have you? Even before tonight.”

Damien frowned at him. “Not particularly, no. Why?”

“You're unable to settle yourself. You've been sleeping poorly, your mind is in turmoil, and don't think I haven't noticed your shortness with the crew – or forgotten your outburst the other day.” Damien winced a little at the reminder of how he'd blown up at the Hunter immediately after Sisa's suicide, but there was no judgement in the adept's tone or expression, only contemplation. “You don't have any close connections to most of those aboard, and if you'll forgive me the observation, you don't have an... intimate companion, this time around.”

Damien was drawing a breath to snap at the Hunter that he didn't see how, exactly, his relationship with Raysa was any of the adept's damn business – when it abruptly clicked in his head, and he deflated, staring at the adept.

“You're blaming touch starvation.” The words came out flat, more statement than question but tinged with disbelief. When Tarrant inclined his head slightly, Damien huffed out a humourless chuckle. “You can't be serious.”

“Why not?” Tarrant asked coolly, his gaze still locked on Damien, piercing and assessing. “It's a scientifically documented phenomenon. We've been at sea for months, and I doubt you've had more contact than accidentally brushing arms with one of the crew since we set sail. The common symptoms are irritability, anxiety, and depression. It strikes me as an entirely likely explanation.”

“Fine, then what the hell do you suggest I do about it?” Damien snapped, hating himself as he did so, because his fuse had never been so short and by the look on Tarrant's face he knew it too. “In case you failed to notice or give a damn, Rasya's dead, and I don't exactly have a long lineup of friends at hand to hug it out with. I guess you're just going to have to work a bit harder for your dinner.”

Tarrant's face had gone utterly blank for a moment at the mention of Rasya's name, and for a split second Damien wondered almost hysterically if he actually had forgotten – but the horrified thought was cut off when the adept said, in a tone as bland as one might use to discuss the weather, “There's another option.”

Damien stared at him for a moment. Tarrant gazed back, unruffled. Finally, the Knight said slowly, “Now I know you're definitely just messing with my head. You're not suggesting what it sounds like you're suggesting.”

“No need to look quite so scandalized, Vryce, I'm hardly propositioning you,” Tarrant said dryly, his tone infuriatingly amused. “You're correct, however, that skin contact is the only cure and your options in that department are limited. If you'd like, I certainly could continue mentally assaulting you for sustenance – you were undeniably producing enough terror and distress earlier, though I suspect you'll find that sort of feeding even more exhausting that the usual method, and I'll have to draw from you more frequently to compensate for the additional effort I'm expending.” He watched Damien pale, then quirked one fair eyebrow up, mouth twisting into a rare, wry grin. “Or, you could budge over a few inches.”

Damien hesitated for a moment longer; then, he groaned and shuffled himself sideways, pressing closer to the wall and leaving the outer edge of the bunk free.

“I hate you,” he announced flatly, watching the adept prowl gracefully across the small cabin toward him.

“Your feelings have been noted, Reverend.” In a few smooth movements Tarrant had kicked off his boots, slid his long frame elegantly onto the bunk, and reached out; caught completely off guard by the manhandling, Damien let himself be tugged almost effortlessly down and arranged to the Hunter's liking. He found himself facing the wall, a lean form pressed close against his back and one of the adept's arms a cool weight draped across his side. “Now get some sleep.”

A thousand replies crowded to the front of Damien's mind, but sheer confusion stayed his tongue from a sharp retort. As the initial shock faded, he realized how incredibly comfortable he actually was. He had certainly missed the weight of another body in bed with him over the last months; he had rarely slept alone since reaching adulthood, since he had almost continuously been in a relationship of one degree of seriousness or another and had always been the type to stay the night. He usually slept by himself only when he was travelling, and that had never been for as long a stretch of time as this voyage. Finding himself as the proverbial little spoon was considerably more novel, Damien's senses jangling a bit at the strangeness of being the one held instead of the one holding another – but as his instincts accepted that he was not in fact in any danger and relaxed, he found himself almost unwilling comforted. He could feel the Hunter breathing steadily against his back, and the deceptively human sensation unwound tension in his shoulders that Damien hadn't even known he had been carrying. Even though the adept's body was considerably cooler than a mortal human's would have been, he was still there, and Damien could feel his own skin tingling with a kind of sensory euphoria everywhere that the Hunter's weight rested against him.

Maybe there was something to the touch starvation theory after all, as much as it pained him to admit it.

The window to reply to the Hunter's comment slipped away, and Damien said nothing, just shifted and settled his head a little more comfortably onto the pillow. Tarrant's arm tightened a bit further around his waist, an undeniably grounding pressure, and Damien sighed without meaning to as a tiny panicked voice that had been babbling in the back of his mind for weeks went abruptly, blissfully quiet. He was far from ready to say that this had been a good idea, but he supposed it wouldn't hurt to stay this way for a few minutes, let Tarrant think that he'd at least given it a fair shot before he kicked the adept the hell out of his bunk...

Between one breath and the next, Damien fell asleep.

#whumptober2021 #no.6 #Touch Starved #coldfire trilogy #fic #evil is what you make of it #gerald tarrant #damien vryce #the neocount writes

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halorocks1214 · 4 years

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ბარტერი (a Thunderbirds fic)

Chapter 1: გატაცებული

AO3 Link

Word Count: 3892

Summary: And here they thought getting their father back was the least of their worries.

i make no promises for this fic. the upload schedule will be totally willy nilly because i havent really been feeling the whole writing thing and because of my other fics and projects and irl shit. i hate to admit it but im on the fence on whether or not this will actually be completed, BUT, i still am surprisingly proud of this so im posting it anyway. hope yall enjoy!

“Okay, what’s the dealio?”

Gordon easily skipped around his younger brother with a slightly faux-naive voice. They were currently out in the field, damn tsunamis not being picked up by the D.A.R.T. soon enough, and while Gordon knew better than to talk about personal things during a rescue, it was the first time in a while he even had the chance to talk to Alan.

Who was currently more forlorn than Gordon was aware he could be if the way he watched his toes kick whatever small rock they strutted past was any indication. It took a moment for Alan to register his older brother’s question, but when he did, he blinked a few times before looking at Gordon with a raised eyebrow, “What?”

Gordon was going to play this slyly. Treat it as banter, not an interrogation. Gordon idly leaned over and picked up a stick. He started to twirl it, never meeting Alan’s gaze directly, “I don’t know, you seem off. Just wanted to see if it was anything I could help with.”

Alan went back to kicking the pebbles, shrugging his shoulders in a way that said ‘this was a big deal but I don’t want you to know that’, “Oh, sorry, just tired. It’s not my fault I was having a wonderful nap in the closet only for John to make me tumble out of it due to the alarms. The fact that we’ve been out here for God knows how many hours doesn’t help.”

Gordon’s chuckles at that statement were slightly fake. Alan was hiding something, and if Gordon had to imitate Scott, well, then it was only Alan’s fault, “Yeah-huh. Sounds good.” He focused on the stick, pretending it was a wand and waving it around as such, “Decided on a college yet?”

Alan still didn’t look up, and Gordon could hear the noises of rocks getting kicked and traveling a foot or two. Alan answered him monotonously, “Uh, not really. I’ve narrowed it down to three. I haven’t brought them up with anyone other than Grandma though since the last thing I want to do is create a World War between our older brothers about which one is better.”

Gordon snorted but then got serious again. Dammit, Gordon, you are not letting him worm his way out of this. Again, “If I promise Scout’s Honor will you tell me them?” He cheekily grinned at Alan, which got a small smile out of the younger brother. Nice, getting closer. Now Gordon was doing that rubber pencil trick with the stick, way more immersed with the visual illusion than he probably should be, “Hmm, is it girl trouble?”

Alan rolled his eyes, but Gordon could tell he was getting annoyed, which meant the older brother was getting close. Alan kept his facade up, crunching a stick underneath his feet as he started walking just a little faster, “If you mean ‘Kayo chased me for accidentally spilling paint on Shadow’s nose’ then yes, I’m having lots of girl trouble.”

Gordon winced wholeheartedly and sympathetically. He remembered when he accidentally tripped and spilled water all over the front of her one night. He wasn’t aware she was a fan of throwing them into the pool just as much as he was until that night. It was in annoyance, but still, Gordon considered it a similar hobby between them regardless, “Yeesh, sorry for bringing up traumatizing memories bro.” Squinting at the stick he was playing with, he put it over his lips like a faux-mustache, lightbulb dinging in his brain with joyful glee, “Boy trouble?”

Alan groaned at started walking way faster than Gordon. Once he was about three feet away from Gordon, he shouted while still facing forward so Gordon could hear him, “Oh my god, let it go, Gordon!”

Bingo, Gordon thought he hit the jackpot. Throwing the stick away and keeping his distance from Alan, his grin went ear to ear with excitement at what he thought was figuring it out, “Oh man, okay, wait, hang on, is it that Bear kid? The one Scott rescued for the umpteenth time last week? Or, wait, didn’t Conrad visit you up at ‘Five two weeks ago during your rotation?” Giggling, Gordon rubbed his hands together mischievously, “Allie, how dare you. Romantic or not, it’s my job to help you out with these things--”

Suddenly and abruptly, and shutting Gordon up, Alan turned around and glared at Gordon while his fists were haphazardly clenched at his hips, “Fine, Mr. Nosey, you wanna know? It’s about Dad, okay?!”

Well, there went any ability to joke in this situation. Gordon lost his smile completely and stared mindlessly at his younger brother, who was breathing heavily and still glaring, but Gordon could tell there was a hint of anxiety behind his eyes.

Dad had been back for about two-and-a-half months now, and the Tracy family seemed to be settling into a new routine with him. Everyone was happy Jeff was back in one piece, none more so than Jeff than himself. They quickly figured out how to slowly integrate him back, starting with daily chores, reaching him having permission to help out with IR, and now they were getting ready to reintroduce him back into Tracy Industries.

The anxiety in Alan’s features was suddenly all Gordon could see in them, followed by Alan shaking his head and turning back around, “Shit-- forget I said anything, that’s not why--”

Before he could even think, Gordon shot his arm out to grab Alan by the wrist, his amber eyes wide with careful thought. He needed to think these words through. The idea that Alan was nervous regarding talking about his own dad was... “Allie… I know you didn’t have as much… time with him, but he’s your father too. You don’t have to hide any opinion about him for me, for us.”

Alan still wasn’t looking at Gordon, but the older brother definitely saw the tiny and hidden flinch the younger brother made at your father too. Gordon barely held back the sharp inhale he wanted to make. Okay, that was an entire suitcase, one he, unfortunately, couldn’t unpack right now (as much as he loathed to admit it that was a Scooter problem), so he focused the first problem he figured out, “Allie, are you upset Dad is back or?...”

That got Alan to turn around, “No! Jesus, Gordon, of course, I’m happy he’s back. The only reason I graduated right before we left was that Scott and John both told me to go do something while we waited because “the way you’re bouncing on your toes is going to burn a hole in the ground and Grandma won’t like that,” remember? I’m ecstatic he’s alive and back home.”

Letting Alan gently go, Gordon took a deep breath to reorganize his thoughts, “Okay, then what about Dad has got you so worked up?”

Alan was suddenly much younger than the fresh, getting-ready-to-go-to-college, young man Gordon saw this morning, “You remember that argument between Scotty and Dad, right? The one about five weeks ago that we shouldn’t have listened in on but did anyway?”

Gordon flinched, not wanting to remember that argument.

The two have made up since then, but it was a shock to just about everybody on the island, including John and Virgil, who the blondes nervously told the morning after so they could get some kind of reassurance the world wasn’t ending. In the Tracys’ quest to have their Fairytale Happily Ever After, it never occurred to them that their father might not like how they were running things.

Scott made a decision that didn’t sit well with the older man, and he let his son know that in tactless, Jeff Tracy fashion. Scott’s decision wasn’t the best per se, certainly not the worst, but he could’ve waited for some better options, but Jeff couldn’t just say that outright, that he was concerned about his son taking risks like that. He had to immediately jump to the idea that Scott’s leadership might be lacking suddenly.

It also didn’t help that Scott couldn’t just fucking say that, while he was sorry for being slightly rash, he didn’t like being undermined after years of successful leadership. He went straight for the fact that Jeff had been gone for the past eight years. Scott didn’t blame the man for it, God no, but the insinuation that Jeff wasn’t any better than Scott because of it stung everyone in the room. Because being reminded of the fact that Dad was technically a dead man for a big portion of all of their lives wasn’t bad enough.

Gordon forgot that Scott could be too much like Jeff for his own fucking good, as well as the fact that Scott did get it from Jeff Tracy of all people.

Adult men Gordon’s ass, two old and stubborn as hell mules more like it.

They were both stuck on the fact that now there might have to be challenges of authority, and frankly, now that the oldest outside of Grandma put that idea on the table, it bothered everyone else barely more than those two combined.

Jeff apologized for how he acted after Grandma ripped him a new one, and Scott apologized for jumping the gun a little bit too (after Grandma yelled at him as well), but there was no promising no second fight, least of all one like that.

It was a little like being a kid and watching Mommy and Daddy fight for the first time.

Long story short: it sucked ass.

Alan took a shuddery breath and brought Gordon down from that memory. Alan then proceeded to wrap his arms around himself, rubbing up and down in a weak attempt to ground himself, “I just… what if he had all these ideas about me while he was up there, and what if I’m completely different from those ideas and it disappoints him?”

Oh, sweet Jiminy Cricket.

What the hell was Gordon to say to that? Jeff was a loving a supportive father, more so than others. Gordon remembered all of his swim meets and such for a good reason, so his first response to that statement was easily of course he would be proud of you!

But there was an ever so tiny thing that grabbed Gordon’s tongue from saying that outright. It was honestly minor, so he wasn’t sure why it kept hitting him like a fucking truck.

Eight. Years.

Jeff Tracy was a remarkable man, and even more remarkable father, but nobody spent eight years in isolation, let alone spent it thousands of miles up in space, without it having some kind of consequence. Jeff would never outright disown his sons for anything as long as it wasn’t illegal or got themselves or others hurt, but he was human, and he had preferences just like the rest of them had.

So, disappointed? Hell no. But potentially shocked and uninterested? Less supportive than other endeavors? Gordon loved his father, but he had to admit that he was at a loss. There weren’t Dead Men for Dummies books anywhere, and it sucked to say it, but Jeff was different. They were different, and the only way they would know how this Jeff reacted to things would be an in-the-moment experience, and if Scott’s and his argument was the first concrete example they had...

With how different Gordon was to the rest of his family, he always worried that he would never fully fit in. When Jeff came back he was excited just as much as Alan, as the rest of his family, but Gordon was always worried about his dad the most. He cheered him on at his swim meets, sure, but Gordon was always keenly aware of how the man, outside of taking him to and from them and, well, cheering, lots and lots of cheering, never really asked more than How did it go, sport?

Gordon wanted to be the only Tracy with that fear. It sucked, but in the end, his family always came through even if they weren’t aware of his anxieties. Now that Alan has them, over his father no less…

That just brings them right back around to the start: Gordon would be lying to himself if he knew what Jeff thought of him, let alone Alan.

Alan was a perceptive person, and if Gordon lied to himself, Alan would see that and know Gordon was lying to him as well, and that would very easily make the situation worse.

However, before Gordon had any chance to say something, words pulled from his ass or otherwise, anything to ease his baby brother’s low thoughts, footsteps rustled in the distance, causing the two blondes to snap their heads to look to the side. What they saw were two men, one larger and older, another younger and seemingly out of his comfort zone, in a sense. Gordon was going to chalk it up to ‘being a rescuee after a tsunami’, but his squid senses were tingling, and he felt himself easily go slightly taut.

The younger stranger blinked a few times before snapping his head up to look at the two IR Operatives in front of him. His eyes lit up, and Gordon suspected it wasn’t because he was about to be rescued.

“Oh, shit, these guys are young. How much do you think they would sell for?”

And just like that, Gordon’s gut twisted into a killer pretzel and was dropped off a five-story building. This had to be a joke, had to be. These kinds of people were only supposed to exist in horror stories. In the dark parts of the internet that are mainly regarded as myths, created to scar the poor children who snuck onto their parents’ laptop without permission. Even if they were real, Gordon and Alan couldn’t have had that bad of luck to--

“Remember what we said about famous people? Forget the ages, these guys are International Rescue. Most clients will throw physicality to the wind if something famous is involved.”

Gordon also thought that your pupil shrinking to the size of the tip of a needle when you’re terrified was a myth, but as the blood completely drained from his face and left him white as a sheet, he had to concede he was wrong about multiple things tonight.

Holy hand grenade in a fucking handbasket.

The state of shock his body was forcing him to enter was bad, like, shock-blankets-are-required level bad, but trembles from a different body right next to him snapped him back into attention.

Alan was trembling, his grip on Gordon’s arm so tight that the older brother wouldn’t be surprised to find bruises when his outfit was finally taken off. There was only a marginal amount more color compared to Gordon behind those freckles, and Gordon couldn’t tell if his brother’s pupils were any smaller with the way the kid was flicking them around like crazy, “Wha-- what are they talking about?”

Ah, shock was one hell of a bitch.

Alan was 18 years of age, an adult. He flew a rocket into space for a part-time job. He also lived on an island where he was mainly homeschooled and was soon to be off at some kind of college (maybe even online classes). As embarrassing as it could be, his family wasn’t going to be the puritan fam that shoved the mere thought of sex to the sidelines. Alan had four older brothers who spent a significant amount of time on the mainland around other people more than the youngest could ever dream of. Most time of which was spent in their respective high schools (or Olympics fields, ‘cause Gordon wasn’t exactly of age when he still had school over there) with hot girls and boys-- similar hobbies or not-- that had the same level of hormones flying about.

They knew things and weren’t afraid to answer any question Alan had.

Also, Alan had a huge internet hobby; video games, browsing social media, you name it. The kid’s probably heard stories that would give Scott hernias for days. Alan had to have stumbled across the topic of human trafficking somewhere, whether it was the plot of a teen-rated video game or something as simple as a news article. At the end of the day, this kind of thing was something everyone was subconsciously aware of, but you didn’t think about it because A, it was awful, and B, more often than not, it didn’t happen to you.

But the way Alan stared at Gordon like the prankster held the stars in his palms-- as if he could snap his fingers and bring them to safety in the blink of an eye reminded Gordon that Alan was always a little bit more sheltered than any of them could help it. Alan was one of the last things their mother gave them, and the way John and he essentially became her just split into two people hurt more than any of them would be willing to admit.

Alan knew the horrors of the world firsthand, but he never had to fully grasp it because his older brothers would be there to shoulder it for him.

Always.

Like hell Gordon was going to drop that tradition today.

“Alan, run.”

With a shove and a half, Gordon ripped his little brother’s hand from his upper arm and sent him in the other direction. Gordon also ripped his own heart in half as he ignored the somewhat naive cry of Gordon! as it got quieter and quieter. Despite the guilt, Alan listened and booked it. Like a baby calf being told to run away from starving lions while the mom stayed behind to protect it. Gordon, mostly satisfied that his bro was safe, turned around and swallowed the bile that was rising in his throat.

He was hoping his glare could be as scary as Scott’s or even Virgil’s, but the way the creepy strangers just chuckled as if the threat he posed was no bigger than a tiny kitten filled Gordon with both anger and fear. They knew he was from IR. If they weren’t scared of him, what did that mean they were prepared for?

The older man stated an order, one that had Gordon’s blood run cold, “Go after the other. I got this one.”

Gordon got out half an angry “Hey!” before the man that spoke suddenly charged at him. On reflex, Gordon put himself into a fighting stance and prevented both of them from toppling over. He hardly considered it a victory, though, as the other guy who was ordered to run after Gordon’s baby brother was gone and out of sight before Gordon could even look up after nearly having the wind knocked out of him.

Gritting his teeth and shoving the man off of him, bringing his arms up and curling his fists with a glare brighter than his hair, the only plan he could go with was the one where he took this guy down as quickly as possible. Right now, the only solace Gordon had was the fact that his brother was a quick puppy. He didn’t only need ‘Three to move at the speed of light.

C’mon, Alan, show me why Track was worth it.

Focusing completely on his enemy, Gordon figured the man was intentionally slimy with his words, as the only thing he did in response to Gordon tensing like a cornered animal was to chuckle in cold amusement, “You’re a wily one, they’ll like that.”

Don’t throw up don’t throw up don’t throw up don’t--

Gordon reinstigated the fight with a snarl, landing a punch that didn’t cause as much damage as he wanted, but it was enough for him to gain a slight upper hand. The man wasn’t thrown off balance, nor did he majorly flinch back from the recoil, but he did understand that he had to play more defensively. It was like two stubborn stallions fighting over the mare in the area.

One young and smaller and quicker, his age not a roadblock but an easy strength. If he hit just right his opponent would topple over as quickly as he could throw his fists. The older one, however, was still larger, and while he might have been slower and less agile, his age allowed more wisdom and understanding. He’s probably seen (and kidnapped) many like Gordon, so he knew exactly how to play him like a damn fiddle.

It was hard to say who would win until one of them was either running for the hills, beaten and bloody, or dead at the victor’s feet.

Gordon wasn’t sure how long they went at it, but he knew it was longer than he liked.

He was somehow barely winning it regardless, and he was fully prepared to give Penny a big heckin smooch for the lessons that were currently saving his life, but even with her endless knowledge and background, she couldn’t prepare Gordon for dirty tactics. Stallions fighting over mares usually just involve two of them.

Right as Gordon was able to grab the man’s arms and wring them around his back, a magical third person appeared, different to the second one that went after Alan, like a freaking wizard with his own magic wand.

Which was also known as a cattle prod to most.

The pokey object was jabbed into his side. Fire filled his body, making him scream out in pain. Gordon remembered when he and Virgil messed with one back on the farm as kids and how they learned their lesson the hard way. He was hoping to never “learn” it again. Yet as a couple thousand volts flared throughout his abdomen, even with the suit, he had to relent and let go of his makeshift hostage. His body was on autopilot and it said get away from source of burning pain.

His body tried, oh, it tried, but what was previously his prisoner managed to stand in the blink of an eye and swing a fist into the side that wasn’t being tortured by an agricultural device. With another short, cut off scream, Gordon fell over onto his ass. His wheezes were brutal, the air not wanting to come back into his body despite itself. At this point, the logical part of his brain was telling him he wasn’t going to get away and he should save his energy to withstand whatever these people were going to do to him, but as always, the emotional part was overriding everything.

Shit, guys, help! Scotty, Virg, Dad--

He turned around to be on his hands and knees and scrambled to try and run as Alan did. He might be faster in the water than on land, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t one quick son of a bitch when he wanted to be. It was enough for his gym classes, it was enough when he needed to run away after a successful prank, it was enough when his grandma needed a new test subject...

But it wasn’t enough here.

The cattle prod was shoved into the back of his neck, and with it came darkness and a growing sense of dread.

Please, Mom, get Allie to our family.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #gordon tracy #alan tracy #my post #my fic #i FEEL like im forgetting tags wtf. im 99% im not but STILL #hang on i added (a thunderbirds fanfic) to this cuz now that i look at it #that title is VAGUE AS HELL lmfao

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precuredaily · 5 years

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Precure Day 171

Episode: Yes! Precure 5 23 - “Crisis! Invitation to a Nightmare!” Date watched: 10 January 2020 Original air date: 15 July 2007 Screenshots: https://imgur.com/a/nZFAArO Transformation Gallery: https://imgur.com/a/6k6SzS0 Project info and master list of posts: http://tinyurl.com/PCDabout

This is the first part of the two-part mid-season climax and while that makes it high stakes by necessity, this one stands out even among the shows we’ve seen so far. Nozomi causes an accident that drives a wedge between all the other girls, just as Kawarino makes his move. We have to plunge our girls into the depths of despair so they can discover their true strengths and come out more powerful than ever. Let’s dig in!

The Plot

The girls are making an elaborate butterfly bead decoration for Natts House, but when Nozomi and Milk start to fight, the fearless leader accidentally knocks it over, destroying days of hard work. Instantly, Rin and Karen start yelling at her, while Komachi and Urara are also upset but try to placate the others. This only results in more infighting, until Nuts puts his hand down and demands that they clean up the mess.

Over in Nightmare HQ, Bunbee presents Girinma with two choices: termination, or a mysterious black paper, with the heavy implication that whatever it is is life-threatening. At the same time, Kawarino speaks to Despariah about his own plan to separate the Cures from each other, isolating them and taking away the advantage of their teamwork. It’s very sinister.

At school the next day, Nozomi sits alone during lunch, because everyone else had excuses for not being there. Coco comes over and explains that he believes her strong spirit will be able to bring everyone back together, as she is the glue that unites them all. He also hands her a keychain made of the beads she was working with, symbolizing the bond of the five girls and three fairies.

After school, Karen and Komachi make their way home with a sizable distance between them. They try to make conversation but it’s very stiff and awkward. They are interrupted by the arrival of Girinma, who dons a black Kowaina mask and transforms into a monstrous, feral version of his mantis-man form. As Cure Mint and Aqua, they try to fight him but he throws them around like nothing. Kawarino then catches them in a dark energy ball that negates their movements and causes them to recede into their own nightmares.

Inside Aqua’s mind, she awakens facing the student council, who are all wearing Kowaina masks, and their leader reports that Karen’s intellect causes her to feel isolated from her classmates and she has no one she can truly call a friend; she’s all alone. Aqua demands to know how they would know this, and the leader removes her mask to reveal that she is Karen herself. We see her reflected in Aqua’s eye, sinisterly...

Meanwhile, Cure Mint finds herself surrounded by a horde of tiny Komachi dolls, representing a character she drew for a picture book when she was younger. She says she has to help her friends but the dolls insist that it’s pointless, she tried to placate the argument and they just attacked her as well and called her indecisive. They say that everything can be the way she wants it to be in this world, and she gets sucked under the pile of dolls.

Shortly afterwards, Rin is seen walking home when Urara catches up and asks about Nozomi. Rin is very curt with her and snarkily asks if Urara has any other friends, which causes the young actress to start angrily crying. Before they can continue their disagreement, a pinky appears, and they both follow it. The Monster Girinma suddenly attacks them from behind, while the pinky flees and transforms back into Kawarino. The two transform into Cure Rouge and Lemonade but like their teammates before, they’re no match for the monster. Rouge is almost instantly caught in Kawarino’s trap, while Lemonade keeps jumping around.

Rouge’s nightmare sets her on the street where Nozomi got hurt as a child (from episode 2), but this time she’s the one who’s hurting. A small child, revealed to be Rin’s child self, approaches her, lamenting that they’re always trying to protect Nozomi and getting hurt for it. The young Rin suggests to Rouge that their life would be better off without Nozomi in it.

Back in the real world, Lemonade finds that her attacks aren’t affecting Girinma, and soon she gets captured as well. Inside her nightmare we see Lemonade sitting in a chair in a dressing room, looking at her reflection, but her reflection is of Urara with longer twintails. The reflection begins talking to her, convincing her that she should quit being a Precure to pursue acting full time like she promised she would. Lemonade doesn’t want to leave Nozomi behind, but Urara reminds her that it’s a highly competitive field and she’ll be hurting herself if she divides her time. The reflection then comes through the mirror to Lemonade’s side and stares her down, encouraging her to forget her friends and go all-in on acting.

Finally, we come back to Nozomi. She returns to Natts House, hoping to make amends with everyone, but only Nuts, Coco, and Milk are there, saying the others haven’t returned and warning her of an extremely powerful evil presence. At that moment, Kawarino appears in the shop and introduces himself. He informs them all that he has the other four Precures in custody, and will trade them for the Dream Collet. Instead Nozomi takes it and threatens to break it, with Coco and Nuts backing her up. She demands to see her friends before she’ll hand over the Collet, and the villain acquiesces, bringing her to Nightmare HQ (which we finally learn is in another dimension, not just downtown). Coco and Nuts join, and Milk sneaks along as well against orders.

Kawarino brings Nozomi and the fairies into the board room, startling Bunbee, but before any explanations can be given out, Despariah appears on the monitor. Nozomi and the fairies are all taken aback, but Nozomi qickly recovers herself and demands to know where her friends are. After feigning ignorance, Kawarino presents Cures Rouge, Lemonade, Mint, and Aqua, all wearing Kowaina masks.

The episode then closes on a haunting shot of the Nightmare Cures all reflected in Nozomi’s eyes. (the header image)

The Analysis

This is a chilling episode. While we’ve had rifts within the team before, such as Rin and Karen’s little feud in episode 8, this is the first time the whole team has broken up like this. And it’s sort of understandable: the girls had been working on that decoration for several days, so when all that work went down the drain in an instant, tempers flared. Karen and Rin said some mean things and snapped at Komachi and Urara when they tried to mediate, and then everyone (including Milk) felt bad and had some unresolved feelings the next day. It’s a great setup because all you want is for them all to talk things through and make up, but before they can, the villains sneak in and overpower them. In-universe it’s completely coincidental that Kawarino happens to strike while the team isn’t united, but he certainly seizes the opportunity. I’m sure he would have found a way to divide them anyway, like he did the duos, but it helps him that they aren’t all walking home at once.

Thus far in the season it has felt like Nightmare has been a lot of talk when it comes to their employees. Sure, Bunbee and Kawarino have threatened Girinma and Arachnea, but this time we finally see some real consequences. Girinma puts everything on the line for Nightmare, even giving up his own sapience, and being reduced to a mindless creature. It’s an incredibly desperate move and the first sign that this episode is going to be serious.

One thing I really love is how the girls all act the day after the fallout. Karen and Komachi apologize to each other, but are still walking quite far apart and their conversation is stilted.

For some further context, during the big argument, Urara was defending Nozomi from Rin’s scolding and asked Komachi if she agreed with her. Komachi responded, timidly, that she could see Urara’s point but also Rin and Karen’s side, which resulted in Karen calling her indecisive and naive, which hurt Komachi a lot. So now, even though they’ve ostensibly apologized, there’s still some emotional distance between the old friends, and they have visualized this by literally distancing them from each other. They’re together, but they’re not close.

Conversely, Rin acts incredibly dismissive of Urara when approached, and seems to have no time for either her or Nozomi. Rin has taken the destruction of the ornament very personally and believes that scolding is the only way Nozomi will learn from her mistakes, and she isn’t very interested in hanging out with Urara. These two are physically close in space but emotionally distant. It’s less of a strain on their friendship as a reduction in how much of a friend Rin considers Urara to even be. I think Rin is very used to being able to bounce back from arguments with Nozomi. She gets mad, they don’t talk for a few days, they make up. But Urara isn’t used to this or willing to put up with Rin’s passive aggressive bullshit.

Within their nightmare worlds, each girl is presented with a version of herself that preys on their insecurities in order to mentally isolate them from the others. It’s very clever, albeit dark. The way Karen is manipulated into thinking she’s too smart and no one likes her, Komachi is told that her “friends” just walk over her, Rin is fed the notion that Nozomi doesn’t care about being protected, and Urara is reminded that she decided to forego friends for her career. Each of them is manipulated into isolation and convinced that they have no use for friends. This allows Nightmare to actually get inside their heads and bring them together at the very end of the episode for the Nightmare Cures reflected in Nozomi’s eyes.

Speaking of which, as you may have noticed, seeing eerie reflections in each girl’s eyes was a fantastic visual theme throughout the episode. Forcing them to reflect on themselves, watching as they slowly succumb, it’s haunting and amazing. I want to point out that the reflections show the true extent of how disturbing each manifestation is, compared to how they present themselves. We see Karen without her Kowaina mask, the Komachi doll has a creepy smile, young Rin has that haunting expression, and Urara has a faux-innocent grin that masks her less than admirable intentions.

With all her friends captured and turned into Nightmare’s lackeys, Nozomi is at an all-time low, but only she can find a way out of this. Next time on Precure Daily, the epic conclusion to the mid-series climax as Nozomi has to rescue her friends from the clutches of evil and escape Nightmare. Look forward to it!

Pink Precure Catchphrase Count: 1 kettei

EDIT: quick comment on something I forgot, I just wanted to point out that Nightmare Urara’s hair is significantly longer than the real deal, and it’s the biggest deviation of the four. Karen’s doppelganger is just Karen, Komachi’s are characters she made up as a child, and Rin’s is her younger self. It’s not clear why Urara’s is that way. Maybe it’s how she sees herself or wants to be.

#Precure #Pretty Cure #Yes! Precure 5 #YPC523 #PCD171

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