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knowlesian · 2 years

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like the research nerd i am, i decided to get together all the evidence (aka: all the scenes where izzy and ed talk about death, stede’s or otherwise, since you always need the whole data set on this kind of thing to sort out the answer) to try to suss out if the text tells us whether izzy knows about ed’s fine line on killing.

just to make it easy on myself, i’ll start with breaking down the scenes first, in order from e3-6.

e3 -

- izzy asks if “we” should attack/kill/feed to the sharks stede and co; this could imply ed would take part, but it could also mean the rest of the crew sans ed, so inconclusive.

e4 -

- the talking tough way ed mentions the spaniards dying seems a bit odd if izzy knows ed never kills directly/feels morally weird about the subject, but also inconclusive.

- “what’s the plan”/“the ushze” conversation about the revenge’s crew is again on the ambiguous end; it doesn’t really give us much on who would be doing the executing.

- until a little later! when izzy casually orders ivan and fang to kill the crew for him. this doesn’t give us much re: ed, but it does show izzy offloads his own killing as well and isn’t the Ship Executioner as a matter of course.

- during their first conversation about stealing stede’s identity ed implies he’ll be doing the killing, and izzy doesn’t appear to assume otherwise/show any surprise or shock ed would break a decades-long rule.

(which to me is the first potentially slam dunk piece of evidence: the natural response to finding out something like that would be anything but easy acceptance, if izzy was aware this would be the severest of breaks in pattern for ed. it’s like... we all have that one friend who orders the same thing every single time they go to a restaurant, and if they ever switch it up people go OH SHIT, THO. this is more than that— this is like a lifelong vegan ordering a whole rack of ribs without warning. essentially: when you know somebody’s rock-solid established patterns and they up and break one, you don’t go yeah sure okay. i have no shock.)

e5 -

- ed tells fang to kill the french captain for him and again there’s no shock or indication this is unusual, so it’s definitely not just izzy doing ed’s killing either way.

e6-

- opens with izzy’s internal monologue that after two weeks of spending 24/7 living up each other’s assholes he’s “beginning to suspect” ed himself isn’t going to kill stede. which seems odd, if izzy has any idea ed doesn’t kill— why would he be surprised ed’s getting cold feet at all? and if it took him two weeks to be like, wait. ed’s maybe NOT gonna kill this guy??? even though he knew killing was a line for ed, that seems a weird way to say that/approach this situation.

(on a formatting note: the fact that this is the single moment of internal thoughts given as voiceover/monologue on the series— eta, forgot about mary! overall point stands, but accuracy!!! refining arguments is always best. this is also interesting since stede’s narration is given via his narration to lucius in-world which makes mary and izzy the unreliable/reliable no in-world explanation for the monologuing pair, anyway back to the action— and worth thinking deeper about. the writers made sure to establish even in the privacy of his own head, izzy isn’t thinking to himself anything but ‘huh. maybe ed... isn’t going to do it????’ and that it took him literally two weeks to suss out ed’s flirting, not getting ready to do a murder.

they also juxtapose the monologue with ed being obviously flirty and enjoying himself— so obviously that Fang and Ivan can see it— so on the emotional intelligence/reading the room and seeing things he doesn’t want to see side: if izzy’s been with ed for years and it took him two weeks to notice ed was playing footsie vs plotting murder, that’s another mark against the idea that he can read ed like a book.)

- then we get a direct line into the scene where izzy tells ivan and fang ed is for sure gonna kill stede, he promised. so unless we’re meant to take away that izzy is aware this would be huge for ed and is simultaneously not running cover/setting up things to pressure ed before he ever offers to do it himself (or even thinks he’ll have to!) this feels like more evidence he has no idea. (because the use of internal monologue just told us izzy isn’t lying to ivan and fang here: he 100% expects ed to do it, and not that he’ll want or need izzy to step in.)

- which leads into izzy bringing ivan and fang in to push ed. (and being a bit of an unreliable narrator once again, as he speaks for ivan and fang despite the earlier scene where they push back on him and don’t agree with his desire move ed along.) if we read in that izzy knows ed doesn’t kill, this positions izzy as the kind of skilled manipulator that just doesn’t scan with the rest of what we see from him. the kind of sneaky/fucked up you have to be to know ed’s line here and only implicitly threaten that image while also bringing in fang to remind ed about the dog doesn’t fit with izzy’s blaring sirens/neon sign mode of persuasion. izzy sort of just says FUCKIN DO THE FUCKIN THING I WANT! FUCK!!! he’s not a sneak around corners dude. if izzy 100% thinks ed kills people then this is a scene of him getting more and more impatient about annoying foot dragging.

- then we get to: “i’ll happily end it.” / “no, it’s my mess. i’ll do it.” izzy only volunteers to kill stede for ed after two weeks of waiting and after pulling in ivan and fang and still getting nothing, and again he expresses no surprise or doubt at ed’s continued promises he doesn't need the assist, either verbally or physically.

(this is also the only time izzy offers to kill for edward, in the entire run of the show, outside “you’re not doing this. so i must” before the duel begins. izzy says over and over he absolutely expects ed to kill and isn’t assuming it would be hard or a break from pattern, and only once in ten whole episodes offers to do it for him. these are very careful writers: i can’t imagine this is a mistake.)

- this is immediately followed in the same conversation by izzy saying “send him to doggy heaven” as a followup to the offer which... again, as ever, makes me die laughing. but also shows us: izzy still has zero real doubts ed himself is gonna do this, and has once again not acted like somebody who thinks this is hard for ed, or a change in pattern. he offered, but by the end of the conversation izzy is back to: yeah, of course ed will do it.

so, my baseline argument: just given what we see in the text, it seems far more likely izzy doesn’t know ed doesn’t kill.

it’s either that or he’s somehow aware but not in any way confused/shocked/even vaguely suspicious that ed is changing this long-held rule out of nowhere, and is comfortable using it against ed despite knowing in a way that positions him as more of a manipulator and not just a guy trying to hurry ed along and get rid of stede, already.

beyond that izzy never mentions ed’s choice not to directly kill a single time, even in his own brain or when telling ed he wishes he was dead in the finale; it seems a huge writing oversight to leave that out, if izzy is trying to provoke ed and/or prove his worth while enforcing what he assumes is ed’s natural state. if izzy understands ed is not actually that legend and in fact uses the legend to keep people from noticing what’s behind it on a practical level, shoving the legend in his face and saying it’s all ed is doesn’t scan.

and what’s more, we know ed has put on a good pirate show. he’s cut off toes before, he's maimed people, and he takes parts in raids just like everybody else: to be blunt, there are a hell of a lot of ways to hurt people reeeeeal bad without directly killing them. if you shoot or stab or whack somebody real hard and leave them there and they die like, twenty minutes later when you’re already gone, that suits ed’s definition of not killing just fine. there’s a lot of hard to notice ground between ‘leaves to die’ and ‘doesn’t kill’.

which leads me into the human nature argument, and the fact that the show establishes ed is the kind of person who thinks about how to conjure and use fear to control people, and thus needs to understand people in order to accurately assess their fears. on ed’s side, if you make yourself known to be the sort of man who cuts off poor bastards’ toes for a laugh or sets ships aflame and all that, people don’t ask themselves: wait, does this guy kill people though?

it’s part of why we have the whole ‘but he seemed like such a nice/quiet/etc guy!’ trope whenever somebody does some fucked up shit. most people don’t notice a lot happening around them, because they aren’t looking for it and don’t expect to see it. people fail to notice things on the scale from infidelity to a serial murder habit in their intimate circles alllll the time.

and then on izzy’s side, we are shown a real lack of emotional intelligence and/or social observational skills over and over. it takes him two whole weeks to even begin to suspect ed doesn’t want to kill stede at all, he can’t really improvise or adapt to any sort of situation that breaks with his expectations of how things should go, he can’t manage the crew the second ed isn’t around (pre-canon and in canon) or tell a mutiny is brewing even though everyone but pete disappears to go plan it, he can’t stop said mutiny once in progress, etc etc etc.

he’s also built up an image of ed that isn’t about who ed actually is, and then built his own career and image around being Blackbeard’s First Mate. we really have to think of things from izzy’s perspective: blackbeard is a legendary pirate, izzy came into his service when he was already a legend, and izzy’s concepts of the world do not seem to include “it’s cool if you don’t like to kill people”. we are given absolutely zero evidence izzy would consider that anything but a sign of horrifying weakness, and lots of evidence he thinks ed is someone who does kill.

given all the evidence, everything we know of izzy’s character and how he processes the world/ed, and the fact that these are very good writers who know human nature and how to craft a story, i would say with a fair amount of certainty it’s more likely izzy has no idea ed draws that line.

#ofmd spoilers #my ofmd meta #(ish)#from a writer pov that bathtub scene is weird if ed's verbalized this before #and izzy is not... like this man cannot read ed #ed can read izzy! not so much the other way around #if izzy knows ed doesn't kill his shit with fang and ivan and not expecting ed to ask him is weird and/or terrible #i just do not see it #also if izzy knows: why not throw it in his face when he's willing to say 'i should havelet them kill you'#and why have so many versions of izzy expecting ed to kill with no reservations #and one single offer?#i feel like people are missing the forest for one single tree on this one ngl #i get why that assumption was made! but the evidence doesn't bear it out #even in the privacy of his own head izzy assumes ed will kill with ease #and if he knows ed doesn't kill... that just doesn't scan

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riverofrainbows · 2 years

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I've been watching heartstopper for about the seventh time now, and this rewatch focusing mostly on Nick and his face and emotional journey, and I'm at episode 4 rn, so here are some things i noticed and thoughts:

I've been kinda watching it for the first time again, because I've mostly been focusing on Charlie or both of them till now, and its very lovely

Kit Connor really is an amazing actor, his face is very expressive and i can see everything so clearly in his face. Also he looks scared a lot more than I previously realised

I'm kind of reading Nick as autistic:

His sense of justice and almost naive goodness and earnesty, like he just assumes the best, and gets really angry and empathises a lot when people get treated badly

I specifically mean this arthurian attitude thats also seen in Lord of the rings, where they say really knightly stuff and mean it 100% seriously, and its also kind of the things that make people describe him as a golden retriever personality wise too

As I've been watching Nick's face so closely, he always has a specific kind of personable attitude when interacting with his old friends, and imogen too when they're in company such as at the picnic table before school

When he walks around alone at the party/sits at school and thinks he isn't being watched atm, he kind of drops that, and especially when he's worried about sth you can suddenly see it

This might also just be not trusting his friends to be open around them, which doesn't exclude the masking interpretation either tho. And is also very sad and probably sth too many people relate to

When with Charlie he does show his emotions, like joy, worry, insecurity etc (at school too mostly). Also with his mother mostly, with Tara and Darcy, and kind of around Charlies friends

The identity struggle. Not even just his bisexuality, that too, but specifically feeling like your entire life has been not you. I very much relate to this so maybe this is me projecting, but then again for me it was specifically autism and being queer that made me feel this way, and masking can very much contribute to losing your sense of identity.

His mother mentioned that he seems more like himself with Charlie than his old friends, and presumably he doesnt mask that much at home (he also lives out his interests at home with his mother such as watching a specific movie every day for several months)

Watching a specific movie almost every day for a prolonged period of time, something i did with rereading books again and again, or watching a specific youtube video over and over

Pattern recognition: He just kinda goes with the flow for a while, and then there is this specific moment where he realises that his feelings towards/past actions around Charlie are not straight (the evening at Charlies house, when he sits at home and kinda strokes the phone), and draws a consequence by looking up the am i gay quiz etc

More of an observation: I admire his decision making, and specifically his trust in himself and his own decisions, where he comes to a point where the data doesnt match previous conclusions anymore, and then promptly acts on it, which i think is very brave

Examples (so far): realising he is not straight as mentioned. Realising the romantic implications of Imogen/Party and, knowing that he feels some way about Charlie instead, inviting him.

Another point: in the beginning when Imogen (correctly) implied his behaviour was around a crush, and he was texting Charlie at the time and got freaked out a little by this as it goes against regular patterns of his life experience so far

Rugby as stimming/special interest?

Tbh this might be me projecting again, but the clothes formula of wearing one singular piece of trousers shirt and jacket and not doing much with it. And if its layers (such as the party) both are close fitting. He also always only wears his shirt of the school uniform, no jumper or blazer over (the tie is in the rulebook i assume), but this particular point might just be accidental. Anyways this is sth i do too bc layers stress me out so i always wear only one piece each and in the proper way, and while obviously not true for all autistic people, it's at least sth i noticed in several other autistic people.

#for the lotr point an example is in the books when they ride to the gates of Mordor and are being incredibly earnest in being respectful #I'll need to check again how long exactly the potc movie phase was #heartstopper my heart #own post #autism #also i agree on the audhd likelihood altho my main point for that is for now just the homework thing

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consultingrevenue · 2 years

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How To Create A Personal Knowledge Management System To Make You More Valuable In The Marketplace

By the end of this newsletter you’ll be able to use the latest tech to systemize your knowledge management system.

Consultants are in the knowledge and frameworks game. The more efficiently we can organize, analyse and then synthesize our knowledge the better we become at what we do.

The more we can draw new and valuable distinctions between disparate bits of information to create new frameworks and distinct points of view - the more valuable we become in the marketplace.

EG: Are you a fan of the challenger sale methodology?

You can’t implement that without a distinct point of view and a knowledge management system to help you create your distinct point of view.

Unfortunately, so many consultants haven’t changed the way they manage knowledge in the last 20 years.

Well, upgrading from physical books to amazon kindle perhaps.

Traditionally creating a Knowledge Management System (KMS) Has Been Time Consuming

If you had even been aware of the need to create a KMS the time and effort to create one was prohibitive:

You had to take physical notes or print out typed ones

You had to pin them up, highlight them just to get a good view of what was going on

YoU then had to find a way to connect the dots and see patterns and trends between different bits of information to create knowledge from data

You then had to find a way to store that and retrieve it

I’m going to show you how by leveraging the latest technology none of these issues need to be a worry for you.

Here’s how - step by step:

Step 1: Collect Information Digitally

Every time you read something on the web or in a book, collect it. If you aren’t collecting information then you can’t create knowledge.

I use a software called readwise which:

Imports my amazon kindle highlights automatically

Allows me to import any text I read on the web

Scans physical books via their app to be noted

It’s an absolute bargain at $7.99 a month

A topic for a more detailed newsletter later on, but Readwise has built-in functionality for learning by spaced repetition. Very useful if you are aware of ‘The Second Brain’ concept popularised by Tiago Forte.

Step 2: Pull That Information Into Your Knowledge Management System

Readwise has a good web interface that allows you to add tags to the information but it isn’t a knowledge management system.

What it does very well is synch with 3 of the most popular systems available:

Notion

Roam

Obsidian

My book notes in Notion:

And a stock pic of a readwise import in Roam

If you are using one of these systems then you know how good they are.

If you aren’t then where have you been?

Notion is the most popular app available. It is a whole ecosystem that encompasses project management, to-dos, libraries - the lot. Personally, I have never quite got to grips with it but many people I know can't live without it.

I like simplicity.

Roam and Obsidian are my recommendations if you are just getting started in this area and want to keep things focused

My current workhorse is a tool called Heptabase that is in public beta. It doesn’t have any link to Readwise so the process is a little harder but I’m OK with that for the simplicity and feature set.

Step 3: Categorize And Connect Data And Information

All of the systems I have mentioned make it very, very easy to draw connections to all of this data and information. I am constantly amazed at what is possible.

Prepare to have your mind blown.

Firstly, you have to rethink the concept of a book, article or research piece. It’s no longer necessary to examine it as 1 long piece of work.

A book on sales may have pieces on:

mindset

time management

systems

research

prospecting

And you don’t have to keep that in 1 long piece when you can break it down to its component parts and then look at it with all of the other information you gave gathered that relates to those parts.

For example, you can interlink all highlights of text that you have classified as 'time management' regardless of what book, web article or source they came from.

Roam is by far the most advanced (and complex) in this area. Its main feature is ‘bi-directional linking’.

Bi directional linking allows you to select any word or text and create a new 'page' for it. That page then has links out from it to every source that you have tagged or linked as having that association.

So at the click of a mouse, you can see every line or paragraph from every content source you have ever mapped that you define as having that categorisation.

That Is mind-blowingly powerful.

It's then a case of finishing a book, readwise imports the highlights and you then going and categorise the lines or paragraphs and they will be forever valuable in your KMS.

But wait...

There's more...

Roam can produce a graph of connections between all of your data so you can get a visual link and spot patterns that might not be visible when looking at content pieces in isolation.

Alternative Step 3: Categorize And Connect Data And Information - Heptabase

This is a variation to step 3 using a new software I just stumbled upon.

The process to get data in is harder but the application and useability I find to be the best there is on the market right now.

Hepta base has 4 core elements:

Cards: These are small text areas

Tags: These can be added to cards to classify them. There can be multiple.

Bi-directional links: Can be used to select any text in a card and create a new card from that 'topic' that has in and out links to all other lines or paragraphs associated with that topic.

Whiteboards: Visual boards where you can add any selected cards or all cards with a certain tag.

The combination is powerful. Let me show you:

In the above image I have used a bidirectional link on the phrase 'status quo' to help me create a record of all instances where I have information on helping people understand how to sell against the existing situation or incumbent.

If I click that little blue link I'll have a referenced page with all of the information from every source relating to that topic in my knowledge base.

Or I could take the entire book and break it down into lots of mini cards. These cards can then be added to 1 or more visual whiteboards.

A] traditional whiteboard that records the whole book but broken down into different topic classifications: [Image is stock from heptabase]

B] that whiteboard can have every card ever created associated with my topic of 'status quo', where I can form associations and spot patterns.

Or I can use another method by selecting every content piece with a particular tag. In the example below it's every content template with the tag @socialatomic. This selects all my cards with this tag.

Which I can then add to a whiteboard for me to classify, see interlinks and enhance my knowledge:

I can add them all to the tab where I can use them to create a new article, a self-reference analysis - whatever I want to do with that raw information.

All of the information on the right can be toggled to show the full text and can be pulled into the new card on the left. It's this daily useability that makes this so valuable for me.

I need to write an article on 'selling to senior execs' - hang on let me pull up everything I have ever classified as being relevant.

I have a client struggling with positioning - let me pull up all my references and frameworks.

You get the picture!

If you are a knowledge worker then you absolutely must be investing time learning how to develop AND APPLY knowledge and not just the contextual information around your speciality.

Follow the process above and you'll be a huge way down the path to excellence in this area.

----------------------

As this is a 'LAB' I ask one thing - put this into practice and let me know the results in the comments.

And, if you are enjoying this newsletter, the best compliment you could pay me would be to share it with one person who you think would benefit from it.

Also - if you don't want to leave notifications of future episodes to chance then you can get good old-fashioned email notifications if you subscribe here.

I recommend you do :-) -

If you want me to personally coach you on this strategy to make sure it gets done then schedule a coaching call here: https://consultingrevenue.com/coaching

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wheelsup · 3 years

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the taming of the shrew | one

he is more a shrew than she

penelope reveals her plan to get you and spencer together. unfortunately, her plan has a few hitches.

A/N: again, big thanks to @homoose for being my helpful beta reader, and to YOU for reading it now.

category: fluff, spencer reid x fem!reader, series

wc: 4.1k

<- prev | next ->

Penelope came back to your place the following night, bearing a new bottle of wine and a collection of materials she mentioned were integral to executing the plan.

Very quickly into Penelope’s explanation of this Genius Plan –– her words, not yours –– you remembered what it was she did for work. Officially, she was some sort of technical computer-y person for the Federal Bureau. As you knew her, she’s a danger to society and anyone with a traceable digital presence.

She managed to construct a comprehensive list of every place in D.C. and Virginia that her friend liked going to, along with the approximate times in which you were most likely to find him there. Approximate meaning, exactly which days he visits and the roughly time of day, down to a mere one hour margin of error.

You scanned the list over, shocked at its detail. Where he cut his hair, got his coffee, bought his books. His favorite restaurants, the chess clubs he’s a member of, his local hospital.

His local hospital?!

“I’m not going to need to know that, am I?” you paused.

“Probably not, but it comes in handy with this job,” she shrugged with a nonchalance that was rather alarming.

There had to be a dozen more places on the sheet –– ranked, in order of his (assumed) preference for them. Penelope calculated it based on the frequency of his visits, their average duration per session, and how often he’d mentioned about the place.

“What?” she tossed her palms up, taking offense when you asked her if she had evil plans to take over the tristate area. “Hang out with him long enough, you tell me if you pick up a knack for researching or not.”

Researching. Mining private data through questionable methods. It’s a small difference to Penelope.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side, Penelope,” you muttered under your breath, flipping the sheet back and forth. “You could ruin my whole life with ten minutes on a computer.”

“I wanted to be thorough,” she defended, shrugging. “And I’d only need five.”

You laughed through your nose, giving the paper one last scan. “You left out one important thing, though.”

“No, I put his home address on there,” her brows wrinkled together as she pointed it out on the sheet with one hot pink polished finger.

“His name,” you berated. “Jesus, you think I’m going to show up at his home?!”

“Again! I’m thorough,” she cried at your accusatory tone. “His name’s Spencer. You’ll like him when you meet him.”

You didn’t doubt that Penelope’s friend was a likeable guy, but you weren’t exactly dying to go out of your way to meet him. You told her that you’d get around to it when you had a chance and left it at that.

And two weeks later, you found yourself in need of a caffeine fix that your tea kettle wasn’t strong enough to satisfy. You started on a new piece late the previous night, and midnight rolled into four in the morning, which pushed you into the arms of seven o’clock. Reinforcements were needed.

Throwing on a large sweater to cover up your messy clothes and grabbing the closest pair of shoes you could find, you originally planned on heading to your usual spot just around your street corner. Just as you were leaving, the list, still sitting untouched in the exact spot that Penelope left it in, caught your eye.

It’d been a while since you told Penelope you’d help her out. Enough time had passed that you now felt like there was an invisible deadline over your head.

Maybe it won’t hurt to try something new?

Besides, meeting someone at a coffee shop seemed like an easy, foolproof way to go about this. From all the movies and romance novels, you knew that cafes are the pinnacle of meet-cute situations. Or, in your case, a meet-forced.

Regardless, it should’ve been simple enough, and it would’ve gotten the favor off your shoulder.

You scanned the sheet for the cafe Spencer would be at on a Thursday at 8 a.m., and got there with barely five minutes to spare before he was expected to show.

It was just your luck that he had to pick a cafe practically as far from your home as he could get, and the transfer train had to have a delay that made you walk the last three-quarters of a mile there. Call it crazy, but you didn’t expect to actually have to put in work for this. You expected it better be worth the hassle.

You took a seat in the back of the cafe to catch your breath as you waited for him to show up. Sitting in the booth, with your head down so you coudn’t be seen, the plan started to feel stupid all over again. You were running around the city, spying on this stranger, and for what?

The silver bell hung over the door frame interrupted before your thoughts could travel down that path of questioning. It rang each time a new patron enters, and within the next twenty minutes it rang only eight or nine times. None of them appeared to be Spencer.

You were prepared to call this one a failure and leave, when you realized your colossal mistake. You only had his name, and no idea what he looks like. So unless he happened to wear a name tag around you could’ve already missed him. You realized then that there were more than a few flaws in this plan.

Keeping an eye on the door, you dialed Penelope’s contact as a swarm of new patrons flooded in.

“How am I supposed to know what he looks like?” you whispered into the phone, failing to cover it with a hand cupped over the speaker. Penelope was confused for only a second by the apparent lack of context.

“Oh! He’s tall, has mousy brown hair but he cut it recently. It’s like… missing on the sides, but it’s all there in the front!” she explained.

What the hell does she mean missing?

“Pen, brunette? That’s like all the guys in here…” You took a look around the full cafe; various men typing on computers, taking calls. All of them looked the same, from their brown hair to their khakis and puffer coats. “You’re going to have to give me a little more than brown hair.”

Penelope struggled to explain and with each new feature she gave you, your mental picture of him got more clouded. “He’s skinny! Dresses like a vintage teddy bear!”

“Does he have kind of like… a hot English teacher vibe?” you quirked your head, spying a man approaching from the sidewalk and drinking him in with your eyes. Tall, brunette, clad in corduroy head to toe with a plaid sweater vest underneath. Vintage Teddy Bear F/W 1978 collection.

“Yes! He teaches sometimes! And you think he’s hot?”

Your mouth gaped even though she couldn’t see you. “No, I - I didn’t say that. I said he had the vibes of a hot teacher.”

“And how different is that from saying he’s––”

“Pen, I gotta go. Your guy’s walking in.” You put the phone away before she could pick apart what you said.

The bell on the front door rang as he came in and you stared intently at his face. If this was like the movies, he’d turn his head right then, at the perfect time, and make eye contact. He’d fall madly in love from the first look, and your work would be done. You sat at the edge of your seat, burning holes into his skull, waiting for that moment.

But alas, he never looked up from the linoleum flooring as he walked up to the counter. With a groan, you slid out of your booth and quickly hopped into the line before anyone else could claim the spot behind him.

New plan: eavesdrop, order the same coffee as him, and pretend to go for the cup at the same time. Laugh about the coincidence, how if you share the same coffee order you must certainly have a lot in common, and have him fall in love with you.

But you overheard him rattle off his order and were absolutely horrified. Black coffee, extra sugar. Like, extra, extra sugar.

You were going to need a second change of plans.

You eyed him up and down, searching for something you could approach him about. He was donning black converse under a fitted pair of dark brown corduroy trousers, with a blazer to match, and a deep green plaid vest underneath. On paper, this outfit shouldn’t work. In practice, it… really did.

A little too well, given how good he looks in it. More fashionable than a federal agent ought to be as required by dress codes, right?

“Can I help you?” you heard, and it poked the bubble of your thoughts. Your head shot up to meet his for the first time, eyes wide as heat crawled up your face.

“Uh. No ––” Shit. You didn’t even realize how long you were staring at his legs. Long, long legs. And shit, why did you say no? That was your opening to talk to him.

The man –– Spencer –– nodded his head slowly, uncomfortably, and turned away with a forced grin. He grabbed the coffee cup placed on the counter and you thought now was the time to say something. But by the time you thought of it, he’d already picked up his cup and made his way to the door.

The stupid silver bell mocked you as he left.

The first attempt left you slightly jilted, but a few days later you found yourself in need of a few grocery items. You just happened to be in his neighborhood that day, and though it was very much out of the way of your own, you didn’t plan on it being a problem. He’d never see where you lived anyways, and he’d never need to know how unlikely this chance encounter really was.

You had Penelope text you the address of his regular grocery store, and upon arrival, felt immediate concern. It was not a grocery store. It was a convenience mart slash liquor store at the corner of the street, below a building of worn apartments.

As you walked through the aisles, the only things you found were a large assortment of wines that took up half the small store space, an aisle of candy packets and chips, a section for household supplies, and one measly aisle for canned and boxed foods.

Cereal, instant noodles, soup cans, pancake mix… nothing very fresh.

Spencer seemed like a pretty scrawny guy. You now believed it might’ve been from the fact that his food choices were so off-putting that he simply didn’t eat. It wasn’t your place to be concerned, but you decided that if you ever ended up taking him out, a farmer’s market might be good for him.

You loitered around for perhaps longer than necessary. The inquisitive shop attendant asked if you need help –– as in, why are you still here, get out of my store –– and you told her you were just really conflicted on which detergent brand you needed. Finally, the man you were after arrived at the scene.

“Hi, Dolores,” he greete with a small wave. The attendant, Dolores, greets back with a positivity that she sorely lacked when talking to you. Dolores has favorites, apparently.

An unexpected panic settled in your stomach and you quickly turned back to your selection of fabric softeners. You weren’t hiding, you just didn’t want him to catch you staring again. You picked up your two props, pretending to read the labels on the back and compare the chemical formulas on each of them, when you saw him out of the corner of your eyes.

He went into the aisle in front of yours, and over the short shelves you saw the back of his head sweeping over the modest food section. He turned around to inspect the other side of the aisle, and you ducked your head even lower. It was in vain. He spotted you anyway.

You fixed your eyes even harder onto the bottles, afraid to look anywhere else. He shuffled out of his aisle and turned the corner into yours. You started sweating a little.

“Uhm. Excuse me,” he said.

“Yeah?” You looked up from your bottles, putting on your best caught-off-guard face. Like you were a girl in a movie, reading a book on the beach (not detergent labels in a liquor store) and your romantic interest just noticed how beautiful you looked doing it, deciding he had to introduce himself.

“Can you… can you move…” he asked, gesturing to the section of cleaners that you’re blocking.

Never mind.

“Oh! Yeah, sorry.” You burned up, moving out of his way. He reached for what he needed and you peeked down to inspect the contents of his basket. Organic whole wheat bread, cream of mushroom soup, and somehow, he’d managed to find the only two apples this place must carry. At least there was light at the end of the dark, dark tunnel.

He tossed a bottle of Snuggle fabric softener and you raised your brows. Given that he was “grocery shopping’’ in a three-piece suit –– a good one, too, black trousers, vest and blazer with an eggplant purple shirt and lavender tie –– you would’ve expected him to simply send his clothes out for dry cleaning.

“Snuggle, huh?” you said. He gave you a confused look. “Oh, uh. I was looking at these. Couldn’t pick between the two.” You raised your two bottles of softener; Snuggle and Tide.

You needed him to know you weren’t just saying Snuggle to insinuate that you would like to do that to him. You remembered Penelope telling you he had a degree in chemistry or some sort of science field, and asked, “Is… is that one like, more organic? I was trying to read the formulas but I don’t… I don’t recognize the chemicals,” you trailed off. You could see yourself losing his interest the more you spoke. He barely looked at you as he grabbed whatever else he needed.

“I don’t know… I just like it,” he bristled. You looked down at the bottle and flipped it over to the front. It had a drawing of a teddy bear on it. How fitting.

You go to comment on it but yet again he’d made an escape, already at the checkout counter and unloading his basket by the time you looked up again. You rolled your eyes, wondering if it’s even worth it to follow him into line and see if he sparks up a conversation this time.

You could tell that he wouldn’t. So you gave him the space to buy his items and leave.

You didn’t really need the detergent, but Dolores gave you a pointed look before you could even think about putting it back on the shelf. You ended up buying the detergent, a loaf of bread, and two packets of sweets out of guilt.

As you took the train home, digging into your packet of sour peach rings, you began to doubt if you can carry out Penelope’s request.

After two failed attempts, you were prepared to tell Penelope that this just wasn’t going to work out. You didn’t expect it to be this difficult to talk to Spencer nor did you see yourself getting closer to him anytime soon. It would be best if she just found someone else to do it.

You caught her in the hallway, leaving her apartment just as you came home from the store. It seemed like as good of a time as any to let her know how unsuccessful your escapades were going. With your tail between your legs, you approached her with the intention of breaking the plan off.

But the second she saw you, it was like she could read through you. She clocked what you were about to say and before you could, she gave you a warm hug. It was the first one you’d ever received from her, actually. And she thanked you for trying.

It didn’t make you feel guilty, per se, but it definitely made you feel weird about telling her the news. So you bit back on telling her what you were really going to say. She didn’t need to know the details of your failure, or the fact that you were seconds away from giving up on her friend.

Maybe you didn’t need to give up right away.

After all, you did only talk to the guy twice. Don’t they always say the third time’s the charm?

You left the conversation at just that –– letting her know that you’re happy to do this for her, even if you aren’t really –– and slinked back into your apartment. The list, buried under the magazines and paint tubes and half-full cups of cold coffee on your table, called for you.

If by any stroke of luck you happened to share one interest with this guy, you promised yourself to give it one more try.

According to the list, that overlapping interest was the wonderful world of Gatsby Books –– a small, locally owned bookstore residing in the heart of D.C. ’s arts district. That neighborhood was smack in the middle of your’s and Spencer’s, and it was where the gallery you showcase at was.

You’d been meaning to get down there for a while now, anyways. It really was the cutest bookstore in the world; inside it lived a white, bushy-furred cat named Gatsby, and he was always there. After all, it was his bookstore.

It wasn’t such a burden to make your visit fit Spencer’s schedule, really. And it would make Penelope happy if you did. So on Saturday afternoon, you took a lovely walk through the sunny arts district of D.C., a smile on your face and a tote in hand for all the books you were planning on hauling back.

The smell of paper and coffee greeted your nose at the door, and you practically fell into a trance, letting it lead you through the aisles of the store without much thought of where you wandered. Not that it mattered, you could’ve roamed the shelves aimlessly all day long.

In the mystery and thrillers section, you found Gatsby. He jumped down from his perch on a step stool and weaved between your legs, greeting one of his long-time regulars. He was such a good shop owner.

“Hi, Mr. Gatsby.” You smiled and bent down to give him a little head scratch when he started running off in the other direction, taunting you into following him.

He rounded the corner and came to a stop at a pair of boot-clad feet; your eyes moved up to find your favorite employee (after Gatsby, of course) restocking the shelves.

“Miles!” you whispered, but he still jumped out of his skin. He turned around, hand still over his chest, and sighed when he realized it was just you. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” you laughed.

“Hey, long time, no see. Back for some more recommendations?” You ‘ooh’ed at his offer.

“I was just gonna say, the ones you gave me last time were so good. I finished them in, like, a week.”

“Really?” He smiled, brows happily up his forehead. You nodded in assent. “Okay, well I’ll give you more this time, see if the list’ll last you a little longer than that.”

You grinned eagerly, following him to the shop counter where he pulled out a stack of bright green post-its and a pen.

“I’ve actually been waiting for you to come in, I already had these in mind for you,” he mumbled, scrawling across the paper quickly. He handed the note over, and it took a moment to decipher the chicken scratches.

“Okay, first you gave me Al-Shayk and Bradbury. Now you’re giving me Chaucer, Dickens, and Doyle,” you recited the note, giving him a teasing look. “Are we just going through the alphabet, Miles?” you joked.

“Honest mistake. But I’d be happy to give you all the other twenty-two letters of the alphabet if needed.”

“I might hold you to that.” You nodded, folding the post-it in your palm to prevent the sticky backing from gunking up. It’d make quite the good bookmark for later. “Thanks for these!”

“No problem, just a part of the job.”

Nonetheless, you thanked him again before disappearing back into the aisles. You found Miles’ books as well as a few of your own and nearly lost yourself in the rows of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, until you made a turn. Standing in the middle of the next aisle was Spencer.

A week ago, he was the whole point of coming to the store. That day, you completely forgot about it, and it stopped you in your tracks to see him there. He was just standing in the middle of the walkway, staring blankly at the shelf in front of him.

“Excuse me,” you grinned, “Could you move?”

You thought it was a cute reference back to the laundry detergent fiasco, a chance for you to turn the tables, but he had no reaction to it whatsoever. His face was straight as he merely pivoted his shoulder out of your way as you reached for the book you needed; The Narrative of John Smith.

His eyes narrowed at you and his nostrils flared, and you wondered if it was called for because you grabbed the last copy they had in stock.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want this?” you asked, waving the book in his face. He was just standing there for so long, you didn’t think he actually wanted anything since he never picked it up.

“No,” he said coldly.

Contrary to Penelope’s review, he didn’t actually seem that warm of a person. But you smiled tightly at him, letting a forced laugh fill the stale air.

“I… I swear I’m not stalking you,” you laughed, rubbing the back of your neck. Technically it was a bit of a lie, but he didn’t need to know. It’s just something people say when they have the happy coincidence of running into a stranger so often.

“What did you say to me?” he bit. His tone was sharper than you felt like this conversation deserves.

“I mean, I’ve just been seeing you around a lot… it was, like, a joke? Like, ‘ahh watch out, I’m stalking you!’ you know?” With each second he stared you down, you felt your throat dry out, getting more flustered as you felt the need to over explain yourself.

“Maybe you should work on your comedy routine,” he barked, his voice just faintly cracking. He shoulder-checked you as he rushed out of the store in long strides and a brisk pace.

What in the absolute fuck.

You couldn’t stay in the shop for another minute. You dropped your stack of books at the counter with Miles, giving him a rushed apology for leaving them behind as you stormed out of the shop and headed in the opposite direction of where Spencer ran off to.

The air outside was now frosty as the sun disappeared behind the horizon; the wind nipped at your hot cheeks as you charged home. There weren’t enough words to quantify the anger you felt. Your mind ran rampant with how much you now hated this man.

Not only did he bite your head off for no good reason, but he publicly embarrassed you at your favorite place and had gone so far as to bruise your shoulder to make a point. And you know what? If he really wanted you out of his way, you were more than happy to leave him the hell alone for the rest of your life.

You reached into your jacket pocket for your phone and dialed Penelope.

“Hey! How are––” she cheered.

“It’s off.”

“What?”

“It’s off. I’m not dating your fucking friend.”

“What happened? I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding––” she started in a panic. She pleaded that you overlook whatever went wrong and promised that she’d have a talk with Spencer about it. She’d try to encourage him into the direction that you need.

None of that registered in your brain, hot blood filling your ears instead of her words.

“He’s a fucking ass,” you spat. “The more I see of him, the less I like him, and… I’m pretty sure we’d rather kill each other than date at this point. So yeah, I’m done.”

☆

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xwing-baby · 3 years

Text

The Guide: Chapter 1/? (Ezra x f!Reader)

gif from @spectroscopes

word count: 5.2k

chapter warnings: reluctant saviour to lovers, injury to reader, one mention of rape, little angst, world building :)

summary: The Guide to Everything Ever is expanding, you are sent out to the furthest reaches of Nowhere to catalogue the planets there. What should have been a quick research mission quickly turns to disaster when you crash on a small forest moon. Injured, with no means of communication, you have to rely on the good will of a mysterious stranger...

a/n: first ever Ezra fic lets gooo!! i am super hyped for this i hope you all enjoy it as much as i do <3

masterlist // asks are always open :)

While The Guide to Everything Ever did cover everything ever, it was a little misleading in the boundaries of everything. History was no issue, there was even a large section of the book on prophecy, millions of consequences mapped out on a fold out flow chart. No, the issue was with physical boundaries of everything.

A long time ago the boundaries of the civilised universe were drawn up. From Eden to Xion-5, trillions of stars and quadrillions of planets all included inside the red line separating us from the somehow even more vast expanse of Nothing. There was nothing in Nothing, that much was well known. That was until a group of explorers did what explorers do and found Something. Something in Nothing makes Nothing impossible so the leaders of this great universe came together and decided The Guide to Everything Ever had to include this new Something in their Everything.

That is where you come in.

The Guide to Everything Ever has always relied on first-hand experience. The first edition was a disaster. It only contained the things everybody knew: how to fold a bedsheet and how to get your dog to not hump the postman. The only vaguely interesting part of the Guide was the planetary comments. Even those could send the most interested scientist to sleep! They tried using robots for the first edition, a mere collection of data from far away planets. This was not successful and The Guide only sold four copies.

The next edition was more ambitious. The editors worked out people were a lot more interested in different planets than they were in barbarian fortifications but they did not want to read reams of boring data from a robot called Steve. They wanted a real Steve to give his experience on these new planets. Honest, often humorous, and yet entirely educational extracts of missions across the stars. It didn’t matter that space travel was accessible to everyone. It saved everyone a lot of time waiting in those cold and boring shuttles to get from one side of the universe to another. They could sit in the comfort of their own homes and learn about the man-sized carnivorous plants of Ereta, the beautiful fabrics created on Lii, or which drinks to avoid if you ever find yourself in a Beetjing bar.

The Guide was a success from that point onwards and expanded each year. Soon the job of researcher became a coveted occupation. You were lucky to get into the academy. Only ten new researchers were added each century. You worked your entire life to get in and it paid off, you were off on your first mission into the furthest reaches of Nothing to report back on the wild ‘verse that filled it.

A long time ago space travel was thought of as the most exciting thing anyone could ever do. It was for a few decades but two centuries later it was commonplace. A lot like the London Underground, you just stuck your headphones on and let that distract you until you reached your far more interesting destination.

For your trip you had chosen to watch Anzarch Hospital. A rather cheesy Martian holovid show, it had been going for years. You were on season 85, with only ten episodes left until you were entirely caught up ready for the season finale which was due to air when you returned from this trip. You would rather be at home watching the episodes but this trip to the end of the line was necessary. It wouldn’t take long, a few rotations at least and then you could go to Annie’s party and watch everyone’s favourite doctor finally find out who killed her robot nurse wife.

Nobody ever said Martian holovids were high class, but they were fun.

The computer interrupted your binge, alerting you with a ding that you were within range of your destination and would be stepping out of hyperspace. You pressed a few buttons, accepted the action, and went back to the episode.

It wasn’t until a few moments later when the lower pitch dong did not sound to let you know you had dropped out. Confused, you switched off the holovid and moved back to the cockpit. It was a new ship, it shouldn't have hyperdrive issues yet. But well versed as you were with glitchy hyperdrives you knew what to do. You pressed some buttons, pulled a lever, dragged the ship out of autopilot and twisted one final knob to drop out safely and without panic.

Your routine was correct. The ship dropped out of hyperspace but as the darkness cleared so did any sense of calm. You were already in the thermosphere, hurtling down to the forest covered grounds at electric speeds. Alarms blared as soon as the devices registered the new atmosphere and severe lack of control.

“Please slow down, your destination is ahead at 750 km,” The computer said cheerfully.

“Stupid thing! You’re going to kill me!” You yelled over the alarms.

“That’s not very nice,” The computer replied, “It’s not my fault the hyperdrive isn’t working,”

“You knew?” You shouted. The sides of the ship rumbled and rattled as the change in air density dragged along the surface. The holoprojector vibrated off the table, crashing to the ground and smashing into pieces. There goes all your holovid downloads, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Destination in 400km,” Every minute of your training was coming back as you worked through every combination of buttons and levers on your dash. Nothing was working.

“Computer? Is there still a parachute in this model?” It was archaic but you prayed that your ship was old enough to still be fitted with one. If it, wasn’t you were never going to slow down fast enough?

“Yes, would you like me to deploy it?” The computer asked.

“Yes!” You shouted at the machine.

“Deploying parachute,”

The parachute erupted from the back of the ship with a loud hiss and pop as it opened into the air. The sudden draw backward lurched you forward, smacking your head onto the metal dash in front of you.

You groaned, holding your hand to the injury immediately. A good splattering of blood now set across the screen and was dripping down your face into your eyes.

“Destiable approach im one minu,” The computer said. You frowned, trying to concrete over the throbbing pain in your head. “Systeeee affectabed,”

“Please tell me I’m not having a stroke,” You pleaded. You were not. You could speak and understand language perfectly. The computer, however, was not okay.

Computers are all well and good, very helpful things to have around that is until their processors are catapulted out by a poorly fitted fabric parachute.

You didn’t have time to worry about the broken computer as the trees below were coming closer and closer.

“Fourteenth millennia remaaaa,” The computer slurred. You ignored it. You didn’t need a reminder of how closer to being impaled by a huge tree you were. Instead of panicking you did the only thing you could, strap in and hope that it was all over quickly.

You pulled the straps of the pilot’s seat down tight over your arms, gripped the armrest tight and shut your eyes. The ship whistled through the air, the drag of the parachute doing very little to slow it down. You screwed your eyes shut, cursing every god you have ever known at your terrible luck. You would never see your family again, never see your friends again, and even more importantly you would never find out who killed the nurse in Anzarch Hospital!

The first contact with forest sent the ship off its course, spinning wildly out of control as the craft hit branch after branch. You screamed as the ship tumbled to the ground.

Finally, you came to a stop. Upside down, hanging from a tree, your ship rocked from side to side. You groaned, aching all over from the rough treatment of your descent. You spat out the blood that had pooled in your mouth and tried to think of a plan. Much like the now dead computer you couldn’t really think in words. More drawled sentences drowned out by pain.

The smell of fuel was the thing to get you moving. You gently unbuckled yourself from the seat, careful to not drop yourself on the ceiling and injure yourself anymore. You climbed around the small circular pod to reach the door.

Inhospitable atmosphere. Air unfit for external respiration, respirator advised.

You grumbled and cursed as that warning meant you’d have to climb up the wall of the still swaying pod to reach your kit. It was heavy and difficult to put on at the best of times, this was quite possibly the worst of times.

With a sharp tug the suit and helmet fell out of the cupboard above your head, narrowly missing you as it fell. Carefully, so as not to trip on the steel beams of the ceiling at your feet or cause the ship to swing and fall any further, you pulled the suit on. It was soft, having never been worn before, lightweight and fit you well. The helmet was heavy, a seal at the bottom to prevent any toxins leaking in and the filter was attached to the back of the dome. It was not ideal but you hoped you could find civilization quickly and would be able to take it off fast.

Helmet on. Bag on. Boots tied. Out the door.

In the small amount of luck, you still held, the ship was only six feet above the ground. You sat on the top of the door and jumped out, landing gracefully on your feet in a large patch of unusual plants. The air filter quietly hummed as it set to work cleaning the air around you and you inspected your surroundings. That was where your luck ran out, as you gathered yourself together you looked to your wrist, to the screen of your watch to look at a map to discover the direction you should go, only to find it smashed beyond repair. You had no guidance.

Dark forest was all you could see in any direction. The canopy was so dense only a small sprinkle of light made its way to the floor. Bouncing off the particles in the air, the space around you glittered in the light. It was silent, only the wind rustling through the grass and twigs under your boots made any noise. You picked a direction and walked, hoping you would come across someone soon.

You found a single well-trodden path after an hour of walking through waist high grass, the pollen of which had now covered your suit in a green blue film that made your hands itch terribly when you touched it, bringing up red rashes almost immediately.

The path made its way through the trees, more light coming through as you made it to the edge of the forest. You couldn’t make out much beyond the break in the trees as the contrast between the darker interior showed the outside in white light. You smiled; open space probably meant civilisation!

As you approached the light your eyes began to strain. Sharp pain cut into your eyes, you groaned and squinted bringing your hands to your helmet to cover them automatically. It was no use as a migraine was quickly taking hold. You continued forward, finally breaking the tree line, feeling the heat of the sun through the thin fabric of your suit.

Then everything went black

“What a curious creature,” A low voice woke you. Slowly you gained consciousness, immediately aware of the throbbing pain throughout your body, you pushed to sit up only to feel a heavy weight on your shoulder, “Careful now,” The stranger warned you. You peeled your eyes open and looked up at the creature that spoke. Dome headed in a yellowed fabric suit, Light reflecting off his head obscured his face. The creature spoke kindly and you would have believed the tone too if it weren’t for the pressure of his foot on your forearm and gun in your face. “What’s a thing like you doing in these parts?”

“I-I’m injured,” You tried to speak confidently but your pain overtook your tone as you opened your mouth, “My ship crashed not far from here,”

“Curiouser and curiouser,” The creature mused.

“Please,” You choked out as darkness threatened your vision once more, “Help me,”

The creature frowned, contemplating his decision as if he were choosing a candy bar at a corner store. You tried to move from under him but the effort was too much and you fell into unconsciousness again.

As your eyes closed and breathing softened, the stranger released his foot from your shoulder. His boot left a muddy footprint on the white material that covered your arm. He watched you for a few more seconds, then presuming you were dead he stepped over your body to the blue rucksack that had fallen just behind you. He was in desperate need of medical supplies and clean clothes wouldn’t hurt either.

The stranger rooted through the rucksack, pulling all kinds of things out. Clothes and food, writing equipment and a flip up device that he did not recognise as anything useful. There were no weapons, and no survival equipment of any kind. You were packed for a Sunday stroll, not a trip to the Green. Whoever you were, you were not like the usual people who came here.

The stranger’s cool demeanour changed when he saw your identification card. A gold card, approximately the size of his palm fell out of the bag and into his lap with a soft tap. He picked it up and inspected it, instantly knowing he was screwed. The Guide’s golden emblem was easy to recognise, while he couldn’t read the language that inscribed the card, he could make assumptions. You were a researcher. It was a well-known fact that Guide researchers were protected. If anyone found out you were dead, he would be convicted no matter what he said. There would be no planet in the entire universe he could hide on from the Guide.

Begrudgingly, he had to save you.

Without any other option, he shoved the contents of your bag back inside its original case and threw it over his shoulder. Then came the difficult task of moving you. It wasn’t for lack of strength that the stranger had difficulty with this task, more to do with the fact he had only one arm. He knew it wasn’t far to his camp, he had only been walking for five minutes before you fell into his path.

He couldn’t carry you. With only one arm it didn’t matter how strong the man was he could never hold you up well enough. He tried to wake you first, it would be far more helpful to him if you could walk. He shook your shoulders to try and rouse you but you were out cold. He had no choice but to drag you.

A quick assessment of your body told him you were not injured too badly, apart from the sores developing on your hands from exposure to pollen and a wound on your forehead inside your helmet. He checked your pulse again, feeling it strong through his gloves he was happy that you were not dead and would not be wasting his time. He grabbed the fabric around your shoulders and pulled you back to his camp.

It took a while but he made it there safely without cracking your helmet or injuring you anymore. He set you down on the floor of his tent, pulled his helmet off for comfort, then got to setting up a recovery bed for you.

The stranger pulled a rolled-up mat from under his cot and placed it on the ground and finally rolled your body in its final place on top and he waited for you to wake up again. It wouldn’t take long, he heard you mutter something as he carried you back and even in the low light of his tent, he could see your eyes moving behind your eyelids. The stranger sat on the edge of his cot, watching you carefully with his weapon in hand in case you woke up violent.

After a few moments, you began to stir. The first thing you noticed as you gained consciousness was the pain in your body. Every inch of your body throbbed but nothing more than your head. You felt hard ground beneath you, but no leaves or dirt, it was cold to touch. You peeled your eyes open, met with a low orange light bouncing off dark tent like material.

“Do not be alarmed,” A man said from across the room. You immediately turned your head to see but saw nothing more than a dark blob, “You are safe,”

You found it very hard not to be alarmed. The last thing you remembered was getting out of your ship into a forest, now you were in a small dark tent lit by one single golden lightbulb with a strange blob sat across from you.

Carefully, you pushed yourself up to sit up from your position on the floor. Noticing the blob was more of a man, and without a helmet, you figured it was probably safe to remove yours. With a sharp tug and a hiss from the oxygen tank you were open to the air and you set the helmet down next you. You rubbed your hand across the back of your neck, screwing your eyes shut as a headache shot through your skull.

You studied the man in the soft light. You could not guess his age, simultaneously old and young, you guessed he was a little older than you. He had tanned skin and dark hair with a curious white, blonde streak in the front. A surprisingly well-kept moustache and a spattered beard covered his lower face and a white scar on his left cheek all together created an intriguing character.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked. You nodded. His kindness was unsettling. There was a gentle tone to his voice and a kindness in his eyes but everything outside of that was the complete opposite. You could not remember how you got here; all you knew was the pain your body was in. Had he attacked you? Had he saved you from something else? He could have killed you, but he didn’t. Something must have enticed him to save you and bring you here. Then you saw it.

In the stranger’s hand, he held a gold card. Your identification card. The golden emblem projecting from the card flickered in the poor light, showing your name and number and rank.

“Should I be asking for an autograph?” The stranger looked back up at you, a smirk on his lips, “I’ve always wanted to meet an author,”

“I-I am not an author,” You coughed, clearing your throat before speaking, “I’m a researcher,”

“You pen those books though, don't you? The Guide?” He asked, “There’s not that much literature being produced this day and age,”

“Technically, but we like to think it’s a team effort,” You shrugged, “I just collect the data and write preliminary reports,”

“Does your team know you’re lost here?” The stranger asked.

“No, I… I don’t know,” You said sadly. The computer had broken before you could send a distress call. With no way to get a message to them from the outer ‘verse it would take weeks for anyone to realise anything was wrong, “I would have to find a signal strong enough to send a distress message but the only way I could do that was with my ship,” You thought aloud. You paused for a moment, trying to remember what actually happened when you fell from the sky, “Where is my ship? Where are we?”

“I never saw your transport I’m afraid,” The stranger said, “You must have walked a considerable distance before crossing paths with me,” You frowned, without your ship you were stuck, “I brought your backpack, if that's of any aid to you,”

You immediately lit up. Taking that as a yes, the stranger reached over the cot and pulled up your rucksack. It was caked in mud and a lot less full than you know it should have been, but you ignored his looting and grabbed the bag from his hands.

The only things left inside were your underwear and a hygiene kit. Your stomach twisted at the thought that you had lost the most important item in the bag. Dumping the contents on the floor you searched through every pocket. The Stranger watched you, one brow raised, wondering what you were looking for.

“Did you take it?” You asked, “It won’t work for anyone but me, you might as well give it back,”

“I do not understand,” The stranger looked puzzled, looking down at the things on the floor to see what had upset you.

“My Guide, where is it? I don’t care about the other things, I need that back,”

“There were no books in there,”

“That is Federation property,”

“You’re going to have to explain what it is you’re so agitated about; I do not know what your Guide is,”

“You do, because you stole it!” You exclaimed. Raising your voice made your head hurt more, you flinched and screwed your eyes shut again.

“I am many things but I am not a thief,” The Stranger was offended by your accusation. You scowled at him. He was a liar and a thief, “I took the food from your bag as payment for my saving you,”

“The Guide uses my biometrics, it won’t be of any use to you or anyone you could sell it to,”

“Hold on, do you mean the flip device?”

“Yes!”

“That thing’s important?” He seemed genuinely surprised, “You can have it, it’s no use to me,”

The stranger stood up and walked the two steps to the other side of the small space. From a cluttered table he picked up the black computer. You sighed in relief, there could be some hope for you yet. He passed you the gadget which to your amazement was still in working order. It had got a little scratched in the crash but you pressed your thumb to the lock and it opened it instantly.

Every researcher had their own personal guide. Similar to an ancient flip phone, used commonly on Earth in the early 2000’s, each Guide was a little bigger than your palm. Though small, it was very mighty. Not only did it store every piece of information a researcher collected, but it also allowed communication through text, audio and holo. Through the System there was unlimited access to other researchers' files, yet unpublished information and access to the ‘verse's existing records. There were maps and history of every planet, and more importantly to you at that moment, census records.

As you had expected, you had no signal on the surface of the moon to send a message to headquarters for a rescue. Instead you focused on what you could find out.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed the man’s suit. Though a little hard to read in the dim light you could make out what looked to be an ID number. You had to know who your captor (or saviour) really was. 875-162.

You typed in the worn black ink digits and waited. Nothing was notorious for its poor reception. The stranger was no longer interested in you know you were engrossed in the computer and not trying to attack him, he got up and was rustling around out of view.

Finally, the page loaded. A photo matching the stranger, though a little younger looking, flashed up in holo. You quickly covered the beam with your finger so as not to alert the man with you. You swiped down to read the information.

“Ezra,” You said under your breath as you read the page.

“I don’t remember giving you my name,” Ezra spoke, making you jump. You looked up, cheeks growing hot as you realised you had said it out loud.

“I searched your ID number,” you said, embarrassed you’d been caught, you told the truth. Ezra frowned, looking around him to see where you had seen it. You pointed to the suit piled up on the floor. The numbers were faded and hard to make out from the distance but you had worked it out. Ezra followed your finger and chuckled lightly.

“I forgot such identification exists,” He said, “You have good eyes to make it out from there,” He added.

You hummed in agreement. You were in perfect condition, had to be for the work. Perfect condition except for the concussion and various bruises on your body.

“Well now you know my name, can I enquire as to yours? I doubt that everyone calls you Researcher 42,” Ezra read your name from the ID card beforehand. Leant against the shelves next to him, he looked down at you.

“Some do,” You said plainly.

“That ‘some’ includes me, does it,” He raised an eyebrow, not expecting you to become so cold.

“Seems like it,”

“42 seems a little impersonal considering I just saved your life,”

“I’m meant to stay separated from my subjects. Anonymity helps with objectivity,” You explained. That wasn’t entirely true. You had always made friends with at least one person in every planet or city you researched. It was how you got the inside scoop, the local knowledge that made your articles so popular. Guide Guidance said that researchers stay anonymous for objectivity, but your popularity said otherwise. You just didn’t want to get any closer to Ezra, even just a quick glance at his record told you that he was not someone you wanted to be friends with.

As he had already shown you, he was a thief. He had been convicted of fraud, arson and two counts of murder. No wonder he was here. Most of the places in Nothing were hot beds for criminals like him. Nowhere in Everywhere would hire him, you expected that he had been hired by a contractor to come here and work for his freedom. There wasn’t much freedom stuck on the green though.

“Whether you give me your name or not, you’ve not got much choice in staying separated. A helpless thing like you will need protection here,”

“And you’ll offer that for free, will you?” You asked sarcastically, immediately knowing he would want something from you in return. You were already indebted to him for saving your life.

“There are a few things I desire,” He looked over your body, smirk twitching on his lips. You curled your lip and moved away from him.

“If you’re going to rape me, I’d rather try my luck out there by myself,”

“Oh no! No, little mouse I would never. I have done some felonious acts but I am not a savage!” He exclaimed quickly covering for himself. You regarded him sceptically. He had supposedly killed two people; he’d already crossed a line most people would not. You didn’t believe he wouldn’t step over that line too. “No, The Guide will want you back, I imagine anyone who returned you would be well rewarded,”

“Possibly,”

“Here’s my offer. I provide protection and shelter whilst you are here, and come that fateful day your deliverance arrives, you will negotiate considerable compensation for me,”

“What compensation would you want?”

“Enough money to live comfortably for the rest of my days free of obligation, a ship to get me off this rock and a clear record,”

“And if I say no?”

“Then you can see how well you fare in the forest alone. Food is pretty scarce this time of year and I wouldn’t put it past a few of them to push some more… basic human morals,” Ezra smirked as your eyes double in size. In all your travels you had never encountered cannibals, not human cannibals anyway.

“I- I can’t promise anything,” You stumbled over your worlds as you accepted faster than you should have. You didn’t know there was anyone other than Ezra on this planet, but you were not in the mood to find out.

“We will discuss details when the time comes,” He said. You nodded. “Now we have all that out the way,” He stood up from the floor, “I have to get to work,”

“What about me?”

“You aren’t coming with me,” He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But you just said-,” you started to protest until Ezra pulled a gun from seemingly nowhere, you immediately shut your mouth and flinched, “What is that?”

“Protection,” He held the gun out, waiting for you to take it.

“No, no, no! You said-“

“Until your people come to your aid, and give me my money, I’ve got to keep working. Any time wasted is money lost out here,” He explained impatiently. He stepped back closer to you and dropped the gun in your lap, “I assume you do know how to use that even if you don’t carry one yourself?”

You looked at the gun, assessing it properly. It wasn’t complicated, a barrel you assumed was already full of bullets and a trigger. Nothing you hadn’t seen before, apart from the electrical tape that was holding it together. With no more protest from you, Ezra assumed it was fine and stepped away, resuming his routine.

“I will be back at sundown. Help yourself to some food,” He told you.

“My food,” You corrected him.

“Remember who is dependent on who here, 42,” He said scornfully. With that he put his helmet back on to his head and left the tent leaving you all alone.

You waited a few moments to make sure he was gone before making your move. You couldn’t stay with a murderer. You were safer in your ship, wherever it was. You could make a distress call and be rescued. Ezra would never know.

You pushed the gun from your lap onto the floor and tried to stand up. Sat down you could feel how sore your limbs were, your back ached from just sitting up for a few minutes and you were pretty sure you could feel every bone in your feet. A light touch to the forehead told you there was a sizable egg growing on top.

Standing up the pain was worse. You immediately became dizzy, gripping onto the metal shelf quickly to stop yourself from falling. You cursed under your breath and took a deep breath. You could do it.

Or maybe you couldn’t.

You took one step towards the table of things Ezra kept, and fell back on your ass. You were lucky not to pull the shelves down with you as it rocked forward slightly. A few items fell off, narrowly missing you. You dodged the heavy items, cringing as the metal thumped to the ground.

Listening to your screaming body, you gave up. You shuffled back to your previously comfortable position against the wall of the tent and looked around you for something to keep yourself occupied.

There at your feet lay a small book. Ezra wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to meet an author, he apparently was a bibliophile. You picked the paper up, stretching to reach it over your bruised and aching legs. It was well worn, obviously water damaged as the pages curled and the image on the front as warped beyond recognition. The title: “Welcome to the Green”.

You were not going anywhere.

sooo what do you think? i had so much fun writing this fic, i hope you guys enjoyed it too. let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part :D

TAGGING usuals and interested people :): @hunters-heathen @peterssweetpea @beskarbabs @wille-zarr @fandom-blackhole @writeforfandoms @dindja @amneris21 @yespolkadotkitty

#ezra (prospect) x reader #ezra x f!reader #ezra x reader #ezra prospect #x reader #ezra prospect angst #enemies to lovers #prospect movie #ezra #pedro pascal character x reader #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal #the guide #molly writes

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cherrynojutsu · 3 years

Text

Title: Like Silver

Summary: A companion series for Like Gold.

Sakura misses him so much. She misses the faint smell of woodsmoke and sage, and mismatched eyes captivating in their intensity and unfathomable depths. The Rinnegan is beautiful, soft lavender ringed by hypnotizing layers of circle and tomoe, but flecks of silver dance in his right, tiny asterisms bewitching in nature, if one gets close enough; she’d first noticed it when they were children at the Academy. She knows they're Itachi's now, a slightly different scattering of luminaries aglow in the deep pitch of obsidian, but they're still as enthralling to her as they had been back then. She dreams of that silver sometimes, recalls it any time she sees something similar in color or reflet.

Blank period, canon-compliant, Sakura-centric, some expanded plot points from Like Gold, fluff and pining, eventually becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes

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Chapter 1/?: An Introduction to Electrocardiography

Sakura gazes out the window of her office, a pile of paperwork set aside for a poetic sort of procrastination, trying to indulge for once in a Konoha spring, though she's finding it arduous.

As pretty as it is this time of year, all she can manage to feel is wistful.

Hanami has come and gone already for the most part, though there are a few stubborn cherry blossom trees lingering at the tail end of their blooming. She can see one here from her window, up on the hillside that slopes towards Hokage Rock, clinging to the uneven land. She’s sure its roots have to be all twisted, a labyrinth of gnarled wood clinging to any scrap of land it can wind itself around as its branches and petals try against all odds to reach upwards into the open sky that she can’t take her eyes off of.

There’s a metaphor in there somewhere, but it’s one she doesn’t care to unpack.

This year was her twentieth viewing of her namesake, though Sakura obviously doesn't remember the first few. Her parents take great pride in the retelling of tales from those first few years of her life, the ones she was too little to remember. The highlights come up annually on her birthday without fail, how she grasped at the petals like they were something precious, clutched in her sticky little hands the entire day.

A framed photograph is perched on one of the built-in shelves of her parents' living room, of her and her father on her first birthday. He was holding her up on unsteady legs, ridiculously proud and pointing towards the camera where her mother had been trying to get her to look. Her short pink hair was flying absolutely everywhere, matching the fluttering petals and in-bloom cherry blossom tree in the background, chubby hands grasping upwards. Strawberry cake and frosting were smeared all over her cheeks. They’d had a picnic for her, at the park nearest to their house.

“We came home and cleaned you up, and then your father helped you water your tree for the first time, in the little pink watering pail you unwrapped earlier. You were so cute.” That’s what her mom says every year. Sakura has the sentence memorized at this point, could recite it on cue, if she needed to.

Her parents had planted a cherry blossom sapling in their backyard a few days after they brought her home from the hospital as a newborn, so the tree is around the same age she is. She used to spend time under it often, as a kid, and some of her earliest memories involve sprawling beneath it to study the heavens while her mother gardened. She would also sneak berries from the patch when her back was turned. Sometimes her dad would join in her pilferage, and they would sit beneath the tree like a couple of bandits with stained lips, though those first few years she can remember he barely fit underneath it, as tall as he is. Many a tickle fight had been had, shaded by those branches. She would read books there on nice afternoons, when she was a little older.

The tree is fully grown now, also on the final cusp of its blooming for the year, floriferous wood expanded outwards to drape her childhood stomping grounds in a sea of soft pink. They have a picnic under it every year, in her family’s backyard, when they celebrate her birthday together. Her actual birthday has come and gone, but her birthday dinner is two days from now. Her parents swung by her apartment on Sunday afternoon for a bit with outlandishly large cupcakes, but her mom had mentioned they’d do dinner and a gift on their usual night, Thursday, since it works so well with their schedules every other week.

“We have to have your picnic, under your tree, like always. It’s a tradition! My beautiful girl. I can’t believe you’re twenty. It seems like just yesterday you were only yay high,” her dad had told her, gesturing below his knees before hugging her too tightly, ruffling the hair she'd inherited from him before they left. The cupcakes were strawberry with cream cheese frosting, one of her favorite treats. They’d left her with four extra to enjoy between then and Thursday, one for each day if she wanted it, turning her birthday into more of a week-long affair than a one-day celebration.

She and Ino had demolished two of them while watching some of the terrible movies they love to hate together, later that evening. It had been a smorgasbord of strawberries, really, because they'd washed them down with strawberry daiquiris, sugary sweetness topped with ridiculous amounts of whipped cream. They'd sat on her balcony, after, sipping a little tipsily and just looking.

"You should try to enjoy your namesake more this year, Forehead. You're so busy that I'm not sure you've realized, but you've really grown into it," Ino had said, beckoning vaguely towards a Konoha beginning to bloom, renewed with a warm breeze, spring ushered in by a fluttering of pink petals. Ino likes to give compliments in roundabout ways, she’s learned over the course of their friendship; crass as the blonde can be, she does have her moments. Her words meant a lot to Sakura, so she’s trying to take them to heart, to stop and smell the cherry blossoms, so to speak. It won’t be long before Konoha crescendos into the sweltering heat of the summer.

She loves her parents and her friends. She really does.

But birthdays are weird, Sakura thinks.

Last year, Sasuke had sent her a letter on her birthday. She’s reread it so many times that she has it more than memorized; it’s stitched into the muscle tissue of her heart at this point, or maybe scarred into the lining of her aortic valve, sempiternal markings adorning the tunnels that sustain her, causing her breath to catch every time.

Sakura,

Hanami has come to the wilderness in the Land of Honey. Bees are awakening and foraging for the first pollen of the season, with which to begin again. Cherry blossom petals are everywhere, lining the pathways and floating on the water.

Happy birthday.

-Sasuke

It had been short, simple, and even a little poetic; she had cherished it, as she does all of his other letters. She’d cherished the pressed flower with it just as much; a cherry blossom, neatly flattened with a precision that screamed Sasuke, near exactly the same shade of pink as her hair.

Sakura had started crying when she unfolded the paper to reveal it sitting atop his words. His hawk had waited patiently at her office window for a response to be written and tied to its leg, perched atop the windowsill and watching the goings-on of the village below, absolutely no concept in its predator brain of how much she delights in seeing it fly, a graceful tether to the boy - now man - she has been in love with for ages.

Cherry blossom petals are everywhere. Is there a hidden meaning there, or is she making a mountain out of a molehill?

She’s tried not to read too much into the letters. She's not sure if he sends any to Naruto or not; she's too afraid to ask, because she'll either get a heart-pounding hope if he doesn't get them, or a soul-crushing disappointment if he does. She can't imagine him sending a yellow flower to Naruto, but he may very well have sent him a different gift for his birthday.

Maybe he just thought she would like a flower, which she did - it’s pressed for safekeeping, along with all of his other correspondence to her, sporadically and chronologically throughout a book she keeps on her nightstand, An Introduction to Electrocardiography. It is her take on an album of small things she holds close to her own heart, things she wishes she could read in his. Sakura didn’t want to buy an actual album for such a thing; that felt too formal, for something as ambiguous as her ties to Sasuke, overflowing on her end as they may be. So she’d settled on a book about deciphering the heart’s tells based on science only, electrical impulses and repolarization, the sizes and positions of the chambers, how to diagnose conditions utilizing one’s findings. It’s one she doesn’t need access to anymore, extremely familiar with EKGs after years of study. She’d wanted it to be something no-nonsense, all hard facts and data on how to read activity plotted over time.

Evidence-based. Are letters evidence, though? She’s not sure that would hold up as empirical proof in any of the scholarly journals she’s studied or submitted work to since beginning her research. She thinks wryly, though, based on what she has witnessed get published, that scientific verification doesn’t always matter if you know the right people.

She’s thought many times sifting through it that perhaps it is too optimistic, too hopeful of a book subject for such a thing. Sakura has agonized over it, frankly, wondering whether it was an inappropriate choice.

...But now that they’re in there, it might ache worse to move them somewhere else.

It’s the last day of March now, and she didn’t get a letter this month, which is unusual, because she’s gotten one near each month in the time that he’s been away. She’s paged through the book a few times over the past several days, rereading and admiring the preserved sakura blossom, frozen in suspended animation indefinitely on a page about precordial leads.

Sakura hadn’t really expected anything from him for her birthday, other than a monthly letter like he usually sends... but this year she didn’t even get that. She’s trying really hard to not be disappointed. She has so much to be thankful for, in the grand scheme of things...

...But the petals of the cherry blossom from last year have faded over time, she’d evaluated yesterday, sitting in her bedroom. It might be like her, always pressed in a book, fading whilst stuck indefinitely between the boundless teeth of academia. There is always more data to record, more evidence, with which one can prove or disprove their findings.

No letter this month, though. Nothing to record, no new evidence.

It might be time to move the letters somewhere else, she thinks pensively. Maybe a place where she’s not tempted to look at them all the time; their placement in the book, small scraps of paper that stick out in only a couple of places, makes it easy to go back and reread them. She’s pretty sure she has an empty shoebox in her closet that she could move them to, in a pile rather than catalogued between pages rife with information and a fragile sort of hope. Maybe she’ll do it tonight, put it up in the far right corner of the upper shelf, shoved towards the back so she can’t reach it without the stool, so she’s not tempted whenever the next bout of heartsickness slams into her like one of Tsunade-shishou’s fists used to. She needs to go by the library after work first, to return some things, but maybe when she gets home, she’ll do it. She could eat a cupcake, too; that might make it a little easier.

She dreams of that silver sometimes, recalls it any time she sees something similar in color or reflet. There’s an extremely unique necklace in an antique shop she visits with Ino and Sai from time to time, and occasionally on her own, over on the northeast side of town. It’s a salt-and-pepper diamond, dark grey with inclusions, dainty and set in what must be a hand-fabricated setting. It hangs from a silver chain, towards the back of a display case filled with other vintage and distinctive pieces, but it’s the only one she ever finds herself drawn to. It is so similar to his right eye, dark smoke near black, speckled with beguiling silver startling in its clarity. The bevel cut reveals new flecks dependent on the angle at which you view it.

Sakura studies it closely on each visit, because it is so hauntingly breathtaking and it reminds her of him.

Ino has said it’s not her color, and that she should stick to warm tones and gold, for which she is better suited; Sakura has not confessed to her why it catches her eye so much. Sai has agreed with his girlfriend on the coloring note, sensitive as he is to such things, but the way he studies her every time she tears herself away from it makes her suspect he knows exactly why it captivates her so. It’s been sitting there for years at this point; she has to mentally talk herself out of buying it on each visit. It’s beautiful, but she would spend far too much time gawking at it, and it might hurt more with extended study than the gentle tugging at her heart she experiences when she’s in that old building throughout tiny fragments of lackadaisical afternoons.

Sasuke has been gone for a long time. She hopes he's finding the peace he's been seeking, that he's seeing the world with new eyes just as he'd imagined. She thinks of him every day, sends out little orisons like petals in the breeze in the hopes that they’ll find him, wherever he is.

I wonder where he is now.

Try as she does to enjoy the breath of spring Konoha is right now, and her namesake as Ino said, all she can seem to do is shift her vision to the sky, hoping against hope for a glimpse of a familiar bird-of-prey that will stay an ample amount of time for her to craft a response, before it abvolates away for another month.

Sakura smiles, then, close to laughing at the absurdity of it all, because she is so predictable. She loves this village despite its many flaws and challenges, despite the things about it she and Naruto and Kakashi-sensei and Ino and even Tsunade-shishou, off in the Land of Wind, are trying to change, but even after so many years, she’s still pining for something beyond it, something in the wilds of the sky just beyond her reach.

There’s always next year, she supposes, pupils drawn again towards the outstretched branches of the cherry blossom tree on the hill, before trailing her eyes along further. She can grow a little more to try to reach him. When she was little, she had wanted to grow tall so she could try to touch a star, like the branches of the tree in her backyard did when she and her father laid beneath them on balmy summer nights. He would tell her ridiculous stories about all of the constellations, things she knew had to be untrue, even at the ripe age of five. Precocious, he’d always called her, but in the loving, joking manner he had.

Her gaze follows the horizon, leisurely taking in the rest of her home. It really is a lovely day, despite her yearning. Spring is here again, and today's is a gentle sunset, one last little bit of sunlight with which to conclude March. The temperature is already spiking, unusually warm for early spring, but summers in the Land of Fire are always hot. She really should finish her paperwork, but it’s hard to find the motivation just yet.

Something possesses her, then, to turn her neck more, take in more of the skyline's continuation. She wants to see all of it.

And then Sakura’s eyes fall on an achingly familiar figure cloaked all in black, perched only a roof away and observing her, and she thinks she must have nodded off, because she has to be dreaming.

She subtly pinches herself in the millisecond of time that follows, but she is very much awake.

The words are blooming out of her throat before she can even process what’s happening, exultation sinking into her every vein. “Sasuke-kun!” She moves to crank her window open the rest of the way, and he hops from the neighboring roof down into her office, all nimble legerity that she still thinks has to be a mere mirage conjured from her memories. When he straightens to his full height, she muses that he has to have grown taller. The mere sound of his footsteps on the tile flooring, as familiar a refrain to her as if he’d just walked out of the village yesterday, are a treasure beyond price.

“Sakura.” His voice is a rich timbre that she has desperately felt the absence of; hearing him say her name almost makes her want to cry. She smiles wider instead, to the extent that it almost hurts, and her gaze latches hungrily onto the very eye she was just daydreaming about. A storm of soot and silver, beveled into countless fragments like some kind of dark, rustic diamond, and so staggeringly beautiful that she’s pretty sure she’s blushing just from beholding it. Gods, it's not fair for someone to be so handsome.

“When did you get back?” She asks, utterly overcome with joy. This is better than a letter or any birthday gift she could have received, brighter than any star she’s beheld.

“Just now.” He’s smiling, a small and subtle upturn of lips that is so characteristic of him. Then his words hit her, and her face must be getting redder.

Just now? As in…

“I’m sorry I missed your birthday,” he adds before she can simmer on that for too long, and she has to blink in bewilderment, because that is the absolute last thing she expected him to say. Sakura wonders how much heat can creep into one’s face before they spontaneously combust.

Then she realizes she should probably respond, as humans tend to do in conversations. “Oh! Um… it’s okay.” She folds her hands in front of her shyly, grinning like an idiot. “Thank you for remembering.”

There is a lengthy moment in which she just soaks him in, hoping he can read in her eyes how much she’s missed him. He is still so beautiful, prized eyes and aristocratic angles that have solidified a bit more into the face of a man in the time that’s passed. His hair is different now, covering his Rinnegan eye. His cloak is a little more threadbare, too. He’s tall.

His expression, normally unreadable, is calm. Content, even.

There’s a question nagging at her that she knows she needs to ask. She tries not to bite her lip as she asks it, braces herself for the possibility of not liking the answer.

“Are you… just back for a little while?”

Did you find what you were searching for?

He gazes at her for so long that she thinks he may be glimpsing her soul, peeking into her ventricles to see his own words immortalized there, seared into her core to be felt each time her blood pumps.

“...For more than a while.” And she smiles the biggest she ever has. Oh, this is so much better than a letter or a gift.

“Well, welcome back, Sasuke-kun. It’s… very good to see you again.” It feels as if a piece of her heart has been returned to her, something of the divine stitched back into her chest and full to bursting in omneity.

There is a pause, and then he’s reaching his hand out towards hers, initiating physical contact with a touch that is feather light, so gentle she thinks she is going to start sobbing.

She can’t help it; she pulls him into a hug, tinged with elation. She hopes he doesn’t mind too much; he stiffens for a brief moment, but then settles, wrapping his arm around her and settling his head atop of hers, and she could die happy right there, embracing him with feelings momentarily set free from where they’ve been whelved into her chest.

He smells faintly like sage and smoked cedar, just as she remembered. She can hear his heart thumping, a strong cadence, and it grounds her. Oh, she’s missed him.

“...I’m home, Sakura.” Soft words float above her head, and she can feel the vibration of them through his chest, right by her ear.

Oh, she’s crying.

Sasuke lets her embrace him for a long time, for which she is so grateful. She knows he’s not one for physical contact; it’s a privilege to be allowed into his space even for a single second, let alone for an extended period.

She draws back eventually, glancing up at him again through the tears still collecting in her eyes. Her face blazes when he reaches to wipe them away tenderly with a calloused hand, careful and with a lenity that she’s always known was there, hidden under the surface.

She could just stare at him for hours, she thinks as he lowers his hand. He’s still looking down at her with one of the softest expressions she has ever seen him wear. She really hopes she’s not dreaming.

It’s tremendously hard to get it together, but she tries, because she doesn’t want to spend the entire time crying, not when he's finally back. There are so many questions she’d like to ask him that she’s finding it a challenge to pick one with which to lead.

He surprises her by speaking first, quietly. “I… had something made for you.”

It takes a moment for the words to compute.

Made for me?

Her processing speed must be exceptionally slow, stuck in the utter mush her insides have become, because he adds, “...For your birthday.”

Sakura blinks, and furrows her brows in confusion. “Made… for me?”

He nods. “...I’m sorry it’s late.” The way he speaks it is cryptic, like the apology weighs more than one needed for a tardy gift. Doesn’t he know she doesn’t care? He could have showed up in July with something for her, and it still would have made her knees weak and her heart thump furiously in her chest.

Made for me? She’s still stuck on that sentiment as he breaks eye contact and turns to rummage through his satchel, beneath his cloak.

Sasuke pulls out a medium-sized flat box, a simple white, and she doesn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t that. Something that comes in a box is a lot more formal than a pressed cherry blossom, something more… permanent.

She reaches out to take it on autopilot, and is stupidly distracted by the way his hand brushes against hers, a small spark that makes something in her quake. She wonders if he felt it, too.

Sakura clutches the box with both hands like her life depends on it, murmuring softly, “Thank you, Sasuke-kun.” She’ll wait until later to open it, after he’s left; whatever it is, she doesn’t want to embarrass him, and she also isn’t sure she can tear her eyes away from him just yet, anyways.

Is it just the lighting in her office, or are his ears a little flushed? She didn’t notice that before; maybe he’s had a drawn-out journey back. She wonders how much ground he covered today, if he’s still winded. He might need to rest.

But then he mumbles, voice husky with what she assumes is disuse, “...You should open it.”

His words echo in her head again. I… had something made for you.

“Okay,” she answers in a hushed voice, so she doesn’t scare him away, shifting slightly to set the box on her desk carefully. Suddenly she is very nervous, anticipation settling into her gut.

When she lifts the lid, she swears her heart ceases beating.

The most exquisitely intricate uchiwa fan she has ever laid eyes upon is placed in the box before her.

It’s carved into a likeness of a cherry blossom tree, branches twisting lissomely into bamboo framework, impossibly fine. A different set of words is reverberating in her head now.

You should try to enjoy your namesake more this year, Forehead. You're so busy that I'm not sure you've realized, but you've really grown into it.

Made for me?

“O-oh.” Sakura is not sure what she expected, but it wasn’t this. She fights back the tears, biting her lip and wide eyes soaking it all in, enjoying her namesake in a way that is entirely unprecedented in its sheer severity. The amount of time it would have taken for someone to sculpt and bind and sew is unimaginable; every detail is finely wrought, flawless down to the silk and stitching, lacquered and carved pale wood shifting effortlessly into eighty slivers of bamboo, intricately webbing silk together with the lithe grace of gossamer. It’s a cherry blossom tree, petals and all, pearlescent thread shifting slightly, gorgeously in the light, unimaginable detail. She has stitched people back together countless times over the course of years, but even her expert dexterity would look like a child’s first embroidery stitching in comparison. The stamen within the petals are nearly more detailed and finely milled than an actual, real life cherry blossom, plexure sutured in a fashion so baronial that it’s impossible to believe human hands were even responsible for it.

The silk. Oh, the silk. The color shift bears a striking resemblance to the Uchiha insignia. This is not a gift one gives to a teammate.

Oh, she's crying.

This has to be a dream, some kind of paracosm her heart thought up to give her brain the high of a lifetime. Hope burgeons and unfolds in her chest cavity, bleeding into her extremities like the pale pink shifting into red before her eyes. She’s never, ever going to forget this, not even if she lives to be one hundred years old.

Made for me?

She picks it up with disbelieving hands, grasping it more carefully than she’s ever held anything in her entire life, as if she’s going to wake up at any moment and it will dissolve into synapse, lost in the hazy juncture of morning the way one tends to lose awareness of the contents of a dream upon coming to lucidity. To her absolute bewilderment, it stays solid in her hands, a finery made even more unbelievable by touch. The grooves of the carving are as gentle as his hand had been on hers earlier. She thinks it would have had to be commissioned at least a few months in advance, outlandishly expensive. She’s never seen silk like this. She doesn't know; she's smart, but she's no artisan. Maybe she should ask Sai. She's crying.

She adores it.

Tears won’t stop welling in her eyes; she thinks they may be escaping from a tender spot inside her chest that’s been reserved for him since she was a child, a leak in a metaphorical dam. She takes a steadying breath, blinks, almost has them conquered. Get a grip, Sakura.

Then Sasuke’s hand is on hers, gently turning the handle over.

Her name is carved into the pale wood, on the back in formal calligraphy, Sakura daintier and more perfect than she could ever write it, as if it had just been uncovered in one of the inner layers rather than whittled there manually. Sasuke presses her fingers to it before loosening his grip, and in that second it feels as though his lost hand is in the wood, caressing her from split atoms in the grooves from the other side.

The tears spill over her cheeks - she admits defeat - intricacy of the entire thing blurring out of focus but still somehow burned into her retinas for all eternity.

Made for me, made for me, made for me-

Her voice finds her after a few more tears fall. “It’s beautiful.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, overwhelmed with complete and utter awe, trying desperately to choke down a sob. “Thank you, Sasuke-kun. I… I’ll treasure it. Always.” She cradles the fan closer to her chest, her heart - maybe An Introduction to Electrocardiography wasn’t a poorly-chosen book, after all; there is much to be read from something this precious - and regards him with watery eyes. She wishes she wasn’t crying; the distortion of the tears is making it hard to see the silver she’s loved and missed so much.

His hand lifts to her face after a moment, and to her surprise, he wipes away her tears again. She barely catches the something-more in his eyes, then, through the waterworks, precious metal flashing and pouring into the words scarred into her ventricles to live there forever, fortified in silver, but he is looking at her so -

“...Always,” he agrees, voice a little breathless, sparking scintilla near hypnotizing her in their luster, and he seems so happy -

Then he leans down to press his lips gently to hers, and this is better than her heart stopping, like when she opened the box. This time, her heart soars, and she touches a star she’s been dreaming of for eons.

#naruto #sasusaku #ssfanfiction #cherry writes #like silver #fanfiction #i'm really out here with just hundreds of pages of fanfiction in my google doc drafts huh

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the-midnight-slasher-official · 3 years

Text

brahms: phone. Imagine

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE.

I have been living with Brahms for over a year. It's been alright.... I guess. It took awhile for Brahms to come around. He's still very shy. You still go by the rules, music, kissing goodnight, etc. But the "bath time" rule was a new one he added.

I have to take his clothes off, and wash, and scrub him down. I have to wash every single part of his body. YES, EVEN HIS LOWER REGION😑.

But it's been Pretty ok. I've been texting my friends for awhile.... Im surprised Brahms hasn't found out. I always do it, when I have alone time... Which is rare for me.

There's no wifi, but I forgot that I have mobile data. And I've been secretly paying my phone bill, to continue having it. And I always have my phone on silent. ALWAYS.

I cut a slit into the side of the mattress, and thats where I store my phone. Smart, if you ask me! _________

We are currently in the library, sitting on the couch, and I'm reading Brahms his favorite book, while he lays his head on my lap.

"Ok, I think that's good for today" I said as I put a book mark in between the pages and set the book down. He rises off of me and lowers down, and connects his cold masked lips to my forehead. "You did a good job" Brahms says.

He then disappears into the walls. I quickly and quietly sneak upstairs and into my bedroom and took my phone out. I sat on the bed and texted my friend, carly

*texts*

Carly: are you coming back?

Me: Idk,.... I enjoy it here.

Carly:.... Oh _________

As I was texting her, I heard a shuffle in the walls, and I look up and catch my eye on a little open slit on the wall, but enough for someone to see through.

Shit... Brahms.

He then burst through the closer and walked towards you. He snatched the phone out of your hands, and looked at it. As if he's never seen such a thing in his life.

Well... How could you blame him? He's been cooped up inside of the walls for years.

He looked and read the messages. And he looked pissed.

He looked at me and I can hear his heart beat rising, and I can feel his heavy angry breathes pushing out of the mask.

He then held up the phone and crushed it, with his left hand.

Bits and pieces fell to the floor as he stared at you angrily.

" Your not going anywhere y/n, GOT THAT?!, I'LL KILL YOU IF YOU LEAVE ME NO CHOICE" he said as his chest rose and fell in anger.

Before I could even respond, he disappeared back into the walls.

I slid down and began to cry.

"Please dear god" I sobbed.

#brahms heelshire #brahms heelshire imagine #slasher

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chuuulip · 4 years

Text

The First Kiss of Love

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Female Reader

Warning: Fluff with a smidges of angst

Words: 3262

Prompt: hey i was wondering id you could do a hannibal lecter one where the reader doesnt realize that hannibal likes her and she gets jealous when hes talking to another woman. when she calls him out on it he cant help but laugh. the reader is basically a oblivious dummy type and way too much of a klutz .

Summary: “Dr. Bloom is really beautiful.” your small, joyless voice continues its sentence. “Ah...yes indeed.” Hannibal replies casually.

A.N: This is for an anon that request some Hannibal fanfic. I’m sorry that it takes me so long xD I hope you like it! whoever you are ❤️ Thank you for @jewels2876 for helping me with this piece, love you ❤️ Also tagging fellow Hannibal fans 😉 @venusdemonroe and @detectivehannibal thanks for feeding me Hannibal content and discuss him with me ❤️

It’s been a couple of months since you’ve worked with Dr. Lecter. You were once a librarian; due to an accident, you lost your job as a consequence of a long time recovery. Hannibal Lecter literally was an angel or your angel to be precise. Vividly, you remember the time you met him. By chance, Hannibal is in the clinic when you do your physiotherapy. He catches a small stack of books that you buy that day. He manages to balance the books in his left hand while his right-hand catches you before your face kisses the floor.

Long story short, both of you have some sort of conversation that leads to you applying for a job to be Hannibal’s secretary. You are excited but also nervous when you do your interview. You have no idea that Hannibal is a well-known psychiatrist not only just in Baltimore but also in Maryland. There is a fear that Hannibal will not choose you because of your clumsy tendencies. You are naturally what people will call a klutz. Physical activity somewhat hinders your ability to shine among others. You are either too slow or too weak. Not to mention lucky stars seem to distance themself from you. But not that day, the day when you get an email of your employment. Hannibal is pretty impressed with your CV and how good your skills on scheduling and data management,

“Good morning.” the soft, accented voice of Hannibal greets you. Today, he wears a dark blue windowpane pattern jacket suit. He chooses a somewhat dark metallic floral pattern adorning the red-brown tie. His white buttoned-up shirt makes the color of his suit and ties pop. Hannibal always dresses elegantly, something that you always look forward to seeing.

“Good morning, Dr. Lecter.” You stand up and follow Hannibal inside his office. He takes a seat on his brown leather chair. Everything looks immaculate as always.

“Schedule for today?” he unbuttons his suit jacket and you quickly help him hang the suit. “Thank you, my dear, you didn’t need to do that.”

“It’s alright Dr. Lecter.”

Sometimes when it’s only you and Hannibal in the office, he accidentally calls you my dear. You aren’t sure if it's because that’s the way he usually addresses someone he is in contact on a daily basis, or it means something more? Oh, you wish.

“Dr. Lecter…, for this morning you will have two appointments. Mrs. Potter and Ms. Randall. Also-- Mr. Franklin said he might need to reschedule.” Your slightly breathy voice points out other appointments Hannibal has outside the office. Your work had become kind of a blend between his secretary and personal assistant, to be honest. It was actually Hannibal's idea to engage you more into work that’s not strictly his office related. Not that you are complaining because it let you take a peek on Hannibal’s other persona. Not to mention that the payment is pretty generous.

Not once does Hannibal ask your input on what type of thing should be added in his office, and by that, you are pretty proud of yourself. Not a lot of people give any thought about your opinion. Although Hannibal, like when his office has this sleek look and somewhat minimalist style, he always mixes something that you could say was classic inside his office. You have been inside his office quite a lot, but sometimes you help him tidy up his books and document. He’s somewhat more of a hard copy type of person than a soft copy one. Like you. You like the smells of an old book although some of Hannibal’s books smell too clinical for you. Like the smells of a hospital or a place with a lot of disinfectants.

Pretty proud of your experience as a librarian in the past, and knowing Hannibal is a perfectionist himself, you practically turned the side of his office into a perfect mini library. The medical record shorts are alphabetically arranged while his other books are listed by genre, then in an alphabetical manner as well. When Hannibal stays longer in the office, sometimes you catch him drawing. A hobby that he said he has since childhood. One day he told you, “Growing up, I found my hobby really useful when I decided to be a medical doctor.” and you can’t help but agree. After he finishes with what he sketches at that time, he specifically calls you into his office and shows you the final product. That action simply makes your heart flutter in excitement.

“Thank you, you can leave for now.” He gives you his subtle yet beautiful smile. Those eyes of his when he smiles always send some sort of quick rush to your brain.

Giving Hannibal a short nod, you quickly excuse yourself. You stumble upon your own shoe and almost fall, face first. Luckily you can prevent that from happening, hoping Hannibal doesn’t notice, although you think he did. Scurrying from his office, you station yourself on your spot. Continue typing and archiving what Hannibal asks you.

Sipping your now cold latte, your eyes shift to the books next to your PC. It’s a book called Les Fleurs du mal renaissance, a volume about French poetry that Hannibal had lent you after you finish some short of psychology 101. You have read a few pages of it, and since it’s in French, it takes you some time to understand it.

Sometimes Hannibal invites you to his office to let you read his book while he draws things. Trying not to get caught red-handed, you glance at him from the corner of your eyes, savoring the scene in front of you. Wondering what Hannibal actually does on his day off, is there anything he can’t do? Your brain likes to take a detour on what Hannibal does at home when he’s not seeing other people’s minds.

A soft clink of steps on the mahogany floor wood, momentary pauses your fingers on the keyboard.

“Good morning Mrs. Potter.” you stand up immediately. Greet her with a polite, shy smile. One of the things you are still learning from working with Hannibal is being confident. Since the secretary is usually portrayed as bold and beautiful, while you on the other hand are quite the opposite, Hannibal makes sure you take your time to adapt from ‘less contact with people at work’ to ‘in contact with different people almost every day.’

“I’m here for my appointment.” her British accent tickles your ear. It’s rare for you to meet a Brit, especially as posh as Mrs. Potter. Although you never glance at a patient’s medical record, you do actually google them. When you find out Hannibal’s reputation, you know that most of his patients are a somewhat well-known person. Mrs. Potter is an owner of exquisite but limited jewelry store on the east coast. From several articles that you read, she has had quite a lot of scandal. Despite that, you will not deny her beauty. She may be quite older than you, but the way her cheekbones stay supple and very few wrinkles decorating her face sometimes makes you jealous.

“Yes, sure. Please wait a moment,” immediately, you walk to Hannibal's office door that's just a foot away from your desk. Giving a soft knock, you open the door and inform Hannibal that Mrs. Potter is already here. He gives you a quick nod, and you open the door wider, to let Mrs. Potter start her session.

Hannibal isn’t a strict boss. Or that’s actually what you thought about him. Of course, you are a professional employee as you can be, but sometimes you spend time reading the book you borrow from Hannibal between your desk job. Mostly because you already do whatever Hannibal tasks you with. On some occasions, you join Hannibal when he attends some appointments, such as when he needs to be a keynote speaker in a well-known conference around Maryland and DC. An experience that you guess is his way to widen your social ability.

“Thank you Mrs. Potter. I’ll see you in the next session.” Hannibal’s accent cues you to stand up and bid your goodbye to Mrs. Potter. The rest of the day comes out like it usually is. Typing and arranging schedules for Hannibal while also scrolling on another book to read. Even though you were a librarian before, there’s just so many books and so little time to read.

When it’s time for you to go home, you knock on Hannibal’s office door and open it slightly when he answers you with a soft, “come on in”. You excuse yourself while also giving Hannibal’s friend a smile. Although Hannibal doesn’t have a lot of appointments today, his friend, Jack Crawford visits the office and you know that means Hannibal will stay late until dinner time.

***

The next day your work finished earlier than you thought so you spend some time at work to continue reading the poetry book. Some people may find it weird that you like to stay a little bit longer at work than going back home. There’s always this thought of knowing there is someone close to you, without the need to do conversations in every millisecond, calming. When your eyes shift to your gold bronze table clock, you haven’t realized that you are pretty late, as the sky already turns dark.

You know Hannibal is still in the office and you plan to excuse yourself before it’s getting really late. You don’t want Hannibal to drive you back home since you feel embarrassed about it. He always makes sure you arrive at home safely when you spend more time at the office or going home pretty late since Baltimore isn’t the safest place on earth. However, there is always a thought in your head that Hannibal being a little bit protective towards you, his employee because you are just a much of a klutz and he feels responsible.

You aren’t sure what possessed you to move too quickly and it just messes up your footing. The point of your left oxford shoes hit the castor office chair. Ungracefully you trip to the floor and bring the chair with you. The falling chair let out a loud bang while you landed on your hands and knees, grimacing in pain.

You aren’t sure when but your brain kind of mid freeze for a second. When you look up, you see Hannibal crouching down and calling your name, worried, “-- are you ok? Can you stand up?”

“I--I’m ok Dr. Lecter,” you try to stand up but you hold up your right hand in a sign of I need a minute.

Hannibal takes care of the office chair first, putting it back in its original position. He carefully lifts you up, supporting you and letting you sit back on your office chair. “I’m sorry my dear, but I need to check?” He asks you for your permission and you quickly give him your approval. With an expert examination of his hands, Hannibal checks your knees for any swelling or visual deformity. Since your past accident, you are prone to any joint and soreness on the knees. Delicately, he gives a little pat on both your knees. “I think everything is ok, you may need to have some pain killers.”

“Thank you Hannibal.” you blurt it out. Sometimes you call him by his first name when you aren’t in office hours, although rarely.

He graces you with that smile of his, subtle yet it always makes your heart quiver, the kind of smile you infrequently see. You notice that sometimes he has his professional smile, it is short and kind of cold. The smile you always notice when he meets his colleague. You don’t know a lot of Hannibal’s friends, but when he has some impromptu meeting with Jack, you slightly witness more smirk and sometimes there’s this naughty element like he is planning something evil, although humorously.

“Wait a minute, I will drive you home.” Hannibal left you to go inside his office.

There’s a guilt in your stomach that you feel you are being a burden to your boss. When your concentration dispersed like vivid smoke, the corner of your eyes caught the beautiful woman you have seen a couple of times visiting the office. Unlike other women who mostly visit Hannibal for a session, this woman is indeed different.

“Ms. Bloom.” You greet her. Your smile may look blankly courteous even, but you definitely are not in the mood to give her your big smile this evening.

“You look unwell, are you ok?”

“I-- I’m ok.” you try to answer her, less tense.

“Alana?” your eyes shift to Hannibal as he opens his door.

“Hey, Hannibal. I try to call you but I thought I might as well just drop by.”

Hannibal’s eyes divert from you to Alana, and he gives Alana a quick nod, letting her quickly enter the office. “It will be quick. Can you wait for a while?” you give him a nod and smile at him nervously.

At first you aren’t sure why you are nervous but something finally clear on your head. Maybe you are jealous. You know a lot of women near Hannibal are not only beautiful, or rich, they are also acutely intelligent. Although you aren’t rich, you aren’t that bad looking and you will not say you aren’t intelligent but when you compare yourself to someone like Alana, there will always be inferiority engraved in your mind. Not to mention that she has known Hannibal longer and better than you.

Hannibal's office door opens and Alana exits the door with Hannibal following her. “I heard what happened to you from Hannibal.” Alana stops in front of your desk and gives you her sympathetic smile. “Get well soon.” She gives you a pat on your shoulder and says her goodbye to you and Hannibal.

“Shall we?” Hannibal changes his focus towards you and you nod in agreement. Let him help you out of the office.

***

“So…,”

“So?” Hannibal glances at you momentarily while driving, asking you to continue what you have in mind.

“Dr. Bloom is really beautiful.” your small, joyless voice continues its sentence.

“Ah...yes indeed,” Hannibal replies casually.

Your eyes glance at the dark street. Hannibal’s office is located in a quite busy place and it’s nice to see less traffic when you get out of the area.

“Did both of you date?” you blurt it out. Your eyes widen in horrors as you blatantly just spill out something unprofessional. “Hanni-- Dr. Lecter, I-- I-- didn’t mean to pry on your personal life.”

Hannibal looks at you and lets out a laugh. Something really rare, something that you even have witnessed. The crinkle on his eyes when he laughs lets his somewhat cool and calm demeanor melted. It takes you sometimes to register on what just happens.

“I’m sorry my dear, that’s just quite funny.” Hannibal stops laughing and sends you a quick smile.

“Also that might not answer your question but the answer is no, Alana and I, we aren’t dating. I’m her mentor and our relationship is more of colleagues and friends.”

You aren’t sure why you hold your breath, but after listening to Hannibal's answer, you let out a long exhale, feeling that something heavy has been lifted up from your shoulders.

Hannibal’s Bentley stops in front of your apartment complex. Ever the gentleman that he is, Hannibal asks you if you need help. You decline his help as if you can’t embarrass yourself enough in one day.

“Before you go, I have something to tell you.” Like a deer caught in a headlight, you look at Hannibal. He switches on the light inside the car and pulls his bag from the backseat. He handed you several papers that looked likely to be a job application. Your eyes widen, vision blurry as a sudden tears drop from your eyes. This is it, maybe Hannibal has enough of your clumsiness. He doesn’t find you worthy as he sometimes needs to ‘babysit you’ when you do something you don’t intend to do.

Feeling that he may be approaching this the wrong way, Hannibal tries to comfort you. You put both of your hands in front of your chest, like a shield in a defensive manner. Try to accommodate his tall frame, awkwardly Hannibal turns his body to the passenger seat and embraces you. He shushing you and pat your heads

When your silent cry turns into a hiccup but more calmer, Hannibal pulls away from you. With a stutter, you explain to Hannibal that you understand if he doesn’t want you to work with him again and you are thankful that he’s been a very great employer to you.

“Hey,” Hannibal swipes the tears that rolls down on your cheeks with his thumbs, “--it’s not that. Look, my dear, the reason I handed this paper to you is not that I want to fire you, but I have been pretty impatient lately.”

You look at him, eyes full of question on what the fuck he means by that? Although you don’t let it out loud because you don’t want to make any rude comment. Because Hannibal doesn’t like that.

“I’m one of those people who do not agree with office romance.”

Office? Romance? What the hell? No one has any romance in the office, you thought.

“I have been pretty much intent to court you,” his eyes flicker to your lips and back to your reddish eyes. “Alana came today because she wants to give me the application personally, there’s a librarian vacancy in her University and I pretty much just want to hand it to you.” Your brain wiring, try to connect the words as if you forgot how to speak English.

“Apologize if I’m being rude my dear, but I have observed you for some time and I encourage myself to just lay it all here so I didn’t make you upset. Of course, if I am proven wrong, you can stay and still work as my secretary. No harm, the position will always be yours.”

“Hanni-- Hannibal, does this mean that you like ‘like’ me?”

He answers you with a quick nod and the smile that always makes your heart flutter. You try to reach Hannibal but your knee prevents you from doing such a thing. Hannibal let out a small chuckle as he finds your difficulty quite amusing.

You eye him in disbelief but your anger melts right away as his face gets closer to yours. His right hand's cup at the side of your face as his lips inches closer towards you. With eyes close, you feel the brushes of Hannibal’s lips. The kiss is soft and delicate as if he is just testing the water.

You let your hands sneak at the back of his collar as you seek more contact. Both of your lips slide and glide against each other. Letting out a whimper, you grant Hannibal’s tongue to slip past your lips. Teasing and flicking languidly, exploring something that makes you shudders in want.

After some time, Hannibal withdraws his lips from yours. Eyes fluttering open, you can see Hannibal’s pupils expand. He let his foreheads rest at yours while his hand still cups on your face. “So...I believe it is a 'yes''?” There's humor in his voice.

With a broad smile and less reddish eyes, you answer Hannibal with a confident nod and grant him another kiss on the lips.

As always, like, comment and reblog are really appreciated ❤️. Let me know what you think about this xo

#hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal imagine #hannibal lecter x you #hannibal lecter request #mads mikkelsen #chuuulip post

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commentaryvorg · 3 years

Text

Digimon Data Squad Dub Comparison Episode 1 - There Are Monsters Among Us!

This is a companion to my commentary on the original Japanese Digimon Savers! Reading my commentary on the original version of this episode (which you can find here) is recommended before reading this dub comparison.

Original name ~ Dubbed name

Masaru Daimon ~ Marcus Damon

Yoshino Fujieda ~ Yoshino “Yoshi” Fujieda

Captain Rentarou Satsuma ~ Commander Richard Sampson

[Since several characters share the same name between the original and the dub, quotes from the dub will always be in italics, while quotes from the original will not, in order to distinguish them.]

First off, can we talk about the characters’ dub names? The dub doesn’t actively draw attention to its setting much (but then again neither does the original, really), but it also does not change the fact that this is taking place in Japan and these characters are actually Japanese, despite that we’re hearing them speak English. Some of them keep their Japanese names, too, even if maybe they have slight shortenings of them to be easier for a Western audience to remember. But then some characters’ names are randomly changed to completely English ones, even though these characters are apparently still meant to be Japanese and living in Japan. It’s just strange – if they’re okay with keeping some of the Japanese names, why not keep all of them?

(Honestly, despite my complaints, I am kind of a little glad that they changed Masaru’s name in the dub, because Marcus comes across somewhat of a different character to Masaru for reasons I will be discussing at length. In that sense, it’s convenient to have different names to differentiate them by.)

Kudamon: “He’s a renegade to begin with. We have no choice but to dispose of him.”

~~~~~

Kudamon: “The target is a renegade. We must catch him before he gets out.”

This is actually more reasonable than what Kudamon says here in the original.

Satsuma: “The only ones who can keep Digimon under control… are Digimon!”

~~~~~

Sampson: “Only a high-level DATS agent can capture a Digimon.”

The original version of this line was already awkwardly expositiony, sure, but this one just doesn’t make as much sense. The point is not that Yoshi is a high level DATS agent, but that she has a Digimon partner.

The dub completely replaces the original’s soundtrack. I did a shoutout to the BGM here in the original, and I also want to do a BGM shoutout here in the dub! This piece here is very different sounding from Provocation Infinity but still gives a similar sort of actiony gung-ho feel appropriate for Marcus and Agumon being fighty dorks, and I like it. It’s used often enough in moments like this such that it’s the only dub theme aside from the evolution theme that I’ve become able to pick out and recognise the melody of, even though this is only my second time watching the dub. Though I don’t know what the dub soundtrack’s titles are (actually, after having a look, it seems like the dub OST was never released, so nobody does), I like to think that this one is probably Marcus’s theme based on the moments its used in, so I’m going to be calling it Probably Marcus’s Theme.

Marcus: “This is my training ground!”

This park is apparently specifically his “training ground”, even though it’s just an ordinary park that anyone can visit. Um, okay? (More on this at the end of this episode.)

Masaru: “I’m the number one street fighter in Japan, Daimon Masaru-sama!”

~~~~~

Marcus: “One day, I’m gonna be a champion ultimate fighter!”

They’ve changed “street fighter” to “ultimate fighter”, which, okay, makes him come across a bit less like a delinquent, fair enough. But a noteworthy difference is that he’s only trying to be the best ultimate fighter. Masaru, on the other hand, feels like he already is Japan’s number one street fighter. This change still sounds fine and in-character enough on the surface, but it’s a meaningful distinction that will become quite relevant further in as we get more into Masaru’s character, so keep this in mind.

Marcus: “Fans all over will chant my name! They’ll say, ‘Marcus Damon is the best!’”

I get that what the dubbers are going for here is something equivalent in spirit to Masaru using -sama on himself. But there’s other, simpler ways to do that – just have him call himself “the great Marcus Damon”, or something like that.

As it is, what they’ve done here is make it seem like, apparently, Marcus has fans, or at least he wants to have fans. Which is not even remotely the point of his fighting thing in the original, nor will it be in the dub, either. He’s not doing this for recognition from others; this is something he’s doing entirely for himself.

Yoshi: “Raptor-1 can talk…?”

This was not a thing implied in the original – that apparently, Yoshi (and presumably therefore everyone else at DATS) hadn’t even heard Agumon talk until now. I guess they’re going for giving more of an explanation as to why DATS treated him like a monster, but I find it difficult to buy that Agumon really wouldn’t have said at least some stuff while trapped at DATS HQ. (“I’m hungry,” if nothing else, right?)

Lalamon: “Yoshi, he’ll destroy the human!”

Oh, boy. This is one of those English dubs that refuses to directly acknowledge the concept of death because apparently the poor kiddies can’t handle that or something. I will attempt to not rag on it every time it does so – only because that’d get really boringly repetitive – but I will be talking about it a lot in future episodes when death becomes quite a story-important thing that is happening.

For now, let’s just point out that it sounds really silly to talk like a human can be “destroyed”. There’s plenty of other ways to get across that Agumon is dangerous without directly referencing death that would sound more natural.

Marcus: “Then I’ll knock you out like I did these guys!”

Masaru did not mention the fact that he was responsible for beating up all the dudes this early on. I guess here in the dub, Yoshi just isn’t paying proper attention, because she’s going to continue to assume it was Agumon who hurt all the students.

Kudamon: “He’s too dangerous.”

~~~~~

Kudamon: “We cannot let this escalate.”

I am sad that the dub lost the fun “who’s too dangerous?” double meaning of Kudamon’s original line.

Yoshino: “Hey, you! Get away from him! You’ll only lose if you fight him!”

Masaru: “Huh? This isn’t about win or lose! This is about fighting man-to-man!”

~~~~~

Yoshi: “You can’t fight that creature! He’s too dangerous!”

Marcus: “Huh? Look, toots, I’m the dangerous fighter here! And I don’t need any babysitter to hold my hand!”

We really, really did not need Marcus being vaguely misogynistic by calling Yoshi “toots”, or by implying that she’s nothing but a babysitter. We really didn’t.

This also replaces Masaru’s original line that has that fun aspect of him not even caring about winning and just wanting to have a good challenging fight with a worthy opponent, so we lose that, too.

(Though, ignoring the misogyny, I do enjoy Marcus responding to “he’s too dangerous!” with “hey, I’m dangerous”.)

Agumon: “Yeah! It’s man-to-man!”

~~~~~

Agumon: “That’s right! This is between him and me!”

Agumon then also isn’t able to agree about this being man-to-man, and this just becomes a less interestingly nuanced “stay out of our fight”, rather than really about the kind of fight they want to have.

Masaru: “Got it? Now stay out of this!”

~~~~~

Marcus: “This is a fight between men, so stay out of it!”

Having removed Masaru’s reference to men a few lines earlier, the dub does something which is going to be extremely rare by its standards and actually adds in a reference to men here. …Unfortunately, because they’d also added in Marcus’s random misogynistic lines earlier, this comes across much more like it’s about gender, and he’s just essentially saying “we don’t want any girls in our fight”. Which, no. Masaru talking about manliness is never actually that much about gender at all, despite the word he uses.

Masaru: “I see you’re pretty brave.”

~~~~~

Marcus: “I dunno what you are, but you’re goin’ down!”

We lose the sense of Masaru having respect for Agumon challenging him in place of some basic I’m-better-than-you trash talk. And this also adds in Marcus calling Agumon a what, rather than a who, indicating that apparently Marcus is paying some attention to Agumon’s species and is seeing him, at least a little, as not quite worthy of the same respect as a human.

After their big cross-counter…

Agumon: “I wasn’t ready. But you won’t get me this time!”

~~~~~

Agumon: “Hey! I wasn’t ready! I was waitin’ for you to say, ‘One, two, three, go!’”

The dubbers completely missed the point of the original, “I wasn’t ready.” Original-Agumon’s line comes across as “I wasn’t expecting you to be that strong, but now I’ve got the measure of you”, like he’s gained more respect for Masaru’s strength. Meanwhile dub-Agumon is just whining and acting like Marcus totally cheated rather than acknowledging his unexpected strength.

Agumon kicking Marcus in the crotch is cut, replaced with a rather cheesy-looking comic book POW sort of effect across the whole screen.

There’s a cute acoustic guitar BGM here for their bonding moment that I like, especially after recognising its melody and realising that this is a variation on Probably Marcus’s Theme! That seems very appropriate.

Agumon: “You’re… pretty good… for a human.”

Geez, what a backhanded compliment. Apparently dub-Agumon still sees Marcus as below him simply because he’s human, rather than fully acknowledging his strength regardless of species.

Agumon: “Let’s call it a draw.”

This line fills a silence, stating something that was already perfectly well implied in the first place by the fact that they’re no longer fighting and yet there’s no clear winner. It shouldn’t need to be said. In fact, it makes it seem a lot more like this fight really was just about winning or losing to both of them, when in the original that was never the point.

Rather than “Aniki”, which, okay, works fine in subs but can’t really be kept in a proper official English dub, Agumon calls Marcus “Boss”. I guess this is acceptable, but I feel like it would have been better for them to lean into the “big brother” meaning of aniki, rather than the “boss” one, for reasons I will be grumbling about a lot.

Masaru: “Aniki?”

Agumon: “Yeah. You’re the first person to acknowledge me as a full-fledged individual, Aniki.”

~~~~~

Marcus: “Boss?”

Agumon: “Yeah. Y’see, you’re the only guy who’s ever matched me blow-for-blow in a fight before.”

So, in this version, Agumon gaining respect for Marcus has absolutely nothing to do with Marcus treating him like a person. It’s just because of his strength, nothing else. Way to lose that really fun little bit of nuance and character depth on both sides.

(Also, what does Agumon even mean, “before”? It’s not like he’d have been able to have proper fights that weren’t just defending himself while trying to escape until now.)

Agumon: “That’s why, from now on, I’ll be your follower!”

~~~~~

Agumon: “That makes you the boss. From now on, you give the orders and I’ll faithfully follow!”

Matching Agumon in a fight shouldn’t really suddenly make Marcus the boss who gets to order him around, should it? Plus, here’s Agumon explicitly saying Marcus can give him orders, which was not at all part of the arrangement originally. This whole thing has such a different tone to “you treated me like a person when nobody else did, so now I look up to you and will be loyal to you.”

Marcus: “I never thought one day that I’d have an employee that’s as funny-lookin’ as you are.”

Oh, boy. Meanwhile, instead of “follower”, we have… employee. That is even more completely missing the point of the aniki-and-follower relationship of the original. If they didn’t like the gang connotations of “boss”, maybe they should have gone for “big bro” instead, perhaps? But no, they just doubled down on the “boss” in a totally different and inappropriate direction. Marcus has apparently just started up a small business.

The heartwarming BGM gets a record scratch as Yoshi reminds them she’s still there. I admit, it made me chuckle.

Yoshi: “So, are you gonna come quietly, or do I have to use force?”

Marcus: “Who’s she talkin’ to, you or me?”

I do enjoy this – a little implication that Marcus has some experience with being treated in a similar way, perhaps by the regular police.

Masaru: “It’s the aniki’s job to look after his follower. I’m not handing him over to you!”

~~~~~

Marcus: “I’ve never had an employee before, and I’m not turning my only one over to you!”

Instead of Masaru doing this out of feeling like it’s an aniki’s responsibility, Marcus is making it about himself. He doesn’t want to lose his new and only employee. Like Agumon’s just a possession of his now. Nothing about how this is something that should be expected of him as a boss.

Later, at the tower, as Agumon asks Marcus to help him evade DATS:

Marcus: “What am I getting myself into this time?”

I enjoy this too. More implications that Marcus is used to getting himself into all sorts of Trouble.

Agumon: “I’m starved!”

Marcus: “Well, suck it up and act like a real man!”

Again with the dub adding in references to manliness that weren’t there originally, as if Marcus actually has a concept of manliness that will continue to be a running theme. Haha, I wish. Get ready for me complaining about the exact opposite of this in basically every other dub episode.

Agumon: “I’m a growing boy!”

How does Agumon even know this phrase? This is an entirely human concept. Dub Agumon will be doing a lot of this, awkwardly invoking human ideas that he shouldn’t have any conception of.

Yoshi: “Yum. I love chocolate pudding – it reminds me of being a little kid again!”

Yoshino’s coffee jelly gets localised into chocolate pudding, because I guess coffee jelly is more of a Japanese thing that Westerners might be unfamiliar with? I enjoy the added detail that it reminds her of being a kid and that’s why she likes it.

Masaru: “I don’t know anyone by that name!”

~~~~~

Marcus: “I have no idea who this ‘Raptor-1’ is!”

Marcus’s line loses the technically-not-lying and respecting-Agumon’s-identity of the original line. He does know who this “Raptor-1” that Yoshi’s talking about is, even if that isn’t actually his name.

Masaru: “How’d you know my name?”

Yoshino: “You yelled it out earlier for everyone to hear.”

~~~~~

Marcus: “How do you know my name, anyway?”

Yoshi: “I know everything about you.”

No pointing out that he yelled it out earlier like a huge dork. Instead, she just really leans into the DATS-are-creepily-authoritative vibe that she already had a little of in the original.

Yoshi: “Born April 2nd in Tokyo, blood type B, Ootori middle school eighth grade.”

Him being born in Tokyo was not a detail mentioned in the original. And also probably not true in the original, since the series is set in Yokohama and there’s no indication that his family moved here. The dub is presumably still set in Yokohama even though it’s never mentioned, just because the scenery is that of Yokohama, so I guess they’ve just established some dub-only canon that the Damon family moved home at some point. This will actually come up briefly later. I am shocked that I’m saying this.

At least, props to the dub for mentioning Tokyo and making it pretty overt that, yes, this is set in Japan. (You know, with this Japanese guy called Marcus.)

Yoshi also does not explicitly specify Marcus’s age, only that he’s in eighth grade. Which (I’m pretty sure, though I’m unfamiliar with American school grades and may be wrong) would make him fourteen anyway, at least assuming he hasn’t been held back at any point. Keep this in mind, because this will also come up later.

Yoshi: “…and you now live with your mother Sarah and your little sister Kristy, who looks up to you even though you generally act like a jerk.”

First of all, how the hell does DATS have so much information that they even know how his sister feels about him?

Second of all, more importantly, way to just tell us that, hey, did you know, Marcus is A Jerk, hey, guys, you’re supposed to think he’s a jerk, because… he fights things, I guess?

The reality? Masaru is not a jerk. Not even slightly. He’s reckless and hot-headed and will fight anything that poses a challenge, but that is not even remotely the same thing as being a jerk to people.

But apparently the dub doesn’t understand this, and they seem to think that being a jerk is somehow meant to be one of his most noticeable character traits. And I guess they’re trying to present the idea that he’s going to slowly grow into being a nicer person through the power of Digimon and friendship? Which is not at all any kind of arc that Masaru is going to have, because he is not actually a jerk in the first place.

If it was just this one line that seemed to think this, I wouldn’t be that annoyed. But one of the biggest things I’m going to be complaining about with the dub is the fact that they actually do change Marcus’s character significantly to make him noticeably more of a jerk than Masaru ever was. We’ve already seen a little bit of this sort of thing going on so far in this episode, with how they’ve removed focus from the bits with Masaru treating Agumon like a person and instead made it all about fighting, and specifically winning those fights. But, oh boy, there’s going to be a lot more, to an extent that it has to be deliberate.

And aside from me just finding this very frustrating as someone who deeply loves Masaru’s character to see him distorted like this, I also can’t help but boggle at why they would ever want to do this at all. Why would you deliberately adapt a character – the main character – to be less likeable than in the original version of the work? How does it not occur to you that this is only going to make your new audience enjoy the work less? I do not get it.

Lines like this one here are even worse, because they blatantly violate “show don’t tell”. Along with making Marcus act like a jerk and showing us that, the dub’s narrative is also telling us that he’s a jerk and insisting we should think that about him instead of letting us make up our own minds. It’s so lazy and heavy-handed. There will be more like this and I do not like it one bit.

Yoshi: “I’m with the Digimon Data Squad.”

I guess the Data Squad really is its full name in the dub. Even though the acronym is still DATS. Don’t ask me how that’s meant to work.

Marcus: “That’s a great story, dollface, but what’s it gotta do with me?”

Can we not with the Marcus being casually misogynistic? Can we not? (Thankfully, this isn’t going to be a recurring thing. Other ways in which Marcus is being made less likeable will be, but at least not this.)

Marcus does not say anything about assuming Agumon was just a frog. Since Masaru having thought that is going to be relevant again later in the series, this is a loss of not just a moment of amusing dorkiness but something actually meaningful.

(One thing that is very clear about the dub is that, with a few exceptions, they do not appear to have watched ahead to see the whole series first and are just dubbing episode-by-episode. For a series like this with quite a strong overarching plot and lots of little things like this that get callbacks, that means that a lot of this overarching sense of cohesiveness will be lost, simply by accident, because they didn’t realise there was something important there worth keeping around. This is another thing I will be talking about a lot.)

Yoshino: “As long as you keep running from DATS, Raptor-1 will only starve to death.”

~~~~~

Yoshi: “If you don’t return Raptor-1 to us, he’ll starve to death!”

This is a little different. Yoshino was only trying to get Masaru to come to DATS, supposedly to pick up some Digimon food. Yoshi, meanwhile, wants Marcus to bring Agumon to DATS. Which on the one hand is a more helpful strategy for what she’s trying to achieve. But on the other hand, he doesn’t bring Agumon, because obviously the dub can’t change the episode that much, so instead we’re just left with that awkwardly not being what happens despite it being brought up.

Yoshino: “You…”

~~~~~

Yoshi: “Thank you.”

The hint that Yoshino is gaining a new respect for Masaru from his desire to help Agumon gets lost here, in favour of simply a thanks-for-finally-co-operating. Might partly be just lip-flap’s fault – the Japanese “you” is two syllables – but still, Yoshi’s tone of voice could at least have done some of the work to imply the same as the original, and it doesn’t really.

Kudamon: “This is the boy that put Raptor-1 under control? He doesn’t appear to have any special power, at any rate.”

~~~~~

Kudamon: “Interesting that this is the boy who fought Raptor-1, because nothing about him indicates that he’s able to fight at that level.”

We lose any implication that Satsuma might have been telling Kudamon things about Masaru offscreen, and instead here’s dub-Kudamon simply refusing to believe the evidence of his own eyes. You literally watched him fight Agumon on your screen. He very evidently can fight at that level.

Kamemon: “Enjoy.”

Marcus: “I’m not thirsty.”

Kamemon: “Suit yourself.”

Kamemon actually says words in the dub as he brings Marcus tea! This was very bizarre to me when I’m used to original-Kamemon, who almost never speaks at all.

Masaru: “Just hand over what I came for.”

~~~~~

Marcus: “Just say what ya have to say and stop wasting my time!”

Apparently the dub has forgotten that Marcus only came here to pick up Digimon food for Agumon, and suddenly he expects to be receiving a speech here when he shouldn’t.

Masaru: “Renegades?”

Kudamon: “Yes. Raptor-1 has already entered the human world and injured humans. He cannot be allowed to go free.”

~~~~~

Marcus: “Why are you calling him a renegade?”

Kudamon: “Because Raptor-1 has already entered the human world and made contact with human beings, so he can no longer be allowed to go free.”

I would complain that it’s a bit much that Agumon’s getting in so much trouble simply for meeting humans in the dub, and not specifically injuring them like they were assuming in the original. But, as it turns out, the original is also going to call Digimon simply meeting humans a “crime” in the next episode, possibly as part of its early weirdness. So, eh, this isn’t really the dub being any sillier than the original here.

Satsuma: “Daimon Masaru, you should work with us to create a bright future for both humans and Digimon!”

~~~~~

Sampson: “Please co-operate. The future relationship between humans and Digimon depends on you returning Raptor-1 to us.”

Also, apparently Sampson isn’t actually trying to recruit Masaru to join DATS with this speech. I can understand the logic behind changing that, since Satsuma was going about that whole thing weirdly vaguely.

That said, saying that the entire relationship between the two species hinges on this one Digimon being returned doesn’t make any sense. So I get the feeling that the implication of what Satsuma really wanted in the original line just went completely over the dubbers’ heads, and they simply thought they were translating his intent directly and made it sound rather silly as a result.

Masaru: “What the hell is this? Stop pestering without even listening to what I have to say first!”

~~~~~

Marcus: “Why not? Because I don’t owe you people a single thing!”

We lose the fun subtle Masaru-y nuance of him caring about being given a chance to express how he feels here. Though I suppose it’s also relevant and illustrative that Marcus is implying he would help them if he felt like he owed them, showing a sense of responsibility there.

Masaru: “…but have you even considered why he suddenly showed up in this world? He admired this place! He admired this wide world, filled with things moving around that he’d never seen before.”

~~~~~

Marcus: “Have you thought about why he came to the human world in the first place? What if he didn’t have a choice? Maybe things were bad for him back in the Digital World!”

This would be Marcus being sweet and thinking about how Agumon feels… if it wasn’t for the fact that Agumon told him he doesn’t know about anything except the institution, and therefore clearly didn’t deliberately try and run away from something bad in the Digital World. Pay attention to your foll – uh, employee, Marcus. Masaru’s line there had somewhat forgotten or misinterpreted what Agumon had told him, but Marcus’s is doing so to a much greater extent.

Masaru: “But if he starts rampaging, then I’ll be responsible.”

~~~~~

Marcus: “And if he gets into any sort of trouble, I’ll claim full responsibility for his actions.”

This sounds like a perfectly reasonable translation, but the dub version of the sentence does not work nearly as well to foreshadow the thing that the original line is foreshadowing and this makes me sad.

Marcus: “But only if you give me some food for him!”

…This is immediately following the previous line. So I guess, since they never give him any food, Marcus doesn’t end up obligated to take any responsibility for Agumon getting into trouble. (Even though that’s still what he is going to do when they think Agumon’s attacking the hamburger shop. But this makes him come across like someone who’s less willing to do so no matter what and has less of a strong sense of responsibility.)

Kudamon: “It looks like you’ll have to take responsibility sooner than you thought.”

~~~~~

Kudamon: “Do you now see how hiding him has created a security breach for all of us?”

This change makes a fair amount of sense, since original-Kudamon was being unreasonable by insisting Masaru should take responsibility for Agumon’s hunger when that was really Yoshino’s fault. And it also fits with the fact that Marcus never actually promised to take responsibility since he wasn’t given any food.

Yoshino: “So this is where you were hiding him. Since he’s nowhere to be seen, it must be him who attacked the hamburger shop.”

~~~~~

Yoshi: “So this is where you were hiding Raptor-1. A lot of good it did you, since we confirmed it was definitely him who attacked the hamburger stand.”

No, you didn’t! How did you confirm a thing that isn’t true? If this is Yoshi lying, that’s just a dick move; she doesn’t even have anything to gain from it. It feels more like this was the dubbers not paying attention and missing the original’s meaning, which is very obviously that Yoshino was assuming based simply on the fact that Agumon went missing. But he didn’t actually attack the hamburger stand! Did they not even watch ahead to the rest of this episode to realise that?

Marcus: “Why’d you attack a hamburger stand?”

Marcus asks this of Agumon after finding him with his head dorkily stuck in a trashcan, not really all that close to the explosions and flames. Way to jump to freaking conclusions after basically just finding proof that Agumon isn’t the culprit, geez! …Though I suppose that can be partly blamed on Yoshi inexplicably insisting he definitely was.

Agumon: “Huh? I didn’t attack anything, but a hamburger sure sounds good!”

Agumon should not know what a hamburger is. Again with his dub version knowing more human things than he should.

Kudamon: “He hasn’t been tamed. I don’t understand why he’s fighting alongside human beings.”

This just makes no sense. What the hell does “tamed” even mean? Doesn’t it just mean “has become willing to work with humans”? Because if so, he evidently has been tamed, actually. Just sounds frustratingly like Kudamon trying to insist he Knows Better than this nobody kid, and I don’t think that’s meant to be his character.

Agumon: “Aniki! He’s really strong…!”

Masaru: “Doesn’t that just fire you up!?”

Agumon: “Y… yeah!”

~~~~~

Marcus: “No! Agumon!”

Agumon: “Boss! I’m fine, but could you lend a hand?”

Marcus: “Ha! How about I lend a couple of fists!?”

The dub’s version of this exchange is kinda still cute, but it loses that fun nuance that Masaru loves how strong their opponent is, and that Agumon is learning to agree with that idea thanks to him.

Yoshi: “That thing will tear you to pieces!”

See, here’s a way to avoid directly using the word “die” or “kill” while still making it clear that’s what she’s referring to, without awkwardly acting like humans can be “destroyed”.

Masaru: “When you’re in a man’s fight, you’re already risking your life! The moment you get scared of dying is the moment you’ve lost the fight!”

~~~~~

Marcus: “Besides, the ultimate fighter is always willing to make the ultimate sacrifice!”

This significantly changes the meaning here, and instead Marcus is apparently consciously willing to get himself killed if necessary, even though the kinds of fights he’s been in before really aren’t something that’s actually worth dying for at all. Masaru’s philosophy of acknowledging but then choosing to brush aside the potential risk in order to fight better makes more sense, because he’s not actually intending to die for anything.

The dub’s changed version of this line will also not work for the callback that the original line is going to get later in the series. I’d talk a lot more about why not, but, spoilers, so I’ll save that for then.

There’s a brief snippet of music here during the Anime Sads that appears to be a sad piano variation of Probably Marcus’s Theme, which feels appropriate. I don’t remember it from my one previous dub watch-through, but I hope it gets used in some of the future much more substantial moments of Marcus being sad about things.

Masaru: “You… How dare you hurt my follower!”

~~~~~

Marcus: “It’s… It’s fightin’ time!”

We also lose another future callback here. But on the other hand, “it’s fightin’ time!” is going to become Marcus’s catchphrase that he uses basically every time he fights (a dub-only catchphrase that Masaru has no equivalent of, and that I’m really pretty happy with), and this moment when he’s avenging Agumon getting hurt is definitely an appropriate moment for it to start being a thing.

The dub’s term for Digisoul is, instead, DNA. Luckily for the biologist in me, who would otherwise be tearing my hair out over this, this stands for something entirely different from deoxyribonucleic acid, because boy would it being that kind of DNA make absolutely zero sense. It’s still pretty awkward that it happens to be the same acronym as a commonly-known thing that it could easily be mistaken for, mind you.

I don’t know why they couldn’t just keep the term Digisoul, though. It’s a perfectly good term! It can’t even be that the dubbers have some kind of oh-no-religious-references objection to using the word “soul”, because that word is also in the dub’s opening song that we’ll be hearing every episode.

Old man: “By mastering this technique, your Digimon can Digivolve.”

Um, sure. The technique of waving your glowing hand over the Digivice is definitely something that needs to be “mastered”.

Marcus also yells “DNA Charge!” out of nowhere for the first time. But in his case, the old man never actually mentioned the word “charge” when telling him what to do here, so it’s even less clear how he knew that was what he was supposed to say.

Alas, the English dub does not dub the original evolution songs in Digimon. The evolution music instead is an instrumental version of the dub’s opening song, which, though I prefer Believer, is an acceptable replacement in terms of creating a similarly triumphant mood.

Marcus: “That’ll teach ya! Don’t mess with my employee!”

Oh my god, wow, way to completely unintentionally mood-whiplash the triumphant moment by reminding us that this huge powerful dinosaur is actually just your subordinate in the new small business you’ve set up here, Marcus. A small business of punching everything.

Agumon: “Aniki! I’m hungry!”

Masaru: “What the hell… That’s so anti-climactic…”

~~~~~

Agumon: “Boss! I’m hungry.”

Marcus: “What else is new? I’m just glad you’re safe.”

This addition is cute. Originally Masaru’s just referring to the anticlimax of Agumon devolving so fast.

Masaru: “How about going for a hamburger?”

Agumon: “Does that taste good?”

~~~~~

Marcus: “How about a nice hamburger?”

Agumon: “Ooh! With cheese, too?”

On the one hand, at least the dub remembered the fact that this Agumon somehow already knows what a hamburger is. On the other, this raises even more questions in terms of how he also knows that they can come with cheese.

Yoshino: “But that one’s already injured 13 students!”

~~~~~

Yoshi: “But Agumon still injured fifteen men!”

Remember how the original tried to calculate fifteen minus one and got thirteen? Well, the dub tried it and got fifteen. Somehow each of them managed to get this very simple sum wrong in a different way.

(And yes, the dub did also specifically have Lalamon sense fifteen humans at the park in the beginning. Actually, it flashes back here to a part where Yoshi was then relaying to HQ that there are fifteen victims, but that was before she saw that Marcus was still standing. I guess it’s plausible to assume that Yoshi herself forgot to subtract Marcus after that and this is her mistake rather than the writers. Not convinced that’s the case, though.)

Also, told you the dub would forget about the part in the beginning where Marcus yelled out within Yoshi’s earshot that he beat up the dudes.

Marcus: “Those were some punks claiming to be ultimate fighters who wanted to train in my area, so I fought them for it, and guess what, I won!”

This begs the question: how the hell is that park supposed to be Marcus’s training ground? Surely, it’d make most sense as a training ground if it was where people regularly come to challenge him to fights? Instead, he only fought the dudes there because he wanted to drive them away from his training ground, so that he can continue to train there, alone, in a perfectly ordinary park that isn’t a gym or anything like that. How is he supposed to train there without opponents? Does he just, like… punch the trees?

I understand if the dub wants to make Marcus have slightly less of a teenage delinquent vibe, but the resulting implications they have here instead are just amusingly nonsensical. It does not seem like they actually thought about this very hard at all.

Overall differences

Overall, the dub of this episode shows a pattern of things generally making a bit less sense and having a bit less nuance, and Marcus in particular being just a bit less interesting and distinctive than Masaru. This is going to be such a regular pattern for every single dub episode that I probably won’t even bother to remark on it in most of these summaries going forward.

In terms of more specific effect on how this episode comes across, I think the most noticeable shift is that the sense of Marcus’s empathy towards Agumon despite his species is watered down slightly. Perhaps most notably, Agumon did not become loyal to Marcus because Marcus treated him like a person, but instead just because he matched him in a fight, which is less meaningful.

The terms “boss” and “employee” also give something of a different vibe to their relationship than in the original. Obviously the dub had to localise “aniki” to something, but I don’t think this was the best choice. This’ll be a thing in every episode, of course, but I’m bringing it up here because this is where it starts.

Then there’s the part where one of Yoshi’s lines casually established that Agumon had never spoken before. As much as this doesn’t make any sense to be a thing – why would he not have spoken while being held in DATS? – I guess it makes it slightly more reasonable that DATS then sees him as just a monster? Though they should also be changing their tune quite quickly when they realise he can speak, which of course they don’t. I guess this could have been an attempt to justify the original’s issues with DATS’s attitude towards Agumon… but not a very effective one.

#digimon #digimon savers #digimon data squad

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sleepymccoy · 4 years

Text

Aziraphale’s demon aspect

As voted by 246 people!

The winner is

Owl

with nearly 26% of the primary vote

many people added in their free form answers that they were imagining a barn owl specifically

Owl was the front runner the whole way through this survey, but most of the time by a very beatable margin. The 40 or so people who voted in the last night really tipped it over, it was a tight race! And the results are crazy split imo, a quarter of votes constitutes a win! I love the different opinions and ideas we all have so so much

Ram/sheep came in a hearty second with 16.5% of the vote

A very regal demon there.

After that it gets a little murky, so I’m going to share the second graph I made when is every animal that got more than 1% of the vote. So it’s the top six animals

Magpie and Lion holding strong! Then Moth and Goat looking very good

The second question let you vote for as many options as you thought were appropriate for Aziraphale! So, there were a lot more write-ins! It’s crazy!

I’m using google sheets so I can’t get it to show you every name, but the raw data will be in a read more so you can scroll through everyone’s beautiful imagination there

Again, Owl winds with a solid 20% of the vote. Ram/Sheep coming in with about 15%, followed by Moth, Magpie, Goat, Lion, then Tortoise.

Tortoise was 11th in the first round, tied with Snake (but pale), and managed to surprise me by coming through so strong in the second. Slow and steady, baby.

Nearly everyone who wrote in about Magpies told me that Magpies hoard stuff, so it’s nice to see the hive mind at work there!

Five people told me they were voting goat because of that one piece of art by @hollow-head that shows Aziraphale scaling a bookshelf like goats do cliffs. As an artist myself I found it legitimately moving that this one image had stayed with people so strongly. That’s just beautiful. Here’s an example of just one person’s comment

idk dude i just remember one person posted art of him scaling the bookstore shelves like those goats scale mountains and just eating his clothes while he reads it was so fuckin funny but anyway goat eyes are great or he could have lil stubby horns that r covered by his hair

One moth enthusiast took the time to give me a short essay on their choice of moth. I have included a portion of it, cos it was so great

So if I had to choose an insect, it would be a moth, preferably a Megalopygidae, also known as the Flannel Moth. They are fluffy, white-beige and look innocent and fluffy, but their larvae can cause painful inflammations. A poodle moth would also fit because it's almost pure white.

Here’s a flannel moth for everyone

and a poodle moth, which i honestly thought was a hoax but i looked into it just now and it seems legit? There’s not a tonne of proof, but the og pictures are from a scientists who stands by them, so like, wow

And then a DIFFERENT PERSON put this in;

the moth i had in mind is Acherontia atropos, in polish called Zmierzchnica trupia główka (meaning more or less "dusk death's head"). i have a whole symbolism planned out and stuff

Fucking, moth fandom come through!!

I’m vaguely scared of moths, fun fact. I don’t like the thick thunking sound they make when they hit stuff.

Here is the second round but with all the animals that got four or less votes removed for ease of viewing

the one segment there at 12 o’clock that google hasn’t labeled for me is Swan at 0.9%

I cannot believe I didn’t put swan in as an option, that’s all write-ins

So, to summarise, I suggest you take a lot of this with a grain of salt. It is not meant as an instruction to fandom or to railroad creativity. I have a narrow corner of the Good Omens fandom that I interact with, and while this quiz was up for a week I’m not sure it reached a great variety of people. About 250 folks filled it out, which was tonnes more than I expected and I love each and every one of you for filling it out!! But I have noticed that Owl was first on my list and in the free form answers the example prompt I gave included, “such as a breed of owl that specifically speaks to you,“ so I think it’s possible I did that unknowing bias thing that practiced survey folk know now to do. So, grain of salt.

I also think that if animals like Swan and Cat were in the list of options they’d’ve gotten more votes because the people who voted for those were coming up with it fresh themselves. I suspect people would’ve voted for them, but it just didn’t occur to them in the moment. In much the same way it didn’t occur to me in the moment I was writing this survey.

So people know, I got the ten or so animals that I put in the survey from searching the demon!aziraphale tag on tumblr, so it was all stuff that other people had come up with. I was trying to avoid my own bias, but i think in hindsight i could’ve done better!

Having said all that, this was all so much fun and the results are clear!!! Love a good owl!aziraphale

Imma continue to draw my boy as a ram, though. Cos this was all just for a laugh <3

numbers and a few more things under the cut

So some of these have half a vote ascribed to them. That’s for people who in their freeform answer said things like this;

ngl, that one post about him being a swan still makes me laugh

Mourning Dove. Though that Scallop answer was fucking brilliant

And I kinda made a judgement call that that wasn’t a vote, but it was kind of a vote. So I gave them half a point.

There were a few situations where people would write in a specific species. If I got more than one vote for the root animal I just grouped them together, but if it stayed the only vote then it kept the species. Cat got the most specific species mentioned, and in the second vote Bat had a few species mentioned (albino bat being my fave), but I ended up grouping them all just under Cat and Bat to give them a better chance of getting on the graph. There were probably a few other examples but I can’t think of them. The one exception to this is the person who wrote-in Duolingo Owl specifically. For that one I figured Owl is already pretty solid, and that’s just fucking funny, man

I was also pretty generous about some stuff. So, this person didn’t vote for Moose but they clearly regretted it so I added a vote for Moose in the second one where you could vote for multiples. They kept their Ram and Goat votes, of course, but I added Moose for them

I get very bastard energy from my demon az headcanons. Like f-ing shit up for a laugh more than anything, but otherwise indifferent. That's kinda why I like the ram/sheep/goat thing so much because it reminds me of indifference and random chaos. Or a moose. Shit, I should have written in moose

So yeah, it’s hardly a double blind study that’d stand up to any real criticism, but it was fun and I think the essence of it is fun!! Scroll through and have a read. Imma pull a few more of my fave write-ins and put them down the bottom cos it’s great. Esp the ones that only got one vote, the reasonings were stellar on some of those

Here is the first vote results, where everyone could only vote for one animal each

Owl 63 Ram/Sheep 40 Magpie 28 Lion 26 Moth 21 Goat 17 Swan 4 Eagle 4 Dove 4 Cat 4 Tortoise 3 Snake 3 Scallop 2 Rat 2 Rabbit 2 Mongoose 2 Badger 2 Shima Enaga 1 Shark 1 Porcupine 1 Orangutan 1 Mouse 1 Long Furby 1 Hippopotomaus 1 Goose 1 Duck 1 Dragon 1 Cow 1 Cereberus 1 Boar 1 Bee 1 Bat 1 Alpaca 1

Second Vote results, where everyone could vote for as many as they wanted

Owl1 82 Ram/Sheep 136 Moth 108.5 Magpie 98 Goat 96 Lion 72 Tortoise 61 Snake 37 Eagle 33 Cat 9.5 Swan 7.5 Lizard 4 Rabbit 4 Badger 3 Mongoose 2 Dove 2 Mouse 2 Squirrel 2 Bear 2 Raccoon 2 Capybara 2 Dragon 2 Bat 1 Long Furby 1 Rat 1 Boar 1 Goose 1 Peacock 1 Pangolin 1 Lindworm 1 Moose 1 Chinchilla 1 Duolingo Owl 1 Cackatoo 1 Crow 1 Cow 1 Alpaca 1 Dodo 1 Shark 1 Big Dog 1 Snow Leopard 1 Scallop 0.5

All voting was optional. To help explain how scallop lost 1.5 votes from first to second, I believe the people who voted for it in the first question just skipped the second cos they’d said their bit.

In terms of how many people engaged with the questions, Q1 had 245 answers and one skip. Q2 had 241 answers and 5 skips, and Q3 where I just let people talk at me if they wanted to had 84 answers and 162 skips.

So please enjoy my selection of free form answers. They all made me smile but putting all 84 in seems excessive to me, so I’ve chosen the ones that are either full blown mini essays or that make me laugh. It’s still a lot, this project brought me so much joy

Shima enaga - It's the hair man

Cow (aka golden calf)

Scallop. He is a snack.

Swan. Elegant but very capable of fscking you up. Mates for life.

basically anything that is both gentle in nature and fiercely loyal, territorial and protective (but prone to anxiety). Also hedonistic esp. with food. For all of these reasons, I think a dog would be the best choice.

Dragon with his hoard of books

it’s about the teeth. just too sharp and too many to be human. (comment from op here, this person voted for shark, just for context)

Turkish Angora cat. Magnificently fluffy, incredibly intelligent, love heights and will jump off crazy high things and land on your head, gloriously dignified until they see a string and run into a wall, love one or maybe two persons to distraction and want everyone else to fuck off, will drape themselves over their person’s shoulders and go to sleep, range from “will jump in the sea to hunt fish and has a murder pit full of seagulls they’ve massacred” to “will fall over at the sight of a baby bird”, very particular about food and will yell at you if you get it wrong. Also the breed that some asshole took three cats from and bred parent to child to make Persians. The cautionary tale has been acknowledged and we love our crazy smart, single braincelled children.

I usually imagine him as an owl because they are nocturnal (and we know that Aziraphale can easily stay awake the whole night reading). Also the image of an owl puffed up is kind of ridiculous and reminds me of him, of how an annoyed Aziraphale would look. However the options above have made me think that a lion would suit him very well, too. A lion or just a very BIG cat. I mean, he makes pleading eyes to get what he wants, likes to be confortable, is a bit of a bastard and often puts himself in awkward situations from which he needs to be rescued. He just... acts very cat-like in my opinion. Also owls and cats are both predators, but are usually imagined (or, at least cats are) as cute little creatures, just like Aziraphale is an Angel of the Lord (a Warrior, actually) but looks all soft and cute and huggable. I dunno. Maybe I just want to pet an Aziracat.

I love all the other people's thoughts about demon!Aziraphale, but what about the honey badger? I try to explain why I have it in mind for demon!azi: its name (I think it's funny, expecially in English because 'honey' can make you imagine it's something sweet (it is for me), while the 'bad' in badger can be an alarm bell (like 'be careful! It is not like it seems!')); its face (ok, who can say its face isn't cute? I think, and hope, nobody can, and like the name, it is a misunderstanding: as always, be careful, it's not like it seems!, I think demons can say something about demon!azi as like "you don't seem like a 'good' demon, you can't be, your face (animal and human) is too f-ing disgusting sweet to be a demon!", I think maybe even angel!crowley, at the beginning, can think something like this ("how in the world somebody so cute like you can be a demon?"), then he discovered how demon!azi can be a very talented demon sometimes, but in Crowley's mind azi is still his little cutie angry furry); its furry's colour (black=demon, white/grey/silver/idkitsname= color of demon!azi's wings, because even if he fell, I can't say no to his white wings 😭); it is a snake's predator (and in my mind angel!crowley is still a snake); its solitary life (demon!aziraphale is alone and he doesn't mind it, unless it's angel!crowley we're talking about, then our cute demon minds it); its behaviour (demon!azi, even if he's cute, can be a really very talented demon: honey badger is fearless and dangerous, it can fight bigger animals if there aren't other chances and it can't escape); its skin is very tough (except for a soft/safe spot, behind its neck if I remember well, that only angel!Crowley knows and sometimes he uses it to calm demon!azi down or make azi do some good deeds); its diet (it has a sweet-thooth, for honey in primis, but it can eat everything it wants... Doesn't it resemble demon!azi?); it's smart (search for Stoffle on your browser if you don't know)... Ok,I think I finish, sorry for the novel 😅

I tend to think of animals that meet three criteria: (1) they exemplify “faults” in his character exaggerated to “sins”—gluttony, greed/hoarding, sloth, (2) they are species that favor fawning or flight as a defense mechanism but can also be bold on occasion, and (3) blend very well or have a keen affinity with human society, specifically thriving in urban (i.e., city) environments. This is mostly because I can’t see “Aziraphale” in a reverse AU that doesn’t preserve some of his core traits as an angel (a little hedonistic, hoarding, anxious, etc.). So I like city-dwelling bastard animals with bonus points for relation to scripture, like a rock dove or a fox or an owl.

Owls aren't smart, and the pedant in me says not an owl. But, thinking on it, demon aspect, owls are perceived as smart, but designed as deadly silent predators, patient and solitary. So actually demon Aziraphale could take on more owlish aspects. I just like cockatoo better, since they are smart, and showy. Or a crow, although that does amusing things with Crowleys name.

god imagining him as a chimera is !!! (comment from op, there was this odd flurry of mythical animals being voted for one night. i think the survey hit a corner of fandom that leans that way. there was also dragon, another chimera, a griffon, and a lindworm all at the same rough time)

Magpies are great because they’re cute and fluff themselves up (go look at Sophie the magpie) and like hoarding their favorite things but also I’ve watched one just straight up kill another bird before because corvids are sneaky little bastards with no lack of a mean streak if they’re crossed

It’s the duolingo owl, I’m so sorry op but it just is. I genuinely don’t mean to clown on your post, but this take was delivered to me in a sleep induced haze and I believe it’s the god given truth. Demon Aziraphale WOULD try to make you learn a dead language and he’d go about it in a vaguely threatening way (comment from op, you’re so fucking right dude. also, shit like this is made for clowning, i’m with you 100%)

When choosing a demon aspect for a Aziraphale, I usually tried to keep in mind the artistic tradition of which animals are linked with demons. The Good Omens team seems to have drawn inspiration from that source because all the animals we do see are either reptilian or insectoid. Those species were often shown inhabiting hellish landscapes in Renaissance and Baroque paintings. However, Aziraphale never struck me as cold or slimy or hard like an exoskeleton. So if I had to choose an insect, it would be a moth, preferably a Megalopygidae, also known as the Flannel Moth. They are fluffy, white-beige and look innocent and fluffy, but their larvae can cause painful inflammations. A poodle moth would also fit because it's almost pure white.

Ok so the only reason I pick magpie is because those bastards are smart as hell but also know how and when to inconvenience the shit out of you, and if you gain their trust then they're absolute darlings but if they decide "nah, dont like ya" then you're basically done and you'll wake up every morning with shit on your car window. I also chose sheep/ram cuz I mean... idk it suits him. I don't remember my other choice but I'm sure I had a good reason.

I feel like a barn owl would suit him well but I'm not really sure why, I also think that a moth would suit him really well because of the whole "moth to a flame" thing and as a demon he would have gotten burned because of that attitude.

I write a reverse AU fic called Lambs to the Slaughter where Aziraphale's demonic aspect is an albino sheep! I imagine him as a mix between a wild Argali ram and the first woolly domestics. I chose an Argali because they're the largest species of wild sheep, but I wanted him to have traits of a domestic breed because he obtains his animal aspect from a sheep in Abel's flock which would be several generations down from the original wild species in Eden. I really think a sheep suits Aziraphale! They're an incredibly common animal and have been since they were first domesticated. Likewise, since the start of human history, Aziraphale has been living side-by-side with humans, providing for them, and protecting them. Due to how common they are, sheep are often unnoticed, which Aziraphale leans into. Crowley wants to stand out. He has a dedicated aesthetic and an obsession with human invention, where Aziraphale leans more towards simpler, known things and creature comforts. He fades into the background, and that suits him fine. He doesn't have to be outstanding to Heaven or to humans or even to Crowley -- it's enough to do his part, to trust in a bigger plan. People associate sheep (especially lambs) with innocence or ignorance which foils nicely to Crowley as the serpent tempting with knowledge, as well as with Aziraphale's own sharp mind and ongoing embers of faith in a system that is failing him, Crowley, and all of humanity. Sheep are, like Aziraphale, soft, cute, and hiding a hard-headed stubbornness and a surprising strength that makes them absolutely fearsome. Aziraphale is very much the sort to put his head down and push relentlessly forward regardless of the pressure and strain. Rams in particular have thick skulls to withstand the brutal force of headbutting one another in displays of dominance. While Aziraphale is clever, he's not above rolling up his sleeves and getting the job done, as messy and unpleasant as it might be (see: pulling a gun on the Antichrist). Also sheep are associated with Pan, a god associated with food, music, theatre, and the criticism thereof, which hit many of Aziraphale's personal interests and hobbies! I like the idea that in a reverse AU, the demon formerly named Aziraphale might be the original basis for Pan!

I wrote in Orangutan for the first question because if I remember correctly they are some of the most violent apes. Although I'd accept bonobo for him too. They fuck alll the time.

mothman aziraphale,,,,, thats it

Snowy owl, speremint's tortoise, and I just adore the goat.

moth - dusty and eats books

Long Furby the way Loni-Capri draws it.

I keep thinking about that Black Philip quote "doest thou wish to live deliciously" because... it fits so much with the general epicurean/hedonism vibe the Fandom has for him ... but in a demonic way and also I think a lot abt that art piece (already referenced many times probably but what the hell) of him climbing his own bookshelves, it's just so good!!

Albino Lion/white lion (matches his hair). I feel like maybe I should explain why I think Lion would fit him best, lol. Lions actually are rather sedate, inactive for 20 hours of the day (see: Aziraphale reading and unmoving- yes I pulled wiki for this to make sure I didn't spout anything terribly wrong, shhh) but also there's nomad lions. Lions that range widely and move around sporadically either alone or in pairs (*looks at Crowley after apoconope*) (pairs are more frequent among males who have been excluded from their birth pride) but also I think of lions as protectors, defenders, and what is Aziraphale if not that? If not an angel who fiercely protects humans, crowley, earth? (When he finally overcomes heaven and it's abuse) lions don't hunt unless they're hungry, don't attack unless they're defending. They've been known to sit directly next to jeeps full of people and just watch them, not attacking or being aggresive.

I saw art once (I have no idea who the artist is) of Demon!Aziraphale climbing his bookcases like a goat and absentmindedly chewing on his sweater while he reads. I felt like the goat aspect suited him perfectly.

Honestly I wrote Az with a rat aspect because, well, it fits who I see demon Az as. He's not super powerful but he is very consequential, like rats carrying plague fleas (this also describes how I see Az tempting). He tries to blend into a crowd, which is arguably one way rats survive, and can get himself into places/situations that should be impossible or super difficult. Like snakes, rats have been unfairly maligned by our culture for a long time, even though they are very social with their colonies, smart, affectionate, and generally good beans. Finally, male pet rats are known far and wide as the lazier of the sexes while the girls are super curious and adventurous.

Somehow his tartan pattern becomes either his colour scheme or his coat/feather pattern.

Eurasian eagle owl. A big, unapologetic grump of an owl that is soft as soft can be underneath. Possessor of the glare to end all glares to be used in such dire situations as being interrupted when reading or being told one has "had enough cake".

#demon!aziraphale #reverse omens #sleepy speaks #fandom vote #aziraphale's demon aspect #this was so fucking fun you all

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themuseic · 3 years

Text

Only Fools (Chapter 10)

(Art Credit: @clumsycopy)

Fic Summary: Sent to Boone County, West Virginia on an assignment, you find yourself engulfed your work. How could you possibly find time for anything else? Even if “anything else” includes the tall, kind, and handsome bartender from down the road?

Word Count: 2.4k

Read Chapter 9 here.

Read here on AO3.

Warnings: Couples Argument, Self Sabotage, Negative Feelings, Swearing, the angst has begun.

A/N: This chapter is a bit of a sad one, take care of yourselves and please mind that and the warnings!

You were starting to realize just how long you had been in Boone County.

You had lived through Boone’s shift from fall to winter, and you were beginning to feel the air change as it steadily approached spring. When you had arrived, you thought it was only going to be a few weeks. This was much longer than you thought.

It wasn’t as if you were itching to leave. The Logan clan had become fast friends of yours, and Clyde was much more than that. The trailer was comfortable with him and the data that you were pulling from the West Virginia forests was far more informative than you had hoped for.

But you just couldn’t seem to shake the idea that leaving was inevitable because well… it was.

~~~

It was late January, not too long after you and Clyde had created your own little piece of forever with a trail cam, that you noticed that you had become comfortable.

And that just wouldn’t do.

It was unconscious, how you dealt with that realization. But you found yourself slowly starting to distance yourself from Clyde. You didn’t want to hurt him, but you knew that if you kept on the way you had been acting, it was going to be that much harder to leave, to deal with the inevitable finality of your relationship.

You stopped doing your work at The Duck Tape first. Truthfully, it was probably better for your productivity to not find yourself at the bar every night, but that in and of itself was the first step in setting your distance with Clyde. The first time you told him that you’d stay at the trailer that night, he pouted, as was his signature move, but he didn’t complain. “Whatever y’need darlin’,” he drawled. “Duck Tape’ll be there for y’ whenever your work’s done.” With that assurance, he was out the door, and you were left alone on the trailer couch.

You never made it to the Duck Tape that night.

You started to make excuses when he wanted to have a date night. There was always more work to be done or you weren’t feeling well enough to go out.

And you especially made sure to remind him that you had to leave when he would plan for the future. He would start talking about “next winter” the two of you would go on a sleigh ride, or how “at the next summer barbeque” he would show you how he, Jimmy, and Joe figured out just how high they could shoot off the biggest fireworks in Boone County. It was sweet really, but every prediction for the future tugged at your heart. With a laugh and a smile, you would remind him softly, “Of course, if I’m around.”

The only thing he wouldn’t budge on was accompanying you out on the trail. No matter how often you insisted that you would be alright and that it was just a quick hike out, he wouldn’t relent. He was by your side every hike, ready to pull down the cameras and pass you snacks whenever you needed. It was sweet, and it made your efforts to drive a rift in your relationship that much harder.

But you did try.

~~~

The arrival of February meant the snow began to let up. Well, at least let up a little. The massive storm that had rolled in over three days left the tips of the mountains and trees blanketed in a thick layer of snow. The whole expanse of the land was so white, it was nearly glowing. The light flakes drifted from the sky steadily and swirled, danced even, outside the window at the head of the bed in the trailer.

You were reclined on the plush pillows just underneath the window, your head tilted back and your arms straining how you held your phone above you, scrolling mindlessly. Silly videos and updates from distant friends flew past your eyes as you flew through the newsfeed that never seemed to have an end.

Clyde putzed around the room, messing with stacks of books and tossing out of place socks into the hamper as if he was playing a game of basketball with himself. He had taken the night off to take care of some errands around the trailer, Jimmy so graciously covering the bar. Out of the corner of your eye, you spied him grab the hem of the curtains on the window of the bedroom and pull them out to get a good view of the pattern.

“Think these curtains are due for an upgrade. What d’you think?” Clyde pondered, his head tilting to the side as he took in the fabric he grasped in his hand.

You shrugged noncommittally, barely looking up from your phone. “Not really.”

Clyde pouted lightly. “Nah really, you got any curtains you might like?”

“Clyde, it’s your house. I don’t want you to change things on my account.” Clyde waved his hand.

“Now that’s alright sweetheart, it’s your home too. I want you to feel comfortable here, make it yours a bit.”

You shrugged. “Well, it’s not like I’ll be here much longer anyway.”

A few beats passed before you realized that Clyde was frozen in place. You could see the tension that splintered through his muscles from where you lay. His knuckles were white against the fabric he clenched in his hand. You lifted your head from the pillow and clicked your phone shut. “I’m just being honest-”

He cut you off. “Why do you always have to do that?” Clyde muttered under his breath, his gaze fixated on the curtain. His back was mostly to you, but he was just so slightly turned and his hair tumbled around his face in thick, messy strands. Beneath the surface of his voice simmered confusion and hurt so thick, it was nearly tangible. You could hear how it tinted his voice with an accidental venom you had never heard from Clyde before.

You stopped, cautious to approach or push him further. You dug the heel of your palm into the bed to sit up and lean towards him. Was he shaking? Or were you?

“Clyde, what are you talking about?” you whispered.

Even though he was turned from you, you could see how deep his pout had split his face. He dropped the fabric from his hand and his arm fell to his side, clenched in a fist. He exhaled low. “You always gotta remind me that you’re leaving,” he muttered, shaking his head ever so slightly.

You chewed your lip. “Well… I mean, I am.”

Clyde huffed in indignation and scoffed. Your brow knit together and your mouth fell open in confusion. “Clyde, I mean… I just don’t want you to get too comfortable with me being here,” you sputtered, trying to explain your point without hurting him more. From the way he swung around, face red and muscles tensed, you knew you had failed spectacularly.

“Why can’t we just be happy? While you’re here?” Clyde shouted, whipping his hair around with his face. His chest heaved as he took in another furious breath. “You always have t’ tell me you’re leavin’ soon, that you don’t want to be comfortable.” He unflexed and clenched his fist. “Can’t you just let yourself be happy for once?” Clyde remained planted in place, but his arms flailed in question.

You were so far past stunned. You were floored. You had never heard Clyde speak like this, to you or anyone else.

What hurt you worse was that he had never even mentioned that your candid honesty upset him so much. You gaped your mouth like a dying fish, attempting to grasp and wrangle the words to respond that just would not come.

“Well?” he shrugged, waiting for some kind of response. Any response.

You sputtered. “Clyde, I am happy! I just don’t want to get comfortable! Why make it harder than it has to be when I have to leave?” you explained as your eyes darted around the room, trying to make sense of the argument.

He laughed, the noise hollow and empty. “Doesn’t mean you can’t just let yourself be here, be in the moment.” He shook his head and reached his hand up to card through his hair.

“But I don’t have to live with my head in the clouds and ignore the future.” Your breath caught. You regretted the words the minute they left your lips. “I don’t mean-” you started. Clyde cut you off.

“I do everything for you! And you can’t even give a little?”

You stilled immediately. You cleared your throat. “Clyde. Are you fucking joking?” you seethed, seeing red. Your fists were tight balls at your side, and there was a telltale tightness in your chest that you tried to breathe through.

“Well, it’s the truth,” he spat, his fists tensing themselves.

“You knew what the deal was. That this was temporary. I told you not to expect anything.”

Clyde huffed. “That was months ago, and y’know that. You said weeks. S’been months.” He shook his head and stared at the floor. “Pardon me for thinkin’ somethin’ must’ve changed,” he spat, growled even. His twang thickened the angrier he became.

“Clyde, I can’t stay here forever. I have a job, a life-”

“And I don’t?” Clyde stared you down, his mouth gaped open. His jaw clenched shut and he rolled his tongue around his teeth, his eyebrows raised high as he looked down his nose at the ground.

“You know I didn’t mean that.”

“I don’t know, I think y’did.” Clyde looked at you through the part of his thick black hair that tumbled around his face. He ran his hand down the length of his face, dragging his skin down and a groan from his chest. He shook his head, almost as if he was clearing his thoughts.

“Did y’forget that when you leave, I don’t? I’m gonna hurt either way. Y’get to go run off, doin’ god knows what, and you just get to cut ties with me. You’re protecting yourself. What about me?” Clyde’s voice was soft, but his words were deafening.

You could feel your heart trying to leap out of your chest. Your hands shook and you exhaled long and low. The trembling in your lip was overwhelming, but you pushed past it to spit your next words out.

“You know what Clyde? Fuck you. Don’t worry about coming tomorrow.”

“Don’t be fuckin’ ridiculous, I’m not lettin’ you go out alone,” he scoffed at you. He shook his head.

“No,” you spat, your lips wet with tears. “I’m serious.”

Clyde groaned. “Fine. Do whatever y’want.” He turned on his heel and left the room, leaving you sitting on the bed, alone.

You sat in place for a minute, unsure of what had happened. Your body was numb, your thoughts were a jumbled mess that you couldn’t make heads or tails of. Threads of composure held you together, and you knew you were going to fall apart any minute. You knew you couldn’t stay any longer.

Tears streaming down your face, you lept from the bed and began to stuff your clothes into your canvas bag, zipping it shut immediately to stalk towards the door. A part of you hoped Clyde would stop you, that he would protest your leaving.

The protest never came.

You flew out of the trailer in a whirlwind of breath, motion, and fury, and snapped the flimsy screen door back against the wall. You barely processed the chill of the air as it whipped around your face, and the blinders of your rage kept you from being able to appreciate the white blanket of snow that dusted the bushes in the front yard. The mechanical noises of the car unlocking rang through the otherwise silent expanse of the woods surrounding Clyde’s home.

You flung your belongings into the passenger seat as you slid behind the wheel and threw the car into drive. Foot slammed against the brake, you frantically tried to wipe at the rearview mirror, the view out of it cloudy and blurry. No matter how hard you swiped at the surface, nothing changed. Exasperated, you blinked your eyes hard and pushed the stalled drops of water over your lash line. Your vision cleared.

You dragged your arm across your eyes and flicked the water into the endless expanse of your car, immediately throwing the car into reverse as soon as you could see. The gravel flew in different directions as the wheels of the car picked them up, desperate to put distance between the trailer and yourself. No sound came from the trailer behind you. No indication that Clyde had followed you out. It didn’t matter. You wouldn’t look back to check.

The trailer disappeared from the rearview mirror the moment you turned onto the main highway. But you hadn't looked at it since you had driven away.

~~~

The hotel near the Duck Tape was in the same state as you had last seen it. With creaking doors and dripping faucets, not much had changed since your last stay there. The lady at the front counter barely looked at you as she handed you your room key, but you wouldn’t have known either way. Your vision was still clouded with tears that wouldn’t fall anymore, no matter how hard you tried to make them vacate your eyes.

You flung the door open with little regard for how hard it slammed back, and you jiggled the lock shut. The dusty air of the hotel room was freezing. You didn’t care. Peeling off your clothing, you slipped into the cold, hard bed and shimmied the scratchy vellux blanket up to your chin.

The cracked and peeling ceiling had never been so interesting to you before. You stared up at it, unblinking. You had hoped you would be unfeeling as well, but you were overwhelmed with a pain that you had never felt before. It was a sharp, invisible strain that shot through your fingers, toes, and heart. Your eyes squeezed shut, forcing the small droplets that lingered in your eyes down your face to collect in your ears and you pulled a rattling, shuddering breath into your lungs as you sniffed quietly into the darkness.

Your stare broke from the ceiling as you turned onto your side and stared out the window. The familiar red glow from the Duck Tape’s sign lit the sky up through the sheer curtain, and you sighed. In an effort to seek enough dark to fall asleep, you pulled the linens up and over your head. It was colder than you remembered it being. You closed your eyes as your breath began to even out and the crinkled lines of your forehead smoothed.

Sleep found you eventually.

~~~

A/N (Part 2!!): SORRY I HOPE THE VALENTINES FESTIVITIES PERK YOU UP LOVE YALL

Taglist: @mind-p0llution @thedivinemissm @clydesducktape @finn-ray-nal-beads @ladygrey03 @desiraypark @1800-fight-me @aloneandsleepless @hopeamarsu @kkysolo @clumsycopy @mylifeisactuallyamess @daydreamsofren @mariesackler (Comment or message me to be added or removed!)

#clyde logan x reader #clyde logan x you #only fools #logan lucky #my writing

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skyholders · 4 years

Text

Lucien: Passing By [Rumours & Secrets]

This translation contains DETAILED SPOILERS of Season Two of MLQC- Proceed with caution!

NOTE: This Rumours and Secrets tells the happenings of what happens after MC left for the other world, leaving Lucien in the OG world to prepare for the “Second Birth of Life.”

P.S: Apologies for any grammatic or spelling mistakes I have missed. Some minor details are added to this translation to make it less confusing.

Section One

[1/6]

It was very quiet in the streets, quieter than Lucien thought. His hand(s) reached into the pockets of his coat, and, unhurried, he walked towards where it was usually the most lively in the streets. A large, yellow truck was abandoned amidst the road, filled with furnitures like an old wooden rocking chair, a bookcase without half of a pair of frosted glass doors; toys stuffed and huddled into large plastic bags- seems like the truck of a moving company.

Lucien couldn’t piece the phrases together, 'end of the world', 'moving', 'abandoned truck'. They seem to have no connection among them to formulate a believable story. He stood in front of the truck, thinking of the time when he’d first moved in next to the girl.

[2/6]

Lucien is a rather minimalistic man: When he’s moving, he’ll only bring along his collection of books, his computer, and other necessities. Packing up doesn’t require more than seven boxes, and with the moving company's employees' skills, everything will be moved within two trips up and down the apartment. The night has grown very dark, Lucien stood in the middle of the road.

[3/6]

A gust of wind blew against his bangs. He sudden thought of how pleasant the weather was the day he moved. He’d lifted his head up to the sun as he drove, looking towards the sky above him. The sun was hidden behind a layer of clouds then, yet it still burned the eyes and sizzled the heads of many.

The moving company’s supervisor had a white towel hung across his shoulder, using it to dab the sweat off of his face occasionally. He said hello, chatted briefly. He smiled, saying how little he’s brought with him, and how customers like him are quite the rarity. After all, who doesn’t bring their life along with them when they move?

“I’m afraid it’ll be quite inconvenient, I can always purchase them once more after I’ve settled in,”- That’s what he said to the man.

[4/6]

As time went by, there were certainly many new additions to his home. However, most of them are gifts the girl’s gifted him. From a small cartoon memo, to a big, soft pillow, among other intriguing decorations.

He thought of the girl’s expressions when she first walked into his living room, a sort of timid politeness- not daring to look around too much, not daring to look at him any longer as well- like an innocent little bunny, entering the predator's trap willingly and without any bit of caution.

However, the little bunny soon familiarized herself with him, happily bouncing about around his life, trimming the leaves of his plants occasionally, never once leaving without assuring his fridge was filled with food. She liked to read while laying against the rug next to the floor to ceiling window, her legs dangling about. And she would have fallen asleep by sunset, where a seemingly miraculous golden hue coated her dress and her hair.

[5/6]

Those memories, seemingly distant, yet close enough to grasp, they came without warning. As it turns out, he remembers every little thing so vividly.

There was a foreign light dancing in his eyes, and yet, when he looked around, he couldn’t see a single thing. The buildings around him had no lamps or lights, they stood along the road, two roads facing one another, looking as if they’ll collapse anytime soon.

The end of the long road's an endless darkness, like an abyss raised from the grounds, with not a bit of light able to pass through it.

It’s only him, and the hems of his white coat being blown by the wind, contrasting against the night, thick with darkness.

[6/6]

A group of comets left brilliant trails among the sky, and he stopped looking, walking towards the pressing darkness in front of him.

Half an hour later, he stood in front of the Highest Bioscience Research Centre.

Section Two

[1/6]

Lucien noticed the weeds and shallow puddles of water in front of the gates.

He was also here when the research centre was under renovations, and it almost looked the same, if not for the taller grass, and little earthworms in the mud- Abandoned, ruined without a trace of humanity, yet brimmed with liveliness.

Life will always create all sorts of surprises in every little way, and life will never seem to be erased.

Lucien stepped over the shadowed silhouette of a branch filled tree, and pushed the doors of his research centre open.

[2/6]

There’s probably no one in there, perhaps there won’t be anyone else.

Without the lights, the hallway seemed long and narrow. Lucien walked along it, his leather shoes echoed as they hit the marble floors, creating an almost sinking sound to the malicious space.

He didn’t inspect each and every laboratory, instead, he walked straight to his own office- he still had one more thing to complete.

[3/6]

The hanging pot of orchids beside his window had completed wilted, its long branches reduced to a sick, black and yellow hue, falling down onto the floor from high above. It was quite a determined little thing, it only needed a little bit of sunlight to survive. He’d always forget that he needed to care for them, but the girl will always think of them. She loved caring for them, buying them all sorts of nutrients

.Many praised him, saying how rare it was, to see orchids raised as beautiful as those.

It’s always been a species that’s learned how to survive under minimal care, but under her nurture, it could grow its branches and leaves comfortably under gentle winds, it could breathe freely under the sun, could crawl freely far from ground- it had the chance to live with such contentment.

[4/6]

Lucien pulled his chair, and unknowingly sat on the wilted leaves of the hanging orchid.

After entering the password for the data storage unit, Lucien browsed through the information he’d stored with his own special method.

[5/6]

In the silence of the office, there was only the clear sound of a keyboard being used. The screen reflected upon Lucien’s eyes, as countless lines of data rolled over the screen, not worthy of being read. His eyebrows furrowed, lips sealed to a tight line. He’d spent countless hours researching of it, and it’s been clear, through numerous repeated experiments, that there aren’t any abnormalities or differences between the gene of an EVOLVER and an ordinary human being. The truth these data revealed had halted any further research, but even so, one thing’s for certain: The information he’d taken (out of) from BLACK SWAN was not complete.

He’d even argue there was only half of it.

[6/6]

He’d been delaying it for far too long. He must immediately find and acquire the lost vital information, and uncover the most important secret hidden among these data, he had to do it now.

Section Three

[1/8]

The Highest Bioscience Research Centre.

Lucien’s familiar with every corner of the place. When it was being reconstructed, it’d only gone through the most basic of renovations. There wasn’t any changes towards the information units, and all the data stored in them remained the same. In this period of time, he’d almost stripped down every drawer, every layer of every bookcase, and yet, it’s proven to be fruitless...Not truly so, however.

He found something wrapped in old newspaper, sitting hidden in the lowest layer of a bookcase. Upon unwrapping it, he was stunned- ten pieces of 5.25 inch and 3.5 inch disks, each stored in a plastic container, with a red date tag stuck on them.

[2/8]

Lucien was curious. He found an old computer in the storage room, and inserted the disk into the empty drive. The computer still had a CRT display, the mouse still had a little roller in it. And when filed were being transferred, the computer would make an odd, clicking sound.

He selected the files in the disk, files which showed many experimental results cramped together neatly in numerous rows.

Bioscience, every since this branch of science has been established, there’s been countless scientists putting all efforts into finding ways to advance further. Even with differing views, even with differences among their specialties, they’ll willingly dedicate themselves into the field with every bit of their passion. Lucien mindlessly explored through all of them, from the first disk to the last, there were a total of twelve years of experimental results recorded in them.

[3/8]

Those were twelve years of a researcher’s life.

Lucien didn’t know why he’d thought of all of those things all a sudden.

He stood in front of the window, looking towards the big beam of light from the horizon- the first batch of comets had hit the surface of the earth, the second batch should arrive forty five minutes later.

He entered a deep state of thought.

[4/8]

A soft disk has the storage of 1.44 gigabytes, and has the capacity of 700000 words, where as a regular disk has the storage of up to 700 gigabytes, and with that in mind, it’s possible to store as many GB as you want in one single removable disk., or in a USB. If the 'other half' of the missing information are mixed within these things, simply thrown in random corners of this building, who can possibly find it?

If it were him, he wouldn’t do it- any digitally stored content has the risk of being damaged.

[5/8]

Even then, seventeen years ago, when digital technology has reached a level that’s beyond imaginable, as long as it’s a piece of data stored in a computer, then there will be the absolute possibility of a person finding the information they need in a short amount of time.

Not to mention, KEY was still there seventeen years ago. The hacker’s appearance is a guarantee that every information stored digitally can be found. Reality has proven so.

Lucien’s gaze shifted, as he walked towards the deepest end of the corridor- and into the database room.

[6/8]

There, all of the data were organised and stored according to their dates. Lucien took out an old report, sealed in a brown paper envelope from 17 years ago. He read slowly. Even though the handwriting was quite messy, and the drafts and diagrams drawn haphazardly, he still read them with his full attention. The sound of pages being turned over filled each corner of the room. There were only thirty pages of reading materials, yet it took him half an hour to go through them.

Finally, he stopped at one particular page. Tearing it down, he brought it up towards the light. The paper was thin, yet it blocked it.

He’d found it.

[7/8]

The paper was made of two individual pages, someone had skillfully glued the two pages together, creating a secret layer. The trick was one as old as time. It’s hard to imagine that anyone would use a trick like this to store information in a time where information can be kept digitally. It took Lucien quite a while to tear the pages apart, using a small screwdriver to take out a piece of paper kept in the middle.

It’s small, around B5 in size, and it was very light. Its corners have begun to yellow with time, and the center of the paper was ever so slightly wrinkled, perhaps having been soaked in some sort of liquid. It was a poorly done work, as it’s left its traces.

Lucien handled it once more, and finally, he unraveled the mystery.

[8/8]

The information on the slip of paper was yet another data of genes, yet its structure's slightly different from that of a modern human's gene. It’s been given many question marks for many decades, and for that, Lucien made a bold deduction. It’s written on the back of the paper as well, the same theory inked in a fountain pen- The Prehistoric Civilization.

Lucien knew, that the tiny paper may perhaps be the very foundation of his research centre, the meaning of its postcode existence. It’s the passion project, the effort and time spent by researchers from one decade to another, all for the desire of seeking the truth among the world.

The secrets carried with it was perhaps heavier than the data of every genetic information of all human beings.

Section Four

[1/9]

Lucien knew that humanity's traces were undergoing an eradication, as when the comets have impacted the Earth, its explosions have formed tsunamis- obliterating countless cities and large museums, palaces and cathedrals, skyscrapers and all the wonders alike.. nothing could escape as big of an inevitable as that.

A notification from his phone rang in the silence of the night, pulling him away from his thoughts. He didn’t imagine that anyone would contact him at all.

[2/9]

“The Seedlings Project's*” researchers have sent him the final observation report. Even if the group of young people have always felt that they should be crippled with fear, burying in pain, in tears upon the awakening of a disaster as big as this, they’d still hang onto their researches.

Lucien did not open his email, instead, for the first time in forever, he clicked on the messaging app instead- as expected, the group of researchers have been keeping in contact with one another in their moments. He was unexpected hit with a wave of those researchers' beliefs and values: They were still hanging on, smiling and joking about, and at the same time, they’re working as hard as they can.

Lucien opened the email, and absorbed the contents of the three thousand word report in one go. After a short while, he responded with a “Thank you for the hard work.”

He lifted his head up, looking at the device in front of him.

[3/9]

The dream recording device.

Under the cold of the light, his expression seemed much too calm.

The information's complete.

The secret files BLACK SWAN had been hiding with every bit of effort, the progress and results of the research centre's years of research, they’re right in front of him. Even if Lucien does not have any proof, even if he’s unable to testify on his own verdicts and hypotheses, for he’s running out of time, and does not have a chance to settle on a solid conclusion through numerous procedures and experiments.

[4/9]

At that moment, he’ll have to trust on his own instincts. To believe in the girl that’s already left- left the road that’s already so close to its end, waiting for her to unravel a new scene, a new future. He does not disapprove of this idea at all, he’s a scientist- he accepts any sort of possibilities, however improbable they may be.

Anything that hasn’t been proven has the chance to be true.

She can do it, and she will do it. He’s determined to believe in her, and because of it, he’ll have to be prepared for any possibility that lies ahead.

There’s something he must leave. Something that will seem obvious.

[5/9]

To be frank, he’s rather worried of the girl.

Even if she’s grown to be rather strong and independent, however brilliant she may be, he still remembers the pair of innocent eyes. The fact that he is unable to walk along with her on her journey makes him feel rather unsettling.

She’s only left for the other world a few hours ago, yet he’s starting to miss her already.

And when he felt that sense of longing, the person he’s longing for is already out of reach.

[6/9]

He lifted his hand to the left side of his chest, feeling the rise of the familiar rhythm. Lucien felt himself being more honest to his own feelings than he did in the past. He wondered what sort of a smile the girl would give if he told her that. Will it be comforting? Or will it be as if an eruption of joy? Or will her cheeks flush a shy shade of red, as she steps a little closer towards him?

Time did not stop its pace, the silent countdown reached its final few moments.

[7/9]

Around a hundred comets flew across the ozone layer, more magnificent than any other view, a scene unable to be described with words; unable to be captures fully with any form of expressions. Lucien thought that he was very lucky to be able to witness such a scene. He’s not an astronomer, but he knew, for the past centuries, countless astronomers had held up their telescope, aimed towards a place further than the sky, beyond the horizon, just to have a chance to witness how these stars morph into crushed pieces of rubble, how they form, how they’ll react as they sink into the ozone layer, its explosion as it collides.

Humanity was formed by a single spark. Humanity’s extinction was brought on by a single spark. Nature has always had a sequence.

And he will keep holding onto this sequence.

[8/9]

Another piece of a comet fell onto the range of mountains a hundred kilometers away from Loveland City, its steam igniting the night as it set the forest on fire. Following tightly behind it, was yet another group of comets brought by the night.

“The next time we meet..”

Lucien's eyes shone with a glimmer of gentleness, lasting for one fleeting moment before they returned into their usual coldness once more.

He turned around, activating the dream recording device.

Your appearance is enough to occupy the years of my life I’m losing.

[9/9]

There was a sudden beam of light from the sky once more, welcoming the string of comets. In that sinking moment, the brilliance of the night sky fell upon Earth, bright as a large firework.

And at the same time, the wilted hanging orchids returned to its soil as a little seed, and continued to remain asleep, until the second birth of life.

Time’s cycle has reached the starting line after completing its turn.

The round of chess restarts itself.

[END]

*The Seedlings’ Project (Direct translation): An international scientific project where a group of scientists preserve seeds of many species of plants as a way of protecting those species from the “End of The World.” Part of the New World Project.

May we have a moment of silence of the hanging orchid, all the furnitures Lucien’s abandoned, Lucien, and everything involved in this story.. so the entire world.

You will be missed for now.

Hope you enjoyed this odd translation, sorry for any grammatic mistakes I’ve missed, and have a nice day!

And no worries, I am as confused as you are!

-Shio

#mlqc #mlqc spoilers #mlqc lucien #mlqc translation #lmao my phone went fbrevbervbeb because of a volleyball #mr love queens choice #mr love spoilers

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assembledherethevolunteers · 3 years

Text

Day 13- Snowed In

A/N: Prompt #13 for @acdeaky ‘s writing challenge! I changed the prompt a little bit, but I still loved it

Pairing: Joe Mazzello x Female!Reader

Summary: You and Joe are roommates and have to deal with the power going out during a snow storm.

Warnings: Fluff , cursing, confessions, mentions of cheating

Taglist: @queenlover05 @theblossomknows

You came stomping into your apartment building, trying to get the snow off your boots. It was mid-December so you shouldn’t have been surprised that there was snow, but it was still annoying.

You walked up the steps to your apartment, ready to just relax with a bottle of wine, and the book you were currently reading. Your day at work hadn’t been terrible, it was just long. It didn’t help that it was dark when you went to work and dark when you came home.

You walked inside your apartment, ready to relax. You went to your bedroom to change, turning the lights on as you did so. You changed, came back out, and went into the kitchen. You pulled the wine out of the fridge and started to pour yourself a glass when your apartment went dark.

You sighed. “Really?” You walked over and flipped the light a couple times, realizing that it wasn’t the light. “Shit.”

“Did we just lose power?” A voice came from behind you.

You jumped in the dark. “Fuck, Joe. You nearly gave me a heart attack!” You swatted at where you thought he was standing.

Your roommate chuckled. “Sorry, but you didn’t answer my question.”

You sighed. “No, I just magically turned all the power off in the building.”

“Somebody’s cranky.”

You rolled your eyes and ignored him, reaching into your pocket for your phone. You turned the flash light on so that you could actually see Joe’s face. He squinted against the light and then smiled at you.

“Well hello, gorgeous.”

You shook your head with a slight smile. “Come on, we gotta find candles or something.”

You and Joe searched the apartment for candles and matches, finding a couple in the bathroom closet.

You lit them and the two of you set up a sort of base in the living room.

“I thought you and Erika were doing Christmas tonight?” You said, bringing your glass of wine over, along with one for Joe.

“Welp, we decided to do something different this year. I got her those earrings she said she wanted and she gave me a speech about how she cheated on me.”

You nearly spit your wine out. “I’m sorry, she what?”

“Yup,” Joe took a big drink from his glass. “Told me it was just a couple times and she was so SO sorry and blah blah blah. That was until I pushed her on it. Turns out that guy from her work?”

“Rod?”

“Yup! Apparently they’d been sleeping with each other for close to a month now.”

“Oh, Joey, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe that.”

Joe just shrugged and drained his wine. “So, that’s why I’m not at Erika’s.”

Joe then rested his head on your shoulder. You pressed a kiss his forehead and then placed your head on top of his. “If it helps, I never liked her.” It was true that you didn’t like her, but for reasons that Joe didn’t really know.

Joe chuckled. “I know you didn’t.”

“Let’s get some dinner.”

“Do we have stuff that doesn’t need to be cooked?”

The two of you got up and threw together some sandwiches with chips, refilled your wine glasses, and then went back to the living room.

You tried to get Joe’s mind off the breakup by telling him some funny stories about work and the phone call that you had during your lunch break.

“...nearly fell getting the lights on the house.”

Joe laughed. “Doesn’t he do that every year?”

“Yes! You’d think he’d learn.”

Once the two of you were done eating, the two of you discussed what you could do.

“I mean, I’ve got data so we could watch something on my phone,” Joe offered.

The two of you agreed on The Office and configured it so that you both could see.

“It’s freezing in here,” you shivered after an episode.

“Heat isn’t working either I take it,” Joe said as he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer. You grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around both of you, scooting closer to Joe. You rested your head on his shoulder, leaning closer into him.

This wasn’t the first time the two of you had cuddled like this. Joe was a touchy guy so things like this had never bothered the two of you. However, it was the first time that the two of you kept each other close because of warmth. And were being lit by candlelight. It was weirdly intimate.

‘Intimate’ wasn’t usually the word that came to mind when you thought about Joe. You hated that you didn’t get to have that. There was a reason you hadn’t liked Erika. The truth was you hadn’t liked any of his girlfriends because you wanted to be his girlfriend. It was stupid. The two of you had been friends for about two years before you moved in together. You’d been living together for nearly two years and over those two years, you had fallen in love with him. The funny guy with the heart of gold. And the way the sun hit his hair when he was sleeping on the couch…

“Y/N?”

“Hm?” You opened you eyes. When had you fallen asleep?

“Your phone is ringing.”

You blindly reached for and answered your phone, bringing the portable charger with it.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” the voice of your boss came through, waking you up. Had you over slept?

“Yes?”

“The streets to the office still aren’t plowed, so we’re not having anybody come in. Have a nice day.”

“Thank you,” you replied before you heard the phone beep telling you the call had ended. You hung up and snuggled back into the warmth.

Joe chuckled. “No work for you today?”

You hummed in agreement, still mostly asleep. Then you sat up, realizing you were still on the couch, your back to Joe’s chest. You turned and looked at him.

“Hey, come back, it’s too cold.” Joe opened his arms up. His voice still had that groggy touch to it.

You hesitated, wondering if you should talk to him now. You decided against it, and cuddled back into Joe, just to pretend for another hour or so.

“Can I ask you something?” Joe mumbled when you had taken your position again.

“What’s up?”

“Why didn’t you like Erika?”

You hesitated, debating on if you wanted to tell the truth or not.

“Women’s intuition?”

“Come on, really, why didn’t you like her?”

You couldn’t see Joe’s face, but clearly he didn’t buy it. Maybe it would be easier if you weren’t facing him.

You took a deep breath. “Because…she had you. And I…didn’t.”

There was silence in the room.

“That um…does that mean…I…that seems to imply that you wanted me.”

You turned and looked at him, not saying anything.

“Y/N, do…do you want me?”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded. “I…I don’t know when exactly it happened, but…”

You were cut off by a pair of lips. You kissed back, wrapping your fingers in Joe’s hair.

You pulled away and stared at him, breathing heavy. “What the hell was that?”

“Something that I’ve wanted to do for a long time,” Joe smiled at you, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“You have?”

“Of course I have. I just…you were with Dwayne, and then Steven, and then I started dating Erika and…now that we’re both single…”

You grinned. “Really?”

“Really. I mean, ever since we moved in together, honestly.”

You pulled Joe in for another kiss. He kissed you back for a bit before he pulled away for a moment.

“You know, we both have beds, and all day.”

You stood up, pulling him with you. “Race you.”

The both of you took off for Joe’s bedroom.

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello fanfic #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazello x reader #joe mazzello fluff #joe mazzello x you #joe mazzello x female reader #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody fanfic #bohemian rhapsody cast #acdeaky’s december writing challenge #krissys writings

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samwxlsxon · 4 years

Text

worried glances.

summary: You are a tech analyst for the Avengers. After the events of The Winter Soldier, you tracked Bucky down out of curiosity. Your relationship blossomed in secret. Now that Bucky has been arrested by Joint Counter Terrorism, your secret relationship is in jeopardy of being outed.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 4.2k

warnings: language and bad writing if you count that

sidenote: hi! this is my first fic of any kind so if it sucks, i am truly sorry. it is definitely going to have a part 2, but idk how many parts after that?? i hope you guys like it! any feedback is appreciated :))

read part 2 here!

If you could describe Berlin’s Joint Counter Terrorism Centre, hot certainly would not be in your description. The glass walls and empty spaces allowed for easy flow of air. Like any government building, it was surely freezing. It was the middle of summer so the AC was up full blast.

But you were melting. Your face and ears were burning and you were sure you would melt a hole in the metal handles of the doors when you pushed them aside. You were in a sundress and a light jacket, but you felt like a furnace.

You entered the building behind Tony and you couldn’t help the nerves that had overcome your body. A man, who would later introduce himself as Everett Ross, greeted you as soon as you entered.

“Tony Stark,” Ross shook Tony’s hand and acknowledged you as well. “Glad you decided to come to your senses. The Accords are good work.”

Tony rolled his eyes and responded while looking at your distressed form, “Tell that to blondie and his goon of a friend. And to this one over here. Can we get her some water? I don’t need another medical bill.”

As you were led through the glass halls, you tuned out their conversation and focused on the ringing in your ears.

The Accords had everyone on edge. Tony and Steve had obvious tensions and they seemed to have dragged the rest of the team down as well. It started to become obvious whose side you were on when you refused to attend the signing. You had stayed in New York, making adjustments to online data units just to keep your mind off things. You weren’t much for arguing. Besides, you had slightly bigger problems-- problems that involved a criminal with a metal arm.

To say you had curiosity towards the Winter Soldier was an understatement. So much so, that you managed to stick a micro-tracker to his arm during the fight on the highway two years ago. Steve and Sam chastised you for getting involved, but you didn’t care. The nasty black eye the Winter Soldier had given you was deemed worth it now that you had secured his location.

The technology was virtually undetectable-- your creation, of course. You could only notice it if you were looking for it. You knew you needed to keep a tab on him. And when you found out that he was Steve’s long-lost bestie, that only solidified the need to keep him under watch.

But the longer you stared at his location, the more you wanted to find yourself in Bucharest and knock on his door.

You wanted to talk to him, to put the pieces together- to learn about the HYDRA technology he’d seen. It would be a breakthrough. It would finally give the Avengers a boost ahead of the enemy.

You knew Steve would never look your way again if he found out you had this information or if he even knew you were thinking of paying Bucky a visit. But curiosity killed the cat.

So that’s why, a little over a year ago, you showed up on Bucky’s apartment doorstep with a black journal and a nervous smile. You figured you’d give him the journal as a peace offering, hoping that he get some use out of it. You knocked a couple times, but he didn’t even open the door as he told you to go away.

‘So much for hospitality’ you thought. The hot, dry weather made you start to regret wearing jeans. "Um, I don’t know if you remember me,” you crossed your arms and spoke against the door. “But we met in D.C. I’m a friend of Steve’s.”

There was no movement for a couple minutes. Then, you heard clicks coming from the locks and the door creaked open. He stood in front of you with a face that looked far from amused. He looked tired, metal arm mostly covered by a jacket despite the heat. His hair was behind his ears and stubble crept up the sides of his face.

He silently stepped aside, inviting you in. He watched carefully as you entered, shutting and locking the door behind you. The apartment was dark despite the florescent lights hanging from the ceiling. The kitchen area was cluttered with dishes and boxes. The couch was small and the walls were missing chips of paint. The bed on the floor looked like it had seen better days. The apartment looked like someone hadn’t thought of cleaning it for quite some while.

There was a table in the corner next to some shelves and then a singular bathroom. You looked from Bucky to the space. ‘Fitting.’ you thought. At least it matched his style- rugged and confused. You walked further inside and placed the journal on the table, sticking your hands in your pockets.

“What’s that?” he asked gruffly. He eyed the journal and leaned against the front door.

“It’s nothing, really.” You sat down on the chair next to the table and tapped on the cover of the book. “I thought you would like something to write things in. Like the stuff you learn...about yourself, or something.”

The newspaper that covered the windows prevented most light from entering the apartment. The lights on the ceiling were doing minimal to accentuate his features. You really couldn’t tell if he was even showing emotion.

He slowly removed himself from the front door and walked towards you. He was weary to pick up the journal, but when he did, he held it in his hands for a couple seconds and flipped through the blank pages.

“Thank you.” he responded. It was straight to the point. His voice didn’t waver or give any indication of what he was actually thinking. If he completely hated it, you wouldn’t have known.

You nodded and put your hands on your lap, intertwining them. “Yeah no problem.” you breathed, following the statement with an introduction.

“James. But I go by Bucky.” He took a seat in-front of you at the table. He left the journal in the middle of the table and eyed you as he got comfortable. “I know you didn’t come here to give me a journal. So what do you want?”

So then it started. You explained to him your curiosity; your curiosity for him and your desire to help him remember his past. You didn’t dare mention HYDRA. You wouldn’t want him mistaking your interest for something evil.

It quickly turned into a conversation. You asked him how much he remembered and what actually happened to him. You told him about Steve, the Avengers, New York, Ultron, everything. And he was interested. He would occasionally chime into your stories with a comment or a memory that was triggered by something you said. It was the first real conversation Bucky had in over 70 years.

And things sprinted from there. You visited him as often as you could, a couple times a month if things allowed it. You told the team you were out with friends for the weekend or visiting your family at home.

You wired your phone’s GPS to match your made-up location and found yourself at the very door you once wouldn’t even think about knocking on.

Bucky was stoic and downright intimidating, no matter how often you visited. But as you continued to bring him old pictures of Steve or excerpts from military documents at the time of his enlistment, he started to open up.

He started asking you questions about his past-his family. You had done your research on his origins, prepared to tell him everything.

He and Steve grew up in Brooklyn. His parents were Winnipeg and George Barnes. He was an officer in the 107th. You had all this information but you were so hesitant to tell him. You felt like you were robbing Steve of his moment.

You didn’t want to lie to Steve. Ever since D.C. he had longed for his best friend. It broke your heart that you were going behind his back. It felt even worse knowing that it was Steve who was supposed to be sharing these memories with Bucky.

But it was too late to tell him now. The more people that knew about Bucky’s location the riskier it would be. He was a wanted criminal after all.

But when Bucky gave you a look of curiosity and confusion, you knew he had been through enough pain to be withheld an answer. He would drink up the answers you gave him, engraving them into his memory. Every new discovery would be written in his journal.

Slowly, he began to anticipate your arrival and dread your departure. You were his first real friend in decades.

And so it went on for months. The visits and the talks. You were too intrigued to leave him alone, and at this point, you don’t think you could leave him if you tried. Slowly that friendship began to escalate. You would spend nights in his apartment instead of at the Marriott down the street. You would sleep on the couch. It was not the most comfortable sleep of your life, but you didn’t dare take the bed. He didn't deserve more discomfort.

He would greet you with a smile and a hug when you would arrive. Although the hug was brief and hesitant, it was a start. You would go on walks throughout the city and he would point out the Romanian architecture. He would teach you bits of Romanian and Russian. Common words like ‘coffee’ or ‘restroom’.

It would keep you both occupied. He would never admit it out loud, but he was grateful for your company. Loneliness and his trauma didn’t mix well.

It was like someone had taken your relationship, once so distant and weary, and turned it completely upside down.

Something as trivial as an accidental brush of his hand on yours as you reached for a french fry at dinner would stay in your mind for hours. You would lay next to him as he hesitantly wrapped his human arm around you, too scared about the unpredictability of his metal one.

He would tell you stories from his childhood involving Steve and you would laugh at the amount of times that man had found himself in alley fights.

Eight months into the visits, your relationship took a turn. You stood inside of his apartment about to leave for the airport. He had grabbed your hand and turned you to look him.

You were close. So close that you could see your reflection in his beautiful blue eyes. After a moment of staring, you did the only thing fitting at the time. You leaned in and kissed him.

He was so shocked, he didn’t move. It had been years since he had any amicable human interaction. His days had been filled with torture and pain. To see you treat him with such care and understanding made him question everything. You helped him remember.

Realizing that he wasn’t reciprocating, you pulled back, apologizing profusely. You had ruined everything. As you made another attempt for the door, he grabbed you and kissed you again. It felt right. It felt comforting. His lips molded with yours like they were peices of a puzzle; like they belonged together.

It was as if he was communicating to you all the longing and ache that was inside him all this time. Longing for affection.

So here you are, exactly six months from the kiss. The kiss eventually turned into more kisses. Those turned into feelings. He was different around you. A good different. Happy.

It became an unspoken relationship. You two obviously cared for each other. No one ever found out, no one ever could find out, especially not Steve.

If anyone discovered you had formed a secret relationship with a wanted Soviet criminal, you would be in more trouble than you cared to see yourself in.

The Avengers never really saw eye-to-eye with anyone trying to impose on them. They were independent, autonomous. But now, things were different. Tony, Rhodey, Vision, Nat.

They all agreed that the Avengers were overdue for some checks. That allowed an outlet for world governments to ease their way into putting the Avengers in their place.

When you got a call from Natasha saying something along the lines of Steve and Sam arrested, bomb at the signing, and Winter Soldier, you were on a plane to Berlin in a heartbeat.

With half of the Avengers teamed up with the government, Steve and Sam had no choice but to surrender. The Avengers were splitting.

So yeah, you were nervous. With Bucky on max-security lockdown, he would be just one question away from outing your relationship. While you never think he would, a slip-up could make you lose your job; a slip-up could have you arrested.

Ross led you and Tony to a glass office in the middle of a control center. Sharon was already inside and gave you a small wave as you made eye contact.

“You can wait in here until they arrive. Rogers and Wilson have had their gear impounded. I’ll make sure you get a copy receipt of what was taken.” Ross gave you a nod and turned to an agent beside him, ordering her to give Tony the write-up of the suits.

Tony’s ringtone made you turn your head. “It’s the Secretary. Shit. Go inside, I need to take this.” He sighed, pinched his noise, and walked towards a quieter area.

You turned around and opened the door to the office. There was a TV hanging from the ceiling. It was playing news coverage from Vienna.

‘Jesus,’ you thought. You sat down in-front of Sharon and gave her a worried look. The chair squeaked as you leaned back.

“What the hell happened?” You bit your finger nail and waited for her answer.

“A bomb went off at the signing. Large casualties. Killed the king of Wakanda. Security cameras caught Barnes on the scene. He’s the main suspect. The clean up for this is going to be insane.” She shook her head, thinking of the amount of press calls she would have to take after this was over.

You were speechless. How could it have been Bucky if he hadn’t left Bucharest in months? You had removed the tracker from his arm and apologized a long time ago, but he surely would’ve told you if he was planning on leaving, incase you came to visit.

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Steve and Wilson tracked down Barnes. They insisted on bringing him in instead of authorities. And look where that got them.”

Now that peaked your interest. “How did they find him? Steve has been looking for him for months.”

“They got a tip, I guess.” You noticed something in her voice when she spoke. She was too quick to answer and it sounded rushed, like she wanted to gloss over the topic.

“Next thing we know all four of them are beating ass in a public highway. Lots of damage, but what’s new.” She gave you a dry laugh.

“Four? Who else was there?” You asked.

“T’Challa. Wakandan. He’s the kings son.” She paused. “Well, king now. He has a superhero gimmick of his own. They call him Black Panther. Seems like everybody’s got a toy these days.” She rolled her eyes.

You were about to say something when there was a knock on the glass wall. Ross was standing there signaling for Sharon to come out.

“They’re here. Stay and I’ll be back.” She got up and left the office. As she opened the door you could hear the commotion going on outside. Phones ringing and people talking. Ross’s voice barking orders made you chuckle.

You stared at the TV for a moment. A reporter stood in-front of the rubble and spoke. It was muted so you couldn’t hear what he was saying.

You thought back to what Sharon had said. A tip. Someone else knew where Bucky had been. That meant that they most likely saw you coming and going from his apartment. He was being tracked. He was being watched.

“Fuck.” You mumbled. You leaned your head back to stare at the ceiling.

You were an idiot. Of course he was being watched. He’s a ninety-something super soldier that worked as a brainwashed killing machine for Soviet Inc. since god-knows-when. To think anyone even let him get away was crazy.

You began to think of Bucky. He cannot catch a god damn break. After the time you’d spent with him, you couldn’t picture why people saw him as a threat.

“Well maybe the part where he’s killed people.” you mumbled while you put your face in your hands. He was so different around you- caring and gentle, nothing like the man who had once punched you in the face.

You spun around in your chair a couple times. You wondered how he was feeling. A pang in your chest hit you as you thought of him being carried away like a killer.

Mid-spin you spotted Tony and Steve walking towards the office. You stopped yourself and let your body adjust to the slight dizziness. No sign of Bucky. Of course not.

You bit back a worried look as they entered through the door. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you opened your mouth.

“Biggest idiot award goes to you, you idiot. Emphasis on stupid.” You got up and gave Steve a slap on the shoulder. He probably didn’t even feel it.

Feeling slightly bad for the slap, you engulfed him in a tight embrace. He chuckled and hugged you back, having to bend at the waist a little to match your height. “Compromise. I’ll leave all the idiot with you next time.”

You pulled away and glared at him. You weren’t necessarily a mean person, so you hadn’t had much practice in the art of menace. The glare was futile. Hopefully he got the message.

“She’s right.” Tony sighed as he sat down in the chair you had just gotten up from. “You made things worse. So much worse. What the hell were you thinking? I had calmed Ross down about the whole Accords signing for now. He was so close to giving you more time. Well, if you thought the Secretary was on my ass before, you should see him now. He wants you and Wilson prosecuted, Steve. And I don’t think I can get you out of this one.”

You shot Tony another of your infamous looks of concern. “Prosecuted? Now that’s a bit much. Tony he barely did anything wrong.”

He scoffed. “Barely? Captain Righteous chased a wanted national criminal and Soviet assassin through a highway in a country he’s not even from. There was fighting. There was damage. Not to mention the sweet media blowup this is all going to get.

“I told you we needed checks. You cannot decide where you want to exert your power. The Accords, Steve. This isn’t a free for all.”

Steve rolled his eyes and started walking around the space. “I understand that Tony. You-.”

“No!” Tony’s hand slammed on the table, making you jump and rest back against the glass wall. “I don’t think you do understand.” Steve stopped walking and looked at him.

“You are not understanding the true consequences of your actions here. For too long you, we, the Avengers, have caused chaos all around the world without so much as a slap on the wrist. No consequences. No repercussions. We think in our own self-interest.

“And just to show how little you’ve learned, you get yourself involved in an arrest that no one asked you to meddle with! You need to be checked, Rogers.” Tony rested his hand on his mouth.

Steve slowly sat down in-front of him and spoke, “We help people,Tony. As much as we don’t want to, there will always be casualties. We do it our way because our way works. We will be limited under the hand of the government if we let them control us. We take risks for the better of the people. Sometimes our judgement is the best judgement because we train for things like this. Under order of a third party we give up our right to decide.

“Bucky is my best friend.” Your stomach flipped when you heard his name. “He doesn’t deserve to be locked in here like an animal. He was brainwashed- tortured. HYDRA kept him for years as a pawn in one of their sick experiments. I’d be damned if it wasn’t me who brought him in.” He intertwined his hands on the table.

Tony pushed his chair back from the desk to give him room to lean back. “You’re not allow-” he started.

“Is he okay?” You spoke quietly from against the wall.

Both heads snapped towards you. Tony gave you a funny look, probably wondering why you even bothered asking.

Steve turned his chair slightly towards you, silently thankful for an escape from the argument.

“For now. He isn’t hurt or anything, but they have him locked up. They’re giving him a psych eval and then shipping him off.” He looked down and shook his head.

You bounced off the wall. “They’re moving him? Where? Why not just try him here?” You crossed your arms and got closer to the table.

“I don’t know.” Steve shrugged. “He has pending warrants in like 3 other countries. Not to mention he is accused of killing a Wakandan king. He’s going there first. And he never really committed a crime in Berlin so he had no reason to stay.”

“So much for keeping an eye on him. ‘M sorry, Stevie.” You muttered and gave him a sad look. He nodded and gave you a small smile in return.

In reality, you weren’t sad. Not sad, but angry. You had no right to be. He was wanted. He had to go through trial. You were mad at HYDRA. You were mad that those slimy motherfuckers put him through all this. They crafted him to be a perfect weapon but didn’t think of the consequences on his life.

Tony was about to speak up when Sharon and Sam entered the office.

“Bird costume? C’mon.” Sam exclaimed, trailing behind Sharon.

She rolled her eyes and walked to the table and picked up the TV remote. “Shut up, I didn’t write it.”

Grumbling, Sam sat down next to Steve after shoving the paper in his pocket.

Sharon gave Steve a quick look and pressed a button on the remote. She changed the channel on the TV. The news network from before now gone and replaced with live footage. Live footage from inside Bucky’s cell.

Well, if you could call it a cell. It was more like a block. A block with wrist and ankle cuffs and glass that looked like clear cement. He couldn’t escape if he wanted to.

Your jaw dropped and you let out a small gasp.

“His evaluation should start in about twenty minutes. I’ll leave this up here for you. Just don’t go blabbing that you saw this, please.” She gave you all a pleading look. Everyone nodded but Steve. He was too busy staring at Bucky through the screen.

Again, you felt the guilt in your chest from keeping the tracker secret from Steve.

Sam let out a low whistle. “They weren’t kidding about the security, huh.”

A small smile crept on Tony’s face but he didn’t look up from his phone. Steve silently got up and walked up close to the TV. He sat against the table, his eyes never leaving the screen.

You tried to not let your face give away your emotions. Bucky looked lonely. You wanted to touch him. Hold him. Tell him that everything was going to be okay. But those were empty promises because everything was absolutely, most definitely, not okay.

You were about to lose the man you loved to a jail cell for who-knows how long and there wasn’t anything you could do about it. Kinda fucking blows.

You had to casually rub your eye in order to stop the tears that were about to flow freely down your cheeks.

But the footage was short lived. Sharon saw two agents approach the office door and immediately changed the TV back. You wondered why she was so picky about that, seeing as the walls were made of glass.

Wondering why the channel was changed, Steve whipped around fast enough to see the agents walk in through the door. You rested your finger tips on the side of the table and picked at the wooden edge, too entrapped in your thoughts to truly process their entrance.

However, you turned around slowly as they addressed you.

The agent on the right was taller than the other. He looked important. They both did. While the rest of the agents in the building were dressed in casual business wear, these two wore suits. When you were walking through, you had only noticed suits on people like Ross- it signaled importance in your eyes.

When you didn’t respond, the tall one called your name again. Now everyone was paying attention. Tony had set his phone down and eyed them carefully.

“Yeah?” You protectively crossed your arms and stood up straighter.

This time, the shorter one spoke. “Ma’am, if you could please come with us. We would like to ask you some questions regarding Mr. Barnes.”

And your heart stopped.

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i hope you guys liked it! lmk if you want to be added to the tag list for my future fics. any critiques or comments you guys have are always welcomed :) requests are open xoxo

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samwise-writes · 3 years

Text

A Promise

This is a one-shot I wrote after many a discussion with @crocwork-clockodile about HxH. Chrollo has to be one of the most fascinating characters in the show for me - and I am an absolute simp for him. Why is he so pretty?? Anyways, this is the first and second meeting my OC has with Chrollo, and the interactions that ensue.

Serena meets many strange people on a day to day basis. Interacting with odd individuals is an occupational hazard when you run a Curio and Antique shop that sources most of its wares from Hunters, that also functions as a communications center for said Hunters. However, the man that walks in on a particularily quiet morning seemed stranger than most. She just couldn't put her finger on why.

(CROSS-POSTED TO MY AO3)

The first time he walked into the shop, mentally, she was put off balance because he was so pretty. The bandage that was wrapped around his forehead, dark locks hanging loosely above, did nothing to diminish the beauty that was traced through the angular facial features and the intelligent gleam in his large grey eyes.

She blinked once, and the momentary appreciation moved into irritation. He looked like he belonged in one of the etchings of classical heroes from a rare book that had recently come across her counter. Too pretty.

The man (a walking piece of art, more like it, she scoffed in her head), paused in the doorway of the little shop and looked around before his eyes came to land on her.

“Welcome” she breathed out softly, voice pitched low, as though she was attempting to maintain the silence that had hung heavy over the little shop for the last few hours.

It was his turn to blink at her, and for a moment she felt as though he was sizing her up. It was gone in an instant and the fleeting look of calculation slipped behind a small smile that only lit up the stranger’s handsome features even more. He took a few steps further into the store, hands in the pockets of his slacks.

“Hello, I was hoping you could help me find something in particular,” his voice was smooth, a note of warmth that seemed to attempt to draw her in, to encourage her to listen.

She cautiously returned the stranger’s smile.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place.”

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The second time he walked into the shop, his intentions were drastically different than the ones he had arrived with upon his first visit.

She had surprised him – despite the vast network that she seemed to work with, in both Hunter and non-Hunter circles, there had been very little that the Troupe could dig up on the owner of the little shop. She had innumerable connections; and yet, there seemed to be a great deal of loyalty and trust in those connections. He entered the shop the first to get information on the woman and to get a better feel of the physical layout – she had recently come into possession of a rare artifact that Chrollo wanted. Normally, he would have simply sent some of the others to get a read on the place and the target, but the lack of information had intrigued him. Enough that he desired to see the mysterious “Data Broker” (as she was sometimes called), for himself. He hadn’t expected to be met with a young woman around his age, with a soft voice, curious eyes, and an incredibly well-controlled aura. He left with more information than he had entered her little shop with, but… with less than he wanted to know.

So here he was again, stepping over the threshold of the little antiques and oddities shop, and was met with the sight of her perched behind the counter, a book in one hand. She was so wrapped up in whatever she was reading she hadn’t even heard him enter. It was a leather-bound book, and as much as he would have liked to know what the text was, he couldn’t quite see what was scrawled on the cover. After about three seconds she looked up at him with a start.

She sensed me, Chrollo thought to himself in surprise – he wasn’t often surprised. She blinked in what seemed like surprise herself, before placing a bookmark between the pages and folding her hands over the closed book in her lap.

“You’ve returned.” She sounded pleased.

Chrollo quirked a brow at the woman “Was I not supposed to?”

She laughed at that – it had a nice ring to it, the sound clamoured among the shelves and display cases. “Oh no, not at all. It's just, usually, I can get a pretty good read on people and whether or not they’ll be back. You…” She lifted one hand and gestured towards him, “…You not so much.”

As her hand fell back to its place in her lap, he took a few steps forward and leaned against the counter: the foot and a half of polished wood the only thing separating them.

“You mentioned some texts the last time I was here, and I was hoping to, perhaps, see them?” He paused, eyes trailing down from her face, her neck, to her shoulders and arm, and finally down to her folded hands, “You seemed quite enthralled with that one there, though, may I ask what you’re reading?” His eyes returned to her face, to find a soft pink tint spreading across freckled cheeks.

“Oh… ah,” She cleared her throat and pushed her hair behind her right ear, a habit that he had categorized on his last visit as a nervous tick, “This,” she patted the book in her lap, “is nothing special. Certainly not as interesting as the texts we spoke about…” She hopped off the stool she was perched on and placed the book down beside her, she moved to step around the counter, intending to lead Chrollo over to the small library she had in the shop. However, in the seconds that it took for her to come around to the front of the counter, Chrollo had snapped up the novel she had been reading.

“The Princess Bride,” He read the title aloud, eyes slowly rising to meet hers – he had quirked his brow again, but this time mirth seemed to flit across his face. Her fingers twitched, fighting off the urge to snatch the book back from the customer. She crossed her arms and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“Fiction,” She bit out, “a story I am familiar with from my childhood. I return to it every once and a while.” She held out a hand in the space between them waiting for him to return the book to her. She didn’t mean to come across as curt, but he seemed oddly persistent about her novel and she couldn’t figure out why.

She was fighting off irritation - simply stating that it was a story from her childhood already felt as though she was sharing too much information about herself. Usually, she was so careful. But something about this man seemed to catch her off guard. He observed her reactions, taking in her facial expression which moments ago was easy to read was now a passive blank.

Interesting.

“Well,” he started, gently placing the book in her outstretched hand, “You wouldn’t happen to have another copy of that here, would you?”

She almost scoffed, thinking he was joking, but he continued observing her with his steady gaze, no sign of laughter within.

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She was confused, to say the least.

What was that?

The handsome stranger ended up purchasing the rare texts that she had mentioned to him the last time, as well as an extra copy she had lying around of The Princess Bride. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. It felt like such an odd encounter – but then again, perhaps she was overreacting.

She had rung him up and packed the books for him, and as she handed them over, she had shaken her head softly, a wry smile spreading across her features.

“I hope you enjoy these…” She trailed off realizing that despite having interacted with the man twice now, she still didn’t know his name.

“Chrollo” he offered up, taking the books from her, “And I fully intend to…” He mimicked the pause that had followed her words, looking at her expectantly.

“Serena.”

He gave her the soft smile that he had the first time he entered her shop – only this time, something about it felt much more genuine.

“Well, I fully intend to, Serena, thank you.”

He turned and made his way back to the entrance, and just as she was resuming the position she had been in when he entered, he turned around with what almost seemed like a teasing air, the smile still spread across his handsome features. He waited until she met his eyes before speaking again: “Oh, and in case you still don’t have a read on me,” his smile grew wider, “You’ll be seeing me again.”

With that, Chrollo turned on his heel and exited the shop without further sound.

Serena remained frozen in place, staring at the door Chrollo had just exited through.

She wasn’t sure why, but the promise in his parting words had almost sounded like a threat.

#chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x oc #hunter x hunter #hxh #hxh x oc #chrollo #hxh fanfic #adult trio #murder mans #shut up sabrina #my writing

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