#these exact scenarios were going through the back of my head op

[and-to-you-its-just-words]

So I was rewatching ‘The Kill List’ (as you do)

And I think I have the answer to everyone’s most thought of question: how many takes did it take Jemma Redgrave to close those blinds while kissing Catherine Russell?

So to be fair, I don’t have an exact number because I wasn’t there when they shot it. BUT! In rewatching it, something occurred to me which leads me to think it probably didn’t take them that many takes. Probably way less takes than you would think.

First up we have the shot of JR and CR kissing and Jemma goes for the blinds. I imagine they ran through this once or twice so Jemma could get the feel of where the cord was. When you shoot a show, we do blockings which are for cast and crew to get a sense of where everything plays. The camera trainee will put down marks using tape for the focus puller and camera op so they know where to be and what to pull. It also helps the cast know where to be so they’re in focus and in the right light. In this instance it could also be used to help Jemma be in the right spot to grab the cord. They test it in blocking, they test it in rehearsal and then they shoot.

But then! This is where I had my epiphany. We don’t actually see the blinds close on this shot. We see them close on THIS shot:

Which is Jules’ (who plays Jason) coverage. Here we only see the back of Jemma’s head and Catherine’s hands holding her face. And we were always going to see this coverage because we know that Jason set the two of them up and that he’s been watching to see how it goes, so of course we’d see his reaction. Given that we’re not seeing Jemma’s face, she could have her eyes open, letting her see what she’s actually doing while she closes the blinds. Which gives us two scenarios:

A) Jemma and Catherine are actually not making out in this shot but simply standing like they are so that Jemma can pull the blinds closed

Or

B) They are making out but Jemma has her eyes open and is half focused on closing the blinds.

I personally lean more towards option B because that gives Jules something to actually react to and I imagine that both JR and CR prefer to give that to their scene partner.

Given that we’re not seeing their faces it also means that Jemma and Catherine don’t have to kiss so enthusiastically which would give Jemma a better chance at closing the blinds. Also, the majority of the scene takes place in the office so if I were to guess how they shot it, I would assume they shot everything they needed in the office first, which includes Jules’ coverage, then move outside the office to get the shot over his shoulder of the kiss. Which would mean that Jemma had already successfully closed the blinds and didn’t have to worry about it on her and Catherine’s coverage, meaning they could give the kiss a good go.

So in a long winded way, all that is to say that assuming the blinds didn’t get caught, it probably only took Jemma a take or two to get the blinds down.

[animefreak1145]

The Brilliance of Break On Through

Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War Mission Break on Through—An Analysis

I have replayed the campaign of COD:BOCW numerous times—too many times truly. Did a whole playthrough where it was Hardened and soon I’m sure I shall do Veteran(something I have never done for any COD game. Not even Hardened.).

All missions have their own unique qualities—parts where the player gets a little rush of adrenaline depending on the kind of mission and how they choose to play it (Nowhere Left to Run just a plain shooting match while Brick in the Wall you can choose to remain stealthy like the good spy you are or go crazy like an eager homicidal maniac).

Even within the safehouse, there are plenty of little details to discover if you take the time to look around and observe everyone. Or, everything. (The radio if turned to a Russian station/correspondence, Adler changes it back immediately before Da Nang mission. Watching Park’s body language, as you talk to Adler and she periodically looks over to you two. Adler suspicious when you go to the Red Room or the locked room with the arcade. The T.V. being turned on in the Red Room)

But the amount of details, details, in the mission Break on Through is outstanding. I have played this mission more than any other due to me wishing to look at all the details. There’s so many, I think I may miss some. And I can’t show them off all to you cause I suck at creating gifs and don’t know how to transfer that from Xbox to my phone.

To lighten it up a bit, I won’t focus on the four different scenarios you go through—at least not each one. That would take too long and I do not have gifs/pics to show it off since Tumblr limits it to ten anyways.

I will, however, try to guide to what parts of the game you all can explore if you choose to do so. As well just how detailed they did this mission.

I am going to start with the different statements Adler says to you throughout all the Scenarios(17, 6, 11, 1). We only go through four in the actual game—but the fact it goes up to 17 or possibly more shows just how far they went in and messed with Bell’s mind.

Now, Adler seems to be a bit bipolar on how he talks to you whether or not you listen to him and all his directions. Either totally blasé and cold to giving you and pumping you up with more MK or meds, or actually a tad concerned and patient as he guides you through.

If You/Bell Stands Still/Does Nothing:

Example 1

“So you did nothing? What were you, in shock?”

He throws the words callously, mocking. As if Bell isn’t confused and lost at what is going on. He even sounds irritated that you might actually be in shock due to these memories that are just fake—not even real. Not like what he has.

Example 2

“What’s wrong with Bell?” -Adler

“I’m not sure. . .” -Park

“I guess we’ll just wait on you to proceed, Bell.”

The contrast is dizzying. He sounds concerned when he asks Park on what could be wrong with you. If he pushed you too far and now you’re just frozen. And, instead of rushing you due to how the fate of half of Europe is at stake, he decides to give you space. Just wait for you and you’ll come out of it soon enough.

He does these sort of reactions numerous times. Jumping from intimidating to the Adler we knew as the player, as Bell—kind and always in your corner that believes in you. He switches tactics based on what he believes will work really—or he just felt really on edge at times and threw the farce that you two were friends out the window.

Other examples include:

Scenario 11–Napalm Strike-in the lab in the room where you were brainwashed

“Christ, what’s happening with them?”-Adler

“A mild seizure. Sims, past me a benzodiazepine.” -Park

Again, concerned. Worried. Almost…at unease?

In the lab—tripped up on drugs. If you run through the tight shrinking hallway back and forth like so(I suck at making gifs, I’m sorry):

“Why is Bell repeating themselves?”

Or

“Bell, stop speaking in circles.”

Now, as others may have suspected, Bell is talking to everyone as they’re stuck in this horrible loop of mental torture. Most likely muttering, hands clenching and arms pulling against the straps of the gurney, moving their head back and forth depending on what they’re seeing. I always saw Bell as muttering quickly in Russian as they go through all of this—their mother tongue where it may comfort them as they’re panicking and speaking to Adler.

It’s just a nice detail showcasing how exactly Adler knows that Bell is on script—Bell saying what they’re seeing and doing and what’s going on. It shows also just how hard they put Bell through the ringer(badum tss. I’ll leave now).

All the details too when the game shows how the drugs they put in Bell affects you. Like so. The hallways appearing long. The lights looking yellow. You feel so fast—look how quick you can run. Run towards the Red Door that Adler so desperately wants and maybe this can stop. Ah, why is it running away from you? What’s going on?

I don’t know about you, but I was so lost and confused at what was going on my first playthrough. For the majority of this mission, the possibility of me being brainwashed didn’t reach the BACK of my mind till probably I actually saw the flashes of scenes about Vietnam and calling Bell a subject. So like right here.

I personally thought that I had a repressed memory or something due to me going through the Vietnam War. That whatever I saw with Perseus, I—or rather Bell—repressed it from our mind due to how violent or horrible what we saw or experienced was. And that Adler suspected and just really wanted to know about it.

I didn’t expect for the man to actually brainwash my character—us—Bell! The game made Adler your mentor, who always defended you from Hudson and believed in your skills very highly. How he and Bell were basically perfect partners when the two of you were together.

It’s amazing—cause I think that’s what the developers were going for. The absolute trust. The loyalty. The denial that ‘maybe Adler is being a little harsh but hey, this is to help Perseus so it’s okay?’ It’s perfect. Because I’m sure that is what Bell actually felt in real time.

Yet, if you go through the total rebellious choice of not listening to Adler, some thing’s make sense. The Rebellious Side shows you way more than if you just listen to Adler like a Dutiful Soldier.

You go through this room if you choose the rebellious route, the T.V.’s automatically turning on the closer you get. Of Vietnam. And now, all those T.V.‘s that turned on by themselves(the Red Room, Lubyanka, Cuba) make sense. You were actually being brainwashed. Poor Bell probably can’t ever have a turned off/broken T.V. again. The trauma.

Said trauma being shown multiple times too. Not just the T.V.‘s. But the absolute terror that Bell felt, before they became Bell, with Adler.

Like do you see this? This terrified me when I saw it at the end of the hallway. I just saw a red shadow in the distance and I legit thought I was about to be chased. Call of Duty became a horror game(I also went through the door to the ground too my first playthrough, so before this I went through zombies and I think my heart was going to jump out my chest) I thought. I didn’t want to get closer. I had to, with each step I see that it’s not a shadow but a body. And than I see the familiar jacket, the sound of whirring in my ears and see it’s Adler’s head being twisted back and forth, side to side, up and down, in a speed that in inhumanely possible.

Makes one wonder if Bell themselves sees Adler as inhumane. Not human. Adler seeming to just be a god in their head. All the Adler shaped rocks/boulders you go through and see. Even one point the V.C. becoming Adler and you killing him over and over and dead bodies of Adler being everywhere.

The man has entered Bell’s head and won’t leave. Just like Adler won’t leave Bell alone.

Heck, there’s one point in my playthroughs of this mission I was by the bridge yet there were parts of the lab by it. I jumped towards it, noticing down below there were different floors of the lab that eventually reach the ground. I jumped to reach the next floor and missed and I died.

And Adler mocked Bell committing suicide.

That was the kicker really that Adler truly is indifferent towards Bell. Like complete disregard. I know it’s fake. We know it’s fake. Adler knows it’s fake—but to Bell, it felt real. That’s the crazy part. All of this—this whole sequence feels real to Bell so each time they die they actually feel it. It’s insane. It’s cruel.

But we all know that Adler isn’t known for his kindness. Still like his character though, he’s layered.

I don’t have the exact quote he said, didn’t wrote it down like the others. I was shook he said it at all.

Moving on to the final details I’m going to talk about.

When you go through the room, I believe this comes out for both rebellious and dutiful, really depends. You see it filled with post it notes, articles, plans, and newspapers. And you see once more just how Bell has been scarred.

I don’t know Russian or German, but I imagine the notes are similar to what the English one’s say. If I’m wrong, please point it out.

There’s also post it notes which I believe is in code as well due to all the numbers—I’m not sure what those could mean since I am no decoding expert.

Poor poor Bell. And with all these pictures and plans—of Adler included—it begs the question that Bell may have been warned about the famous America’s Monster beforehand. Had to have—since Adler is basically Perseus’s adversary due to how stubborn the American man could be. It just adds more to the story, despite Cold War having quite a short campaign, they made it up somewhat with all these details everywhere.

When you finally and actually reach the room.

As you grow closer to the table, to your chair in the conference room while everyone else seems to have their own spots, there’s something I noticed.

There’s glasses. As well as a hat. And it’s Bell’s. Or at least, it used to be. Why else is it on their side of the table? By their chair? I believe it might be reading glasses due to all the decryptions Bell does, whether on paper or through a computer, it’s hard on the eyes. (I’m sure I’m not the only one who noticed this. For look at @second-vtoroy ‘s Bell)

I believe through the brainwashing, Bell might not need glasses anymore. After all, apparently they were a smoker like Adler before too but they took that out of you. What else they changed of Bell? It makes one wonder how far they truly went into molding a person.

Which just adds onto how mind boggling this mission is—this game is. This is my favorite COD game, despite how short it is. The details and choices and interactions with everyone and able to create your own character(albeit it’s very standard and not specific but it’s good enough for me) is AMAZING. I’ve always been a sucker for RPG’s and able to get that even a little in a COD game? Truly wonderful.

I couldn’t touch on everything because it would’ve gotten long, but the fun of the Break on Through mission never gets old. It’s genius multiple ways you can do it. All the details. The feelings you feel as a player as you go through it.

They truly did a unique job with this and I hope they continue with this type of game storytelling. Hopefully longer as well.

Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed this rant basically!

Gifs made by me and used the video down below to help.

https://youtu.be/t6QkmkGGHSQ

[supernaturalfreewill]

Words: 5,103 Gabriel x Reader Warnings: none! A/N: This is part of a series! Read Part 1 first!

Your name: submit What is this?

The first door standing open down the long hallway was obviously your bedroom, and Gabriel wasn’t shy about stepping inside. At first, he simply stood in the center and glanced around eagerly, bouncing a little on his feet as he surveyed the space.

Cas followed him in much more tentatively, but curious as to what his purpose was.

“This is it, huh?” He strolled over to the small desk in one corner and picked up an open notebook and some loose papers, studying them closely. Apparently, nothing there really held his interest because he abandoned them quickly and started sliding open desk drawers.

“This is—I think this is what humans would call an ‘invasion of privacy,’” Cas said.

“Gabriel, I really don’t think you should—” Cas tried to argue, but the archangel simply shushed him and opened the cover. He ran his fingers over your handwriting—the impressions were deep on the page and he liked the slanting, hurried cursive. “Ghouls in Minnesota, Vampire in New York, Werewolf in Arkansas… This is nothing but hunting notes,” he said with disappointment, flipping through the pages.

“What did you expect?” Cas asked him.

“Something with a little more insight into who Y/N is, perhaps,” Gabriel said, shutting and typing the journal closed again and replacing it in the false bottom of your drawer, kicking it closed with his boot. “Hopes, dreams, roots, deepest secrets… that sort of thing,” he said.

Cas’s brow drew down low over his eyes again. “Knowing Y/N, I seriously doubt you will find any of that in writing in here…”

“Well, that’s just wishful thinking. Best case scenario. I will just have to get creative,” he said. Gabriel spun and looked at the small bedside table. There was a novel sitting on it and he grabbed it, opening it to the bookmark. “Y/N is an avid reader, hmm?” he said, more to himself than to Cas. “This is an ambitious read.” He studied the bookmark which was a folded piece of paper. When he opened it, it was a printed photo of you, Sam and Dean, and Cas. Sam had his arm draped over your shoulders and all of you were smiling for once. Gabriel stared at it for a long moment and Cas watched his expression soften into a thoughtful, faraway look. Finally, he folded it up again gently and replaced it in the novel, leaving it on your side table just the way he had found it.

Next, Gabriel went over to the dresser and glanced at Cas with a smirk on his face. “You know, it’s strange but most humans keep their delicate underthings in the exact same place—top drawer—” he said, grasping the handle.

Cas slammed his hand into the drawer keeping it closed and Gabriel looked at him in surprise. “I really think you’ve done enough spying.” Cas’s voice and expression were stern now, but it only elicited a mischievous glint in Gabriel’s golden eyes.

“Spying? I’m just trying to get to know this Y/N better,” Gabriel argued, doing his best to sound innocent. “I mean, so far all I know is she’s related to the two meatheads and hangs around with you. And, though it may be a surprise to you, that doesn’t actually tell me anything I’d like to know.”

“If you want to get to know her, why don’t you just go visit her now? Or wait and meet her when she’s back.”

Gabriel gave Cas a skeptical look. “Oh, yes. I’m sure Sam and Dean will have no problem with me sniffing around their Baby Sister. They’re not known to be particularly suspicious or protective.” His tone was dripping with sarcasm. “Especially after all those Dead Dean Days…”

Cas grimaced a little at the thought. “Well… you also saved them by facing Lucifer. They will not have forgotten that. You redeemed yourself, at least in part,” Cas said, tilting his head in his familiar habit.

The archangel looked surprisingly uncomfortable with Cas’s sincerity. “Fine. Enough snooping. Come on, brother,” he said, laying a heavy hand on Cas’s shoulder. “Let’s grab a drink and you can tell me all about losing your grace and what mortality feels like.”

Cas frowned, but he didn’t object. He was glad just to get Gabriel out of your room…

_ _ _ _ _ _

Several weeks later

You leaned your head back on the pillows and let out a frustrated groan. “UGH! Where is this doctor?!” you demanded.

Sam gave you a look. “I’m sure he’s on his way,” he said gently, trying to placate you.

You threw off your blankets and climbed out of the hospital bed onto your feet, moving a little hunched over as you rolled your IV stand with you.

“Whoa, whoa! Hey!” Dean jumped up and stopped you. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I can’t stay in that bed another minute or I’m gonna lose it!”

“We’re not even sure if you’re going to get released today, so you might as well get used to the idea that you may have to stay in that bed for a couple more days,” he retorted. “So, get back in bed!”

You vehemently pointed a finger in his face. “HEY. You’re not my doctor! You don’t get to boss me around!”

Dean drew himself up to his full height and gave you a severe look.

You didn’t waver. “I’m not scared of you!”

This drew a laugh from Sam and when you glanced over he was shaking his head. “Y/N, please just at least sit down. I’m sure the doctor—”

“—is in!” As if on cue your doctor strolled through the door, you chart in his hand. He gave you a big smile. “Alright, Y/N. Hop back up on the bed again, would you? Let’s see how you’re doing.”

He hadn’t even examined your incision yet and the words were spilling out of you. “Can I go home today?” you asked urgently.

This elicited a laugh from him and he gave you an appraising look. “As soon as I know, you’ll know,” he said diplomatically.

You tried to be a good patient and sit perfectly still as he checked your incision but you couldn’t help fidgeting and chewing your bottom lip. The doctor straightened back up and crossed his arms. “Well, no sign of infection. Incision seems to be healing nicely, so—” “YES!” you exclaimed.

“SO,” he continued through a smile, “I’m going to release you but with very strict instructions. I need you to really hear me right now, Y/N. Okay?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes. I’m listening.”

“NO lifting anything heavier than a few pounds—you know what, no lifting anything, okay? Absolutes seem safer with you. And you are NOT to be doing anything physical for 3 more weeks, at which time you can start with some easy physical activity. Long walks, some stretching, that kind of stuff. And you will need to get another post-op check-up around then too.”

You nodded. “Okay. I got it.”

“Now, your brothers here ARE now in charge since I can’t be there to keep you in line,” he said, a knowing smile on his face. He must have overheard you and Dean from the hallway.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you argued.

“I’m not kidding. You need to let them take care of you. And you two,” he said, pointing at Sam and Dean in turn, “need to make sure she rests.”

A gruff laugh escaped Dean. “Easier said than done.”

“I know,” the doctor said. “I’ve been dealing with her for only about a month. You two have been dealing with her for a lifetime,” he joked, shooting you a glance.

“I’m right here, you know!” you burst out. “I can hear everything you’re saying!”

The doctor laughed and held out a hand to you. “Y/N, it’s been a pleasure to watch you recover. Now be well, and rest.”

This time you didn’t have anything snarky to say and just grasped his hand in yours and shook it. “Thank you. For… not letting me die and stuff.”

He laughed and shook his head. “You’re welcome. Gentleman,” he turned to Sam and Dean who both shook his hand and thanked him repeatedly. “The nurse will be in shortly to take care of that IV and check you out. Take care.”

You watched him go with a triumphant smile on your face. Sam and Dean both looked a little anxious, however. “Oh, come on, guys! He said I’m fine. We can go home!”

“You heard the doctor though. Seriously, Y/N. You’re on house arrest,” Dean said forcefully.

“Whatever. I don’t even care. Just get me out of here,” you said climbing down to your feet again. Soon a nurse came in and removed your IV. You kicked Sam and Dean out of the room so you could change out of your hospital gown for the first time in what felt like years. Another few minutes and you were stepping into the hallway, a huge grin on your face.

Sam shouldered your bag and gave you an appraising look. “You alright?” You were still a little hunched over. Straightening up completely still made you sore.

“I’m great,” you said. “Look! I’m wearing actual clothes!” You glanced down at the sweatpants and t-shirt you had pulled on. “Sort of.”

Dean couldn’t help smiling at you fondly while shaking his head. “You sure you don’t want me to go grab a wheelchair? It’s a bit of a walk.”

You scowled at him.

“I’m being serious, Y/N,” Dean said, the gravel in his voice deepening. “You’ve only done short walks around the floor.”

“There is no way in hell you’re getting me in a wheelchair.”

You managed to make it out to the Impala, though Dean had insisted on driving right up to the exit to pick you up. You slid into the back seat and sighed. “Oh, I missed you, Baby,” you said out loud, sinking in to the familiar seat and breathing in that particular smell that always made you remember road trips and hunts and late-night cheeseburgers.

Dean smiled at you in the rearview mirror. He lowered his voice and turned to Sam. “You talk to Cas?” he asked in an undertone.

“No. It still just keeps going straight to voicemail,” Sam said. “But he texted me again… to explain the origins of pineapple,” Sam said, a tight smile on his face. “It took like 30 texts.”

“What the hell is going on with him? He’s been weirder than usual.”

“Well, he has been trapped at the bunker alone for kind of a long time…” Sam said.

“He could have talked with us if he would ever answer his goddamn phone,” Dean countered, turning onto the highway. “Maybe he’s finally cracked.”

“Who?” you asked, leaning forward and resting your hands on the back of the front seat.

“Nobody,” Dean said. You scoffed.

“That’s convincing…” you said under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Why don’t you just focus on getting all healed up and let Sammy and me worry about everything else, alright?”

“You know, it’s weird, but my cells do that part pretty much on their own. It doesn’t require much conscious thought on my part. So, if someone has cracked—”

“Nobody’s cracked,” Dean said gruffly, hands steady on the wheel.

“You just said—"

“I just said nothing for you to worry about,” Dean said finally.

You let out a frustrated growl and changed tactics. “Fine. I’ll change the subject,” you said smugly.

“Thank you…”

“Any news on Gabriel?” you asked loudly, sinking back into your seat comfortably.

There was a long, silent pause from the front seat and you could see that Dean’s grip on the steering wheel had tightened.

Sam turned partially around, one arm on the seat back and looked at you. “You know there isn’t.” “No, I don’t know that. You two are obviously keeping something from me, so I think it is fair to assume you’re keeping other stuff from me too.”

“We really don’t know anything about Gabriel,” Sam said, sincerity written all over his face.

You chewed your bottom lip anxiously. Sam took in your expression. “Have you—seen him again?” he asked.

“No. No, nothing like that but since that happened, I just have this feeling—he said we would be seeing each other again and it’s like, in my core, I know that’s true.” You looked up and caught Sam’s eyes, they were steady on your face and narrowed slightly in concern. “I know that doesn’t make any sense and I know you and Dean said he’s gone but it’s such a strong feeling. I don’t really know how to explain it.”

“I believe you,” Sam said. “For now, I guess we just have to wait…”

Many hours later, Dean finally pulled the Impala into the underground garage at the bunker and opened the door for you. Inside, an archangel and a graceless angel perked up as they heard noise in the garage. Cas shot upright and glanced over at Gabriel, who only smiled serenely back at him.

“Showtime!”

Cas gave him an apprehensive look and started off in the direction of the garage immediately. Gabriel followed, but at a leisurely pace, seemingly completely unconcerned.

But Cas didn’t know that this was mostly an act. There was a strange sensation in Gabriel’s chest and it was growing the closer he came to the moment when he would see you—meet you—for real this time, not in some mind dreamscape. He couldn’t even explain to himself why but he felt that this moment was going to change everything for him in some way—he knew no reason why that would be true. He had been fascinated with you since he first became aware again and had been thrust into some role connected with you… but he had this feeling, like a heavy block of cement in the middle of his chest sitting on top of his heart which was maddening in its oddity. It was like expectation and something more had solidified and despite all his trying he couldn’t shift it.

Dean pushed through the door into the bunker trailed closely by you, and then Sam hauling your bag and his own. “Cas?!” Dean roared. “Are you alive in here?”

Cas came hurrying around a corner in the hallway and his expression stopped all of you dead in your tracks. His blue eyes were wide and his face was quite pale, further making the shocking blue stand out.

“…what’s going on?” Dean asked. He was immediately reaching for his pistol.

“Don’t panic, but there’s someone here—”

“How is that supposed to make me not panic?!”

“Cas, do I need to get Y/N out of here?” Sam demanded over your shoulder, already trying to move around you to shield you protectively.

You were surprisingly quiet and Dean looked over his shoulder at you. Your heart was pounding in your chest. “Cas, who is it?” you asked quietly.

He only swallowed at the tightness in his throat and opened his mouth to offer some kind of explanation, but no sound came out. You felt like you didn’t really need him to answer anyway. You already knew.

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

A second figure now came around the corner and Dean dropped his duffel bag where he stood, his fists clenched.

“Welcome home, Winchester Clan!” Gabriel said cheerfully, his arms spread wide.

There was just a stretch of tense silence between all of you which the archangel finally broke again. “Dean, if you wouldn’t mind just stepping a liiiittle bit to your right so I can—”

“What the hell are you doing here? How are you here?!” Dean demanded, his jaw tensing.

“That’s how you want to start this?” Gabriel asked, a grimace on his face. “Come on, Dean. I’m here to help. I’m not here to kill you over and over again. Not this time. I promise. Scout’s honor.” He made a small cross over his heart with one finger. Gabriel tilted his head, trying to look around Dean to get a better view of you, but it wasn’t necessary because the next moment you stepped around him slowly.

He couldn’t help the small smile that grew on his face. You found the golden light in his eyes staggering, just as you remembered it from your vision.

“…you,” was all you could get out. Sam and Dean exchanged a tense glance.

He bounced a little on the balls of his feet and slipped his hands into his pockets, actually the result of nerves, but he was hoping it just made him look nonchalant and nonplussed. “Me.”

“You’re—but you’re… What are you doing here?” you asked quietly.

“I told you we’d be seeing each other again, didn’t I? You didn’t believe me?” he asked, cocking one eyebrow at you. You didn’t answer, just peered at him intensely.

He inclined his chin a little as he studied you. “Here—” he said. He moved around Cas and started toward you but was immediately met with loud yells and threats from the Sam and Dean causing him to stop abruptly and raise his hands, palms out. “Guys, guys, guys! Would you two just chill? Really! After all we’ve been through… I’d like to heal what’s left of that nasty gunshot wound if Y/N will let me. Or are you opposed to that? Because she’s in a lot more pain than she’s letting on. I’m guessing she’s hiding it so you two won’t go all crazy protective over her for the rest of her life.”

“No, I’m not!” you argued. Gabriel gave you a skeptical look.

“I can feel it,” he said. When he spoke those words there was something almost desperate in them. “Let me heal you. Please.”

You swallowed hard at the nervous lump in your throat and stepped around Dean again, giving him a small glance. “It’s okay,” you said.

Gabriel stopped right in front of you and gently touched two fingers to your forehead.

You straightened up immediately and breathed in a deep breath, completely filling your lungs, something you hadn’t been able to do without pangs of pain since you’d been shot. Your shoulders relaxed and you gave him a grateful but perplexed look. “Thanks.”

“Welcome home,” he said again, but this time it was quiet, like it was only for your ears. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the fingertips that had just touched your skin. They felt strange, almost like the sensation when your foot falls asleep.

Dean suddenly interrupted the moment by pushing past Gabriel and heading toward the front of the bunker at high speed. Cas turned and jogged to catch up with him, wilting a little under the scowl Dean sent his way.

“Cas, you couldn’t have given us a heads up?” Dean asked angrily.

“You don’t think I tried? He broke every single phone I had and all the new ones I managed to get a hold of. And it’s not exactly like I could just fly over, is it?” he finished bitterly.

Sam stopped next to the two of them and dropped his duffel bag. “So… all those weird texts weren’t from you,” he said with sudden understanding.

Cas looked confused. “What? Weird texts? No. What weird texts?”

The Winchesters and Cas suddenly heard laughter behind them and turned to see Gabriel standing in the doorway with a satisfied smirk. Their expressions were stern.

“Oh, come on! That series of texts about the fuzzy toilet seat lid covers? The ‘bedtime thoughts’ texts? Pure genius on my part. You have to see the humor in this!” Gabriel simply watched as the muscles in their jaws twitched.

Dean rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. “Goddammit. What the hell is going on?” He turned and looked to Sam who was still just staring in Gabriel’s direction with somewhat wide eyes.

“It’s really not that complicated, Dean. I was sent back to watch out for Y/N. And that’s really all I know.”

This caused deep wrinkles in both Sam and Dean’s foreheads. “Okay, first of all, your definition of ‘not complicated’ could use some adjustment. I would say a DEAD archangel coming back to life is pretty complicated. Second, why does she need anyone more than us watching out for her?” Dean growled.

“Well, seeing as she was just shot and almost died I don’t think I need to really answer that question,” Gabriel snarked back.

Dean’s jaw and fists tensed and Cas stepped forward to put a hand on his shoulder to stop him from attempting to throttle the archangel. Gabriel only smiled serenely.

“That wasn’t their fault,” you argued, having just appeared behind Gabriel in the doorway, feeling sick again because you knew your brothers were already blaming themselves. “It could have been any one of us.”

“But it wasn’t,” Gabriel pointed out.

You looked suddenly weary. “I don’t know why we’re still talking about this at all. I’m completely fine. Better than fine now that I’m magically healed me up. I feel like there are more important things we should be discussing.”

Gabriel raised a finger, like he had a sudden idea. “You’re right. Chiefly, I need to know everything about you. Your likes, your dislikes, formative childhood experiences, deepest darkest secrets—”

You crossed your arms over your chest and were about to snark something back at the archangel but Dean beat you to it. “Alright. That’s enough!” he growled. “You were supposedly sent here to protect her, not be a total creep. You’ve just met her and you’re already trying to invade her privacy,” he said gruffly, his green eyes piercing on the angel’s face.

“Well, technically I think he already—” Cas tried to stop himself but it was too late and your eyes snapped over to Gabriel as he winced and anxiously ran a hand through his hair. Your mouth was hanging partially open and your expression was incredulous.

“What the hell did you do?” you demanded. When he didn’t answer and only shrugged vaguely, the corners of his mouth pulling down in a frown, you turned to Cas again who was doing his best to look anywhere but in your direction. “Cas… Cas! Look at me!”

Gabriel spun and locked his eyes on Cas as well. “Brother, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll be quiet…” he said through his teeth, keeping a forced smile fixed on his face.

“We all know you aren’t good at lying, Cas. Even a lie of omission. Are you really going to lie to me? After everything I’ve just been through?” You purposely tugged on his heartstrings and walked toward him so he had no choice but to glance at you as you moved closer. “Cas, I almost died. And you’re not going to tell me what this archangel who is supposedly here to watch out for me was up to?”

Gabriel shot you a look that was both a little stunned and impressed. “That’s low,” he said. You raised your eyebrows at him and then turned back to Cas again.

You could see the internal turmoil crescendoing until it finally burst out of him. “He went through some of your things in your room. I tried to stop him but—”

“Dude!” Sam exclaimed, his jaw clenching with anger. Dean shut his eyes against the rising tide of rage and his fists tightened. `

Your jaw dropped open again and you turned back to Gabriel and away from a very conflicted-looking Castiel. “What the hell!?” you demanded angrily. “Haven’t you heard of privacy? What exactly gave you the right to go through my room?”

He looked a tinge guilty for a moment before rearranging his features into a questioning expression. “Well, I think I should know a little about my charge—”

You shot a glare at him that was piercing and Gabriel felt his throat tighten. “Your charge? Let’s get one thing straight right now… I’m not your ‘charge’. You do not get to boss me around or make decisions for me.”

Gabriel tilted his head and gave you a peculiar look. “Well… strictly speaking I don’t think that’s true… You see, I’m supposed to protect you which means that I get to decide—”

You interrupted him angrily. “No. No, you don’t get to decide.” You looked at Cas and your brothers who all looked pretty unhappy about what had just played out. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.” As you started down the hall, you heard his footsteps following behind you and as you reached the door to your room you spun to face him. “What do you think you’re doing?” you demanded.

Gabriel looked around as if he was expecting you to be talking to someone other than him, but he saw no one else. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“I’m just doing my job. You said you’re going to bed so I’m going to watch over you and—”

You angrily bit the inside of your cheek. “No. You’re not. You can stay the hell away from me while I sleep. You’re not setting foot in my room again.”

“Oh, come on! Y/N, please. You’re not really mad about—”

You turned abruptly and slammed the door in his face. Okay, so maybe you were really mad… “You know I can just appear in your room! I’m an archangel. An oak door isn’t—” The door whipped open again and you stood there fuming.

“Go away.” Your voice was quiet but Gabriel could easily hear the anger in it and for now he decided just to back off. You slammed the door in his face again and he sighed heavily, running a hand back through his hair.

Sometime later, Cas wandered down the hall and found Gabriel sitting on the floor, his back up against the wall just beside your shut door, his legs stretched out in front of him. Gabriel looked at him as he approached.

Cas didn’t say anything, just took a seat beside the archangel on the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him and staring at his shoes. Gabriel broke the silence first. “Look how far I’ve come,” he said, his tone clearly sarcastic. “I used to lead legions and now I’ve been assigned as some kind of glorified babysitter and here I am, a fallen archangel, sitting on the floor outside her door.”

“You probably wouldn’t be sitting here on the floor if you hadn’t botched that meeting with Y/N so spectacularly,” Cas mused. To his surprise the archangel actually laughed and glanced over at him.

“Yeah, I think you’re right about that, Castiel.” Gabriel sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. “I have a tendency toward self-destructive behavior.”

“When I was an angel, I mean—with my grace, so did I,” Cas said. “Perhaps there is something about being so-called ‘immortal’ that makes us reckless with our own lives.”

Gabriel sighed again heavily. “Perhaps.”

Cas looked over at him and he could see genuine worry on his brother’s face. “Don’t worry. She’ll be fine in the morning. She’s tough. Strong. But kind-hearted. She’ll let you make up for it.” Cas fiddled with the hem of his sleeve. “I see such a mixture of Sam and Dean in her.”

This only drew Gabriel’s brow down more deeply. “That’s what I’m worried about,” he said thoughtfully. “I don’t know why I was sent to protect her, but I do know how reckless the Winchesters are with their lives. And all without a single drop of grace.”

Cas’s lips curved ever so slightly in a thoughtful smile. “Yes. But selfless.”

Gabriel glanced over at his brother and felt a pang in his heart for his graceless friend. “Do you miss your trench coat and suit?” he asked him.

Cas’s eyes lifted in surprise at the question and he glanced down at his sweatshirt, picking a piece of lint off the sleeve. “I do. But… it felt wrong wearing it somehow. Like being in a suit of armor while not on the battlefield.”

Gabriel nodded and leaned his head back against the wall. A few moments of comfortable silence passed before he broke it. “I’m sorry for being such a dick since I arrived. All the phones… all the lying… all the snooping. It’s strange to say but I had a level of-—anxiety,” he tilted his head in a question, not even entirely sure that was the right word for what he had been feeling, “about meeting Y/N. And I still messed it up.”

Cas sighed again and patted a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Tomorrow is a new day.” He climbed to his feet and looked down at the archangel, a strange sight sitting like a child on the floor during time-out. “Tomorrow. Goodnight, brother.”

[explosionshark]

31 the I cant keep kissing strangers one for jack/Miranda. U know, if u want to

I’m gonna cheat bc I remembered the prompt wrong and already wrote half of it in my head while I was showering, so

-

It’s years of experience, it’s meticulous and brutally honed control of her body, it’s her genetic predisposition to deceit and manipulation that keeps Miranda from reacting when her the alert pings, a brief series of flashes on the corner of her ocular overlay. S.O.S.

Dupont’s hand is on her thigh, just under the material of her dress, grip damp and too tight. He’s leaning in close, under the auspice of speaking into her ear in the crowded club, but she recognizes the clumsy excuse to peek down her dress for what it is. It takes every ounce of restraint not to shove him bodily away and rush straight for the rendezvous waypoint blinking on her display -- a maintenance closet beneath a stairwell at the back of the club. There’s a thrum of panic in Miranda’s chest that she squashes with a deep, subtle breath and a careful flick of her hair. She drags a teasing finger down Dupont’s chest as she leans back.

“Excuse me a moment,” she pitches her voice low, breathy, the way she knows he must be imagining it sounds in bed. She shoots him a smoldering look over her shoulder before she leaves, adding a bit of whine to her words. Desperate women are, to men like this, honey to flies. “Don’t go where I can’t find you.”

She’s careful as she slips into the crowd, gait controlled, face expertly molded into an expression annoyed enough to ward off potential interruption from men, yet still bland enough to fail to catch the interest of anyone watching.

It’s torture, keeping her pace unhurried as scenario after gruesome scenario of what could have gone wrong plays out in vivid detail. Jack wounded, bleeding out among the bleach bottles and filthy mops. A Cerberus trap, Jack captured, bait to lure her to the same fate. Dozens upon dozens of equally vivid, equally terrible possibilities conjured with each leisurely step, all laying the same accusation at her feet: Miranda’s mistake, with Jack paying the price.

Jack hadn’t been Miranda’s first choice.

Miranda’s list of trusted contacts is smaller than it’s ever been and shrinking by the day. Trusted and available? Smaller still.

She had wanted Shepard. Or, better yet, Kasumi. But Shepard was wrapped up on some affair on Tuchanka and Kasumi was running a different op for the Shadow Broker, out on the edges of the Terminus.

Jack had been an indulgence - and one that was proving to be foolish and selfish.

She was humanity’s strongest biotic and one of the most capable operators Miranda had ever known, but her strength lied in frontal assaults. Massive destruction, flamboyant, devastating attacks with lots of collateral damage. Not delicate infiltration missions like this.

She should have been safe with her students on Grissom Station, not here dying for Miranda’s cause, not--

--Grabbing Miranda roughly by the hips, slamming her back against the shelving unit along the wall hard enough to rattle the metal, laying the flat of her arm across Miranda’s chest, just under her neck, to pin her there.

“What do you think you’re doing?“ Miranda hisses. She can’t see any obvious injuries or damage to Jack in the dim light of the closet, not held in place like this. When she raises her hands to pat down Jack’s body there’s a flair of shimmering blue light in the air, and then the always disconcerting staticky sensation of stasis fields pinning them in place at her sides.

“What am I doing?” Jack huffs, fists still bunched in the material of Miranda’s dress. A shame - it had been nice. Expensive. She can feel the material ripping under the strain of Jack’s grip and despite everything, she finds it distantly erotic. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Miranda, for all of her considerable intellect, feels like she is at least three steps behind a conversation she doesn’t remember starting. She shakes her head, twisting as much as she can with her hands pinned. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m not fucking hurt,” Jack snaps, hips jolting forward to slam into Miranda’s rattling the shelf again. This time she hears the fabric of the dress rip in Jack’s hands, can’t contain the shiver it sends down her spine that Jack absolutely notices. “I’m fed up. I can’t keep watching you kiss strangers.”

Jealousy? Miranda doesn’t bother trying to hide her laugh. “If you’ll remember, my kissing a stranger was a key part of the plan you agreed to. I was supposed to be doing that while you were--”

“Keep him busy,” Jack growls, “You were supposed to keep him busy while I did all the hard work. You never told me your plan to distract the guy was to let him put his big stupid gorilla hands all over your--”

“Someone was taking their time ‘doing all the hard work,’“ Miranda sneers back. “I had to improvise. He was losing interest.”

“Hey, it’s your stupid hack module that wasn’t working,” Jack accuses.

Of course, at that exact moment, Miranda’s display pings again. The tracker she’d slipped into Dupont’s jacket shows him leaving the bar, headed for the elevator to his suite.

“Jack, let me go,” Miranda says quietly, urgently, and to her credit Jack does so immediately without arguing. “He’s on the move. I can try to head him off in the lobby, but-- Look, this is very important. Did you leave any evidence you were tampering with the safe or anything else in his room?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jack snorts. “I think he’s gonna notice his top secret Cerberus Reaper hacking plans are missing.”

“But you said the module--”

“Yeah, total crap. Useless. I just blasted the ever-loving shit out of the safe.”

“Jack.”

“Anyway, if he’s on the way up there he’s gonna notice uh. Pretty much right away. We should get out of here.”

“We should have been gone the moment you compromised the plan,” Miranda hisses, following Jack out of the closet, wincing at the sudden too-bright light of the hallway.

“Nag, nag, nag,” Jack drawls, throwing open the emergency exit door to the alley behind the hotel with a truly unnecessary flair of biotics.

“We went over the codes before we even got here,” Miranda reminds her. In the back of her mind, she’s counting down the seconds they have before Dupont realizes he’s been robbed, before he puts together she was involved, before he decides to come after them for the data (bad) or alert Cerberus to what happened (worse). She figures in how long it would take to stop running and strangle Jack in one of these dank Illium alleyways and realizes, regrettably, she can’t afford the slowdown. “There’s one for emergency exit, one for mission compromised, one for package acquired. Any of those would have done. S.O.S. is emergency only.”

“Well, it was an emergency, okay?” Jack says, stopping short at the curb while Miranda calls forth the skycar she’d arranged with a flick of her omin-tool.

“How so?” Miranda demands, shoving Jack into the back of the skycar first and clambering in gracelessly after her, ruined dress gaping open in the front. “This is coming out of your pay, by the way.”

“It was a pre-emergency--”

“That’s not a thing.”

“If his hand got any higher up your skirt I was gonna blow both of our covers by ripping his arms off in the middle of the bar.”

Miranda should still be mad -- furious -- that Jack had scared her so badly. Should be angry for the terribly botched mission as well, the absolute flouting of her discreet and effective plan.

But they’ve lived. Another day in a galaxy torn apart by war on multiple fronts, another day outmaneuvering the Illusive Man himself, another day Miranda gets to find herself in the company of this beautiful, blunt, maddening, impossible woman.

And they had gotten the data, despite everything. A success, however unconventional.

And if all she has to show for it is another burned identity and a ruined dress, Miranda finds she doesn’t mind as much as she might have in any other circumstance besides this -- in the backseat of a skycar with Jack, genuinely irritated to have seen someone else touching Miranda, a torn dress, the thrum of adrenaline still rushing through her veins.

“Never figured you for the jealous type, Jack,” Miranda says, relenting, twisting in the seat to pin Jack with a simmering look.

“Yeah, you did,” Jack mutters. “Were probably counting on it when you asked me to do this thing with you. Probably got off on it. Control freak.”

“Why would I do something like that?”

“Probably has something to do with you being an arrogant psycho that’s obsessed with keeping me under your thumb.”

Miranda pauses in the dark of the backseat and stares Jack down. She’s tense, pupils blown wide, breath coming in gradually quickening gasps.

Miranda has seen Jack scared and angry and hurt before. She’s seen her wound up tight on adrenaline, turned on to the point of recklessness too. Knows well enough the difference between the two to recognize this for what it is.

It’s that confidence that draws Miranda across the space between them, shrugging the straps of her dress down her shoulders in a movement that allows her to reach the zipper in the back and slide it down immediately after. Jack doesn’t move to stop her when Miranda drops a hand to Jack’s thigh, a more elegant parody of Dupont’s boorish groping earlier. The higher Miranda’s hand ventures, the further open Jack spreads her legs, nostrils flaring as Miranda leans in close, whispering into her ear at the same time as her hand slips past the waistband of Jack’s pants, to the soaked front of her underwear.

“Funny, Jack,” Miranda says, mockingly, stroking her slowly. She’ll draw this one out, as a lesson. “Under my thumb seems to be exactly the place you’re always so desperate to be.”

“Fuck,” Jack groans, a low hiss of air from between her clenched teeth.

Miranda grins in the dark. She’d been wrong, before. Jack had definitely been the right pick for this mission.

-

enjoy my work? wanna leave a tip?

ko-fi / cashapp

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Passion Project (4/4)

Summary:

“Ignoring Hange Zoe had become a little passion project he allowed himself to indulge in, in between expeditions and quietly mourning unnecessary deaths in the battlefield.”

Levi tries to ignore Hange but it never seems to last. A ficlet detailing the development of Levi and Hange’s relationship before canon.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Link to other chapters: 1 2 3

“Captain, you’re moving a little too fast, could you please slow down with the next titan?”

“Moblit, this is the tenth titan I’ve killed today.”

“Apologies sir, we might need some clearer sketches so our squad leader could make the final decision on these blades.”

“Okay then.” Levi held back the grimace that was threatening to come out then. Moblit was just following orders after all.

Cooperating with each other’s squads was Erwin’s orders and in the end, Levi and Hange still had to work together. The first few experiments were easy, quality checking improvements for grenades, base supplies, flare guns and gas cannisters. They were all routine and Hange didn’t need to be there. Soon after she stopped showing up, Levi started to realize he didn’t have to show up in any of her capture missions either, only making it easier to pretend she didn’t exist.

At that moment though, having been stuck on the wall strategizing for more than four hours already, Levi was starting to accept that pretending Hange didn’t exist wasn’t such an efficient idea. When Hange wasn’t simping for titans after all, she had the brain of a logistics and a research prodigy, a rare gift that had propelled her to the top of that military section in the first place.

Levi couldn't help but think with his little struggle with Moblit, he had just stumbled upon a situation of the blind leading the blind. And with every failed attempt to get feedback on the prototype blades, its effect on the balance of the user, and the efficiency with which it cuts through the titans' nape, the inevitable only became all the more inevitable (if that was even possible). They wouldn’t make it on time for their deadline.

Levi jumped back down to the foot of the wall. There were three more titans attempting to scramble up the walls to no avail and Levi had two tests, the control and the experimental test and with that, two types of blades to test, the original and the prototype. They had come up with the genius idea of using a different type on each hand. Or begrudgingly, it had been Hange’s idea which Moblit had so graciously told him that afternoon after their miserable last session a few days before.

We need to check how deep you can slice with each of them. Moblit had said. And whether it slices cleanly through the neck. The older weapons were naturally duller which made cutting up napes a tall order for the average soldier.

Hange though had been working on a different blade which could make killing a titan an achievable goal for even the cadets in the garrison unit.

Levi felt some difference having been using those same blinds for long enough already. It was nothing more than a minute difference in movement for him. Levi was good with comabt which made him so easily adaptable already to the difference of blades. Hange had sworn though that there was a stark difference, many experiments ago back when they were still on speaking terms. With that unspoken yet mutual agreement not to speak though, Moblit was left with the burden of sketching what he can to capture that minute difference and Levi was left to find a way to slow down his movements to something accessible to the naked eye while exposing himself to the novel risk of being eaten by a titan with every single round.

Levi only realized as the sun started to set below the horizon and the sky started to look a little redder, that they had been up on the wall for what must have been five hours. They were both blind and consequently inefficient.

“We could try this another day?” Moblit suggested.

“You should get NIfa or Keiji here to help next time. More people to sketch, the faster this will go.”

Moblit put down the sketchpad and sighed. “I’m the only one who actually sketches among us so I don’t think they would be much of a help either. Our worst case scenario then is we hire other artists? Hopefully Commander Erwin would allow the funds for that. ” Hange’s right hand man had a generally courteous demeanor. Although Levi had felt a little accused by Moblit’s face, he couldn’t tell if the man really meant to inject spite into that statement.

He was right though. For one, of course Erwin wouldn’t waste the already low budget the Survey Corps receives every year on artists when a free alternative existed already.

Get Hange to show up for the experiment.

But it wasn’t that easy. Levi thought to himself. Eventually his anger at Hange dissipated but by then, even before he was aware of it, ignoring each other had morphed into a cruel game by some nonverbal agreement between both sides. Hange just stopped looking at him when they were in the same room and he decided to reciprocate that same action. Possibly out of pride more than anything else.

The situation at the scouts headquarters that night was no different. Hange and Levi’s squads were stationed nearby and everyone knew each other fairly well. As they all reunited in the castle after Hange’s successful attempt at training her own squad and Levi’s special Ops squad for the next titan capture attempt and Levi’s unsuccessful attempt at testing the blades, the tension in the room only became stronger.

Levi felt it as a sensation that consumed him slowly from his toes all the way to his fingertips, leaving him unable to do much but lock gazes with whoever was nearby that wasn’t Hange. He heard it in the uncomfortable mumbles of both Oluo and Petra, the more emotional ones in his team and he saw it in the way Moblit had a smile much wider than what should have been professional.

In his peripherals, he saw it, Hange making small talk with Gunther and Eld to her right, praising them for their quick wit and their ability to master the titan capture contraption she had been cooking up.

The frustrating part was, there was no tension in the way Hange gesticulated and gave out praises in that annoyingly sing-songy tone. Back then, it had felt like screeching in his ears. At present, that voice completely bypassed the ears and went straight for his chest sending piercing and almost nauseating sensations through his heart.

“I'm really grateful. Thank you for all of your help cleaning the lab last week. And of course, for cooperating with me today. My family sent over some souvenirs so I thought I’d share it. ” Hange went for the cupboards to the side of the common room and came back with a large enough bag with the familiar royal seal of that same familiar black tea shop.

“Their shortcakes are also pretty good so I asked my parents to send some over.” Hange continued as she laid out the boxes on the table. There were boxes of tea and boxes of shortcakes. Levi quickly counted them and was sure there was enough on the table for every single person in the room to have one box of tea and one shortcake.

Hange started to slide boxes over to the other soldiers

Rashad. Gunther. Moblit. Nifa. Eld. Keiji. Lauda. Oluo. Levi had occupied himself by saying the names out loud in his head. Hange was taking her sweet time, making sure to say a word of praise to every single person on the table.

That friendly gesture on her end only served to pull Levi back to the situation at hand despite his attempts to distract himself. Was she going to say anything about me? Was she going to apologize? Make peace?

He was on the other side of the table though, the farthest from her and Hange had gone for those closest first. He had to be patient.

After what felt like a lifetime to Levi, Hange only had four more boxes on the table. Two for herself and two for me. Levi thought to himself. Despite the tensions in the room, he found himself excited to be able to taste the delectable shortcake which he had been admiring in the underground, along with the black tea that despite the somewhat salty memories in retrospect still had the malty and bitter taste he enjoyed so much.

Levi chose the exact moment her hands went for the black tea to look up at her. To his surprise, she was looking back at him.

They were on opposite ends of the large round table and thus, the distance only made it difficult for Levi to realize that she wasn’t looking at him at all. It was as if she was looking past him.

At the window behind him. “Looks like it’s getting late everyone. We should get back to the barracks. I’ll keep these two for myself,” Hange said, sliding two of the boxes into her bag.

And the other two? Levi found himself asking silently. The discomfort he was feeling had him speechless.

As if to answer his question, Hange slid the two boxes across to Petra. “Petra, you really worked hard on that first aid plan today. We're trying to keep casualties to a minimum so that was really a great addition to the plan. You deserve something extra.”

“Ah… Thanks!” Petra answered. Levi noticed she had snuck an uncertain glance at him. Levi looked away, not wanting to influence whatever decision Petra chose to make. There was only one decision though that could have made Levi the least uncomfortable at that moment.

“Maybe you should share it with some family or friends?” Hange suggested. “You might know someone who would appreciate this. I heard It’s going to be pretty difficult to find something with this recipe  from now on since they’ll be phasing out the shortcake. I heard they’ll be changing the black tea recipe too. It’s one of my favorite mixes so I’d be happy if as many people as possible got to try it.”

Hange could have been thinking about him or she could have been thinking about anyone in the general public. Levi though had erred too much on the side of the assumer.

He didn’t want to make that mistake again.

                                   Passion Project

“To be frank, I don’t feel too good about having to approach you too like this. As a commander and as your friend, I trust both of you to do your jobs. As of late though, it looks like you two have been experiencing some bumps when actually trying to do your jobs. Care to explain?”

To Levi’s relief, Hange spoke up. He had no plans of being the first one to answer.

“What do you mean by… bumps? Erwin?”

It was as if Erwin had been ready to answer the question for a while. His approaching the desk and pulling out a wad of papers conveniently at the top of his drawer had seemed rehearsed.

“Let’s see here,” Erwin said. “I am still expecting a deliverable on the proto-type blades the research team has been working on… And Hange, why does your plan for the next titan capture mission involve everyone in Levi’s squad except Levi. “

“I thought Levi would have been busy with experimenting on the new blades so I didn’t want to bother him too much. Also... since I’m only expecting to capture one titan on our next expedition, I think his squad is more than capable of handling the titan capture without him.”

I wouldn’t have picked them if they weren’t. Levi had to note. He found himself a little amazed that despite the tension between them, Hange had given a pretty reasonable answer.

“And about the experiments on the blades Levi, have you been working on those?”

“Yes. Moblit and I have been working on them,” Levi answered, keeping his replies as brief as possible. He didn’t think he had Hange’s charisma to pull off such a reasonable explanation but he should at least be able to manage not making a fool of himself.

“And it looks like you’ve been working on them for more than a month,” Erwin noted. He looked to Hange. “Hange, How many trials do you need?”

“Just one good one. I only need to see Levi’s movements and positions when he slices the blades, I think that’s more than enough for me to see whether the new prototype can really be helpful to the average soldier.”

“Then why is this taking a month to do?” Erwin looked to both of them and Levi was somehow relieved that at least whatever fault they may be concluded to have, it would most likely be shared between the both of them.

“I asked Moblit to sketch it,” Hange answered with the same charisma and confidence of a while ago. If Hange had been talking to an idiot with that tone, she would have convinced them.

Erwin though, was no idiot. “Sketch it?”

“Sketch Levi’s position.”

“You mean draw Levi’s position in the air while he’s slicing the titan’s nape.”

Hange nodded. “Moblit is a very good sketch artist.”

Erwin raised one eyebrow and turned to Levi. “And Levi, how has that been working for you?”

“Moblit says I move too fast,” Levi answered.

“And that’s why it’s been taking you a month to do this?”

“I’m still trying to learn how to slow down.”

“And why can’t Hange see for herself the experiment?”

“She’s busy,” Levi answered.

Erwin rested his chin on his hands. “Oh, so you too have been too busy to coordinate yourself that Petra and Moblit had to do all the liaising for the both of you?” He took out the first two pages and slid the rest of the papers under them.

One crucial part of being a leader of his own team had completely slipped Levi’s mind as he played the silent treatment card a little too seriously. The paperwork.

“If I recall correctly, I told both of you to fill out these reports together. A lot of the technological developments in the survey corps are dependent on both of your performances after all.”

Hange and Levi both remained silent.

It didn’t look like Erwin was giving them time to defend it either. “Why are these both signed Moblit and Petra? Neither of you could make it to the fortnightly meeting I required of both of you? And neither of you even bothered to tell one another you couldn’t make it?”

Levi swallowed the lump in his throat. That had been an oversight on his end and as he looked to Hange to see that same panic, it turned out he wasn’t alone. Levi had asked Petra to handle the paperwork so he wouldn’t have to deal with Hange.

And it turned out Hange had done the same.

“Both of you are lucky you have subordinates who know both of your trades so well that even if it wasn’t signed by them, I still would have thought the both of you prepared it.” Erwin said as he fixed the papers neatly on his desk. “Except the handwriting part.”

It was an attempt at some humor to lighten the already awkward mood of the room. It hadn’t worked though. With how he felt, Levi actually felt slightly insulted that Erwin had mentioned their shitty handwritings on top of their inability to do their jobs.

“I’m seeing an issue of communication here and I think you two should be addressing it now. The next expedition is in three days and I don’t want any unnecessary deaths just because of some bad communication and failure to deliver on both of your parts. If I see another paper signed by Moblit or Petra--- or scratch that, anyone else other than both of you, any time in the near future, I will shred all the reports I have right now and I will ask both of you to redo it all.” Erwin paused for long enough to glare at both Hange and Levi. “Don’t test me.”

And with that, the short meeting was over. Hange stood up, gave a friendly greeting and walked out.

The door frame could have fit both of them. Levi though, had let Hange go first, not wanting to confront her then. Hange’s face had been unreadable and after that small rageful stint in the research lab a few weeks back, he realized there were buttons about her, he just didn’t want to push just yet.

“Levi, stay.”

Levi looked back at Erwin and mechanically moved back to his seat.

“Moblit and Petra already told me about what happened so I don’t need the whole story from you if that’s what you’re expecting,” Erwin started.

“What did they tell you?”

“What happened after the titan went loose and after her lab got destroyed.” Erwin shook his head. “But that’s not the point. As your commander, I’ll say this. You and Hange are two of the most valuable soldiers in the survey corps. It was your cooperation that got us into this standing in the first place and that’s why it’s in all our best interest that you two keep your communication lines open.”

Levi could only listen.

“And as both of your friends, this is what I have to say. You two are just going to remain as miserable as you are right now if you don’t fix this between yourselves.”

“Miserable? What makes you think I’m miserable?” He had already accepted long ago that it was making him miserable. What makes you think Hange is miserable?

“Maybe because you’re denying it right now?” Erwin said.

There should have been more to it than that. And the knowing look Erwin had given Levi then only added to his self consciousness at that moment. He noticed everything from the way his shoulders dropped, to the way he had leaned further into the chair and the way he had let his eyes fall to the floor below him. “And Hange? What makes you think Hange’s miserable?”

“She denied it too.” Erwin looked pointedly at Levi. “In this exact same way.”

                                   Passion Project

Erwin had made sense. If that whole debacle with the titans and the cold war that followed hadn’t made him a little miserable, he probably wouldn't have entertained the prospect at all. Whether he could say the same for Hange, at that rate he didn’t want to assume.

The commander had seemed privy to both sides and it was he who decided the next plan of action to go about the rift that was created between the two.

Talking to Hange is easy. Proving to her that you still consider her a valuable friend is a little harder.

It was only through Erwin’s words did he realize how much of an arse he had been to Hange lately. He had played that little game of silent treatments since Hange had approached him about the titan capture mission. All he needed was Erwin to knock some sense into him before he quickly recalled everything, while a little more biased against his own actions.

And this is how you repent for this. Levi had to remind himself as he wandered through the woods. He wasn’t excited at all for the plan Erwin had laid out.

“Hange has been a little hyper fixated on getting a specific type of sample she wanted to work with. If you give it to her as a peace offering, maybe you could win back her trust?”

Maybe? It wasn’t a maybe. Erwin had proposed it in a way that it sounded foolproof. And Levi was starting to become a little more convinced that it might just work. Not just because of Erwin’s persuasion. Also because he was doing something that had been so unimaginable and so repulsive of an idea that he would have never done it if it wasn’t for the suggestion and the eventual prodding of Erwin. He probably would have tried any other idea first. But that was the idea left for him. He was desperate and somehow, he was clinging to the hope that Hange would see that desperation.

Most titans stay in the woods so keep an eye out for it. They’re usually on the ground next to the trees and they look like tiny cocoons. Levi was sure he knew what Erwin was describing. In fact, he had seen them multiple times before.

Maybe in this same forest. He had his procedural memory on his side. All he had to do was retrace his steps. As if his own motivations to talk to Hange again were spurring him on, he didn’t take too long to find one.

The cocoons were titan puke and they didn’t dissolve as easily as titan blood. Beneath those cocoons were half digested dead bodies.

But Hange doesn’t need those. She wants the digestive juices. Erwin had pointed out.

“The digestive juices and the spit,” Levi repeated to himself like it was some sort of mantra. He only ever wanted to do that once in his life and that only time he would be doing it, he needed to do it perfectly or risk having to go back.

He took out the jar he kept underneath his cloak and bent over next to the cocoon. He pulled his green cloak up to his face to at least protect himself from the odor that he was sure was coming.

The cocoon already had an odor, a faint ominous odor that only hinted to Levi that there may have been more of it underneath.

With one blade, he poked a hole into the cocoon, and ripped it open a bit towards the top. It was big for an arm to move freely inside without actually having to touch the shell of the cocoon. It wasn’t big enough to send the digested material spilling out.

The smell was horrendous and Levi felt tears spilling out of the corners of his eyes. Even with a first line of defense on his face, nothing had prepared him for the stench of rotting flesh mixed with digestive juices and a titan steam. It had his head spinning and Levi found himself teetering to a tree as far away as possible from the scent but still at least near enough to keep an eye on the cocoon.

He took a break and he made sure it was a quick one. He counted down two minutes to be exact. He only had ten to twenty minutes to finish this little project before a titan appears or worse, his squad starts to look for him. He had little time to waste.

He removed his cloak, folded it and wrapped it tightly around his face, covering all the way up to his eyes which were burning from the stench.

This wasn’t a test of courage nor was it a life threatening combat situation. As Levi got closer to the cocoon, he quickly memorized his surroundings before pulling the cloak up to his head. For that five minutes, he could spare his vision and his full range of movement. He could be as cowardly as he wanted to be.

But really, he would have rather been facing thirty titans at that moment.

Levi found himself having to talk to himself, having to coax himself through the motions just to be able to get his feet moving towards that horrible stench. All he had to do was feel around for the cocoon, dip the jar in, quickly put the cap over it, run away and the hell should be over.

“Levi, why are you here? And why are you like...” A voice rang out in the darkness.

The hell would have been over. It seemed like the devil heard his monologue and opened up another circle of hell.

“Hange?” He had attempted to say. The cloth had gotten caught in his mouth and it had ended up sounding a little more like a muffle. He had tried to enunciate the words a bit before the fold of his cloak got further caught in his mouth.

Levi should have godly balance with the amount of experience he had flying through the air, killing man eaten beasts. At that moment, incapacitated by the foul odor, the awkwardness of the situation, the embarrassment of being caught in it and the disorientation that came with having a piece of cloth tightly wound over his whole head, Levi lost his balance for the first time in years.

He fell forward with a big, loud and incredibly putrid splash.

“Hey! Are you okay?”

Levi felt arms around him before the putrid and mildewy smell rushed up his nose, taking his consciousness with it.

“Get yourself together!”

                                    Passion Project

When Levi came to, the odor hadn’t left. In fact, it was more pungent that he could even remember and Levi had to bury his face on the cloak that was conveniently in front of him to stop himself from hurling whatever those odors were pushing out of him.

The cloak didn’t smell as clean as his own. Any smell though far enough from the one he had just witnessed was a good enough respite. The respite didn’t last long though, soon enough the scent did creep up on him and as Levi soon realized, the cloak had the beginnings of that same odor.

He was the one who smelled like it. That exact moment when the odor did rush through him into his nostrils and spread to both up his head and down his throat, the horse he had been riding broke rhythm and had Levi jumping in his seat.

“Stop….” Stop the horse. Levi felt the contents of his stomach quickly climb up as if the odor had pulled them out himself.

“Levi, you okay?”

Of course I’m not! Levi would have wanted to say. Before he could even ponder the ridiculousness of the question, his body took over his inhibitions.

The last thing he remembered before faded out of consciousness was the cloak in front of him drenched with his own personal cocktail of digestive juices.

                                          Passion Project

“Good morning!”

It had been a week since they got back from the expedition

“I brought breakfast.”

And he had been waking up to that same view of Hange by the door since he started to get a better sense of his surroundings.

The breakfast consisted of bread and egg whites just like he requested. He had attempted a more daring combination of food when he first woke up, and the first night Hange had even tried to serve him black tea. The foul odor which still lingered like a ghost made itself particularly known through his taste buds. With the more daring food choices, Levi found himself facing a disgusting mix of rotten mildew and edible food which had him nauseated if not throwing up at just the first bite.

With the plain choice of egg whites and a piece of bread, he was at least able to placate that little ghost of an odor. He didn’t enjoy the tastes and the sensations which still stung at his throat and rushed to his nose in the most inopportune time. As Hange had told him though countless times since they got back from the expedition, he still had to eat.

He was halfway through the harrowing experience of chewing the bread when Hange spoke up.

“I looked into the samples you took and I think I found out why it smelled weird. To be honest, I threw up too when I opened the jar.” It was just like her to have a little lack of awareness at the fact that Levi was still far from recovered from the titan cocktail debacle and the fact that he was still eating when she mentioned it.

Levi willed himself to swallow the last morsels of bread. “You really want to talk about it now?” he asked, eyeing the plate of egg whites in front of him. The egg whites were starting to look less appetizing by the second. As if they were appetizing. Levi almost forgot how ‘appetizing’ actually feels like.

“We can talk about something else first,” Hange suggested.

Levi pushed the plate away. “No, go ahead.” He had lost all motivation to force the food down his throat. Somehow, the explanation for his one week of recovery that followed that splash into what could have been hell seemed to be more ‘appetizing.’

“The cocoon on top of the rotting flesh and organic matter, was the ideal environment for some fungi to grow too. And that pungent smell was released by the fungi when their vacuum was disturbed…” Hange started. “On top of the titan spit and the rotting bodies…”

Levi knew it was odd. Despite being his fastidious self, Levi had been exposed to enough disgusting things to have at least been able to stand the odor. He had been drenched with titan blood. He had been surrounded by dead bodies a few times. That odor shouldn’t have been enough to knock him out.

But it did.

The pungent odor was cruel. It lingered for days. In fact, even Erwin had sympathized as if he knew how horrible that smell had been. He had given him the week off after the expedition to get his life together after. It was Hange who had stayed in the room while he alternated between the bed and the bathroom. It was Hange who forced him to eat enough so he wouldn’t starve to death.

That week while he recovered from the ordeal of a head first splash into the cocoon juice, his life consisted of sleeping and showering and struggling to eat in between.

“Figures…” Levi said

“And for someone as obsessed with cleanliness as you, of course it would have made you a little sicker.” Hange paused for a second and her lips curled up subtly. “And you did dunk your head in.”

Levi blinked back the memory of that fiasco. It had seemed like a fevered dream then. From what he understood, he had flitted in and out of consciousness on the way back from the last expedition. There were voices discussing the logistics of transporting an unconscious yet stinky captain and one notable voice that had stuck out, so confidently volunteering to have him ride behind her. The only proof that it was anything but a fevered dream was that vivid memory of throwing up half conscious on Hange’s horse and the strong bout of embarrassment that followed. So strong that Levi felt the blood rush through his face just thinking about it. He ended up looking away. That was the last thing he wanted to recall then. He coughed. “Did you find out anything else from those samples?”

Hange shook her head, looking regretful. “Nothing much that could have hinted to the origins of titans. So far… It was all rotting organic matter. The cocoon had smoked when you opened up, which means if there were fluids from within the titan, they might have evaporated already by the time you got the samples.”

“So it was all a waste?”

“Not really. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that type of fungi in my life. Maybe I could study it in my free time,” Hange said. “And you can help by telling me all about your experience.”

That wouldn’t be an experience Levi would have been happy to recall. But if she were going to continue looking at him with that same wonder and curiosity, with that same wide smile and starry eyes, he might just comply.

He didn’t tell her that though but he didn’t reject her either. “Maybe…”

“I’m sorry. I never got to thank you for the samples...” Hange’s cheeks were a little rosier which only made Levi stare at that smile for a little longer. “I was planning on getting samples during that expedition but then I found you there... getting them for me… Why did you?”

“You like studying titans right?”

“But I know you don’t like that I do it. You hate titans and you’re a clean freak. And I was, studying them, enjoying it, making messes, sometimes endangering lives…Ever since before, when I started focusing more on titan research, you don’t visit as often and when I suggested we capture a titan, you kept ignoring me. It’s like you’ve been avoiding me. And with what happened in the lab... You told me yourself you didn’t want to talk to me anymore… So I didn’t expect this at all…”

Levi admitted, he regretted those last few words. But everything before that, those biweekly tea dates, those hours he spent just waiting for her in the lab. How could those have been interpreted as him not wanting to see her? “Weren’t you the one a little too obsessed with your research?”

Hange widened her eyes. “Was I?”

“All you did was coop yourself up in the lab, I had to be the one to take you out for baths, force you to actually spend time with me. How the hell does that make you think I didn’t want to hang out with you.”

“Because you always sounded angry when we actually talked.”

“Did I?” Levi had to concede, she had been annoying and frustrating and maybe he had raised his voice at her. And he did have to knock her out a few times to get her to bathe. But did he really have any other choice?

“You knocked me out to bathe me,” Hange said pointedly.

“Maybe because I thought you should take care of yourself more and Moblit has been trying to tell you that for years.”

“Yes I get that Levi but knocking people out actually does the complete opposite of self care. You could have asked nicely.”

“Weren’t you listening? Moblit has been asking you nicely for years.” Levi hissed. “I had to resort to that because you weren’t listening to anyone. If the titans were the ones who reminded maybe you would have actually listened,” Levi turned to her and narrowed his eyes. “Does your relationship with your squad mean anything to you? Does our relationship mean anything to you? Or is the only thing in your head just titans now?”

Hange’s eyes were wide with shock for a while. The realization he could make out in her face was enough for Levi to stop and wait for her response. Her expression was at least enough for him to want to listen to what she had to say next.

“Maybe you’re right… I’ve been a little too excited,” Hange’s expression softened. “It’s been so long since I’ve gotten this excited over something. When I see titans, I’m excited, when I see an abnormal die, I get angry. When I got Ilse’s journal and read through it, Levi… I felt something bubble inside me and I was ecstatic for days. Is this hope? Wonder? There’s so much we don’t know about this world… I don’t know, I don’t think I’ve ever been this emotional in my life and lately, I get so excited just waking up every single day. How would you describe this feeling?”

Hange’s words were stilted and it was apparent that she was talking while coming up with what to side. Her words were coming out faster than her mind was coming up with them. Yet at the same time, they flowed so easily and smoothly, like an unimpeded stream.

Passion Levi could only suspect one emotion that could do just that to people. And as Hange started to talk about the one thing that had made her so emotional, so excitable and so hyper fixated that past five years. When he saw the way her eyes wandered around the room, probably not focused on her surroundings but on the memories of all those creatures that had made her so excitable, he was sure she was seeing more colors and more sensations.

He himself was no stranger to it. The past five years, he had been more irritable, more angry, more frustrated. At the same time, he had been happier. Back then, when they had first met, he never did understand what kept her rambling on to other people about nonsense. But somehow, with the amplification of his own emotions the past five years, the sudden emotional investment he gave to specific things, he started to emphasize.

You have your passion projects and I have mine. Levi closed his eyes and looked away. The truths and implications behind that sentence had Levi’s chest hurting and it brought back the memories of his own fractured ribs from many years ago having been squeezed by a titan. His heart was hurting and the pain rushed all the way up to his mouth.

And Levi swallowed it back in as quickly and as violently as it had rushed out.

“Hey? You okay? You’re gonna puke again?”

“No,” Levi managed to answer. He wondered though if he had come out as a croak or as a coherent answer. He kept his eyes closed and detached himself from his surroundings, allowing himself one final reflection of what had rocked him so violently to the core.

The realization came after an eternity that could have probably only lasted a few seconds. She was his passion project. Somehow, he wished that he had been hers too.

When Levi opened his eyes again, Hange had pushed a basin in front of him, ready to catch anything that comes out of him. She was staring at him so intently, saying things about keeping it down, getting some rest but he hadn’t been listening.

He saw wonder in her eyes. He felt concern in her tone. And maybe, underneath all that, there could have been care, and possibly even passion. Do I make you feel the same way? Do you feel things with me that you don’t feel with titans?  Somehow, he had managed to convince himself that the expression she gave him as they locked eyes, were only his to enjoy.

“I’m fine.” As quickly as that feeling clenched at his chest and pushed the bile up at his throat, it pushed it back down again and with it had placated that war that waged inside him.

“Hey, you scared me. I thought you were gonna get sicker again and go on those long naps again. The last time you ever slept that long was in the hospital.”

Of course Hange would know. She had been the one visiting everyday. “I won’t. Besides, you’ve been visiting everyday right? Don’t you have research to do?” Levi asked.

“Well, I thought I’d wait for you to feel better first. Besides, there are things I wanna test and I’d rather you were there with me.”

I thought I’d wait for you to feel better first. Levi found himself smiling. “Thanks for taking care of me.” For once, she had picked him over titans.

“Of course, you’re humanity’s strongest and we have lots of work to do when you’re out of leave. Erwin still needs reports on the new blades and we’re going to have to redo the titan capture strategy if you’re willing to help out…”

As quickly as the smile had curled up his lips, it morphed into a grimace.

“But first things first, let’s focus on getting you up to speed. Are you going to finish those egg whites? You’re not doing yourself any favors leaving it like that.”

With the right prodding, Hange managed to get Levi to swallow those egg whites in spite of her incessant and detailed rambles about her findings on that very unappetizing cocoon.

                                  Passion Project

Levi did not doubt it. Hange did live with passion. He felt it as a tingle in his eyes when he would count the stars in her eyes as she reported the results of her research over strategy meetings and nights of cafe. He felt it as blood rushing to his ears when he’d hear her shrill screams from up on the wall as he proved another one of her hypotheses about titans correct. He felt it when his nose burned as he entered the lab, only to have to knock her out for another bath.

It was fairly obvious what had been breathing life and passion into her. Those feelings were all tied to one thing--- titans. To save himself the potential pain of expecting something from the unexpected, Levi chalked up her passion for titans as an inevitable truth.

Sometimes though, he was the object of her shrill screams or those stars in her eyes. In those few times, he stood corrected. And in those not-so-few occasions he was proven wrong, Levi was happy for hours, maybe even days.

“I wonder if you’ll still get this much praise if they find out how much of a neat freak you are.”

One of the few places Hange seemed to give him more attention than usual was the ride to the gates of the walls. It was that heavenly in-between. Hange was too far from her lab, yet still too far from the field to be considering titans. And for those few moments, sometimes he did have her full attention.

Just like every other time she engaged in a non-titan related conversation with him, it was music to his ears. Those moments always came as a welcome reprieve Levi wished would never end.

“Just beyond these walls is a world of titans…”

Just like all other reprieves though it ended. Levi used the view of the gates rising in front of him as some sort of distraction to her passionate tirade

“I wonder what kind of titans I’ll meet today...”

And once again, Levi heard the passion. That time in the music in her voice as she trailed off.

“I would really love it if we ran into an abnormal!” Of course, Hange played favorites even among her favorites.

“There’s an abnormal nearby already.” That little provocation from Levi had come up as something so casual and emotionless. Yet, Hange ate it up so quickly, Levi was sure that was where her appetite went.

“Really? Where?” Even within the confines of the wall, she was still looking for them. As if she didn’t have enough test subjects, samples and records within the walls to stare at.

And that train of thought in particular had Levi wheeling his horse a little closer to her, just to mess with her a little more. Maybe illicit some reaction from her.

“Over here.” I’m the abnormal titan. I’ll be the abnormal titan you’re so idiotically looking for within the walls.

Hange only returned his look with a confused one of her own. He looked for stars in her eyes or maybe a flush in her cheeks to find none. She just seemed utterly confused and unpreturbed and Levi found himself feeling a little disappointed in return.

Titans were disgusting. They were filthy. They were chaotic creatures. In that split second where he felt himself manifesting just a little the titans Hange loved so, he wished he were one of them, just so she could look at him, just so she could talk to him with that same sing song voice and scream at him with that same shrill sound.

“Soldiers ready!” Erwin’s voice rang out among the crowd, so naturally grabbing everyone’s attention, notably his and Hange’s.

His duty as a soldier was always priority though. As quickly as he had manifested that jealousy towards the titans, he forced it out of his mind. When Erwin demanded attention, those passion projects took a backseat, something he would only reserve a minute or so to ponder in between titan kills.

He had expected that expedition to be similar.

It turned out though, there wasn’t much mind space or emotional space to consider that passion project any longer. With the siege of Trost, the capture of titans, the 57th expedition and the quickly progressing chain of events that followed, the frustration at the unrequited feelings that came with his passion project had faded into nothing more than a regularly passing thought.

Hange never left. In fact, he was working with her more closely than before. Her projects, her experiments, her conclusions and her crackpot theories fueled by passionate research were just turning out to be more and more crucial with every development.

It was slow going and sometimes Levi did entertain that green eyed monster that would pay its occasional visit. With each turn of event and with each truth uncovered though, Levi did eventually have to accept the harsh truth that accompanied their reality.

Maybe, it was for the better that the titans kept their rightful place, the center stage of Hange’s little passion project.

[detectivejay-chuckles-halstead]

Nervous Breakdown // Jay Halstead x Reader

Photo by @karihighman​

Description: Jay is there when you start to break down.

Words: 1539

Warnings: None

Pairing: Jay x Reader

A/N: So, this I wrote for me. The schedule Reader talks about is my actual schedule. The sign offs are the things I actually need. This was me last night, except I didn’t have someone like Jay to talk me down from my nervous break down, I just had it and then had to be at my clinical this morning (which I’m still at btw lol). But yeah. Hope you enjoy. And if my posting is sporadic in the next month or so, this is why. 

“Come to bed,” Jay told you softly, leaning on the doorframe of your bedroom with his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at you with papers spread across the floor, couch, and coffee table. 

Your movements were frantic as you tried to organize them all, trying to figure out the best system to keep everything together. Every section was chronologically ordered for the online documentation, paper clips holding each stack together. Then, there were the colored sheets that had even more important signatures on them. You had to make sure everything was in order as class was drawing to an end. 

“I’ll sleep when I’m done, Jay,” you snapped at him before closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I just-”

“I know.” He walked over, stepping around the stacks before sitting directly behind you in the only place clear of paper. “Come here.” 

You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning back into his chest, his arms wrapping around you. Grounding you as your mind went a mile a minute. You also couldn’t stop yourself from grabbing your calendar, flipping it open to this month.

“What’s the schedule look like?” His chin rested on your shoulder as he looked at the planner. 

“I have to help with the EMT class Saturday from seven to three. Then I start my shift at work at eight tomorrow night. Then, work Sunday night. So I’m going to try and catch up on some sleep on Sunday. I have my exam in Med Emergencies on Monday. Then, I have an ambulance clinical AM shift at seven. Same on Wednesday. A quiz in Med Emergencies on Thursday. Then, I work Thursday night. Off at eight on Friday morning, but I picked up a shift from two to ten Friday day. Then, ambulance clinical on Saturday AM shift. 

Same with that next Sunday. A quiz in Med Emergencies on the seventeenth. Then work that night. Work the night of the eighteenth, but I’m off at four in the morning instead of my usual eight. Mainly because I have an OR clinical on the nineteenth from seven to three. But then I work that night, off at five on the twentieth because I have an exam in Med Emergencies that day. Ambulance clinical AM shift on the twenty-first. Twenty-second, I have an ER shift from seven to three, then I work that night. Work Sunday night, so I’m going to try to catch up on sleep that day. 

Twenty-fourth I have another exam in Med Emergencies. Ambulance AM shift on the twenty-fifth and sixth. Then, we review for our Final in Med Emergencies, but I work that night. I’ll get off at six to get to my ambulance clinical on the twenty-eight at seven. I work that night, but off at five to get to my Maternal-Fetal Truck shift by eight. 

On the thirtieth, I have an ER shift from three to eleven. The thirty-first, I have my final in Med Emergencies, and then work that night. Off the day of the first, but I work that night. Then, an ER shift at three on the second. Then, I work that night, but I’m going to try to switch shifts just because my ER shift won’t finish until eleven. The third, we have our student evals. The fourth, I’m helping the junior class with their Ops day, and then I have an ambulance clinical that night. Off the fifth, but work that night. Off the sixth, but work that night. Seventh is labor day, so completely free. ER shift on the eighth at three. Then, on the ninth, OR shift at seven.

“After that, I don’t know because we haven’t signed up for our capstone. Which all of this,” you said, motioning to the mess of papers, “is me getting everything in order to make sure I have everything done and what I still need. Because we can’t start capstone until all of our skills check offs are done, and we’ve hit all of our demographics.”

“What do you have left to do for your skills?” That question got you to sigh, putting the planner down and grabbing a notebook. You had to push your glasses back up on your face as you looked down at your messy handwriting. 

“Five peer reviews for pediatric intubations. Two peer reviews for needle cricothyrotomy. Three peer and two instructor reviews for trauma assessment. Five peer reviews for trauma intubations. Two instructor reviews for joint splinting -- which I’m already an EMT, why the Hell do I have to sign off on the BLS stuff again? Same with long-bone. I need one peer review and two instructor for traction splint. Again, BLS bullshit. Seven peer reviews for medical and cardiac scenarios. Eleven peer reviews for IV starts, and one instructor. One instructor for IV piggyback. Five peer reviews for IO. Oh, and another instructor. Three peer for IM injection. Three peer for synchronized cardioversion. One peer for defibrillation. Three peer transcutaneous pacing. Four peer reviews and one instructor for adult team lead scenarios. Five peer reviews and one instructor for pediatric team lead scenarios. Eleven peer reviews for being a team member. Three peer reviews for being a team leader for geriatric scenarios. Six peer and one instructor reviews for adult physical assessments. And finally. Six peer and one instructor review for pediatric assessment,” you read off, letting the paper fall to the ground. 

He held you a little tighter. You felt bad. With all the stress you’d been under for the past month, and with how crazy his job was, the two of you hadn’t gotten to spend a lot of time together. And the next month was going to be even crazier. 

“When are you supposed to start your capstone?” He pressed a kiss to your neck, your eyes fluttering closed in response. 

“They want us to start September Ninth, but I’m going to be the last one who gets to sign up because I’m so far behind! Everyone is going to pick the cool preceptors, and I’m going to get stuck with the ones nobody else wants,” you vented before huffing in frustration. 

It was indeed very frustrating, stressful, and downright annoying that you were so far behind compared to everyone else. That’s what happens when you have to be off for six weeks because you tore your knee. Now, it was a constant game of catch-up. 

“Just breathe when I breathe,” Jay instructed in that calming voice, following his breathing pattern. It got your heart rate down as tears came to your eyes, despite your internal protests. You were on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Maybe you should email your instructor?” he suggested when you had your breathing under control on your own.

“And have her take me off all my clinicals and reschedule everything? No. No fucking way. I can’t just email her and schedule my nervous breakdown, Jay. She was very clear in first semester that if we took on too much and couldn’t handle it, she’d take us off our clinicals and completely reschedule everything. I can’t do that, Jay. I can’t because then I’ll be even further behind.” You were talking a mile a minute, Jay taking a deep breath behind you. You took the hint and matched your breathing again. 

“Okay, then don’t email her. But, I want you to come to bed right now. It’s two in the morning. You have an ambulance clinical in five hours. You need your sleep. All of this will be waiting for you when you come home tonight,” he insisted. You didn’t want to, but you knew he was right. 

The two of you stood up, walking into the bedroom. You couldn’t help it as you collapsed on the bed with a groan, much more comfortable than the hard floor in the living room. He wasted no time in joining you, pulling you close again. This time, you were able to see his face at least, tracing his features gently with soft fingertips. You missed him. 

“How about we do something Labor Day? Just you and me to destress a bit?” you asked, Jay nodding in agreement before lips met gently. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” he said with a soft chuckle, kissing you again. “But you’re almost done. This is the worst of it. After your final, you’re pretty much done with lecture. Capstone is your last hoorah. Then, your tests and you’ll finally be a paramedic after over a year. Doing this through a pandemic. Through all your family crap. I’m proud of you.”

“You really know how to sweet talk a lady,” you joked, resting your head on his chest.

It was the exact thing you needed to hear. Jay always knew what to say. You were so close to being done. Then, you’d be in your dream career. All the hard work was going to be worth it. The thousands of hours in clinicals, the hundreds of hours in class. The countless sleepless nights and caffeine filled days. Yes. It would be all worth it. Just a couple more months to go. And Jay was by your side.

[thethistlegirl]

Comfortember Day 9 (Confessions)

@nevcolleil Here’s a LONG overdue continuation of the universe I wrote a while back for your prompt about Jack being Mac’s actual biological father! (For those of you who haven’t read it, the first part is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17086982)

Jack sits in the GTO, wrapping his hands around the steering wheel and clenching and unclenching his fingers. Mac's probably still asleep after last night. Unaware that Jack is sitting out here holding onto a secret that's going to shatter his world more completely than even the most complicated bomb the kid's ever defused. Honestly, Jack isn't sure if maybe James was right. They were better off not knowing. Because there's a fifty-fifty chance that Mac will be so angry at Jack for leaving his mom that he'll never want to speak to him again. But now that he knows the truth, he'll be no better than James if he doesn't walk in there and tell Mac. About Ellen, about Kosovo, about everything. He owes his son the truth.

His son. It sounds so strange to even think that. Before he can lose his nerve, he gets out of the car, walks up to the door, and knocks. It takes a few tries, but finally a very sleepy, bed-head Mac wanders up to the door, checking the peephole, thankfully, before opening it. Jack has a sudden attack of emotion, thinking about what it would be like to be greeted by a smaller version of this very picture. Mac already looks like a teenager, and it doesn't take much to imagine him even younger, yawning and blinking at being woken up early. "What are you doing? Family don't knock." And that's what pushes Jack over the edge. He feels the tear trickling down his cheek without really having noticed it forming, and Mac's mussed figure looks blurred and watery, like Jack's looking into some magic mirror that's going to warp and show him the past he could have had. "Jack?" Mac sounds genuinely scared. "Kiddo, let's go out on the deck. I think we gotta sit down." Mac's face comes into sharper focus, worried. "What's wrong? Did you have a doctor's appointment? Are you dying? Like James?" Like James. Jack really is no better than that jerk. He's been railing on the man for leaving a kid behind. When he did the exact same thing. He can't decide if it's better or worse that he didn't know. "No." And that's all he says until they're both sitting down. The damn photograph is still there, sitting on the bench where Jack left it. Jack picks it up slowly. "There's something you don't know about your mom," he says hesitantly. "Wait. What?" Mac sits down. "Was there something in the dossier you got from Matty's that you didn't tell me?" "It wasn't in there, hoss." Jack sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I knew her. Last night, when you showed me this...I recognized her." He hands the picture frame to Mac. "How did you know my mom?" Mac asks, clearly confused. "I thought you said you didn't even come to California before you met me. You called it snob land. Said the only reason you'd even stay was to keep me alive." "James didn't tell you she was an agent." There's a terrible sound of shattering glass as the picture frame falls to the deck, and Jack stares at the shards like they're an oracle telling him what to say next. Because if Mac reacted this strongly to finding out what his mom really did, then telling him the rest is going to half kill him. "She what?" "Ellen Jackson was a black ops agent when I met her. Specialized in retrieval of items that fell into the wrong hands. We crossed paths on an op in Kosovo that went belly-up for us both." Jack sighs. "It was...an intense forty-eight hours. You know how those things are." Mac nods. "I still...I just...she..." And then his face goes white. "Is that..." "She died in a car bombing in Shanghai." Jack doesn't think it's wise to talk around the truth. There's a choked sob from Mac's side of the bench, but Jack can't stop the avalanche of pain now. He needs to get this out or he never will. "Mac, the two of us...after we met...we were involved for a while." He waits for some sort of disgusted reaction, but that's more Riley's department than Mac's. She's always the one with some sort of weird joke. Mac just...breathes. In and out like he's trying to stave off a panic attack. "Mac?" Jack isn't about to be selfish enough to put his need to tell the truth now over Mac's health and safety. "Do you...Are you okay?" He realizes it's a stupid thing to say the moment it leaves his mouth. "I just found out my mom was murdered, because she was an agent, and no one bothered to tell me, do I look FINE?" Mac practically screams. Okay, well, at least Jack getting cozy with his mom isn't the worst problem Mac has with this whole scenario. He turns to Jack, eyes shining with tears and wide like a panicked wild animal. "Did you KNOW?" "I didn't even know who your mom was till I saw that picture last night." He already said that once, but he doesn't expect Mac's grief-addled brain to recall that. Mac nods slowly, then picks up the frame, looking down at the broken glass. "So you remember her? You said you..." He trails off. "Don't think I could forget. And I don't mean that in a creepy way." Jack shrugs. "She was the kindest person I ever met. Even in a job that can make a person a monster." A monster like me. "I just still can't believe it." Mac sighs. "I mean, not you and my mom, but...okay maybe that too. Like, how weird would that have been?" He chuckles weakly. "You were this close to being my dad." "Bud, I am." The words hang in the air like the smoke from one of the campfires on a day when the air pressure settles in and traps the city smog. Mac doesn't move. Jack can't tell if he's even breathing. "Jack, this isn't funny." The words are a harsh monotone when they finally break the stillness. "Even for you. This is too much. Stop joking."

"I'm not. I talked to James this morning. He told me everything."

"That's impossible."

"No. Your mom and I were together in '89..."

"I know how it works. But you can't be my dad. You can't." Mac's shoulders have begun to shake. "That's not how things go."

"I'm so sorry..."

"You're fucking SORRY?" Mac shouts, and there's a thud, he's slammed the picture down on the bench. "Everyone's lied to me my whole life, and you're SORRY?"

Jack doesn't bother to say he didn't know. Mac's got to take his anger and grief out on someone. And better Jack than James or what few memories the kid has of Ellen. James will...Jack doesn't actually know what that man would do. And he doesn't want to taint Mac's few good memories. 

He shuts down, the way he knows all too well how to, while Mac yells and curses and even throws a couple sloppy punches. He can check out and take the hits. But when Mac begins sobbing, crumpling to his knees on the glass-strewn deck, Jack blinks and reaches for him.

Mac doesn't resist, letting himself be pulled into a gentle hug. Jack rocks him back and forth slowly, like he should have done twenty-eight years ago. He can't say it's okay. Or anything else. But he can hold his son while he cries. He can do that much.

[yukipri]

OKAY! So I saw your very pretty picture of that Thatch guy and read the tags and was wondering how a dark version of him would work in mer au? Because I have only just gotten up to water 7 I have no idea who he is other than what i have read in fics and your tags sparked my interest. Who is this man and what devil fruit is that and why would him being dark! Be a bad thing? Or an interesting thing? Idk. Long ask short who the fuck is that pretty man called Thatch? I like him already

OhhhhHH man, I guess the question here is, how okay are you with being spoiled? Bc in order to answer your question, I’d need to put some MAJOR, MAJOR spoilers.

Actually, if you’re already at Water 7 (and gosh damn are Water 7-Enies Lobby AMAZING arcs ;A;), you’ll understand a lot better if you can get through that first!

I HIGHLY RECOMMEND that you first finish the Water 7/Enies Lobby arc first before reading the following part beneath the cut, because this power shows up in action for the first time after that. If you want exact numbers, that’s anime episode 325 and manga chapter 441.

Explanation of Thatch and Yami Yami Fruit under cut!

＊This explanation assumes that the reader doesn’t know who Thatch is, and isn’t familiar with events in OP canon beyond the Banaro Island duel.

~~

~~

Unfortunately, we see very little of Thatch in canon (I don’t think he even has any spoken lines?), so you’ll be a bit disappointed in that regard, but explanation on that below.

But the devil fruit power. The Yami Yami (Darkness) Fruit is probably going to be the endgame last boss power that Luffy will have to fight at the end of the series.

You may recall, but when Ace met up with Luffy in Alabasta, he mentioned that he’s been tracking someone called “Blackbeard,” who used to be a member of the Whitebeard pirates, before he murdered one of their crew and left.

The crew member who was murdered? That was the Fourth Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates: Thatch.

We don’t know too much about Thatch in canon, unfortunately. He was a cook. He was a Division Commander, which means he was strong, and had a position of leadership and responsibility. He’s been with the Whitebeards for a LONG time (a kid who might be him shows up in the Oden flashback in more recent manga chapters). He was the first Whitebeard pirate to befriend Ace (we get to see more of this in the Ace spin-off novel), and we can assume that they were close though we don’t get to see too much of their interactions.

The reason why Thatch was murdered? He found the Yami Yami fruit. And in the Whitebeard pirates, there’s a rule that whoever finds a devil fruit has the right to eat it; that fruit belongs to them. Which means, while we’ll unfortunately never know whether Thatch ever planned on eating the fruit, it was his right to do so, which was why a dark!Thatch AU makes sense; it’s a spin off from this point, a what-if he had eaten it instead of getting killed scenario.

But alas. Thatch is murdered the night he finds the fruit, because Blackbeard recognized the fruit as the one he’s been looking for, and was willing to kill a former crew mate for it. Blackbeard eats the fruit, making him one of the most (if not THE most) powerful person in the OP universe.

The Yami Yami Fruit is still a fruit that’s shrouded in mystery, and we certainly don’t know everything about it yet (and probably won’t know till closer to the end of the series bc again, I personally feel that he’s been set up to be the final last boss).

But we see its powers in action for the first time in the Ace vs Blackbeard duel on Banaro island after the Enies Lobby arc. You don’t need me to spell out everything the power does, there’s a wikia page for that, but it’s WEIRD, and interacts weirdly with other devil fruits. WARNING, that if you read said wikia page you’ll likely get MAJOR SPOILERS for the Summit War arc, so again if you care about spoilers, I wouldn’t read it until you’re done with that ^ ^;

So that’s on Thatch and the Devil Fruit in canon. The following is Thatch in the Mermaid AU specifically.

~~

This is kinda just re-hashing things from other posts, but in this AU, the canon-divergence for Thatch occurs when he temporarily leaves the Whitebeard pirates. Which again, is a result of Ace not joining the Whitebeard pirates at all in this AU, since he’s going to head back to Dawn Island so he can form a crew with Luffy. Thatch decides to tag along for a lot of reasons, including because he wants to meet Luffy, but certainly not limited to that. You can read more of Thatch and the Whitebeard pirates’ reasoning for letting him go in this story post. As mentioned in the canon stuff about him, it makes sense to me that Thatch is the one who accompanies Ace out of any of the other Whitebeards bc they’re close, and he doesn’t have first mate duties like Marco.

In canon, Thatch finds the Yami Yami fruit and brings it back to the Moby Dick, where Blackbeard hears about it, which triggers all the events leading not just to Thatch’s death, but much, MUCH more. I don’t know how much of the Summit War you know, but I personally feel that Blackbeard never getting the chance to eat the Yami Yami fruit kinda skews that whole arc too, and pretty much everything else. Despite having such a minor role in canon, Thatch actually plays a massive role as a trigger in the over-arching plot of the OP story (Thatch deserves to be a D for that LMAO).

ANYWAY, in the Mermaid AU, Thatch finds the Yami Yami Fruit AFTER leaving the Whitebeards, on their journey backwards through the Grandline back to Dawn Island. The only people there with him when he finds it are Ace and Deuce. Blackbeard doesn’t even find out about Thatch finding it until looooong after it’s already been eaten.

So that’s how we get “Dark!Thatch” in this AU. As for whether the devil fruit actually can affect his personality? It’s all just me imagining what it might be like for a guy like Thatch to have eaten the fruit, and is not at all based on canon, bc Blackbeard’s already a pretty twisted guy long before he had the fruit. And again, we don’t know everything about the fruit even in canon, so a lot is just me guessing as well.

I hope this sorta explained Thatch and the devil fruit better!

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

~This ask has been added to the Mermaid AU Text Headcanons Compilation post~

[shiny-procrastinates]

(re)Watching Magia Record S1 - part 12

part 11 here

Hello and welcome back everyone to this kinda watch-along of Magia Record s1. Last time, Mifuyu invited our girls to a lecture about the "salvation" her cult is preaching and took the opportunity to make a psychological attack on Yachiyo, who's now avoiding her team. Oh, and also Momoko was going to tell the truth to Rena. How will the girls react to learning the truth about magical girls? Why did Yachiyo suddenly start distancing herself from the others? We can only find that out by watching, so let's get on to this penultimate episode!

Puella Magi Madoka Magica Side Story: Magia Record S1 episode 12

Yachiyo's seriously not having a good time since she saw Mifuyu. After talking briefly with what I guess are the illusions of old companions of hers and denying that the girls are her friends, Yachiyo decides to follow after Iroha and co. with the excuse of being unable to ignore other magical girls being fooled.

pft, what a callback, I can't believe she's still tracking Felicia. Yachiyo, please, you look like a stalker lol

Back at Memory Museum, Iroha's having a not very pleasant reunion with one of her best friends (also Felicia's growling at her haha). Iroha refuses to accept the reality that Touka's a Magius, since she thinks that the Touka she knows would never do that, but Touka really doesn't remember either her or Ui.

While Touka Mary Poppins around, Mifuyu steps in on their little argument, reminding Touka that she's supposed to be giving them a lecture, and Iroha also pulls herself together to do what she actually went there for.

Oh, that's a nice transition to the op, I forgot that happened. I forgot this ep had the opening at all.

Back at the bridge, Momoko's about to let Rena in on the truth about magical girls, when a certain person joins them.

Kaede! Long time no see. Normally, I'd be glad to see her back, but there's just something very ominous about her showing up now of all times, with a black umbrella and smiling, after what happened to her.

While that's going on, Iroha's team is getting a very handy educational slideshow on Magical Girls, courtesy of Touka. First, she proposes the scenario of a Soul Gem breaking, asking our girls what would happen in that case. After Sana and Tsuruno get it not wrong but not exactly right either, Touka gives them the answer: The Magical Girl dies.

Alas, that's a very Touka slideshow indeed, condescendingly giving a lot of synonyms for "death" just to make sure you get it. Thanks, Touka.

Back at the bridge, I wasn't imagining it, there really must be something weird going on with Kaede. Did popping a witch really break her this much? Rena hugs Kaede, who apologizes and promises they’ll be together forever now... in any other situation, I'd say that's really sweet, but right now it's really disturbing. Then, Kaede-

Kaede? KAEDE? Why and how do you know about that already?! Did Momoko tell you? Momoko's also acting suspicious. Just what the heck is going on here?

Thanks for this shot anime. Yes, Touka does very much sound like the white weasel here.

In Memory Museum, Touka explains what exactly a Soul Gem is, to the very understandable shock of Iroha and the others. After complaining about their inability to keep up, Touka urges them to move on to the next part of the lecture: "Magical Girl Theory: About Witches". Ohh man here we go.

Exactly what part of being a magical girl is exciting escapes my understanding. Maybe "scary" or "hopeless" would be a better descriptor. That aside, no wonder the rumor says you'd be affected by the memory you saw. Vicariously experiencing it is a whole 'nother deal...

Except that they don't. Unlike the game, they only get to watch the memories, not take part in them. One has to wonder why the script even bothered having Mifuyu say that if they weren't going to do it after all.

In Mifuyu's memory, just like Touka had described earlier, Yachiyo's group, who at the time was her, Mifuyu and one of the girls Yachiyo had hallucinated earlier, Kanae, are having a hard time against a powerful witch. When taking an attack from the witch head on, Kanae's Soul Gem ends up cracking and breaking so, although she managed to reflect the attack and kill the witch, she dies.

So that's how Yachiyo and Mifuyu learnt the truth about the Soul Gems, and now the Mikadzuki girls were proved that through their memories (though it's specifically Mifuyu's memory).

Back at the entrance, Yachiyo has finally caught up with the group (kinda). Touka tries to talk to her, maybe to buy some time, but Yachiyo gives absolutely zero cares and just slides down the rope like she's in some video game. Girl has no chill huh, didn't even wait to hear Touka's name, which means she has no idea that that’s one of the people Iroha was looking for.

Continuing the "practical part" of the lecture, Iroha's now seeing Mifuyu's memories from some time (years, I think) later. By this time, she and Yachiyo already had a new team with Tsuruno, Momoko and Mel, one of the other girls Yachiyo had seen the illusion of earlier, and Mikadzuki Villa was basically back to normal.

That day, when Tsuruno was busy, Yachiyo and team went to hunt a witch who had moved all the way from the east to their own ward. Like in the previous memory, the witch was powerful and her team was having a hard time, so Yachiyo told them to run away while she distracted it (remember Seance Shrine?). However, Yachiyo ends up in a pinch and Mel, the day's lucky girl, ignores Yachiyo's order and comes in to save her.

The result, too, is very much like Seance Shrine. Mel used up all her magic on saving Yachiyo and, before they can go find a Grief Seed to purify her Gem, Mel ends up witching out.

I have to say though, even though it's her own memories, Mifuyu's being pretty damn cold about this. Man, how can you watch this smiling? Are you alright? (from the point she's a magical girl, probably not.)

Rena, who probably just heard this very same story, is having the expected reaction.

Back then, Momoko was indignant to learn this truth, pressing Kyuubei for answers. The stupid cat-rabbit, however, gives the very same explanation he had given on the og about magical girls and saving the universe.

With this, Iroha's team has also learnt the truth behind Witches, whether they wanted to or not. I feel Kyuubei would like to complain about that statement saying that he's fooling someone, considering his stance is "no one asked".

That was the end to that part, but it seems there was still more to be learned here, since the lecture is not over and we continue seeing Mifuyu's memories from after that.

Mifuyu felt pretty damn miserable after what happened to Mel and couldn't get over it even after half a year had passed. Momoko tells her to just forget it already, but Mifuyu just can't. Momoko also says they shouldn't tell Tsuruno, which explains why she didn't know.

Unable to forget and unable to tell anyone about it, Mifuyu ends up witching out... or, that's what should happen normally, but instead of witching out for real Mifuyu releases her impurities to an outside form, just like Iroha, Kaede, the Amane twins and Alina all did throughout the series.

At this point, Touka cuts in to continue her lecture, now on exactly what is this event that we had been wondering the whole series about. Thanks, Touka.

According to Touka, these crystallizations of a magical girl's impurities is called a Doppel and she's the one that created the system that makes them possible. That, itself, is the proof of "salvation" that the Magius are preaching, and their goal is to reject Kyuubei's system, releasing all magical girls. Well... that's fine and all, but 1: how are you doing this; and 2: why do you need Rumors and witches for that? Still fishy.

Poor magical girls indeed.

Oh, oh no Kaede also entered the cult, she's now repeating the salvation spiel!

At the same time, Iroha and co. are also at their last stop.

I really, really like how this last scene fells like Mifuyu is inviting us, the viewers, to join the cult too. Almost makes you want to root for them... almost.

Because being meguka is suffering.

- x - (if you have been reading this as a hamster face, you're right)

Aaand that's it for episode 12! Finally, FINALLY I can call doppeling out by what it is without it being a spoiler, thank god... but now it doesn't matter because there's only one episode left, dammit >:v

So yeah, there's the explanation, kinda. It's not like they were breaking any rules (if we ignore the fact this universe shouldn't exist at all thanks to Madokami), but more that Kamihama is a special place. And yet we still have no idea of how exactly the cult's doing this, what is a Rumor, why exactly are they collecting emotional energy like Kyuubei would... actually there's one more thing that makes the cult not much better isn't it, Touka's saying they reject Kyuubei system and yet they're doing the exact same thing as them, that's super shady. Also there's no way there's no consequence to doppeling out when this series works on equivalent exchange, there's definitely gotta be some con to it. SO MANY QUESTIONS.

Talking about questions, I'm always curious about the exact timeline for this story. Whenever they talk about Mel's incident, they say it was "one year ago", and then half a year later Mifuyu's still not over it and it seems like she doppels out at this point, but in the game they say it takes another half year before that happens, I think(?). Which always left me the question of: When exactly did the Magius start acting then? It should've taken some time to get the organization as big as it is now, so one has to wonder how long ago did the incidents in Kamihama start, since by the time Iroha shows up the magical girls here already seem used to it. This always leaves me feeling like this “one year ago” is closer to “almost two years ago” rather than “a bit over a year ago”. At least by this time in the story, it should be.

Knowing exactly when did The Wings of the Magius start would also let us guess at how long Iroha herself has been a magical girl, since Touka was probably still hospitalized when she made her wish. If Iroha's really been a magical girl for over half a year, that'd explain why she was already used to it by the time she came to Kamihama, despite being weak. Rather, that'd mean she's done a great job surviving thus far considering how she's only been shown sucking at battles lol (I’ll probably never get the answer to this, tho)

By the way, we STILL have no clue as to what happened to Iroha's little sister... I don't think we're making any progress on this front this season anymore. Poor Ui, even the show forgot about her.

So yeah, that was ep 12. Next episode, hopefully, we'll get more on the reactions of our girls upon learning the truth, and see what Yachiyo plans to do, if she had a plan at all coming here... which I suspect she doesn't, she's in fact even too late to do anything about it. I told you she'd regret it! The next episode's also the last one for this season, so you can look forward to having some awesome thing to tie it off *wink*

This is it for this post, hope to see you again on the next one. Have a good morning/afternoon/evening and remember to stay hydrated!

[malfoysqueen54]

In The Name Of The Father

Steve Rogers X OFC

Warnings: Character Death, Cussing? Thats it for now

18+ Only PLEASE! Beware my work can end up anywhere in smutville!!

Phil Coulsons daughter was devoted to her father, now in his death she devotes herself to Steve Rogers. In his memory. The girl she never felt he wanted no matter how she tried to be the super solider he dreamed of having as a son. Now as Steve's friend/ partner/ agent, she must deal with her baggage, but that chip on her shoulder is hard to remove. Even with Steve's charms.

She fell to her knees in front of her commanding officer and he approached to help her up with his lieutenant. Her father was gone—he was dead. She felt as if a huge slab of cement was laying on her chest. She couldn’t breathe. She didn’t know if she ever would again. Her eyes squinted at the bright desert landscape around her. The noise of the encampment was being drowned out by the rushing sound in her ears from her blood pumping so fast.

“You need to pack, Major. You're going home. Your ride is already here.” She looked up at the General, her vision still hazy, and he gestured to the opening of the tent behind her. She knew and got up running to the man who recruited, trained and loved her like a father. Her gaze met Fury’s after a few minutes of silent tears.

“Let’s go, Brooke. I got you.” His hand gently smoothing over her back.

 Everything was a blur…she couldn’t even go to the funeral. The Avengers were there and she saw red because of that. It wasn’t their fault, but she was so angry. Plus, he would be there. The bane of her existence, even if they hadn’t met yet. Brooke couldn’t face that, not yet. Her activities were simple for nearly two months. Drink, barely eat, barely sleep, drink more. So, of course, the reinforcements came.

Fury never knocked and she heard his booming voice first. “Brooke! Where are you?” It made her hangover worse.

“Jesus Christ, Nick, really!” she snapped, pouring more vodka in a glass. It was breakfast; why the hell not. Nat showed up, grabbed the bottle and poured it out. Brooke groaned and rolled her eyes, and Nick took the glass from her.

That one eye of his judging her like it always did. “You look like shit,” he said gently, yet matter-of-factly.

“Well I feel like shit, Fury.” She saluted him with a sarcastic grin, and then leaned on the kitchen counter, holding her head.

Nat put her hand on Brooke’s arm. “This won’t bring him back. You know he would be pissed.” Nat’s grip getting a little tighter to get her attention

Brooke turned to her friend and glared gently. “I was never enough. He would always be pissed, no matter what I did.” Her retort was dry and sorrowful; she knew how true that was. She had been trained almost since birth. You name it, she did it, including Army Special Forces and S.H.I.E.L.D. Nope, still not good enough.

Nick looked at Natasha and then back to Brooke. “I need a handler/partner/agent for Steve Rogers.” It was to the point.

Brooke sobered like cold water had been thrown on her. She snapped her eyes up to meet his and Natasha’s. “Are you kidding?!” she practically screeched.

“No, and you are the one who knows the most about him. You know stuff we probably don’t.” He gestured between him and Nat.

Brooke pushed off the counter, running her hands into her hair, her blood boiling. “You want me to babysit that little shit!” Her stance turned angrily towards Fury.

“Actually, he is like six foot two, so he only beats you by like two inches. Unless you wear your heels,” the redhead replied.

Brooke snarled. “I know how tall the bastard is.” Brooke took deep breaths, the scenarios running through her head. She owed this to her dad. Steve Rogers was his idol. She closed her eyes. “Fine, but that jerk will not know my personal past. Work related, fine.” Her hands were on her hips, sternly looking at Nick and Natasha.

Fury nodded, folding his arms. “What do you want your cover name to be then?”

She smirked and scoffed a little. “How about Barnes?”

Natasha sucked in a breath through her teeth. “That’s just cold, Brooke.” Fury shook his head.

“Fine, Collins, same thing we have used before.” She rolled her eyes as she waved her hand dismissively, turning to go shower and sober up.

“Your first get together is tonight at S.H.I.E.L.D.” Nat informed her.

“Yippee,” was the only bored reply they got as she closed her bedroom door on them.

The director and agent took their leave. Natasha was nervous, though. It could be a nuclear disaster in the making. “Are you sure we should do this? Put them together like this? Steve can be just as stubborn as she is.”

“If anyone can handle him, it’s her. Plus, she needs this. Her grudge will have to subside. He’s a damn boy scout, for Christ sake,” Fury replied, opening the door of the SUV.

“And she has a personal vendetta,” Natasha said getting into the passenger seat.

Fury sighed, falling back into the driver’s seat. “You have known her for years, trained with her. You know she will do everything to her father’s memory and credit. So, I know she may hate it, but she would die for Captain America. She is a soldier, she is loyal and one of the best damn assets we have.”

Natasha nodded with a knowing smirk. “You're right.” She sighed with a gentle chuckle. “She’s gonna hate it.”

 Steve blew out a breath as he stood before Fury, Nat, Clint and Tony. He still didn’t know why he needed agent backup, or a handler, as they were also known as. Nick just looked at him sitting there and gave a slight smirk to Clint and Nat.

“So- when does his babysitter get here,” Tony asked. Clint and Nat shook their heads while Steve just sighed heavily.

“It’s not a babysitter. You Avengers all have loyal backup and agent help. Captain Rogers is no different,” Nick corrected him, glaring him down with that gaze of his.

Tony shrugged. “Alright, well does this guy have the ability and skill to back up the Capsicle?”  Steve exhaled heavily through his nose, narrowing his eyes at Tony. “Just looking out for you Cap.” The billionaire folded his arms with another small shrug.

Steve hated to admit it, but looked at Fury and wondered the same thing. “He has a point.”

Clint and Natasha glanced at one another, smiling as Nick picked up a file. “Well, Army Special Forces, Green Beret. A Major in the Army. Three tours in Afghanistan.” Nick glanced up and Cap nodded as Tony looked unimpressed and gestured him to go on. “Three black belts, mixed martial arts fighting and winner, mind you. Weapons training, including blades, knifes, Asian weapons, swords and HYDRA weapons, as well as archery. A licensed pilot, a trained spy with undercover ops in Russia, Iran, England and Germany. Fluent in fifteen languages, do I need to keep going on?” He threw the file down on the table.

“How old is this guy? I mean, that’s a lot. Can’t have a lot of life experience. I mean no serum making him young like gramps over here.” Tony jerked his thumb at Steve. Steve shrugged—sounded qualified.

“Agent Collins is thirty-one,” Clint raised his hand. “Why are you here again, Tony?”

“Oh, I was updating tech for S.H.I.E.L.D.,” he replied. “Wanted to look out for Cap here.” He smirked walking slowly over toward where Steve was seated.

“When’s he supposed to be here?” Steve asked ignoring Tony.

Agent Collins is here, Director.

They heard over the com on the desk.

“Show her into the conference room. We will be right there.”

“Her?!” Steve and Tony both exclaimed while Nat and Clint snickered at that.

“Yes. Her. Unlike you, Stark, I can trust Captain Rogers with a female,” Fury stated as Tony put his hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Sorry, you will be stuck with a real dog.” Tony patted his shoulder as they set to leave the room to meet this agent Collins. Steve really wasn’t happy now. Fury picked up the folder and they all followed him to the conference room.

“Fury, really, a woman, why?” Steve huffed slightly.

“Because she’s the best, next to you guys,” the director replied

“She’s a real old, deadly hag- he means,” Tony chirped in.

“Enough, Tony,” Steve snapped at him.

Fury opened the door and they walked in. Her back was to them, sitting in the chair. Her blonde, or was it strawberry blonde, hair—Steve couldn’t tell in the lighting—was pulled up in a ponytail. She turned in her chair, not getting up, and looked at them.

“Are you kidding me?” Tony looked at Fury, flabbergasted.

Fury nodded as Steve looked at her face. She didn’t look like she was in her thirties. She didn’t look too young, either. He walked over to her. “You’re Agent Collins?” he asked, not too sure he could believe this woman was the one Fury just described.

She looked him up and down, and not in the usual way women did. Steve tensed under her gaze as if he would have to fight. Her eyes held contempt or was it arrogance? Anger—yeah, he was sure he saw that. She turned her chair and stood slowly, and Clint and Nat shook their heads as she met Steve eye to eye.  Yeah, she wore the heels, just to let him know she would match him toe to toe. Steve’s eyes widened slightly as she smirked, and he glanced down over her and back up.

“Yeah, Mr. Rogers. I am Agent Collins.” She folded her arms in front of her smirking defiantly.

Tony’s eyes bugged a little and looked at Fury again. “Really? Are you kidding me? How tall is she? Did you find her at a Victoria's Secret show?”

“Six foot, to be exact, Mr. Stark. I am no model. Just a soldier and agent.” She looked at him blandly, turning to look at him.

“Play nice, Brooke. You know it’s Captain Rogers.” Fury eyed her. Steve kind of stared; this is what the army was churning out now? She couldn’t be that lethal, could she?

Brooke exhaled heavily, looking at him then back to Rogers and held out her hand. “Captain, I am Agent Brooke Collins. Yes, I am thirty-one, and yes, I am highly trained in a lot of things. Not all of us are lucky enough to get super solider serum.” She grinned sarcastically at him.

Steve raised a brow at her. The woman had some bite to her, and she wasn’t overly fond of him. Yet, he trusted Fury. He took her hand and shook it. They were soft, yes, but well worn. She worked with her hands and her grip was firm. “Major Collins,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “From what I hear, you don’t need serum. Now do you?” He felt her arm tense and her hand tighten in his, her eyes narrowed as well.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.” Tony smirked watching the two amused.

“No, it’s going to be work.” Brooke let Steve go and grabbed her file, tossing it at the table. “Clint.” She smiled brightly and hugged him, which he returned.

“Hey lady, you doin’ ok?” he asked without giving away anything. He knew she didn’t want anyone knowing who already didn’t about her dad.

She smiled and nodded.

Steve took her in as she hugged Natasha as well. She had on a simple black jacket and tank top underneath and jeans that hugged her, but were modest and showed the long legs adorned with black heeled boots. The look was unassuming , comfortable and gave her mobility in case of a fight. She wasn’t wearing makeup but then he thought she was pretty without it. She wasn’t superficial or materialistic, it seemed. Her posture was straight, hands placed behind her back. Yeah, she was a soldier. He could almost guarantee she had a weapon hidden somewhere as well.

Fury took in their stance and smirked. “So, can you work together? I need you to be Roger’s partner and back up.”

Steve folded his arms, watching her. “I think we will be fine.”

Fury looked to Brooke. She nodded. “From what I am told, he has no libido. So, I am fine, no worries for me.” She saluted Fury with a wink.

Fury let his head fall and shook it. “Um, question.” Tony raised his hand as Fury left for them all to talk and Tony followed. “Why does he get the snarky Christie Brinkley and I get a computer?” The doors cut off the rest of the conversation.

Steve walked up to her as she spoke to Clint and Natasha. “Have we met before? You seem to not really care for me. That’s odd if we haven’t met.” Clint and Nat glanced at one another before saying goodbye so Brooke and Steve could talk.

Brooke looked him over and took a deep breath. “You're right, I don’t care for you. Be that as it may, you are a huge asset to S.H.I.E.L.D. and America. So, I will do all I can to have your back.” She folded her arms across her chest once again.

Steve narrowed his eyes at her but nodded. “Alright, I trust Fury. Let’s give it a shot.” He nodded as he spoke, agreeing with himself.

@thorne93​ @pegasusdragontiger​ @magellan-88​ @buckysforeverprincess​ @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams​ @emoryhemsworth​ @st-eve-barnes​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @superfanficnatural​

[theycallmequeenie]

Lexie And Happy

Master List

Part Six

The ride to their home was short and uneventful but it made Lex realize that she missed being on the back of Happy’s bike. When they arrived back to the place Happy called home Hap had stopped before the garage and let Lexie get off the back of the bike before he parked it in the garage for the night. She walked into the garage and watched him as he worked to secure his bike for the night. She smiled as she loved watching him care for his Harley. It was the only time she could see him be as loving and caring toward something other than her. As odd as it was it warmed her heart to see that side of the rough biker.

As Happy finished putting his bike away for the night he looked up to see Lex watching him with a loving look in her eyes. One he had missed for far too long. He smiled as he walked toward her and instinctively held out his arm for her to tuck herself under and they could walk to the house together. He had hoped she would do this like she had so many times in the past. Which she did, though he didn’t know if it was out of habit or if she simply needed to feel the security of him after all that happened earlier that night. He didn’t care either way, all that mattered was that he had her back at his side. “Come on, Lex. I got someone I want you to meet.” He whispered in her ear as he walked her to the door. Lexie looked at him questioningly. But understood the moment she heard barking from the other side of the door.

She smiled as Hap let her into the house and had her take a seat on the sofa in the living room and went to let his dog out of its crate. Bringing the pure white pit bull and introduced him as Opie. Upon being told his name and knowing how much Happy loved his dogs this put a sad smile on her face as she knew how much he must miss the dog’s name sake.

The three of them sat on that sofa for almost an hour. Happy was in disbelief how quickly Ope bonded with Lex. Lex was in love with the pit bull and Ope was just basking in all the attention he was getting. Happy sat back and watched them interact almost certain that it was only because Ope smelled Sunni, but it really didn’t matter to him.  He checked the time and looked to Lex, “You want anything to eat or are we just going to skip dinner and just talk?”

Lex sighed. He never was one to tiptoe around a subject. “Hap… I don’t know what you want me to say. I left because I wasn’t okay, and I didn’t know how to get back to being okay with everyone that I loved constantly pushing me to talk about it when I still couldn’t wrap my head around it. I hated seeing everyone so miserable because of me.” Lexie looked at Happy with a frown one her face and continued, “Not a day went by that I didn’t think about you. I want you to know that.” She all but whispered, not out of shame but from fear of her voice cracking and giving her emotions away.

Happy sighed in exasperation, aggravated at the most of her words. “Damn it, Alexandra! All we were trying to do was help. We knew you weren’t okay, that’s why we kept trying to get you to open up to one of us. We all loved you and were worried about you.” He rubbed his hands over his face and asked the question he had been wanting answered for the last decade, “Why, Lexie? Why did you leave your engagement ring behind? The real reason. Not the bull shit one you gave me at the club house.”

Lex couldn’t look him in the eye. She knew he saw through her excuse earlier and that he was too relieved to have her back with him to care about calling her out on it there on the spot. “Happy what did you want me to do? I left it because I knew you would never wait for me to figure my shit out. Hell, when Tig called me to come back out here I half expected to see you with someone new wearing that ring to be at your side with a handful of kids and I did my best to prepare myself for that scenario. I knew you would be able to move on and find someone else.” With that being said, she stood up and began to pace the room she felt her anxiety starting to rise and was doing what she could to keep it under control.

Hap noticed this but he had her finally talking and was not giving up just yet. There was one other thing he needed to know. “What about you? Did you ‘move on’?” He asked using air quotes when he said move on, not trying to express anything but indifference but the anger at the thought of someone else being with Lexie showed.

Lexie sighed, “I tried. I went on a handful of dates over the years but nothing beyond that. It never felt like it did when I was with you. Never got past the first date with any of them. Kind of glad right about now that they didn’t go any beyond that.” Crossing her arms over herself and daring to look him in the eyes. “I don’t know if you even want us to become us again and I don’t expect you to willingly or readily forgive me for walking out on you, but I still love you, nothing will ever change that.”

Satisfied, Hap crossed the small living room to her and wrapped her up in his arms silently conveying that he still loved her too. “The hurt healed awhile ago, Little Girl. I still want to take time for us to get back to what we had all those years ago but ain’t no way I’m ever letting that go.” Kissing her on her forehead finally got her to relax fully in his arms. As she rested her head against his chest he spoke gently, “Come on babe. Let’s get you something to eat, then we can get some sleep. I’ll take the couch you can have my bed.” At the suggestion he heard her make a disapproving sound. Before she could voice her protest, he explained his reasoning. “Or maybe not…” He chuckled slightly and started gently pulling her toward the kitchen.

It wasn’t a complex or gourmet dinner, just some chicken breast and mixed vegetables, but Lex was thrilled. It was the first real meal she’d had in days. It was also the first meal she had with Happy in a very long time and that made her happy. They had eaten in silence and cleaned up the dishes together.

Happy was showing her the way to the bedroom when she stopped him to go grab her bag, she had brought along with her. He showed her the bedroom and told her that he would be right back he was going to take the dog out and go through his nightly routine before bed. She took this time to go ahead and change into her simple pajamas. It was just a pair of light flannel pj pants and an old tee shirt she had from her old job at the garage back east. It was usually only worn when the shirt that had been shredded that night was in the wash. She was putting her bag on top of a footlocker that was in the room when Happy came back into the room.

“Are you sure you want me in here with you tonight? I’ll happily sleep on the couch…”

Before he could continue, Lex stopped him, “Happy, after the insanity of today, I just want to lay down in a bed and fall asleep in the safety of the arms of my big bad ‘Killa’, like I used to. Can we just do that?”

Looking at him she was finally showing her exhaustion. He only nodded back in response and pulled back the blankets on the bed offering her the choice in the side of the bed. She had picked the left side of the bed, which he expected since that was always the side she used to lay on. Once he had gotten into bed, he laid with an arm raised knowing she would curl up next to him and lay her head on his chest. She did and he felt her smile against his bare chest as he places a kiss on the top of her head.

As she started to drift off Happy could feel her cling to him a little bit more and shift to get that exact level of comfort. She mumbled in a quiet voice, “Thank you for saving me Happy. I didn’t know how much more fight I had in me. That was too close a call today.”

He could feel the tears hitting his chest now and knew that she was finally processing just how real things had been earlier. “No need to thank me, Lex. I was glad to get there before he…” Hap felt the anger start to bubble at the thought of her being hurt in that way by a rogue member of the Myans.

She felt him tense and draped an arm over his abdomen in an effort to calm him, “I’m okay, Hap.” As he started to relax which relaxed her as well. Within minutes she was on the border of awake and sleep, the last thing she muttered sleepily was a simple “I love you, Happy.”

Hearing this made Happy’s heart swell with joy. He finally had his old lady back in his arms and his bed. He didn’t care what tomorrow or the next day may hold. All that matter was this moment that had been over ten years in the making and he was going to treasure it for as long as he could. He was actually dreading the morning because that would mean this moment had to end.

Sadly, that moment did come to an end and morning came along with the alarms going off. It also brought with it a phone call. One that carried bad news. The myan that attacked Lexie the night before had escaped and disappeared. The moment Hap told her; she was filled with conflicting emotions. Fear and anger. She still wanted the guys head on a pike for the hell he put her through the night before and if she hadn’t been so tired, she would have had it on one by her own doing. Happy did his best to get her to calm down which work about as well as baptizing a cat. He eventually gave up and went to take car of Ope before he got ready to take them both to the garage for the day.

As Lexie got dressed and ready for the day, she heard a commotion out with Happy and Opie prompting her to reach for the closest blunt object she found. She was hearing the dog barking and the sounds of a struggle coming form the living room area. Carefully she crept toward the living room to discover the escaped myan fighting to overpower Happy.

Wide eyed Lex flew into action to protect her man and his home, hitting the intruder in the back multiple time in an effort to get him away from Happy long enough for Hap to get the upper hand. In the melee Lex ended up taking an elbow to the bridge of the nose effectively breaking her nose. This only served to piss her off however and spurred her on to fight harder. She was even sure whose elbow it was nor did she rightfully care at the moment. Somehow during the struggle, a gun was found, and a shot was fired, stopping the altercation in an instant.

First there was the sound of the gun dropping to the floor, then the sound of a body dropping.  Lex, dropped to her knees somewhat in shock, Happy rushed to her making sure she wasn’t wounded beyond the broken nose and then to check the intruder for any signs of life before calling Tig and Chibs once again. This however when he arrived Chibs was not as calm as the night before.

Chibs arrived and went straight for Lex, yelling at her about how things had been calm as could be for the club until she came back. Yelling in his thick Scottish brogue, “What the hell’s going on here?! Not even back here for twenty-four hours and it all turns to shit! What did you bring back here with you? Huh?!?” He was all but in her face yelling at her which sparked her anger brining her out of the shock form having just killed someone.

Just as she was opening her mouth to fight back her uncle stepped in. “Chibs! Back off! How the hell would she have brought on a Myan beef when she was across the country on the opposite coast where they have a grand total of zero charters? Think about shit before you scream it as someone who hasn’t killed anyone before!” Tig was visibly upset as he pushed his way between Chibs and his niece, doing his best to calm her as well as check her over to make sure she was okay. Letting her know that Venus was worried about her too.

As Tig worked on separating Lex and Chibs he managed to walk her back to the bedroom just to get her away from the chaos of it all. Sitting on the edge of the bed talking to her trying to figure out how it all went down. More importantly he wanted to know how Lexie’s nose got broke. He had been told by Hap when he called and had brought Lex a clean shirt since the one, she had on was now blood stained. As he pulled it out from the inside of his cut he spoke, “How the hell did this all happen anyway?”

Lex shook her head and grumbled. “Well, I was getting dressed for the day while Happy walked Ope and I heard all hell break loose, I ran out to help, and ended up taking someone’s elbow to the face. Still have no clue if it was the now dead guy’s or Hap’s. Shit was too crazy. One of them had a gun on them, I’m figuring the one that’s dead, it fell to the floor I grabbed it and shot the guy.” The color drained from her face at her admission of her morning’s events as she looked to Tig who simply tucked her head under his chin and held her to him gently. She spoke again this time breaking her uncle’s heart with her words, “I should have never come out here. Chibs was right I’m back for not even a day and the shit storm stirs up again for you guys. I’m a god damn albatross.”

As she spoke Tig tightened his grip on her trying to convey with out words that she was wrong, only for her to push him away. She told him that she wanted to change and get her things gathered up that way it was already done. Reluctantly he left her to do so almost certain she just wanted to be left alone for a while. Rejoining the now arguing Happy and Chibs, Tig left them both know that Lex was not doing so well with this and that the Scotsman had most certainly not helped.

As the three argued over how to handle the situation Lex managed to clean herself up and stop the bleeding from her nose. She took the opportunity to sneak out with her backpack slung over one shoulder. She wasn’t sure if she would just simply walk to the shop, walk over to Tig’s place, or simply disappear for a few hours to clear her head. She just needed out of that house and away from the three bikers that were all too busy arguing to notice her sneaking away…

To Be Continued…

Part Eight

[grrlinthefireplace]

Hey so I’ve been seeing you post a lot about La Casa de Papel recently. What exactly is it? It looks kinda interesting.

Thank you so much for asking!

I am delighted beyond reason to have the opportunity to tell you - and by extension the entire world - why this show has cleared my skin, watered my crops, and legitimately healed my soul after this particularly soul-crushing season of Grimdark White Man Television almost broke me as a human being.

I will attempt to keep this as spoiler-free as I possibly can, because this is a show that should be experienced in the moment, but in a nutshell, La Casa de Papel is a heist show set in present-day Madrid which follows both a found family of thieves who rob the Royal Mint of Spain, and the law enforcement officials on the outside who are chasing them.

If that is enough for you, go right to your TV or computer, fire up the ol’ Netflix, and don’t waste any more time.

If, however, you need a little more, here are the top five things I flail about to every single person in my life to convince them they need to start watching this show like immediately and then come back and tell me all about it.

For visual flair, we’ll intersperse them with some gifs of ladies, because I know my audience.

5. character driving plot > plot driving character.

You know that infuriating thing lazy TV writers do where, in order to to hurry up and get to the big explosion or battle scene or dragon attack or whatever, which is the only bit they really care about, they handwave away the whole concept of motivation and make some character do something that any halfway-attentive viewer will immediately clock that they would never actually do?

There is none of that bullshit here.

In its simplest form, the plot of La Casa de Papel is as follows: a brilliant criminal mastermind devises a heist which cannot possibly go wrong, and then we proceed to watch all the ways in which it goes wrong.

This is a fantastic setup for an action story, made even more breathlessly exciting by strategic use of my favorite heist movie plot device (as perfected by Ocean’s Eleven): namely, “scene where it looks like our crime heroes have been outsmarted and are now threatened by a completely unforeseen disaster” immediately followed by “flashback to the team prepping for the heist where we learn that of course they prepared for this exact scenario.”

But from time to time, things do actually go wrong (as they must, or else there would be no story); and, when they do, it is never because you can tell a writer just wanted to write a scene where bullets go flying, and didn’t care how he got there. These characters are so clear, their behavior so consistent, that when gasp-worthy plot twists happen, they happen because of course that character, in this exact scenario, would do that exact thing.

I’m telling you, I came to this show for a ship (more on that in a minute) and I stayed for a swooning, heart-eyes writer crush on the impeccably-designed plot structure and characterization.

4. High stakes, low gore.

Tone-wise, on a sliding scale of Heist Film Intensity where a really fluffy episode of Leverage is a 1, Reservoir Dogs is a 10, and the Ocean’s franchise is somewhere in the 3-4 range, I would place La Casa at a 5 or a 6, which is perfect for me. I love action, suspense, drama and adventure, but I hate gratuitous violence (especially when it’s pointless and masturbatory and doesn’t contribute anything to the plot) and have a very low tolerance for blood and gore. So I kept waiting for the story to eventually take a hard left turn into Tarantino Land, until eventually it was all just one huge pile of dead bodies, and was genuinely surprised when it didn’t.

This is how I learned just how badly my brain has been fucked up by lazy showrunners who think shock deaths are the only way to raise stakes. During the first season of this show, before I had figured out that it was a Flawless Gem of Television Which So Far Has Not Once Disappointed Me, there were probably a dozen moments where I was absolutely convinced that some character was about to be gruesomely killed for shock value … and I was wrong every single time.

Reader, it was fucking wild.

Every single time I was convinced that person A was going to shoot person B in the head because blah blah maximum angst over here in this part of the story and then it will motivate person C to do this other thing, the show did the hard work of finding a smarter, more unexpected direction to take that character’s story. That means that when deaths do come along - and there are a couple - they feel genuinely earned, and they matter deeply to the story and to us.

3. I would die for these women.

This show loves women. Like it truly, authentically, uncompromisingly loves women in all our fucked-up messy glorious complexity. There are no “types” or cliches here; no one is forced to be only one thing. Fuck your one-dimensional Strong Female Characters, lazy writers.

For one thing, on many shows you might be lucky if you get maybe one mom who is given a personality and a story outside of motherhood. Often, on shows written by men, the fact of her motherhood diminishes her strength or her agency. On this show, nearly every one of the central female characters is both a mom and an action hero simultaneously. Seriously. By season 3 there are four different battle moms. They’re all different, they’re not all on the same side, they have different perspectives, and their role as mother impacts the story differently, but that’s the joy of having a whole lot of different kinds of women - no one has to be everything to everyone.

These women are complicated. They laugh, they cry, they crack dirty jokes, they get laid, they have babies, they fight, they make mistakes, they fall in love, they grow. Men pull sexist shit and they shut it the fuck down. Some of them have love stories, some of them don’t, but they are never defined by or triangulated around relationships with men. They get to have relationships with each other. All of them are excellent at their jobs.

Tokyo is the kind of hot mess antihero protagonist we’ve been watching middle-aged white men play for decades.

Allison is such a realistic teenage girl it’s genuinely painful to watch.

Monica has one of the best arcs I’ve ever seen on television, this is not a drill.

Alicia is terrifying. (A pregnant black ops interrogator! ON WHAT OTHER FUCKING SHOW!?!??)

Nairobi is unlike any other character you’ve seen on TV before; she’s got a little bit of Parker from Leverage, a little bit of Raven Reyes from The 100, but she’s entirely her own creature and you will fall in love with her instantly.

And Raquel. Oh, my love, my angel, my hero, Inspector Raquel Murillo. Love of my goddamn life. A fierce, kickass hostage negotiator swimming upstream against a tide of workplace misogyny who sometimes has to make the frustrating little male-appeasing compromises we all have to make to get through the workday. A beautiful, sexy, powerful heroine over 40 whose femininity isn’t diminished based on some bullshit notion that, for example, pairing your tough-bitch suit and gun holster with red toenails and a lacy blouse detracts from your strength. A loving mom and daughter who has to juggle raising a small child and caring for an aging parent with the stress of, you know, trying to stop the biggest robbery in the history of Spain. A domestic violence survivor (TW for those who need it; nothing is ever shown onscreen, but it’s discussed several times) who is given the space to discuss the things that have happened to her and how she has worked through them with such dignity, accuracy and respect that you can tell the writers did their homework.

This is a show where you can tell there are women in the writers’ room.

2. The Professor and Raquel. I don’t want to spoil a single thing for you here except to say that I myself was lured into this show by the promise of electric sexual chemistry between a criminal mastermind and the police inspector hunting him down, and my God I was not disappointed.

1. Love.

This show came into my life at a period where I was so weary of cynicism on television - so fucking furious at showrunners who dangle hope in front of us and then crush it, who only care about building anything if they can tear it down later, who treat love and fun and joy and hope and family and happiness like they’re intellectually lesser than grimdark nihilism with no soul - that I was honestly kind of broken by it. I was just so. fucking. tired. Tired of “the way we show this heroine is strong is to kill off her love interest.” Tired of “sorry but all this rape and murder is NECESSARY because of REALISM” (particularly rich when coming from shows featuring evil A.I.’s or dragons and ice zombies). Tired of getting invested in relationships - whether ships or friends or found families - only to realize that the show I was watching was always going to sacrifice character to force plot mechanics into place, and those relationships were never going to get the kind of care and focus I wanted them to get.

But that is not this show.

The single most revolutionary thing, to me, about La Casa de Papel - the thing that sets it apart from every other rollercoaster action thrill ride on television - is that every single thread of the plot is tied to love.

Every.

Single.

One.

Love of all different shapes and sizes - parents and children, friendships, doomed crushes (straight and queer), toxic exes, blossoming romances, siblings - and over it all, a deep, deep love for humanity.

The thing I said before, about how when things go wrong they go wrong in character-driven ways? It’s this. Love is why everything on this show happens. Love is what makes children want to live up to their parents and what makes parents fight to leave a better world for their children. Love is why deaths have stakes. Love is why we spend so much screentime lingering on small moments another show might ignore, like all the thieves at heist camp sitting down every night to have dinner together and argue about paella techniques. Love is what causes chaos in the middle of the heist; when there’s one person in the room you care about more than the others, you can get distracted and take your eye off the ball. Love is how your enemies can get to you, by leveraging or blackmailing the people who matter most, knowing that you’ll crack if they’re in danger. Love, gone wrong, causes toxic men to develop possessive and controlling behavior towards women. Love is how the Professor gets the idea for the heist in the first place. The plan is flawless on paper, but it doesn’t account for the human variable, and over and over again we see that relationships and connection and sex and family and love cause people to behave in unpredictable ways and throw the whole plan into chaos, which is what makes for a dynamic and compelling story.

How refreshing to see a show simply refuse to grant the oft-repeated premise that a show cannot have both high-octane thrills, and a big soft squishy heart, at the same time.

ANYWAY, I’VE TAKEN UP ENOUGH OF YOUR VALUABLE TV-WATCHING TIME, GO JUMP ON BOARD THIS TRAIN AND COME SCREAM ABOUT IDEALISTIC SPANISH ROBIN HOODS WITH ME, AND LET THE GOOD SHIP SERQUEL INTO YOUR LIFE, YOU WON’T BE SORRY

THANKS FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK

[iloveyouthree-thousand]

Irondad fic based on that picture of Peter and Tony. You know the one.

Tony remembered the day.

The details were fuzzy. He couldn’t recall if it was a Tuesday or a Wednesday or a Friday. He didn’t have a clue as to which car he had driven to Stark Industries, or if the album seeping through his speakers had been written by AC/DC or  Metallica. 

He could, however, sketch a picture of the exact look on Peter Parker’s face when he accepted the Stark Internship.

He knew that they’d been adjusting web-shooter combination number seven-hundred-and-something when Peter expressed, on a whim, that he was running out of ideas for fake projects to tell his classmates about.

“Last week I told Ms. Abrams that I was working on a project that involved cadmium adsorption and orange peels, but then she started asking all these questions about chromatography and solvents and I had to pretend that Ned was having an asthma attack in order to get out of there.”

Tony remembered the idea hitting him instantly. He remembered kicking himself for not thinking of it earlier.

The Stark Internship lie was starting to spread itself thin. There was a stupidly easy solution to that. It was brilliantly simple.

“Pete... what if you interned for Stark Industries?”

Peter’s face had twisted first in confusion and then in concern.

“Um, Mr. Stark... I already have an “internship” at Stark Industries, remember?”

Tony rolled his eyes, “kid, I’m old, but I’m not that old, so watch it. I’m offering you an internship--a real internship--with full access to all the labs and a plethora of scientists to show you the ropes.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “That’s--I don’t know Mr. Stark... I don’t think I’m smart enough to... thank you, but I can’t accept that.”

The boy forced a smile that didn’t come close to reaching his eyes.

“Pete, what’s really going on in that skull of yours? Talk to me.”

“Mr. Stark,” he started, eyes falling to the floor, “all due respect, but I’m not you. You were like this crazy child genius and I’m just... some dork that is decent at math. I know you think I’m like you but I’m just not. I’m sorry.”

“Mr. Parker,” Tony mimicked, “you’ve been helping with the programming of your suits for the last six months. Those web-shooters? Your design. You turned a mess of wires and a screen into a functional gaming system. You’ve been doing this kind of stuff all along, Pete. I wouldn’t offer you this if I didn’t think you could take everything I’ve created and blow it out of the water. I believe in you kid.”

Peter still looked hesitant.

“Besides, this will give me a chance to get out of the house, work on some new projects unrelated to saving the world.”

At this, Peter perked up. 

“You’re going to work in the labs with me?”

Tony scoffed as if the answer was obvious.

“Remember the last time I left you unattended? Besides, I can’t just not be there for my favorite dork’s first scientific breakthrough. I was a nerd too, back before the whole superhero thing.”

Peter laughed, his smile finally lighting up his entire face as he assented to the plan. Tony could still hear that laugh in his head--bright, excited. Alive.

Two days later, Tony called Peter down to Pepper’s office under the guise of meeting up for lunch.

Instead, he presented him with a plaque that he’d had rush-ordered, solidifying his position as the newest intern at Stark Industries.

Tony insisted on a photo-op, and Pepper offered up her services.

“Tony, you know the plaque is upside down.”

“It’s symbolic, Pep. We’re going to turn the world upside down with all the science we come up with,” he grinned.

“I feel like I should be worried about the two of you up here coming up with ‘all the science’. Should I order extra fire extinguishers now or just make Happy deal with it when the time comes?”

“Don’t exaggerate, Pep. You’re looking at a couple of complete professionals here,” he winked, his fingers stealthily forming bunny ears behind Peter’s head as he scoffed, “Give us a little respect.”

“Peter,” Pepper warned, “Promise me you’ll keep this one in line?”

“Of course,” Peter said, trying to feign seriousness that was betrayed by the mischievous glint in his eyes.

Pepper just shook her head and accepted her fate as she snapped the picture. Even she couldn’t hold back a laugh as she looked at the result. 

“Oh God, there’s two of them,” she complained, turning her phone around to show her two boys.

At the last second, Peter’s face had morphed into a stupid grin as he copied Tony’s bunny ears, both clutching at the plaque that was still very much upside-down.

Less than a day later, that photo was framed and placed prominently in Tony’s home.

Tony would remember that moment even without the camera freezing it in time. It was silly. Carefree. Easy. It was the moment a relationship changed from Iron Man and his Avenger-in-training to something much more. 

Tony had imagined that someday the office behind them might become Peter’s, if he wanted it. 

He believed that someday he’d find a way to make the world safe enough so that Peter could walk away, could live a life outside of Spider-Man.

He wanted Peter to be able to spend his life changing the world, not saving it.

So yes, Tony remembered the day.

He remembered the day he decided he would do whatever it took to create a world where Peter Parker could just be Peter Parker.

And now all he had left was a photo of the beginning of a future that could’ve been.

Spider-Man had disappeared in space, and Tony Stark was forced to watch as Peter Parker--the kid with hopes and dreams and a life that should’ve been far removed from Thanos and the Avengers--crumbled away with him. 

He had failed. All he had wanted to do was protect that innocent kid--his kid--and he had failed.

Strange had said that in fourteen-million-six-hundred-and-five scenarios, they only won one.

Tony had dreamed of having a family for so long only for it to be ripped from his hands just as soon as he’d thought he finally had a grasp on it. 

Tony didn’t care if his odds were one in a billion--if there was any chance that Peter Parker could have the future he deserved, he wouldn’t stop trying.

He remembered the day. He remembered the photo. And he was prepared to do whatever it took to get that moment back.

[firefistlaw]

I wonder if you would write some fluff or scenario where Whitebeard has to take care of his sick daughter, who is in immense pain and the doctors can't do anything but giving her painkillers for a month. She'll be fine later, but how would he help her for that month in pain? Maybe also how Marco, Thatch, Izo and Ace will help their sister through this. requested by @my-muses-in-op

A/N: I tried my best for you and hope it is exactly what you wished for. I actually don’t know if you can twist your back, or anything in that matter, but for the sake of this, let’s just pretend you can and then you get hurt super badly... for a month. Anyways, I had a lot of fun writing it. 

Whitebeard and his crew take care of their sister who is hurt

If there had been one thing you disliked, it was being considered weak.

It doesn’t matter what it was about, you’d rather suffer through whatever was going on than have someone soften their voice at you, their touch turning into feathers, telling you that it was okay. You despised it. Whitebeard always said that stubborn head of yours will understand one day. What he exactly meant with understand was unknown to you, but you had no wish to explore his words further.

That was, until one morning, during a heavy storm where you had hurt yourself on accident.

One second you were holding one of the many sails on ship in your hands, quickly adapting to every word that was thrown at you by Marco from several meters away, as the Moby Dick was swaying harshly on the wide sea. Your hair was dripping at this point, clothes clinging to you uncomfortably as you gritted your teeth and curved your body against the wind- anything to get under control. The next second, however, a sharp pain was growing in your lower back, which was quickly turning into a serious matter as your face contoured into sheer discomfort.

“Did you hear me, Y/N? More to the left side, yoi!” The rain was hitting you hard, while the pain in your back made it unable to do anything but concentrate on the biting ache in your muscles. The sail in your hand soon swung free as the grip loosened. “Fuck, why did you let go? Someone get the rope from her!”

It took more than one pair of arms to get the rope back under control, loud voices hushing around you, telling you how you should have concentrated more, when, finally, two eyes noticed the actual problem; you having lost all of your colour as you fell to the floor, holding onto your back as if it was being ripped at the exact same second.

“Get Y/N inside!” Someone had called. “Quick!”

You’re not exactly sure how long it took to get you inside, but as soon as the mattress hit the aching spot, a groan left your mouth, your eyes squeezed shut.

“Y/N,” The door swiftly opened, almost crashing against the wall next to it as Whitebeard walked inside, several doctors surrounding him, a few telling him that he should walk slower, stay seated or just– let them handle you. But the Yonko had other plans. With one hand, he pushed everyone but the medical assistant next to you to the side. “Tell me my daughter, what happened?”

You gritted your teeth and braced yourself to answer, but as soon as you opened your mouth; the ache started to cut deeper, making you hiss and shake your head.

“We think something in her back twisted,” The woman next to you says, holding your arm to help you balance your figure on the bed. She gives her Captain a shy look. “I don’t think we can help her all that much, besides giving her pills to stop the pain.”

Whitebeard nods, his beard moving as the muscles in his jaw twitch. “As long as she feels better, do it.” The woman nods as well, calling out to the other people standing in the room while your Captain crouches down, his eyes meeting your pain filled ones.

“It will get better soon.” He said, voice strong and rumbling with concern for you. Even though you had problems with answering, you still nodded and even that took you too much power. You wanted this to be over– quickly. With big gulps you swallowed the pills and after some minutes, you fell into a dreamless slumber.

The next few weeks for you were hard.

It was everything you didn’t wanted. Once the words had spread that you were hurt and on top of that, in constant pain as well as unable to move, everyone acted like you were made out of glass. They would visit you and as much as you loved your family, appreciated them caring for you and genuinely worrying about your health: you noticed their pitiful gazes.  

Yes, you were tied to the bed, but that didn’t mean it would always be like that. You wished they wouldn’t act like you were some sort of hurt deer. Someone they had to be careful around, because in the end, you were still the same girl who would play around with them once you had some free time.

“No one thinks you’re weak.” Oyaji says, voice raspy. He was sitting in the corner of your cabin, obviously enjoying being alone with his daughter, whom he had worried for. You had just told him about your worries, your gaze hitting the ceiling throughout the story. “Did you take the painkillers today?”

You bit your lip, gaze staying put. “No.”

You expected him to scold you, to even walk out of the room to make you understand he wasn’t happy with the way you were acting, but instead, he laughed. His laugh was loud and rumbled through the whole room, surely into the hall as well.

“You little brat,” he then spoke. “You’re one of my children, you can’t be weak even if you wanted to be. Strength has nothing to do with how physically fit you are. It’s about what’s going on inside of your head.”

You nod, eyes still not meeting him. “Look at me, daughter.”

With a soft sigh, you turned your head and looked at the Yonko sitting in your room, his lips curled into a big smile. Instantly, your own lips curled into the same grin. “Take your medicine and stop disobeying your father, you brat.”

After that conversation, you didn’t mind all too much anymore. Oyaji was right, after all, you didn’t need to care about coming off as weak. Being hurt or asking for help had to do nothing with strength and you were glad you took that lesson, glad you finally understood.

“Room service!” You raised your arm from your eyes, laying on your back in your bed a few days after the conversation with Whitebeard. The door to your room was now opened and there stood no other than Thatch, holding a tray of something that smelled mouth watering. He was grinning, eyes glimmering with delight. “Is this room 230? Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Thatch, seriously, you need to stop doing that, it’s been over two weeks.” You only mumbled and huffed out a breath, small smile still prominent on your features.

“It’s still funny, though.” He merely says and brings you the food. “I put some extra vegetables in it, I know you don’t really like peas but I want you to get fit again, so I put a few more in it. You know, vitamins and stuff. I hope you don’t mind all too much.”

You take the food from him and sit up a bit. The cook grabs a soft pillow from the end of the bed and puts it behind you, a soft sigh leaving his lips when you groan quietly. “Still bad?”

The first bite of the food is just as good as you’re used to. “No,” you answer once you swallowed. “But it’s still there. After I eat I will take the painkillers, then it won’t hurt all too much anymore.”

He hums. “Can you get up, though?” He takes a seat on your bed, his chocolate brown hair shining healthy in the afternoon light. Curiosity is filled in his eyes.

You play with the small green content in your plate. “I mean,” you give him an amused look. “I can put my feet on the floor and stand for around three seconds without whining.”

Thatch snorts. “Wow,” he softly pushes your arm. “You’re annoying.”

This time, you giggle. “Thanks for the food by the way, it’s great as always.”

“I know.” Then he gets up. “Eat the peas, I will check later.”

On some days, it feels like the time is clicking backwards. Being glued to your bed is one thing, but having read most of your books, at least those close enough to reach, twice now, is a next level of bored. When you hear a light knock on the door a few minutes later, you almost shout come in with how eager you are to finally see another living person.

The person who then opens the door must have noticed, as a light chuckle escapes the first division commander. “Eager to see me, yoi?”

You muster Marco with bright eyes, noticing the two books in his hands in a second. “Don’t take it personal, but at this point I’m happy to see anyone, really. I wouldn’t even mind having Ace burn my room down if it means some entertainment.”

The blonde man shakes his head. “That actually means something.” He sits down at the end of your bed, leaning against the wall next to him. “If having Ace as your next best entertainment, you must be desperate, yoi.” Marco says, affection for your other crew mate hidden in the small breaks of his words.  

“I know, right?” You mumble. “I miss this airhead though, I bet he’s asleep somewhere and doesn’t even think about his poor Y/N anymore.”

The man shakes his head yet again. “We just came back from the island, by the way.”

You nod your head, trying your best to hide the disappointment of not being able to tag along. “How was it?”

“Okay.” Marco says. He hands you the two items in his hands. “There was a bookstore, though. An old one too. I thought bringing you something to kill your time with would be appreciated, since we can’t be with you all the time, yoi.”

You grab the books with a smile on your face, your cheeks warming in content. “That’s so nice of you. Thank you.” He merely nods and lays his head against his hand, while his lazy blue eyes study your reaction.

“Want to read it to me?” You then ask, eyes still on the pages in front of you.

He pulls his head a bit to the side. “Why?”

“I’m so bored to hear my own voice in my head or my own personas when I read it out loud. And since you got me these, it should be your privilege to read the first few pages.” Marco looks at you for a few seconds, then opens his hand.

“Sure, just lay back and listen well, yoi.”

What you hadn’t expected was the reaction once more days had passed and you were finally able to walk without whining or taking a big break. With one foot touching the deck of the Moby Dick and one whiff of the fresh sea breeze, you raised your arms in a giant stretch and almost lost your balance when loud cheers and calls erupted all over the place. All of your crew members who caught a glimpse of you were cheering loudly, smiling from ear to ear to finally see you back and better.

“There she is!” - “We missed you, Y/N!” - “Come on, do a little spin!”

Filled with absolute glee, you caught Oyajis gaze from across the deck. His eyes were filled with relief as he saw you walking towards your family, the worry finally falling off his shoulders. The laugh that rumbled through his chest was just the start of the celebration of you finally being back.

[healthishealth]

I made it outside yesterday (recovery day 6). I'm so thankful that I have a balcony to sit on and feel the fresh air and warmth of the sun. Unfortunately, my apt is not accessible and has tons of stairs, so I've been trapped here since my surgery on Friday.

I had an L4/L5 and L5/S1 laminotomy. When the surgeon opened me up, he confirmed that I actually have a duplicate nerve root at L5/S1, not a cyst. He took a picture (those of you who know me should know that made me really happy) and he's going to show me how much bigger that nerve root is since it has two nerves wrapped in one sheath! He also confirmed his suspicion that my nerve roots exit the spinal canal much higher than the average person. This, he said, would explain why my pain did not match what he was seeing on my images - a validating statement that reminded me I wasn't making this all up in my head.

For years (8 to be exact), I have suffered from sciatica. It was really bad at first and then I don't know if I "got used to it" or perhaps it got slightly more tolerable, but it was only this past year that it became unbearable again. Every time I would see a doctor, they would look at my imaging and tell me that the minimal disc bulges I had on those two levels should not be causing me so much pain. In fact, one of my doctors suggested it could be psychosomatic and asked if I knew about CBT (I work in mental health, so this was a huge 🙄 for me).

Nevertheless, I refused to give up, even though my doctors were giving up on me. I finally found a pain management doctor who believed me and also wasn't afraid to prescribe pain medicine while I sought answers. After exhausting my options with him (i.e., steroid injections, exercises, medications, etc.), he referred me to a neurosurgeon. I'm too exhausted to go into detail about the horrific experience I had with this doctor, but I will one day. She eventually suggested I have a fusion and disc replacement (without ever seeing me in person except for 2 visits in 2016). I felt this was pretty aggressive for someone my age, so my pain management doctor referred me to see someone else.

For the first time, this new surgeon listened to what I was saying and actually believed that I could be in a ton of pain despite my images only showing "minimal disc bulging" at 2 levels. He showed me my scans and actually walked me through his thought process. He pointed out the "cyst" and said he thinks it could be a duplicate nerve root. He also drew pictures for me, explaining how nerve roots normally exit the spine and how mine seem to be exiting much higher up. He pointed to some bone erosion he noticed on the right side and suggested I get new imaging done since the last one wasn't very clear. Most importantly, he was straightforward with me and said this surgery might not fix my pain, but at the very least, we would eliminate one of the possible sources for my pain. The worst case scenario (barring any rare complications from surgery) would be going through surgery and not having my pain resolved. He also referred me to see his colleague for one more opinion, since his opinion conflicted with the first surgeon I "saw."

Fast forward to my surgery day - I'm pretty nervous, but once I meet my anesthesiologist, I'm much more at ease. He's a huge USC fan and alumni. The doctorate student (SRNA) working with him that day was also at USC, so we all bonded over that and I felt reassured that they would take good care of me. Both of them kept telling me what a great decision I made and that the extra year of PA school at USC's program is so worth it (woo!). Next, my surgeon came and marked "YES" on the right side of my back and they told me I was ready to go. I kissed Alex and my mom and the SRNA gave me a dose of propofol as I was being wheeled away.

Things happen at double speed once you enter the OR. EKG stickers get placed on me as an oxygen mask is strapped over my face. My gown is hooked up to a hot air pump (my favorite) and the anesthesiologist tells me he's going to start giving me the sleepy stuff. My left arm burns like my veins are on fire. I'm reassured this will pass quickly and it does. Someone stands over me and switches my oxygen mask and I drift off into anesthesia land.

My eyes peel open and they feel watery. Am I crying? I am. I hear myself gasping for air and saying, "I can't breathe!" Looking back on this, I think they probably had just pulled the intubation tube out, so I probably woke up during that and got scared that I wasn't breathing on my own. This has never happened to me before (or if it has, I don't remember). I then burst into tears again because the sciatica I had going into surgery was gone.

I'm still off of my medication for my autoinflammatory disease due to the risk of infection if I'm immunocompromised in any way. My drenching night sweats are back and I'm not feeling that great, so hopefully I can go back on medication after my post-op appointment on 3/17. In the meantime, I'll just be here...resting...reminding myself I'm not a burden...allowing myself to ask for help when I need it. Special shout-out to my mom for flying out last weekend and taking care of me and my MVP, Alex, for being the actual best human in the world and loving me unconditionally.

It's been a long week. I've made a lot of progress, but I've definitely had setbacks (both mentally and physically). My sciatica came back a bit a few days after surgery, but has not been as painful as before. I'm hoping my nerves just need some time to settle down and realize they're not being compressed anymore. I do worry that 8 years was too long and that permanent nerve damage was done, but I'm just letting that thought hang out and I'm trying not to engage with it too much.

[mittensmorgul]

I recently read a fic on ao3 and it was funny and great and then I thought of a few major changes that would make it even more hilarious. Problem is, I don't know the etiquette here. Should I just go ahead and write my own version? Add a link to the original story and credit it as inspiration? It was based on a prompt so the idea isn't exclusively the author's I suppose. Anyway I'll only be borrowing the start scenario (which is the prompt) and there will be no other similarities. Please help

Hello there. I’m gonna start what I expect will be kind of a long essay by saying there is an awful lot to unpack here… Starting with the fact that there is a chasm of difference between taking inspiration from a prompt fill fic and imagining an entirely different scenario, and starting that from a mentality of “I can do better than you.” The first is at the root of all of human creativity. We all bounce off one another and take inspiration from each other, and the entire history of human storytelling is essentially one long conversation. But the second part of this historically leads to fisticuffs. No, really. Google “famous literary feuds” for all the reasons why.

It’s not so much a difference in practical terms, but in your approach and understanding here.

So this is why I saw this ask in my inbox late last night and decided I needed to go to sleep rather than trying to answer you right away. But now I have coffee, so let’s give this a try. :P

I’d start by asking what the source of the prompt was. Was it a tumblr post? A prompt from a prompt list? Even one of those “pick a pairing and a prompt and I’ll write a short ficlet” posts? If so, you’re probably free to use the prompt by going back to the original fic prompt list. People publish those as jumping off points to write fic, and they actively WANT people to use them this way.

If the prompt, however, was given to a specific author by someone, you might want to at least ask that author if it would be okay for you to write something of your own based on the prompt. And at least try not to frame it as “I can write something better than you did” when you ask. That’s just rude and demoralizing for the author who’s already published a fic for that prompt, you know?

I get fic ideas all the time from random places, but there’s a different etiquette for each of them.

Sometimes a random tumblr post will give me an idea, and I’ll go talk to the OP privately, both because it’s FUN to talk about someone’s wild headcanon with them, and because you’re approaching the person who had the initial idea with courtesy and in the spirit of collaboration, rather than from this place of “stealing their idea.” The first builds good fandom feelings, while the second tends to do the opposite. I have a couple of experiences here that will hopefully illustrate the difference.

A few years back, when Lizbob was running the Great Meta Scavenger Hunt during s12, it led to the creation of the Great Fic Writer Scavenger Hunt. The theory behind it was that any number of authors could take the same fic prompt based on a single trope paired with a single distinctive character trait and the results would all be entirely unique stories. The intent was to prove that just because an idea had been written before, it becomes a new story when written by someone else, you know? And it was TRUE.

http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/tagged/the-great-fic-writer-scavenger-hunt/chrono

We had DOZENS of authors participate, and despite all writing “the same story” every week, NONE of the resulting stories were even remotely the same.

On the other hand, I posted an insomnia-inspired headcanon a few months ago, and within five minutes after posting it, my insomnia brain– with an assist from a more rational point of view thanks to lizbob– had taken that little notion and spun it out into long fic in my head. I went back to my original post to laugh at myself in a reblog, announcing that I was gonna write long fic of the thing and for people to stay tuned for more, but other folks had already reblogged the original with comments to the effect of, “Someone should write this fic!” The worst thing was that other authors were tagged into it. As if my highly specific headcanon was suddenly communal property. Because the implication behind it– whether it was the truth or not– felt like “I like this headcanon, but have decided that I don’t want the OP to actually write this story because I like XYZ author’s writing better.”

And I know that was not the intent of the folks who added those comments to my post, but as someone who actively writes fic for this fandom, it felt like a slap in the face.

Now if those same people had replied, “OP please write more of this!” or “What a cool idea!” or even if they’d come to me privately and said, “Hey this is a cool idea, do you mind if I use it to write a longer fic?” I would’ve been HAPPY about it.

Can you see the difference here, anon?

The result was a rather frustrating back and forth where I was told that because I posted the idea in public it was effectively free real estate for anyone else to squat on. I mean, isn’t that what we’re all doing with the source material we base all our fan creations on anyway? We don’t ask the Supernatural writers for permission to use their characters, their settings, their intellectual property to create our own stories and art, right?

But the difference here is apparently too subtle for some folks to grasp. The Supernatural writers aren’t part of our fandom community. And the culture within fandom operates on different rules. Fandom creators are not source creators, and yes we all collectively “steal” from the same source, but it sort of defies the underlying premise that fandom creators as a whole are operating on the same level to suggest that “stealing” from another fandom creator is the same thing.

From my understanding, the entire point of fandom creators doing what they do is to build a community together around the thing we all love. There is a way to do that in good faith, through collaboration and the free sharing of ideas and creations.

I hope this makes sense.

The result of all of that was that I set aside another project I’d been wanting to write and instead began spite writing my own headcanon post. It was like pulling teeth at first, because there was so much Bad Fandom Feeling attached to the concept that the words just didn’t want to come. It’s FINALLY flowing now, though (after several months of the aforementioned teeth-pulling), and is nearing 18k words. I’m hoping it’ll be done and ready to post by the end of March, so I can FINALLY go back to writing the thing I’d originally wanted to work on before this nonsense blew up.

I’ve also unfortunately been one of the authors tagged in on someone else’s headcanon post in the past. I know the folks who do this think it’s flattering, and they’re just excited about an idea and want to read more of it, but the correct etiquette is ALWAYS to approach the OP in PRIVATE before taking their idea and writing it yourself, or pointing another author in the direction of the post and suggesting they write it for you.

I can guarantee you that 99 times out of 100, the OP will actually be flattered you enjoyed their idea so much you want to read more of it if you frame it from a place of appreciation and excitement, rather than from a place of selfish entitlement or superiority.

I’ve talked about this before, but this is how I have always approached fic writing. I got my first idea for a long fic from the Valentine’s Day Collab fic that Winjennster ran back in 2015. I told her I had an idea based on her prompt that I wanted to write as a much longer fic than would fit into the 3k limit for the collab, and she told me to go forth and be fruitful with my words. Actually, I think her exact words were more like “HELL YES! YOU DO THAT!” or something, but the spirit was the same. :P

The next fic I wrote (Project Beyonce) was inspired by a series of tumblr crack posts about “what sort of tumblr blogs would each member of TFW run?” And I reblogged them with commentary about how this would make a hilarious fic, because they were that sort of “conversational thread” of crack headcanons where that sort of addition was more than welcome. Not to mention I was already on friendly terms with the other participants in the thread, so it wasn’t strange for me to zoom in out of the blue and announce I was writing fic inspired by those posts. Even though my fic was set in an AU, and the only commonality was the fact that Dean and Cas were on tumblr. Nothing else about my fic was even remotely similar to the canon crack headcanons from those posts, and I don’t think that anyone involved in the original threads was upset that I’d written fic based on Dean being Cas’s favorite tumblr anon…

My first DCBB (Revenge of the Subtext) was inspired by a crack post made by @nicelimabean. One single sentence about Jensen and Jared walking into a con dressed like Sam and Dean and covered in dirt and blood, and suddenly I had 80k of fic running through my head. I sat there and stared at her post for like five minutes and then went immediately to the chat bubbles to ask– nay, beg– to use her post as a fic prompt for the DCBB. We talked it over for a good long while, both of us growing more excited as the ideas spun out, and long story short, not only did I make a wonderful fandom friend, she ended up beta reading for me and being an ongoing source of encouragement and support in fandom. We even met in person at a con (!) and spent the weekend cackling about how everything felt like a reference to RotS (since at the time we were the only two people on the planet who’d read the fic or even knew what it was about, because DCBB rules of secrecy).

Since then, I’ve gotten ideas for fic from tumblr (and always asked the OP for permission to write their idea– like for fic such as Plotbunny which was based on the combination of ideas from @bluestar86 on a WONDERFUL way to confirm Dean’s bisexuality in canon and Lizbob’s long desire for an Easter Bunny episode, combined with the fact that Easter fell on April Fool’s Day last year… to ideas for The Terminal Job based on chats with @truebluecas about an airport AU WHICH I AM SO SORRY STROB I STILL HAVE IT ON MY LIST TO WRITE AND I SWEAR I WILL WRITE IT EVENTUALLY D:

I’ve also had the reverse happen, where someone read one of my fics and was inspired to write their own fic based on Revenge of the Subtext. They approached me in private with the idea and asked for my blessing to write it. Honestly, I was FLOORED that anyone would be inspired by my words like that, and eagerly encouraged them to write their idea. I’ve also had people give me fic ideas in comments on AO3, in chats both on tumblr and Discord, which turned into longer conversations and eventually more fic (or at the very least to ideas on my To Be Written list). But I always ALWAYS ask permission from the other person or people before writing their ideas. And I have NEVER been told that I was not permitted. People are usually PLEASED that their ideas are deemed worthy by another writer, you know? It’s exciting!

This also goes for art inspired by fic, but in a slightly different way. If someone (anyone!) was inspired to draw something based on something I wrote, I will UNIVERSALLY BE THRILLED that my words inspired someone’s creativity in a different medium. But the key here is it’s a different medium. Nobody ever has to ask permission to art my fic. But that’s not the same as wanting to rewrite my fic into a different story, you know?

Not to mention, collaborating and asking permission and sharing the enthusiasm for an idea or a story like this with others has the potential to boost ALL of your creations. You could build resentment in fandom from other creators, or you can all lift each other up. Starting from the standpoint of communal excitement can result in mutual promotion of each other’s works, you know? Do you want a built-in cheerleader for your work, to build connections in fandom that will eventually support ALL of your works? Then your approach to sharing ideas this way is the key that could potentially unlock that door, or conversely lock it behind you. Your choice, really.

Wait, what was I talking about again? OH right. The whole entire point of fandom. We’re all of us in this same boat, sailing the seas of our chosen Source Material together. You can use your creative abilities for Good, to build communities up, or you can be That Asshole who tries to build themselves up while effectively shading or demoralizing other fandom creators in the process.

So what I’m saying here isn’t necessarily about your desire to write something based on someone else’s idea, but more about the approach you take to it. It costs zero dollars to be polite about it and approach it from a direction of good will and joy in creating for the thing we all love together, you know?