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victoriadallonfan · 21 days

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Let's Talk About the Alien vs Predator Films

Talk about wasted potential, am I right?

I'm struggling to format this in an interesting way, since so much has been covered over the past 20 years since the first film was released. You can read my thoughts on Aliens Franchise and the Predator Franchise as well.

Note that it doesn't include Alien: Romulus, but suffice to say it was a good movie!

I think the best place to start is with covering the themes of Alien and Predator, and the history before these films were created (and the failure of Fox).

My fellow AvP enjoyer @agendergorgon has already posted some thoughts on the topic, giving me a lot to think about, so check out their blog too!

For the purposes of this review, I am not going to include Alien 3, Alien: Resurrection, Prometheus, nor Alien: Covenant.... mostly. The AvP films really don't take much of anything beyond the first two films, though I will touch on Prometheus when it comes to religion.

Ditto for the Predator films, but that's because Predator wouldn't get a third film until 2010, 3 years after the AvP duo.

The themes of Alien Franchise:

I'm sure the first thing to come to mind is that the Alien series is about sexual assault, and you'd be correct. The xenomorph is designed to be extremely phallic, the facehuggers quite literally rape their victims, Burke locks his victims (including a child) in a room to be raped, Ash tries to murder Ripley by thrusting a rolled up porn magazine down her throat etc etc.

Some of you might also remember how Aliens was noted by James Cameron to be a criticism of the Vietnam War, Corporate Greed, and the callous arrogance of the US Military. The xenomorphs represented the innumerable "faceless" soldiers that could overwhelm more advanced enemies with ambush tactics and numbers, Burke thinks only in "goddamn percentages" and how this could benefit himself and the company, and the Colonial Marines are not only woefully mismanaged a newly brought on commander but also completely delusional with their own sense of invulnerability, only to break and panic under pressure once they meet a foe who is determined to fight to the death.

(I will NOT be tackling the fucked-upness of comparing people fighting for their independence vs a fucking Xenomorph, because holy fucking shit, it is literally the opposite AND worse counterpart to having the Predators be colonizers)

But, in the broader scope of the series, Alien - and the xenomorph - represent the uncontrollable, unfathomable, unknown. What are they? Why were they there? What are their motives? How did they end up in that ship? Were they built? How do they 'see'? Why did the xenomorph spare Jonesy the Cat? Are they intelligent life? How on earth do they function with their bizarre biology?

We don't get any real answers to these questions in the original films. The whole point of these movies is that there are things that mankind does not understand, and the horrors of space are vast. And equally terrifying is the arrogance of man (and synth kind) to think they can harness this horror for profit at the expense of human lives.

The themes of the Predator Franchise:

There's been tons of articles on how Predator is either a reconstruction or deconstruction (depending on who you ask) of the 80's action hero flick. A team of muscle laden, big gun toting, sweaty men spouting off one-liners as they mow down their enemies in a secret CIA led operation during the Cold War, interrupted by the presence of an intergalactic hunter than treats these badasses like mere toys. The massive Arnold Schwarzenegger is smacked out like a mouse facing off against a particularly cruel cat, needing to rely on tricks - not his brawns or guns - to stay alive and eventually defeat the Predator.

Others might point to its related take down of machismo. The opening scene is rife with characters testing each other's physical strength against each other such as with Dillon and Dutch, Ventura and Dutch have a small face-off in the helicopter as they try to make a pecking order, Ventura makes a whole speech about being a "sexual tyrannosaurus" and then mocked about sticking a gun up his "sore-ass", Hawkins repeatedly tries to make pussy and sex jokes, and they end up with a single woman in the group who is treated more like an object and baggage than a person for much of the movie. All of these men are emasculated by the Predator, some of them not even lasting a single second to its predations (both in tech and physicality), all of them losing any sense of quips and confidence, and the sole woman of the group survives because she didn't fit the movie's (and Predator's) mold of "tough as nails". When Arnold/Dutch is rescued by helicopter, it's not a cheerful one; he's haunted by what he endured and remains silent as the film pans into his thousand-yard stare.

All of this applies to Predator 2 as well, amping up the violence, dick measuring, and rules of the Predator targeting anyone who thinks they are tough shit for carrying a gun or knife. Even Danny Glover's victory is bittersweet, because he is now left in the middle of dozens of officer deaths, and entire subway car filled with corpses, and an antique flintlock pistol that promises the return of the Predators to Earth.

In a much broader sense, the Predator films are about the oversaturation of violence and lack of care for human life. Predator 1's main plot before he arrives is the CIA using Green Berets and then Dutch's special ops team to clean up their dirty work, giving them false information and not even reporting the Berets being MIA in furtherance of their Cold War goals (slaughtering guerrillas who were working with Soviet Russia). In Predator 2, the police are seen as being ineffective because they trample on each other's jurisdiction, with the Federal task force being willing to kill their own cops to keep the Predator existence a secret and letting it hunt people down for a better chance at capture and experimentation.

The Predator creatures are the epitome of such greed and arrogance. They are the General Zaroffs of The Most Dangerous Game, taken to a new height by showing that human lives literally mean nothing to them beyond a trophy hunt. They care nothing about our social lives, our politics, our loved ones, because for them this is nothing more than the equivalent of posh British Elite going on a Fox Hunt: cruel and sadistic, just to placate their egos. They will violate the corpses of the dead and taunt those in mourning, for the thrill of the game. And in that sense, the Predators are very human antagonists: they are not unfathomable nor are their goals beyond our understanding. The horror of the Predators is that they are creatures we can understand, communicate with, and even see similarities in their culture to ours... and that culture is putting us on a trophy rack alongside other skulls of creatures they felt a thrill to hunt.

So, did the Alien vs Predator films cover even half of these topics?

Well... kinda? Just... not well.

Not well at all.

The Build Up

Alien and Predator have a connected history dating back to the creation of the Predator itself. Stan Winston was on a flight with James Cameron some time after the famous director had finished with Aliens, and the director made a comment about wanting to see a monster with mandibles, which eventually led to the creature we know and love today.

Predator's debut on screen was also often compared to Aliens due to the superficially similar premise of a team of commandos going on a mission and fighting an unknown alien threat.

Despite what some people think, the AvP series wasn't started by the films.

Yes, there was a particularly memorable scene in Predator 2, where the City Hunter is admiring his trophy room and a xenomorph skull can be seen mounted on the wall (though, fun fact, it's actually an inaccurate depiction as xenomorph skulls look more humanoid facing), but that wasn't the first time the duo met in media.

And I'm not referring to the 1993 Arcade Game either (since that only came out a year after Predator 2).

The Alien vs Predator comic first appeared in 1989. And there were publications continuing ever since.

Think about that going forward. There was 25 years of content to choose from, storylines they could adapt, interesting forays into the cosmology and interactions between Yaujta, Xenomorphs, and Humanity.

The movies used exactly none of it (barring 1 thing: the Predalien).

Alien vs Predator (2004)

The plot of this movie is that Weyland-Yutani corporation detects a heat bloom under the ice in Antartica that reveals an underground pyramid, and in a race against his competitors, Weyland rounds up a team of elite experts led by Lex Woods to investigate the ruins (and find that the Predators have left them a convenient tunnel to enter the deep ice). Only to find out that this was a trap, as the pyramid comes to life activates a Xenomorph Queen, unleashing a brood of facehuggers on the helpless crew, all the while the Predators hunt them down. After a spectacular shitshow and release of the Xenomorph Queen, Lex and the last Predator (Scar) have to reluctantly team up to escape the pyramid and blow up the xenomorphs, ending in a final battle with the Xenomorph Queen. Scar perishes in the fight, but Lex manages to send the Queen into the depth of the artic ocean, and is rewarded by the watching Eldar Predator with a spear for her troubles. A post-credit scene reveals that Scar had a chest-burster inside of him, birthing the Predalien!

Rewatching this movie, I'm surprised at how good it looks. The opening scene of the satellite in space, several shots of the ship (and spaceship), the frozen tundra, the set pieces like the Xenomorph Queen Prison, and the CGI!

The CGI! Of 2004! I was shocked that they looked so good for something that is 20 years old now, but they did really well for themselves.

But it was the practical effects that blew me away the most. The shifting Pyramid is absolutely iconic and the abandoned whaling station is suitably creepy. The face-huggers look amazing and the xenomorphs are just *chefs kiss*. It's so funny seeing these Xenomorph effects compared to that of Alien:Covenant, and seeing how much work bodysuit and puppetry can do to make a monster look so much more terrifying than a CGI creature.

I know a lot of people didn't like the Predator's bulky appearance in this movie, but honestly... I dig it? It makes sense that not all Predators are literally built the same, and that the ones who would choose to go hunting in the artic would be the bigger ones who could hold more body heat. And the movie does a really great fucking job of making these Predators look badass and distinct from each other, with Celtic having the coolest mask of the whole group.

And the way the movie is shot is really fantastic! There are a lot of wide and tracking shots where the movie lets the atmosphere do the work instead of badgering us with words, taking its time to build up tension and soak up the visuals. One of my favorites shots they did was slow roam through the Predator ship as the systems come to life and we get to see holograms come on-line, feeding information directly into their masks. Equally good was when the Xenomorph Queen is awakened to cackling electricity and ominous lighting, showing us how vast this chamber is and how huge this Queen is in comparison to the one Ripley faces.

The same goes for most of the actions scenes, with a decent amount of cool slow-mo shots for things like Face-huggles launching themselves, Predators leaping across chasms, and showing Scar's impressive athleticism when he leaps 10 meters into the air and stabs a spear through the Queens skull.

And I can always rewatch the first time Alien Meets Predator Fight. God, that score! The music is just so damn good!!! You really feel like you are watching two massive horrors from space finally finding themselves sharing a space together.

Honestly, the Predators using the Xenomorphs as some kind of fucked up exotic pet for hunting trials and training fits the lore PERFECTLY. It’s actually a literal fox hunt not just metaphorical (and of course, in typical Alien fashion, it all went to shit).

Aliens vs Predator: Requiem (2007)

"Wait, Ridtom/VictoriaDallonFan, are you about to say something nice about AvP:R?!"

Well, after turning up the brightness and hanging blankets over my windows and then watching the movie underneath more blankets... yes!

For one thing, the Alien and Predator effects are spectacular! Some of the best work I've seen in the franchises! The fight scenes are creative and use really cool set-pieces like the sewer and power plant, where we get to see Wolf (the name of the Predator of this movie) absolutely kick ass and slaughter his way through hordes of Xenomorphs. Not that the xenos are left in the dust, as they get plenty of murders on screen and even outsmart Wolf on occasion.

I actually like the Predalien design and the idea that it’s more intelligent than the average Xeno, including holding personal grudges and understanding Predator behavior.

And the Predator tech is really cool too! We got laser grids, land mines, power fists, converting the plasma caster into a plasma pistol And I love the moment where Wolf kidnaps one of the human protags to use as live bait. Such a dick thing to do but so in-character.

Even the bits we get of Wolf mourning his fellow dead hunters was a neat addition.

And to be honest, I didn’t mind the idea of seeing an actual xenomorph infestation in real time, in a small town. I think that sort of setting would be really fun for a one-shot story.

And… that’s it. That’s all the good stuff.

What Went Wrong?

I compiled a list of sources where I got a lot of information on the AvP production: Source 1, Source 2, Source 3, Source 4

Note that a lot of these are 20 years old so I apologize for the outdated and honestly abhorrent word use that some articles and videos may use. And another apology for using the Xenopedia wiki, it was just a good shorthand for other information.

In short: Fox fucking sucks. They will absolutely self-sabotage themselves in order to make a (perceived) profit. Tom Rothman is the most well known (and he’s gone to Sony as of now), but Fox has had a looong history of being stingy and terrified of any risks for their films.

The sheer amount of drama involving Alien 3 and Alien Resurrection is an insane rollercoaster.

AvP removed pretty much any sense of horror and purposely had the design of the Predators to be more “human” and “heroic” (hence the weird human eyes and bulky physique), with a PG-13 rating for more audience numbers. While the human characters aren’t bad, they are not unique or even memorable (barring the fandom romantic tension between Lexi and the final Predator). Also, it was very weird that the Predators couldn’t kill a single Xenomorph, meanwhile the Colonial Marines couldn’t trip without blasting apart swarms of them. It felt like they really wanted to save money on the film in that regard.

AvP:R was even worse, with it being filmed with such a lack of lighting that people could not actually see any of the movie, and even modern advancements in color grading make it a strain. The human characters are awful, just absolutely boring and unremarkable beyond being veiled callbacks to characters from Alien, and we get a bunch of stupid Dawson’s Creek drama involving teenagers who look like they are 30 years old fighting over a girl who has no personality because she was written to just be “hot girl”.

If the story had focused entirely on the wife coming home from the war and dealing with the fact that her own daughter doesn’t feel close or comfortable with her after years of being gone, there could have been focus and themes and yadda yadda yadda.

Also, while this movie at least has horror aspects, did we REALLY need to see the Xenomorphs eating the fetuses and belly bursting out of still screaming mothers? Like, there is horror and then there is just being gross.

Final Thoughts

I often wonder if AvP took the wind out of the sails of Prometheus. Both play with the idea of humans worshiping aliens as gods, because Ancient Aliens is fucking everywhere, but it’s really hard to take Prometheus seriously when you remember AvP did basically the same setup (with arguably smarter characters).

And these movies have really soiled the idea of the AvP franchise barring the video games and comics. There’s apparently an AvP anime locked up in Disney Vaults and so far, both franchises have kept their respectful distances from each other.

However, with the recent successes of Alien: Romulus and Prey, there’s been a bit of a stir with some comments hinting at a potential AvP future.

Who knows. It’s been 17 years, perhaps 3rd time is the charm.

#avp #avp:r #avp: requiem #alien vs predator #alien vs predator: requiem #alien vs predator requiem #alien franchise #xenomorph #predator franchise #the predator #yautja #yaujta #film analysis #prey 2022 #alien: romulus

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melzula · 7 months

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North and South

part one

pairing: zuko x princess!reader

notes: i’m so excited to finally be at the last comic storyline of the series. i do admit there are a lot of noticeable changes from the comic, but i still hope you guys enjoy. also i did make a series playlist if you guys want to give it a listen, it’s included on the masterlist!

summary: while doing her best to rebuild the tribe, the Chief struggles to determine what is really best for her people. however, she hopes that the return of her friends will allow her to see things in a clearer view

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

After a long day of teaching, you find yourself locked away in your office looking over proposals for the Reconstruction Project. Your head aches from the hours you’ve spent assessing paperwork and writing notes of your own about Hakoda’s new proposal. Things seem to be going well for the most part, your tribe is growing stronger with every passing day, but there’s still much to be done.

It’s been three months since you last visited the Fire Nation and helped Zuko find the missing children, and since returning home all of your attention has been focused on the needs of your people. You’re doing all you can to be the leader your father would want you to be and your tribe needs you to be, but the reconstruction process has made this a much more difficult task.

A gentle knock on your office door breaks you from your thoughts and brings you back to the present, refocusing your attention on the papers sprawled out before you. “Come in.”

“Chief y/n,” Hakoda greets you cordially before gently shutting the door behind him. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“No, of course not, I was just reviewing the proposal you and Malina submitted.”

“And?” He asks with a hopeful glint in his eye. You simply sigh, carefully rubbing your temple in thought before grabbing the papers from your desk and handing them back to him.

“I don’t think I can approve the construction of these plans,” you admit guiltily. “I know there’s an oil deposit here that could be beneficial to the growth of our tribe if used correctly, but can you assure me that will be the case once it’s built? Can you assure me it won’t have any negative impact on our wildlife or our people or our way of life? Can you assure me that it won’t cause tension between us and our sister tribe?”

“I… I can’t promise you any of that,” Hakoda admits with a sigh. “But isn’t taking chances part of making change? This oil could help build machines and make our way of life easier.”

“I’ve heard how some of the Notherners speak of us. I gave Maliq an earful the last time I caught him talking down to my men, and I don’t believe his intentions with this project consider the South’s best interests. Our people don’t deserve just fancy machinery and modern technology, they deserve dignity and respect. At this moment in time I’m not comfortable moving forward with the oil rigs. My answer is no.”

“I understand,” your advisor relents with a disappointed sigh. “I’ll inform Malina and Maliq of your response, and I’ll work hard to make sure we can show you that this project will be worthwhile.”

“Thank you, Hakoda. Now, onto less serious matters,” you note with a faint smile. “Based on the letter I received Katara and Sokka should be arriving tomorrow, and in two days I’ll be hosting a celebration in honor of their return. I can count on you to be there?”

“Of course, but… you won’t mention anything of Malina will you?” He asks hesitantly. “I should be the one to tell them.”

“I don’t like keeping secrets from friends, but I also know that this is a family matter, so you have my word,” you assure him. He thanks you and bids you goodnight before departing from your office, and once again you are all alone.

“What am I going to do?” You sigh, eyes straining as you try looking over the plans again. Change has been necessary to keep your tribe growing and your people strong, but you worry that perhaps there’s been too much change. The only thing that’s really stayed the same is the palace, but even now it feels out of place amongst all the modern buildings and structures. The Southern Water Tribe feels too Northern, and you worry your people are beginning to lose their identity.

Nothing makes sense anymore, but you hope that with the arrival of your friends will come a clearer view on the future ahead.

You can only hope for the best.

~~~

The South is bustling with activity as you usher in your students for the day’s lesson. Your class is reasonably small, made up of only about ten attendees and only two of them being originally from the South. Those two were the most resistant to your lessons, but you did your best to be as understanding of their hesitancy as possible. You too understood the trauma and fear that came with being forced to hide your bending once the war broke out in the South, and some people were still getting used to the fact that there was no longer any danger to run from.

“Good morning my little koala otters,” you greet cheerfully. “I hope you all are well rested and ready for today’s lesson.”

“Excuse me,” a voice calls, bringing your attention to the doorway, “do you have room for another student?”

You nearly collapse from the excitement that fills you at the sight of your two friends standing in the doorway with Master Pakku in tow ready to take over classes for you. You almost trip over your own feet as you rush towards the siblings and throw your arms around them in the tightest hug imaginable.

“Sokka, Katara! I’m so happy to see you guys,” you exclaim with a tearful smile before pulling away. “I can’t believe you’re back already.”

“It’s great to see you again, y/n,” Katara agrees, a content look on her face, “and it’s good to be home, even though it does look… different.”

“I know, it is a bit much,” you admit with an uncomfortable laugh, “but the people seem to like it, and your father thinks a modern look is just what our tribe needs.“

“Is our dad a great advisor or what?” Sokka asks Katara, a prideful smile on his face.

“He certainly has been a great help. Thanks to him and the construction crew from the North I’ve been able to focus on my bending school and more of the social affairs around the South. Having more time to connect with my people helps me be the best Chief I can and make sure I’m making the right choices for them.”

“Speaking of the construction crew,” Katara interrupts with a sour look on her face. “I caught them trying to attack little kids who were playing near a construction site.”

“It was just a misunderstanding, Katara,” Sokka reasons with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Besides, you kicked their butts anyway!”

“That’s terrible,” you express with a worried frown. “I’ll have to have a word with Malina about her crew; they won’t be welcomed here any longer if they keep this sort of behavior up. I won’t have outsiders tormenting my people.”

“This Malina… do you trust her?”

“Why do you ask?” You say, trying to feign obliviousness. You certainly don’t want to get in the middle of anything, but it’s hard having to lie to someone who’s been there for you through thick and thin.

“Well, we’re supposed to have dinner tonight with my dad, and her and her brother Maliq will be joining us. But I’m not really sure if I trust her,” Katara admits sullenly. “Something doesn’t feel right about them.”

“You just have to give her a chance. Anyone who can come up with cool designs like that can’t be all that bad,” her brother argues much to her annoyance.

“You only like her because she’s feeding you,” she grumbles indignantly.

“Look, I think you should speak to your father. He spends more time with her than I do, and he’ll be able to explain things much better than I probably could. The only thing I can tell you both is to keep your schedules open because tomorrow night I’ll be hosting a celebration in your honor!”

“What? You don’t have to do that!” Katara exclaims in surprise.

“Of course I do. You’re Southern heroes, you saved the world by helping the Avatar and you saved our tribe when you helped me defeat Koa,” you explain adamantly. “We’re having the party, and as Chief I demand your presence.”

“You’ve let the power go to your head, haven’t you?” Sokka accuses jokingly. “Don’t worry, y/n, we’ll be there.”

“Good,” you smile, pleased at getting your way. “We’re all going to have a wonderful time and everything is going to work itself out. These things just take time.”

“I guess you’re right,” Katara murmurs, but you can still detect the uncertainty in her features.

“Listen, why don’t you both come by tomorrow after my lessons are over? I can give you a grand tour of the new and improved Southern Water Tribe!” You suggest eagerly. “Your opinions matter too, and I want as much input as possible about how to improve our home for everyone.”

“That sounds nice,” she admits with a meek smile. “Maybe that’s what we need, a chance to settle into life back home.”

“Perfect! I’m excited to show you our procgress!”

While Katara appreciates your enthusiasm, she still doesn’t feel right about Malina or the changes made in the South. It doesn’t really feel like home anymore; it’s so different from how life once was. For your sake she’ll try to give it a chance, but as of now it seems it’ll take a lot more than her father’s reassurance to convince her that these changes are for the best.

But she hopes that maybe you’re right, maybe these things just take time, and maybe once time has passed it’ll feel like normal again.

She can only hope.

~~~

“After we finished rebuilding the outer tribes, we began our work on the royal plaza. It’s now become the main center for commerce, diplomacy, and unity. The local businesses that have opened here have been massively successful, and the square is constantly bustling with activity.”

Katara feels overwhelmed by the whirlwind of information you throw at her as you guide her and Sokka through the brand new royal village. You’re right about it always being busy- people rush by your trio to start their work for the day or bargain for the latest deals at the merchant stands. They look happy, content, and out of place. The people don’t match the towering buildings around them, and they surely don’t look like the same people she’d left behind a few years ago.

“And everyone is happy with the changes?” She asks curiously.

“Well, some were resistant to the change, so I tried to be as accommodating as possible. Those who didn’t want new homes were allowed to keep their original huts, and I didn’t force the outer tribes to merge with the royal village. I gave them the autonomy to govern their own affairs so long as it doesn’t interfere with the overall success of the tribe, but they’re still required to report to me at least once a month about their progress and request aid if needed.”

“So it’s kind of like the Earth Kingdom in a way?” Sokka points out indeterminately. “You‘ve established cities while still keeping the palace as the center point of the tribe.”

“I guess that’s true,” you note thoughtfully at his observation. “Father said I’d gain the knowledge needed to lead by traveling the world, so I’m using the knowledge I’ve gained for the benefit of my people.”

“I hate to burst your burble, Princess, but I don’t think everything’s as perfect as you say it is,” the boy says with a frown. Faltering, you slow yourself to a stop and turn to face the siblings. Their features are riddled with apprehension, and you’re not sure what to make of it.

“What do you mean, Sokka? Is there something you don’t like about the changes? Is there something I should be doing better?” You ask, fretful over the idea of not living up to the expectations placed upon you as leader.

“No, no, I think you’re doing a great job, honest. It’s just… well, some people aren’t happy about the Northerners being here.”

“Last night Malina was attacked at dinner, and we were forced to chase after these kids that stole Maliq’s briefcase,” Katara begins to explain, lowering her voice to ensure no one can overhear your conversation. “We followed them to the abandoned Fire Nation shipwreck and discovered a series of tunnels underneath.”

“There was an entire group of Southerners down there led by Gilak, a warrior who fought alongside our fathers against the Fire Nation,” Sokka continues, and you can only hang on to every word. You feel ashamed to know that this has been going on without your knowledge, and it’s almost as if you’ve failed in a sense. You’re Chief, it’s your job to know of things like this, and yet you’re having to find out about it through your friends. “They’re not happy about our sister tribe’s presence here in the South.”

“I understand some of the Northerners can be a bit blunt and unpleasant at times, but I didn’t think it was this bad,” you admit with a disappointed frown. “What did they tell you?”

“He said he understood that at first it was necessary for you to bring in people from the North to help restore bending to our tribe because it would make us stronger,” Sokka explains as he recalls the awkward encounter. “But now he thinks my dad is going overboard with all the people he’s brought in to help us rebuild.”

“He says we’re becoming a cheap imitation of the North,” Katara murmurs thoughtfully, and by the look on her face it seems as if she agrees with the sentiment.

“What else did Galik say?”

“They want to eradicate the presence of foreigners and are prepared to go to war to do so,” Sokka says sullenly, not exactly enjoying having to break this news to you. “He says we have to get rid of the Northerners before they take advantage of you.”

“Of me?” You retort in bewilderment. You definitely didn’t expect that to come out Sokka’s mouth. Katara then places a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Galik and his followers believe that your relationship with Zuko- an outsider- has made you too trusting of foreigners. He thinks the Northerners are taking advantage of this trust to worm their way into the affairs of the South.”

“He compared our father to Koa,” Sokka spits irately, still fuming at the memory. “He thinks he’s abusing his position as advisor to go behind your back and make all these changes.”

“That’s not true at all!” You exclaim in disbelief. “Spirits, this has all gotten so out of hand. What am I to do?”

“Hey, don’t worry, we’re going to figure it out. Our dad is already investigating the matter as we speak,” your friend assures you, doing his best to alleviate your worry. “You’re doing great, Chief.”

You give him a meek smile at his encouragement, but his words do little to quell your anxieties. The last thing you want is a civil war to break out between your tribes, but at this point it’s starting to feel inevitable. You just hope Hakoda can put a stop to this before it gets too out of hand.

“Y/n, could I speak to you alone?” Katara asks suddenly much to the surprise of her brother.

“Of course. We’ll have to finish our tour another time, Sokka,” you tell the water tribe boy with an apologetic smile. Turning to his sister, you gesture for her to follow. “There’s something I want to show you.”

You weave your way through the village and back towards the palace square. The towering buildings slowly fade away the further you go, and the air here is more peaceful and serene with the absence of all the merchants and people. After a while you finally reach your stop, allowing Katara a moment to take in the building before her.

“What is this place?” She asks in awe, admiring the pristine marble work of the pillars lining the structure.

“Let’s go inside,” you suggest with a careful smile before ushering her toward. Immediately she’s greeted with a vast expanse of artifacts, artwork, literature, and more. Each section has its own label and scroll of information detailing the importance of the different exhibits, and Katara figures it would probably take hours to look through everything.

“This is incredible. Did you do all of this?”

“This was one of the first buildings I commissioned as Chief,” you recount with a proud smile. “The South lost so much because of the war, and I didn’t want anyone to forget all that we’d been through and all we’d done to survive. This museum holds every piece of history of the Southern Water Tribe, and I hope it can be used to educate others about our strength and resilience.”

“I want the South to grow, Katara. I want us to connect with others, to live in harmony with the other Nations. I want people from all over the world to visit the South and learn about our culture. Is it really so naive of me to have such hope?”

“No, I guess not,” Katara admits guiltily. “Y/n, the reason I wanted to speak to you alone was because I- well, because Malina and my father are together, and I’m not sure how to feel. She’s nothing like my mother, and I don’t think she’s good enough for my dad.”

“I know what it’s like to lose a parent,” you note faintly, absently brushing your fingers against your tiger shark tooth necklace. “I couldn’t imagine how I’d feel if my mother began to see someone else. But if it were to happen, I’d know that I’d just have to trust my mother’s judgement. Just like you have to trust your father’s.”

“It’s easier said than done,” Katara says with a huff. You merely give her a comforting smile and pull her figure into a hug.

“Just give it a chance. She doesn’t have to replace your mother, she never will, but it doesn’t hurt to get to know her. I think tonight’s festival would be the perfect opportunity, don’t you think?”

“Maybe you’re right,” she says with sigh, appreciating your comfort and wisdom. She’s glad to have you, and she knows you feel the same.

You part from your hug and give her a reassuring smile. “I have to head back to the palace now for a meeting with your father and the Northern siblings, but please feel free to stay in here as long as you’d like.”

She watches you depart from the room before turning her attention to the portrait before her. The image depicts a family from before the war, the mother and daughter brushing the animal pelts while the father and son cook freshly caught fish over the fire. They look happy, and Katara begins to feel her chest ache.

~~~

It’s a peaceful day in the Fire Nation as Zuko sits in the gardens and enjoys a cup of tea with his Uncle. It’s certainly been a stressful past few years, so he’s learned to enjoy calm and quiet moments like these where he can finally stop to catch his breath.

A servant approaches the table and bows in respect before offering the Fire Lord a scroll. “This just arrived from the South, sir.”

“Thank you,” he says, taking the scroll before dismissing the servant.

“A letter from the Princess?” Iroh asks with a curious smile, and based on the longing look that plays upon Zuko’s features as he reads the letter, the general confirms his guess to be correct.

“My love, I hope things in the Fire Nation are running smoothly. As you know, Hakoda has invited you for a conference that is to occur in just a few days. However, I’m hosting a celebration tomorrow for Katara and Sokka’s return home, and I would love for you to arrive early and attend! I hope to see you soon, Zuko. Yours truly, y/n.”

Smiling faintly, Zuko tucks the scroll away before looking to his Uncle. “Would you be able to look after things for a few extra days while I’m gone? It appears I’ll be taking my leave to the South earlier than expected.”

“Of course, nephew,” Iroh smiles cordially. “I would like nothing more than to allow you the chance to relax and enjoy some time with your beloved. Please do give the Princess my best.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” the Fire Lord says before excusing himself from the table and heading inside to prepare for his departure.

After months of waiting, Zuko is finally going to be reunited with the one he loves most.

| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303

| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @lora21 @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy

| fire lilies tags: @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @xapham @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal @chilifrylizard2 @kyomihann @kaylove12 @kiwihoee @freggietale @moon-spirit-yue @bubblegum-bee-otch @docackerman @rinalsword

#fire lilies #north and south #zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #katara #sokka #atla #atla x reader #atla imagine #avatar the last airbender

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bucketslutz · 19 days

Text

Don't Be Late, Chapter 6

(Professor!Logan Howlett x F!Student!Mutant!Reader)

Click here for chapter index.

Chapter Summary: The aftermath.

A/N: Hiiiii, im backkkkk!! sorry for the unintentional hiatus, this chapter took me ages to write. But i honestly feel really good about it! after i posted the last chapter, i was worried that i might've rushed the slow burn slightly, but i hope that this chapter puts things on the right path. enjoy!!!

Warnings: smut, 18+, MDNI, fingering, making out, grinding slightly, nightmares

Word Count: 6,844

Chapter 6

Eyes slowly blinking open, you register the faint sound of talking echoing throughout your house. You adjust to your surroundings, naked in your bed, claw marks in your mattress; the events of the night before come rushing back into your mind. Logan. The rain. Your powers—his powers. Oh god, what did you do? The bed’s cold. He must’ve already gone downstairs, his voice being the one you recognize carrying through the halls of your home. Is he embarrassed? Does he regret it? You can’t stew with these ideations all morning. Sitting up, you throw your feet off the side of the bed, slipping a robe on before descending down your stairs. You overhear the tail end of Logan’s conversation with someone you assume he’s talking on the phone with.

“I’m working on it—I gotta go,” he says quickly into the phone. You come upon his bare back as he stands in your kitchen, clad in nothing but his jeans from the night before. He turns around to face you, stuffing his phone in his pocket and offering you a tight-lipped smile. There’s an air of awkwardness hanging between you two, neither one sure of who should say something first. Should you go hug him? Give him a kiss good morning? Should you talk about it?

“Still dunno what you did with my underwear,” he remarks dryly, breaking the silence. An awkward chuckle escapes your throat. You could still cut through the tension with a butter knife. An idea crosses your mind, an attempt to relieve the pressure that’s built in the room.

“I-uh, wait just a second,” you hold up a finger, crossing to your fridge. You had honestly forgotten that you kinda disintegrated his boxers last night. Typically, you don’t find yourself in this kind of situation—having to find a way to reconstruct an object for someone after taking it apart. You fish through your fridge for one of your protein shakes, exhaling a satisfied hum once you set your sights on the chocolate drink. Holding up a finger to Logan yet again, you chug the shake swiftly while he looks at you incredulously.

“The hell are you—“ he starts, but he’s cut off when you manifest his boxers back on his body, Logan lowering the waistband of his pants to confirm that you did, in fact, do that.

“Sorry, powers use up a lot of calories,” you huff, panting from the drink you just downed in a few seconds.

“Oh.”

There’s more tension in the air. You wipe the chocolate off of your upper lip, wondering what he could possibly be thinking. He was so passionate last night, you would’ve never thought that he would say anything the way he did—never thought for even a second that he even felt that way about you. It was almost overwhelming, the rush of all of those feelings, the rain, the revelation of both his and your powers. Did you rush into this?

“Logan, I—“

“Look—“

You overlap with each other, letting the silence overcome you both again.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” you ask Logan, trying to hide away in an attempt to preserve your feelings.

“No, you can go,” Logan retreats as he crosses his arms over his bare chest. You smile nervously, unsure of how to word what you’re feeling.

“Um, well,” you start, “What I was going to say is: I think I need a little bit of space. I just—a lot happened. I don’t know if I was thinking properly. I just don’t know if we got caught up in the moment or—“ you shake your head, shutting your eyes tightly as you try to word this carefully. “Logan, what we did—what we’re doing, it’s serious. I don’t know if I’m ready for something like this, or if we should even be doing this.”

You can’t help the lump that forms in your throat, unsure if it’s from anxiety or from how painful it is to admit that to him. You just want your degree. This…thing you have with him could threaten that. He’s stoic, taking you in carefully. You start to speak again, wanting to clarify your words, but he finally talks.

“I was gonna say the same thing,” he replies simply, clearly not wanting to show any sign of emotion. That honestly makes you more nervous. Did you upset him? Is he disappointed?

“Logan—“

“I’ll, uh, get my things and head out,” he walks past you and starts towards the stairs, hesitating before ascending, “And don’t worry, we can just pretend like this never happened.”

You try to go after him, to clarify. It hurts you that he thinks you want to forget it. As much as a part of you would like to, you don’t think you can. But he’s already halfway up the stairs. You huff as you lean back against your kitchen counter, thoughts racing with a mixture of regret and excitement. How are the two of you supposed to just forget about this? Is forgetting this whole ordeal for the better? Logan’s rapid descent down the stairs pulls you from your thoughts, he slips his boots on as you cross over to him.

“Logan, I don’t think we can just forget this.”

“Not a matter of can or can’t, we have to,” he replies, rather curtly, picking up his leather jacket that was discarded on the floor during last night’s escapade.

“Can we at least talk about it?” you level, but he’s set on how he feels, it seems. This was a mistake.

“There’s nothing to talk about. You said it yourself, we got caught up in the moment. Sorry for comin’ here, won’t happen again.” And with that he breezes past you and out the door, not saying a word to you when he hops in his truck and drives away. You thought getting drinks with him was bad, but this might just be your worst nightmare.

…

You toss and turn in your bed, struggling to find comfort in your sheets with your mind racing the way that it is. What a braindead decision. Why did you do that? Why didn’t you consider the implications of him knowing everything about you? How are you supposed to look him in the eye on Monday? Groaning in frustration, you dig the heels of your palm in your eyes, trying to will the thoughts of regret away. There’s nothing you can do now. Your feelings for each other are out in the open. You can’t hide behind faux timidity, Logan will see right through it. All you can do is face the reality of the situation: you just fucked your history professor, who is a mutant like you, and dreams the same vivid sex fantasies you do. It’s bizarre to think of it that way, almost feels fake.

Eyes feel heavy, but you don’t dare shut them. You fear going to sleep now, worried that another dream might happen and the two of you will have to see each other after knowing what happened in your subconscious. Would your consciousness meet you there this time? Would you just be a puppet to whatever the dream wills to happen, or will you see him with lucidity? You don’t know. But you can’t fight sleep much longer.

Bright white light blinds you, its fluorescence humming from above. You’re barely conscious, weak, skin cold from the icy metal you lay upon. You don’t know where you are. You can barely move with the restraints at your wrists, ankles, waist, head. But even if you could get up, you feel faint. Like your body has been sucked of every nutrient save for the bare minimum you need to be alive. Men in surgical gear hover above you, goggle-shrouded eyes looming at you hungrily. You would panic but your body doesn’t have the energy to. Equipment comes to view in your peripheral—needles and tubes with strange liquids. Beeping and muffled talk of dissections and extractions is all you can hear, barely able to tell what they’re really saying.

“She might not survive the procedure, she’s barely hanging on as is,” one of them says, their tone hushed but stressed.

“He gave orders. Prep the IV,” another voice commands. Immediately following his direction, the sharp stab of a needle hits your skin. Then another. And another. Blood flowing out of you, liquids pumping into you, consciousness fading as the beeping grows louder and more incessant. You try to stay awake—fighting with all your might, but you can’t. The beeping has crescendoed with the accompaniment of flashing lights. You’re sure this is your mind’s way of coping with the loss of reality as you slowly slip away. Voices yell around you, crashing bodies, and the flying of blood splatter covers the ceiling you’ve been staring at. The room glows white and you’re sure this is it. But something blocks the light—a figure hovers above you. Ripping the needles from your arms and freeing you from the restraints, a voice soothes you. It reverberates around your skull, echoing and not registering as any kind of real dialogue. Then, arms cradle you and lift you up off of the table and suddenly you recognize the source of the voice.

“You’re gonna be okay, baby, I got you,” Logan reassures, the gravel in his voice bringing you back down to earth. Eyes blink up at him as he pulls you against his chest, carrying you away from the fluorescent room. There’s another voice—one you don’t recognize.

“Logan, we must get her medical attention. She’s dying,” the man says.

“We’re almost there, baby, just hang on,” Logan comforts you, trying his best not to jostle you as he practically runs through a white blur of a hallway. The scenery around you darkens, an engine hums in the distance. Nothing is legible to you through your delirium. The humming grows louder and louder until you’re carried up a ramp and placed gently onto the hard surface of a table. A hiss, some beeps and the room shakes. You can’t make sense of anything, your surroundings looking like a blur of grey and faint flashing lights.

“Hank, do something, damnit!” Logan shouts, gripping your hand tightly. You wish you could squeeze him back, but your body is too weak to do much of anything—sleep seeming like something that would feel so, so good right now.

“Her body has been deprived of the necessary nutrients her powers need in order to regenerate her strength, I can give her this to see if it will sustain her until—“

“Give her the damn shot!”

The light prick on your skin barely registers as you try your hardest to look at Logan’s face, but he’s so faint, nothing looks clear.

“Logan,” you rasp.

“You’re gonna be okay, baby, just look at me. You got this, just hang on.” He shakes you gently, trying to keep you conscious. But you just want to sleep, it’s all you can think about.

“I’m so tired,” you murmur, your lids heavy, your breathing slowing down. The thumping that used to be so loud in your chest feels lighter and lighter as you succumb to your sleep. Everything around you echoes, unable to register the yells and screams as you allow your body to fall asleep.

A gasp violently wakes you, like you almost fell off of something. Chest heaving, you sit up in bed, taking time to process what just happened. You barely remember this dream, just that Logan was there and you felt so weak and tired and scared. Falling back against your pillow, you try and will yourself back to sleep, already feeling the events of the dream fading away. But a harsh noise startles you awake, your heart rate skyrocketing from the shock. You jump at the sound of banging echoing from your door. Checking the clock, you wonder who would be here at this hour. You go to your bedroom window to peek out at your driveway for any indication of who might be bothering you. It’s dark, but you can make out the silhouette of a car parked in front of your house. Sighing in annoyance at the sight of what you recognize as Logan’s truck, you stomp down your stairs, wondering what the hell he could be doing here at this hour. Swinging the door open, you try to hide your surprise at the way he’s dressed. No shirt, just sweatpants. Like he just rolled out of bed and showed up. He almost looks relieved to see you. He doesn’t give you a second to question him before he speaks.

“Did you just have a dream?” he asks, his tone concerned and stressed, bare chest heaving. You’re too tired for this tonight, you just want him gone.

“What? Logan, go home,” you scoff, trying to shut the door but he stops you, imploring your name.

“Did you…have any dreams?” he repeats, slowing his words down carefully as he wills you to be honest with him. Judging from his disheveled appearance and worried tone, you’re assuming he just had the same dream you did. Did he come here to see if you were okay? To test your connection further and see if the dream meant something to you? You can’t push this relationship further past what it already is. It’s better for you and Logan that you forget about everything and try and move on.

“I didn’t have any dreams, goodnight, Logan,” you reply simply, shutting the door finally and locking it behind you before you head upstairs, going back to bed.

…

You’re not religious, but you’ve been praying—praying that this morning will not be the most awkward morning of your life and it will be just like any other day in Logan’s class, which really isn’t too normal at all. At least, not in comparison to the rest of the courses you’ve been taking, but you hope he doesn’t have any outbursts.

Your classmates, engaged in conversation around you, barely notice Logan walking in. But you do. He’s a few minutes later than usual, hair messy and eyes heavy as he sets his briefcase down. He’s flipping through the textbook, keeping his eyes low so he doesn’t make eye contact with you. A part of you wants him to—wants him to look at you. Does he still think about your night of passion? Does he have to try and stop himself from caving into self-pleasure, shoving every lasting thought of you down the drain? Does he have to fight the urge to stare at your tits or the way your ass looks in your jeans when you turn around to write on the board….

God, what has happened to you? You have sex with someone once and you can hardly control your thoughts. How can he have this effect on you? Clenching your thighs when he enters a room, heart racing at the sight of his biceps peeking out from under the sleeves of his T-shirt. You’re like a fangirl who can’t stop thinking about nothing but him—him, him, him. You might as well flutter your eyelashes and prop your chin on your hand if this is how you’re going to be.

Logan goes on and on about…Shit, what did he just say? C’mon, pay attention damnit. This man will not cause me my degree, you curse your thoughts and try to whip yourself into shape.

Shaking your head of the sexual ideals, you bring your focus to your note taking, attempting to forge a mental image of Logan being extremely unattractive. It works for the remainder of class, or at least until he hands you back your essay with the words My office. After class, scrawled at the top of the page. You glance upwards to meet his gaze, he holds eye contact for a beat before quickly turning away to pack up his things at the front of the room. Class is over, but you don’t dare to get up just yet, frozen in indecisiveness. Why does he want to see you? What reason does he have to see you? Is he just trying to come up with an excuse? The classroom’s empty now, leaving you with a decision: see Logan, or go home.

You honestly don’t really have much of a choice, as your body decides for your brain by carrying you to the door of his office. With hesitation, you knock, silently hoping that he forgot about what he wrote at the top of your essay.

“Come in,” he calls from behind the door, causing you to curse internally. Gingerly, you open the door inch by inch, peeking in briefly before stepping inside and closing the door behind you. He’s sat behind his desk, leaning back leisurely with his legs spread wide. You offer an awkward smile as you wipe your clammy hands on the fabric of your skirt, trying your best to hide your nerves.

“What’s up?” you ask, attempting a casual tone despite your nervousness in being here. Logan adjusts his position in his chair slightly, clearly stewing on something.

“So, your essay—I wanted to talk…well, I wanted to tell you,” he stammers, clearly struggling to form his thoughts. You try your best to listen patiently, but he continues to stumble through each word, “Look, there’s some things—there’s a thing, it’s extracurricular, I guess…”

“You brought me here to talk about a club?” you question, narrowing your eyes at him in slight disbelief.

“No, it’s not a club—well, it sorta is…look, I—“

“Logan,” you start, trying to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. You’re sure he just called you in because he won’t admit that he’s upset you rebuffed him. “I appreciate you thinking of me, but I’m not interested.”

You turn around in an attempt to leave, but Logan crosses to you in no time, spinning you around with a tight grip on your arm. The sudden movement makes you gasp lightly, a familiar twinge of arousal swirling within you at the harsh movement. He takes a deep breath, his mouth gaping like he’s trying to say something but can’t find the words. Something is distracting him, but you can hardly focus too—the way he looms over you and the smell of his tobacco filled musk being almost too much to bear. He stares at you for what feels like forever, a look of mild annoyance on his face which makes your brow furrow.

“What?” you ask incredulously, trying your best to hide how much he’s making your heart skip a beat and your thighs clench.

“Will you stop that,” he practically hisses.

“Stop what?”

“I can—Jesus, I can smell you.” He shakes you gently, pulling you slightly closer to him, like his body wants to kiss you but he’s trying his hardest to stop himself.

“Smell? What are you...” You trail off, your mind racing with possibilities. My perfume? My shampoo? What can he smell? And then it hits you. Can he smell when I’m turned on? Oh, god. You gulp, your throat suddenly extremely dry. How are you supposed to play this off? It’s almost like you’ve been backed into a corner, until your eyes flick downwards between the two of you, catching a glimpse of his own arousal pressed firmly against his jeans. Looking back up to him, you cock an eyebrow.

“Doesn’t seem to bother you,” you retort, narrowing your eyes slightly.

“You don’t exactly make it easy, princess,” he says, shifting his weight in discomfort.

“Make what easy?” you ask, doing your best to appear clueless to what he’s implying.

He inhales sharply before spinning you around so your ass is pinned to the edge of his desk, Logan’s body pressed into yours as he stops you from being able to move out from under him. The tip of his nose grazes against your own as his lips hover in a state of hesitance, contemplating a kiss.

“Logan,” you warn, voice hushed, “We can’t.”

“Why not?” He tries to catch your lips, but you pull back, not letting him make contact.

“Someone could walk in.”

“Could they?” he asks, dragging a hand up your side, letting your shirt hike up under the trail of his hand. Your breath hitches as his fingers graze along your skin, melting into his touch. He dips his face down to your ear, his beard prickling the soft skin of your cheek.

“What are you gonna do about that, princess?” he husks, tempting you with each rake of his words along the gravel of his vocal cords. His mouth glides along the side of your face, touch too ginger to be a kiss, but firm enough to feel each curve of his lips. He told you that you’re not making it easy, but god, it’s taking every ounce of self control in you to not just let him fuck you on the desk behind you.

But why not let him? You’ve already done it once, and who’s to say this won’t be the last time you do it? God, he’s making this so hard. The way his frame is pressed to yours, hands dragging up and down your body, his mouth so close to yours that if you so much as hiccup you’d surely lock lips. Maybe just a little kiss wouldn’t hurt, you think to yourself. With a raise of your hand and a flick of your wrist, the door is fused with the threshold, ensuring that no one can enter and catch you and Logan in the act. Hooking your arms around his neck, you finally pull his face into yours, affirming the connection that your mouths have been craving.

Groans escape Logan’s throat as he lifts you up slightly, setting you down on the desk. You wrap your legs around his torso, trying not to pay attention to the fact that you can feel the outline of his cock through your thin panties. Arching your back into him, your tongue tests the waters by dipping into his mouth gently.

The kiss is not pretty by any means, it’s wet and ravenous and messy, and so so good. It’s like you’re the first meal he’s had in ages; hungry yet savored. Tongues unabashedly become familiar with each other, no care with how far he thrusts it into your mouth and vice versa, just wanting to swallow and feel every last inch of you. Logan’s hands start wandering from your sides, sliding up your torso to grip your breasts possessively. You whimper in his mouth, frenzied in your desire to feel all of him. Hands wander again, settling at your waist to pull you closer to him before slipping under your skirt. A whimper leaves your mouth as he toys with the waistband of your panties, working his hand between your bodies so he can slide them to the side. Gasping into his mouth as he slides a finger through your lips, back arching into him.

You lose your focus on the kiss as he teases you, avoiding your aching core to make sure you’re nice and wet for him. His onslaught of your lips is still consistent, as if toying with your pussy is second nature to him. But he’s seemingly through with the teasing, as he slips one finger inside of you. You mewl into the kiss when he curls a digit, Logan takes that as permission to slip in another finger. You’re putty beneath him, barely able to reciprocate the kiss through whimpers and moans as he continues to pump in and out of you.

The sound of knocking outside causes both you and Logan to scramble. Hastily, pulling apart, straightening clothes, smoothing hair.

“Uh, be with ‘ya in just a minute,” Logan calls.

You hop off of his desk, bending down to collect your things, but Logan stops you with a grip on your arm.

“Logan, there’s someone—“ you whisper, your voice stressed.

“They can wait,” he husks, moving his hand from your arm to your jaw. Gripping your face, he brings his fingers from his free hand to your mouth, beckoning you to suck them clean. You’re not sure why, but you oblige, parting your lips to allow him access as you languidly suck your arousal from his fingers. He stares down at you with desire clearly painted on his face. He wants you, and he is not trying to hide it.

“Good girl,” he drawls with a tone dripping in velvet, causing you to swirl your tongue around each digit enthusiastically, savoring the taste of your own juices. The knocking continues, harmonizing with the voice of a young girl this time.

“Professor, I’m sorry, I just have a few questions about the homework.”

Logan pulls his fingers from your mouth, making you almost whine at the loss of fullness; a bitter taste remaining on your tongue. You clear your throat and grab your bag, smoothing your skirt and hair down as you silently hope you don’t look like you were just aggressively making out with your professor. Logan slips behind his desk, settling into his chair, unabashedly ogling your ass as you approach the door. You flash a flirty smile over your shoulder as you reach for the doorknob, almost falling over when the door doesn’t budge. You give it another good yank before remembering that you fused the door to the frame so no one would catch you and Logan in a compromising position.

You laugh awkwardly, catching Logan’s slightly bemused gaze as you lift your hand and restore the door back to its original state. Swinging it open, you offer a meek smile to the girl waiting patiently outside before quickly scurrying away. You can hear her still from the end of the hall.

“What’s with the door? I had a hard time getting it open,” she says.

“It’s broken.”

…

As you drive home from class, you can’t help but blush as you think back to your impromptu makeout session with Logan. The way he kissed you, touched you, grabbed you…No, you can’t. As much as you’d like to give in to these thoughts and feelings, you can’t allow this thing to become any bigger than it already is. It’s just a fling, a fleeting infatuation. You can’t let him distract you from your aspirations. There’s a whole path before you, laid out clearly. You know where you’re supposed to go. Sure, he may be like you, and he may understand you, but you have already accepted that the world isn’t ready to welcome mutants. If you let yourself have feelings for him, you would threaten the life you’ve worked so hard to maintain in secret. No one knows you, no one notices you, and that’s how you need it to be.

Besides, you like your quiet life. You like the winding drive to and from town. You like breathing the misty mountain air while you drink your morning coffee. You like the quiet that encompasses your little house. And nothing, surely no man, will take that tranquility from you.

Bedroom window cracked, you attempt to lull yourself to sleep with the sounds of the chirping crickets just outside your window. Though your eyes don’t feel quite as heavy as you’d like them to, you keep them shut. Hoping that your body will soon take over and succumb to the sleep you know you need to get.

Your vision around you is cloudy, unclear. There are no defining characteristics to your surroundings, just an expanse of darkness that envelops everything. You catch a light in the distance, the black slowly melting away as you approach it. When the darkness dissipates, the image is clearer. A hospital room. You almost don’t perceive who’s lying upon the bed, as the tubes and devices cover their face—your face— completely. You’re in the hospital? What hospital? This is unlike anything you’ve seen before, the equipment you’re hooked up to is far more advanced than what you know hospitals to have.

A blurry figure sits in a chair beside your bed, you cannot discern who it may be. The image clears further as the figure moves. It’s a man—it’s Logan. He looks…scared? Sad? Concerned? No, he looks distraught. He stares at you longingly, gripping your hand tightly. Another figure enters your line of sight. Unclear, but…blue? And furry? He’s broad, tall, and he wears a white lab coat, a pair of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. His face grows more detailed, revealing an animal-like physique to you. The two men begin speaking to each other but you cannot quite understand what they’re saying; their words are muffled and echoey, like they’re underwater. The shroud of indiscernible dialogue slowly dissipates.

“Logan, I’m sorry, we’ve tried everything. Her life…it’s in her hands now,” the blue stranger says, offering a sympathetic hand on Logan’s shoulder.

“It’s not in her hands, damnit, it’s in yours!” he snaps, standing up to drill into him further. “If she dies, it’s on you, Hank…so help me, god, if she—if she dies, you better pray, Hank—you better pray she makes it.”

Hank doesn’t seem phased by his threat. His expression is sad, empathetic.

“I’m sorry, Lo—“

He’s cut off by a droning beep emanating from one of the machines. You’re flatlining. You’re watching yourself flatline.

“No…no, no, no, no,” Logan sputters, rushing to your side. “No, come on baby, don’t do this to me. I’m right here with you, wake up, baby.”

“Logan—“ Hank tries to intervene.

“Goddamnit! Wake up!” he cries now, practically cradling you as he holds you to his chest.

You can’t stand to see him like this, you’re here. You’re right in front of him. In an attempt to comfort him, you try and approach further, but something stops you. You can’t move. Like a magnet that’s faced its match, you’re incapable of making contact.

“I’m here. I’m right here!” you shout. But he doesn’t react. And neither does Hank. There’s nothing you can do. Logan is anguished over your lifeless body and you just have to watch him suffer. The force stops you from approaching him, yet you still try with all your strength. Fighting and straining against the impermeable energy, you scream more as you hope and pray that Logan might hear you. Just when you feel like he may be within reach, something drags you away as if you were a lure they were reeling back in on a fishing line. The strength in which it pulls you away knocks you completely off your feet and you lose all sense of your surroundings.

Falling. A gasp and a drop of your heart brings you back down to earth. That was the weirdest one yet. Despite the strange out of body experience, it felt so real. Like you could almost reach out and touch Logan if you tried hard enough, yet you couldn’t. A sense of dread and anxiety weights heavy on your heart. You don’t think you’ll be able to fall asleep, at least not for a while.

Pushing open the doors of your patio, you shiver as the cold, night air encompasses you. You wrap a blanket around you as you propel yourself to the roof. It’s nights like these where you find yourself extra grateful for the lack of light pollution here. The stars don’t dream, the ones above may already be burnt out, but they still shine even in their possible death.

Your attention is drawn to headlights at the top of your driveway, your eyes adjusting to recognize Logan’s truck pulling in. A part of you wants to be annoyed, but there’s another part of you that is still pretty shaken up from that dream and could use a comforting presence. And judging by his sudden appearance, he must’ve also had the same one. He steps out of his truck, a case of beer in his hand.

“Figured you could use one of these,” Logan calls from below, gesturing with the case of beer.

You exhale a light laugh, shaking your head at the absurdity of this situation. A wave of your hand and you project a set of crystalline, pink stairs for him to climb up. He hesitantly ascends, clearly weary of the sturdiness of the projection. He reaches the top, the steps dissipating behind him. A hand stretches out to you, offering you one of the beers, which you accept with a tight-lipped smile. He sinks down next to you, his beer bottle hissing open before he takes a generous swig. Twisting the cap off, you take a swig yourself, wincing at the bitter path it leaves down your throat. You’re quiet for a while, mostly because you’re unsure of what to say, but also in part because you like the quiet. Your gaze has been fixed on the freckled sky above, avoiding making eye contact with Logan. The impromptu kiss today might’ve left him wanting more, and you hope he didn’t just come here to pick up where you left off. But, then again, he had the same dream you did, where he seemed to be far more distraught than you were.

“You okay?” you ask quietly, turning your head to face him. His jaw tightens slightly before he turns to you and nods. Taking another sip of his beer, he looks lost in thought, leg propped up and arm rested atop his knee.

“Why do you think we keep having these dreams?” he asks lowly, finally turning to face you.

In all honesty, you don’t know. You’ve never experienced anything like this before. As far as you know, your powers don’t affect the subconscious, and while you don’t know much about what Logan can do, you doubt that his metal claws come with the power to manipulate dreams.

“I don’t know,” you offer, feeling a bit defeated by the fact that you have to keep dealing with this every night. You can’t remember the last time you had a full nights sleep that wasn’t interrupted with nightmares or sex dreams.

“Can your powers…you know, even do stuff like that?” he inquires, unsure of himself.

You shake your head, feeling certain that if you were capable of this kind of thing, it would’ve most likely already happened to you, before you ever even met him.

“No, I don’t think so,” you replied, before continuing, “And you? Can you…do stuff like that?”

You take another sip of your beer. Logan chuckles, seemingly amused at the thought.

“I don’t mean to disappoint, but these claws don’t got much to do with mysticism,” he teases, causing you to nod in understanding. “I know I didn’t explain much,” he continues, unsheathing his claws with a sharp ‘snikt,’ “But I wasn’t exactly born like this.”

“What do you mean?” you inquire, confused as to what he’s implying as you stare at the blades that protrude from his knuckles; they glisten in the moonlight.

“This metal…it ain’t just on the claws,” he remarks in a tone that you can only describe as pained as he begins to recount this to you. “Those dreams you—we have….that fear you felt in there, it was a reality for me.”

His jaw tenses as he sheathes his claws. You’re not sure what exactly he’s trying to say—or allude to, as he isn’t saying anything with clarity.

“What fear?” you coax, trying to get him to reveal more to you.

“The tests.” He’s quiet, taking a generous swig of his beer, easily downing a majority of the liquid that was left in the bottle.

“What tests? Who tested on you?” He doesn’t answer you, avoiding eye contact as you try to level with him. “Was it the government? The military?”

He stiffens, his body having a visceral reaction to those words. That realization makes your heart sink. What did he go through? Why did they test on him? What did they do to him? What did he mean when he said the metal wasn’t just on his claws? Your mind races with questions and concerns until you take note of his stiff posture and balled fists, his hand keeping a death grip on his beer bottle. You’ve never seen him look so tense before. This must be painful to recount—to have been treated inhumanely like a lab rat. You cannot imagine what he must be feeling. You place a gentle hand on his balled fist and feel as he relaxes under your touch. He turns his head to you with a softened expression.

“You don’t have to tell me anything else…I’m sorry,” you sympathized, running your thumb along his knuckles.

He shrugs, as if this was a casual retelling. A typical Monday night for Logan Howlett.

“Don’t stress about it, princess,” he husks, dipping his head down to your level. He lingers there for a moment, gaze flicking between your eyes and lips, clearly contemplating a kiss. You should protest, push him away, but his closeness is comforting. It’s warm. He attempts to lock his lips with yours, but you turn away, not allowing contact.

“I…I still think we shouldn’t…,” you murmur, keeping your head low and meekly looking up at him through your eyebrows. He nods in understanding, shifting away from you slightly. Despite your hesitance to kiss him again, you don’t want him to leave. His presence relaxes you, keeps you from spiraling. You move closer to him, gently linking your arm with his before leaning against his shoulder. The suddenness of your contact makes him flinch under you slightly. You feel a twinge of embarrassment when he removes his arm from the link you formed. But the feeling quickly dissipates when he wraps it around you to pull your frame further into his. A gentle kiss is placed on the top of your head, making your breath hitch. This is exactly what you needed tonight.

“Thank you—for coming here,” you mutter, nuzzling your head into his chest in an attempt to get comfortable. He shifts under you, perhaps in an attempt to get a look at your huddled figure.

“It’s nothing. People like us—we take care of each other,” he remarks, adjusting the blanket that’s fallen off your shoulder with the hand that is not wrapped around you. He fumbles with the beer bottle, struggling to get a grip on the blanket with the fingers he doesn’t need to use in order to support the glass.

“You done with that? I can take care of it for you,” you offer, gesturing to his beer bottle. He nods, offering it to you as he’s probably expecting you to just take it away from him. You take him by surprise, though, when you dissipate it with a wave of your hand, a trail of pink particles dissolving into the air. He looks at his hand incredulously, then at you, then back to his hand.

“Alright, I told you my shit, now tell me yours,” he insisted, a bemused but intrigued tone to his voice, causing you to laugh lightly.

“Okay, um, well…I don’t know everything about what I can do, but I do know atomic structures. If I can conceptualize something, I can conceptualize its atomic structure,” you begin, “So, take, for instance, this beer bottle,” you hold up the glass in your hand for emphasis, “When I look at it, I don’t just see the bottle. I see all of its particles and components and the atomic structures that make it up. So, since I’m done with it, I could just throw it away, but I’d honestly rather help the environment a little and convert it…” you trail off as you begin dissipating its particles, “…into energy. In this case, oxygen.”

Logan looks down at you with an amused expression, which makes you nervous. Did you say too much? Is he silently making fun of you?

“Sorry,” you concede sheepishly, suddenly feeling embarrassed about the way you admitted that to him.

“No, don’t be. That’s…Look, I’ve seen a lot in my time, but I’ve never seen anything like that—like you. Don’t be sorry,” he reassures, nudging you slightly with the arm that envelops you. You smile in relief and feel a twinge of pride. He’s right, it is pretty incredible. And it’s nothing to be sorry for.

“Thank you,” you murmur, looking up at him through heavy eyelids. Your exhaustion is beginning to rear its head at you the longer you sit in his arms. Settling against his chest, you pay attention to the steady thump of his heartbeat, the way his thumb runs circles along your upper arm, the warmness of his body on yours.

You’re not sure how soon after closing your eyes you fell asleep, finding yourself tangled in your bedsheets the following morning, Logan’s frame curled into yours.

...

A/N: AHHHHH!! i loved writing this one, i know i say that about every chapter but i mean it this time. no seriously this was fun to write. there's so much to this one and i feel like its jam packed with angst, exposition, a little sprinkle of smut, and a deepening of their connection. i do apologize for the sudden length between updates, i just started a new job and ive also been babysitting during the day so i got randomly busy all of a sudden!! i'm not giving up on this story and i still have SO SO SO MUCH PLANNED REST ASSURED. i love hearing peoples thoughts and theories, and i hope, as i said in the A/N at the top of this chapter, no one felt like the slow burn was too rushed. srsly theres still a LOT that has to happen before these two get together so the slow burn WILL be slow. a couple of people have asked about a chapter from logan's POV, and i will say that there will be maybe a couple more chapters until we get the one from his POV! so it'll happen!!! yay!! as always leave a like or a comment and also feel free to keep up with the story here on my ao3 as well!!

Taglist: @wolviesgirl @sanemis-piss @fictionalmen-dilflover @e-nonsense @bontensbabygirl @sseleniaa

#hugh jackman #logan howlett #x men #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine #logan howlett smut #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine smut #deadpool and wolverine #james howlett #james howlett x reader #james logan howlett #logan #logan wolverine #james howlett fanfiction #james howlett smut

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leveloneandup · 3 months

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Christen Press is a changed person as she nears return from injury: ‘I enjoy my life more’

Christen Press hasn’t gone two years without a soccer game since she learned to walk. So when she was laid up by a torn anterior cruciate ligament that took four surgeries and nearly 25 months to repair, she decided to make use of the free time she never thought she’d have.

As a result, the player who returned to training with Angel City this month is not the same one who was carried off the field eight games into the team’s first season.

“I definitely feel like this is the best version of me that I’ve ever known. And I hope it continues to evolve,” Press said Saturday in an interview that was heavy on smiles and optimism.

“I don’t know if I would say I’m a better person. I am a more grounded person. I’m more peaceful. I’m more at ease with myself. I’m more self-aware. I enjoy my life more, absolutely.”

It would be hard for her to be a better player than she was two years ago. A two-time World Cup champion and Hermann Trophy winner whose 64 international goals rank ninth in U.S. women’s national team history, Press was arguably in the best form of her life when she sustained the first major injury of her career.

At first she expected to be back in time for last summer’s World Cup. Then she thought maybe she could play in this summer’s Olympic Games. But the injury proved to be stubborn, and doctors had to go back in three more times for additional repairs.

She’s now 35, and it’s uncertain how her reconstructed knee — and the rest of her body — will hold up when she returns to the field. That question probably will be answered during one of Angel City’s three Summer Cup games, which will be played during NWSL’s seven-week Olympic break.

Given what she has gone through already, Press is confident she can handle whatever comes next.

“Every single day when I go out to the field I asked my knee, ‘Are you ready?’ It’s out of my control in a lot of ways,” she said. “It’s not, ‘Oh, you’re back and everything’s easy.’ My career will never look like it did.

“I want to make it back. I want to see if I can be good.”

Angel City could certainly use the help. The team went into the Olympic break having won only one of its last nine games, falling to 11th place in the 14-team NWSL with 10 games to play.

Press is likely to be ready for significant playing time when the season resumes in late August, but she might not be the only addition to the roster. With the transfer window opening soon, Angel City is nearing deals on two significant summer signings, said one person close to the team who is not authorized to speak publicly on personnel matters.

Despite the injury, Press was never really inactive. Physical therapy after each operation ate up much of her time, and she said she still does four to six hours of daily exercises just to keep the swelling down.

“Honestly, it’s a full-time job for her,” said Sarah Smith, Angel City’s director of medical and performance.

Still, she used the opportunity to work on other things as well. Press said she started therapy — the mental kind, not the physical kind — last September.

“I was like, ‘Well I have all this additional time that I can’t be on the pitch. What can I do with it?’ ” she said. “And I had a lot to work through, like my childhood, but also a changing life.

“Being healthy and strong has been my whole career, right? But it hurt to go up and down the stairs. It was a very big shift in identity.”

She has also devoted more time to the eclectic business empire she and her partner and former teammate Tobin Heath are managing, one that includes RE—INC, a gender-neutral community-driven fashion brand, and the RE—CAP Show, the couple’s entertaining award-winning podcast on women’s soccer.

That has given the whip-smart Stanford graduate a jump-start on the next phase of her life, though she’s not sure when that phase will begin in earnest. Her Angel City contract expires at the end of the season, but Press said that if her knee holds up, she’s not putting any limits on how much longer she might play.

“There’s part of soccer that has been really hard that I don’t miss. And then there’s simultaneously a deep longing and a sadness for not being in the game,” she said. “My body’s craving competition. It’s like a dichotomy.”

If the last two years have produced nothing on the soccer field and have been mostly painful off it, mentally and physically, they’ve been invaluable in many other ways. She’s grown. She’s become stronger, smarter, healthier and wiser. And she promises that’s going to be good for everyone — but especially for her.

“There’s pain and there’s also an opportunity,” Press said. “I have this ideology that things don’t happen to you, they happen for you. So I always ask myself, ‘What’s the gift of this?’

“It’s a happy story. It’s life, you know. It’s happy and it’s sad. [Am I] a better person?’ No, I’m different.”

#christen press #angel city fc #cp recovery #article #interview

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preseriesdean · 26 days

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for @spnficrecfest day ten 🧡

2x05 SIMON SAID

have a cigar by deadlybride 5.6k words, rated E, published 2020 What happened with Andy and Ansem unsettles Sam. Dean doesn't seem worried.

2x14 HOUSES OF THE HOLY

The real green thing will come by victoria_p 1k words, rated T, published 2007 He'd like to blame the whiskey, but he thinks it's more than that, this whatever-it-is between them that's been there for years.

2x20 WHAT IS AND WHAT SHOULD NEVER BE + 2x22 ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE

Worthless cartography by Goshen / applecrumbledore 15.6k words, rated E, published 2022 Dean didn’t know what finally made him go for it. The djinn’s dream was a catalyst, but the call was coming from inside the house, and he’d been letting it ring for a very, very long time. (They get one night together right before Sam is taken to Cold Oak. Dean has to deal with that.)

2x22 ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE

When I Fall Asleep it Is Your Eyes That Close by britomart_is 1.9k words, rated E, published 2009 Sam is alive. Dean is happy.

3x11 MYSTERY SPOT

North of Wednesday by Mollyamory 3.5k words, rated G, published 2008 Sam's behind the wheel before he realizes he doesn't have the keys. Dean does. There should be another cheesy eighties song coming on any second, because it's like he wakes up again, without ever falling asleep.

This Fortress Made of Us by mickeym 10.8k words, rated E, published 2009 Sam really didn't do very well without his brother.

What Went Wrong Yesterday by SinnamonSpider 16.2k words, rated E, published 2017 With Broward County in their rearview and a new case in their laps, Sam struggles to come to terms with the six months he spent alone after Dean’s death - and the fact that it never happened at all. And on top of it all, he now has to deal with the feelings for his brother that have been dragged to the surface.

4x17 IT'S A TERRIBLE LIFE

How Many Floors to Realize by lazy_daze 26.2k words, rated E, published 2009 In which Zachariah decides to keep stringing them along a little while longer, because damn if they aren't somewhat entertaining, right?

5x01 SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL

Lesser Evils by Dyed_Red 9.3k words, rated E, published 2020, non-con “So you’re just gonna, what – torture us for an hour while your guys hightail it to Buffalo? That’s your master plan here?” “Oh I can do a lot in an hour or two, Sammy. Like having your surrogate daddy here carve Dean a new face. Like backsliding you off your pretty bandwagon. Like…Seeing how far big brother will go for his sweet baby Sam.”

5x04 THE END

Further than a Ship, Faster Than a Bomb by queenklu 622 words, rated M, published 2010 Set during 5x04, when there was a glorious moment of two Dean Winchesters at the same time. "You left him."

5x14 MY BLOODY VALENTINE

The Heart of Life by queenklu 626 words, rated T, published 2010 A Vonnegut Valentine.

5x18 POINT OF NO RETURN

the tabernacle reconstructed by redmyeyes 2.9k words, rated M, published 2022 They pulled on clothes, afterwards.

6x18 FRONTIERLAND

You Have One Saved Message by killabeez 3.1k words, rated T, published 2011 Sam gets a new smart phone.

6x22 THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH

These Things I Know Are True by killabeez 4.6k words, rated E, published 2011 Cas is off the rails, Sam's barely keeping it together, and Dean's trying to figure out where they go from here.

8x21 THE GREAT ESCAPIST

Last Temptation by merle_p 3k words, rated M, published 2021 Sam is running a fever again, the kind of fever no Ibuprofen or cold compress will bring down, the kind of fever that is eating him up alive, eviscerating him from the inside. He is too hot and too cold and too pale, delirious and shaking, resonating with whatever divine energy the trials are subjecting him to, and Dean is not sure how much longer he can stand to see him be in this state.

10x12 ABOUT A BOY

capitulation by deadlybride 8.5k words, rated E, published 2018 When they don't manage to turn Dean back into his adult self, Sam spends a month researching how to fix it.

Betelgeuse by hellhoundsprey 2.8k words, rated E, published 2020 The hex bag never burned.

Telescope by doctor_idiot 7k words, rated E, published 2017 Sam stares at his brother in his baggie hoodie with the rolled-up up sleeves and he wants to cry.

11x17 RED MEAT

Chosen by killabeez 2.5k words, rated E, published 2016, mcd This might be their last night on earth, so Sam figures, what the hell.

#spnficrecfest #wincest #fanfic #whatever it is #q

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shadowgast-recs-weekly · 4 months

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This week, we have thirteen fics that feature both sexual and magical experimentation! Check them out underneath the cut, and don't forget to comment or kudos if you like them:

Artificer Devices from Late-Period Aeor: An Experimental Interpretation from Arcane Reconstruction to Functionality (E. Thelyss, C. Widogast) by renquise (5858, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

caleb and essek find a fuck machine in their travels in aeor. caleb descides to recreate it for essek.

Reccer says: Unique ideas and lovingly written! Hot and tender at once

Mitosis by queenbeetle (4325, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

caleb learns simulacrum and essek is eager to push his limits, and what's a bunch of wizards in one place?

Reccer says: Absolutely scorching hot!

Spell Slut by First_Mate (10627, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

A series of one-shots in which Essek conducts sexy magic experiments with Caleb as his very willing test subject.

Reccer says: There is a level of honesty here that I appreciate: this is gratuitous smut, absolutely prurient id fic, and it’s immensely fun to read!

Harnessing Gravity by TiliaC0rdata (12338, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes, Choose Not to Warn

Caleb and Essek do a BDSM session with role play and magic

Reccer says: I like the creative role play and inventive uses of magic for sex. And the smut is hot.

Rules of Attraction by Defiler_Wyrm (10074, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb and Essek discover that Caleb enjoys restraint under certain circumstances, and their next magic lesson involves an experiment with graviturgy.

Reccer says: Graviturgy bondage, my belovèd!

(Oh,) How a Human Burns by witches_chant (18318, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Dubcon/Consensual Non Consent, erotic asphyxiation

This is a story about Essek trying to prepare for eventual loss, depending on if Caleb wants to use the Clone spell or not. But it’s also a story about a lazy, sexy vacation on Rumblecusp where the couple stumble upon a service top and learn things about their relationship.

Reccer says: It’s sexy, it’s feelsy, it’s kinky, it has Essek Domming two men at once via telepathy, I LOVE this fic!

The Idea of You by Defiler_Wyrm (33621, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek uses the Dream spell to treat Caleb to a long-distance vacation of incredible, impossible sex.

Reccer says: If you want a treasure trove of sexy misuse of magic, this is a treasure trove. It’s both hot and sweet. The illustrations are amazing too!

Caleb Kind Of Fucks Up by Im_sorry_dont_judge_me (9213, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb misses Essek. Essek calls and has terrible (or maybe great) timing.

Reccer says: Accidental exhibitionism/voyeurism that turns into intentional magic phone sex? I am HERE for it!

Break me, Mend me by kaiannae (21835, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb feels like shit. Essek gives him a means of escaping himself for a while.

Reccer says: The aftercare is really given breathing room. This is a great look at how kink & BDSM specifically can be therapeutic.

the ties that bind you hold my heart by LivThael (4330, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Dubcon/Consensual Non Consent

Caleb gets tied up and plowed; he & Essek talk about even kinkier things they’d like to do.

Reccer says: Smoking hot and very sweet! This is one of those fics that proves that Prestidigitation is one of the best sex spells.

Wie’s Tier (tear down my reason) by Defiler_Wyrm (11080, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Dubcon/Consensual Non Consent, Beastiality, monster sex, sex with sentient animals

Essek’s magic experiment goes haywire. When Caleb arrives he finds Essek transformed… and a lot less inhibited about what he wants. It’s not how either of them imagined their first time going, but it’s not that bad after all…

Reccer says: This is a real guilty pleasure. It pushes some limits but in a fun way. It borders on crack treated seriously sometimes & I feel like that enhances the “this is a fantasy” vibe

Pop Quiz by CatgirlTheCrazy (1250, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: consentacles

Essek gives Caleb a little quiz, with delightful distractions and a fun prize for a passing grade.

Reccer says: It’s both really hot and very silly!

The Voyeur of Utter Destruction (As Beauty) by Foxtrot66 (8824, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Dubcon/Consensual Non Consent

Essek is enjoying a romantic evening with Caleb when he is suddenly summoned as an echo to lend a helping hand (and other parts) to a rather different romantic evening.

Reccer says: Caleb Widogast getting utterly spoiled while two Esseks jostle each other over who can do it better. It's also illustrated.

Aeor is for Lovers is an 18+ Shadowgast Discord server. The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. All fics, unless otherwise specified, will primarily feature Shadowgast. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ! Next week, we’ll be back with one of our recurring themes: Hidden Gems!

#shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #critical role #cr fic recs #fan fiction rec list #aeor is for lovers

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flame-resistant · 1 year

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Research suggests that the inability to fall asleep without background noise could be related to a fear of being alone, which is often connected to abandonment issues. This fear can stem from past traumas or deeply ingrained insecurities.

Another night in at your shift, the hospital was usually quiet (one of the benefits of night shifts). Sitting your things down, you could already see the red light on room 1003 blinking erratically as usual. Knowing the nurse before you hadn’t checked on the patient, a deep sigh left you. Though the thought crossed your mind on who would, he was a villain, one that destroyed half of Japan. However, at this moment he was a patient who desperately needed attention.

Knocking on the door softly, you could see the white-haired man stop pressing the nurse button on his bed. The room was quiet, and TV hours were limited to help other patients sleep, though this was a struggle with the Todoroki. It was as if he needed something to drown out the silence. Most of the nurses ignored his constant need, muttering things behind his back, that he deserved to suffer in silence.

“Everything okay, Mr. Todoro-”

“Touya.”

Well, it was better than when he first awoke in the ward. Sedatives were used on the regular to calm him down, glares sent the nurses way when they called him anything but Dabi. A nod was sent his way as you came over to check his vitals, well he seemed fine physically (the best you could in his state). Deciding it was something bothering him in his mental state, you looked down at the man as he picked at a bandage.

“Can’t sleep?”

Blue eyes looked at the wall, a pout on his reconstructed lips as the male continued his silent tantrum. Sometimes it made you laugh to think he terrorized your country for a year. Still not getting an answer, you concluded that was the issue, knowing perfectly well he had a voice to correct you.

“I can get some hot tea if you would like?”

Again silence was the response, though he was getting more fidgety by the second. Your brows furrowed at how he expected you to read his mind. As if you knew him well enough to know what he wanted, oh how wrong he was. Trying one more time, you pressed on. “The ward is quiet tonight, what if I stay just for a bit to help you sleep? We can talk?”

That seemed to perk his interest, at least enough to get him to face you. His pride did not let him admit he wanted attention, that the silence was a reminder of how alone he felt. Taking a seat on the window bed, you looked out the window to see the parking lot. Some people coming and going from the ER downstairs.

“Are you going to talk or not?”

Breaking from your trance, you expected him to start the conversation, but once more he was reliant on your actions. As if he was doing you some favor by talking. Funny.

“Right...well, how do you feel?”

An irritated look was sent your way, silently telling you that was a stupid question. Okay, time for a new plan. Taking out your phone, you let the man see a picture on the screen. “This is my cat, he has some anxiety so he likes attention.”

Raising his brow, Touya eyed the picture, taking in what you presented. “What’s his name?”

You felt a bit proud of that, taking it as a nurse-patient bonding moment. Showing him another picture of your feline friend, you continued on. Going over the cat’s name and personality, more scrolling of pictures, his eyes never leaving your screen.

“What does he do when you have to leave? Sounds like a shitty life.”

While he wasn’t wrong, always needing attention did seem pretty tiring. You kept your mouth shut on saying the cat reminded you of him. With your phone now away, you went over the usual plan for your cat.

“Consistency helps, but I usually leave some sound on in the house so he doesn’t feel alone.”

“Must be nice, having such a pampered life.”

He almost sounded jealous of the cat, but that sounded silly. “Have you ever had a pet?”

Ignoring your question, Touya changed the subject. Probably not wanting to talk about himself or his past. “Can we just talk about stupid stuff?”

“Oh, sure.” The awkwardness didn’t leave, but you did as he asked. Going over your plans for the night and what you packed for lunch. He stopped talking, only listening to you go on. His eyes were closing by the second. Thinking he was finally asleep you stopped, though the man grunted for you to continue. Unsure what else to say, you looked back out the window and described the area. Hoping it would be enough to relax the man completely. “Some nurses are leaving, looks like they are talking. Maybe about their shifts? Looks like a woman is coming into the ER, she forgot to turn her car lights off...”

A good thirty minutes passed before you could hear his snores. A sigh of relief left you as you stood, happy he was getting the sleep he needed as well as the attention he was seeking.

On your way out, you made a mental note to talk to the head nurse about adding an extension of TV time for certain clients. At least for now, he was asleep, the rest of the night ran smoothly, so when he woke up again you didn’t mind one more nightly talk. Maybe you’ll get to know the man behind the villain, the one called Touya.

#flameresistant #dabi x reader #dabi fluff #dabi imagine #dabi my hero academia #dabi mha #dabi x y/n #touya todoroki #touya has abandonment issues #touya being rehabilitated #reader is a nurse

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sanrielle · 9 months

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I've been thinking a lot about Katara and her feminism vs. her desire to preserve her dying culture. Like I know that the SWT probably isn't as sexist as the NWT, but there are still a lot of enduring practices that have roots in patriarchy, as demonstrated by Sokka's earlier sexism.

So I think Katara would end up with an odd mix. She's obviously a staunch feminist who thinks girls and women should follow their own paths, regardless of what society in general thinks their roles should be. But at the same time, she can't escape from some of the subtler (and possibly more insidious) traditions of 'propriety' and the role of women as the homemakers.

[Obligatory disclaimer that I don't know that much about Inuit culture when it comes to these things. I'm purely basing this off of what is shown in the cartoon itself.]

Something that kinda goes along with this is Katara's necklace. To her, it's a symbol of her grandmother's struggle for independence, as well as a memento of her mother and the sacrificial love she displayed. In the NWT, it represented (at best) a romantic commitment and (at worst) a transfer of property. I don't think she'd associate hers with either, and she'd probably be insulted if Aang tried to give her a new one when proposing.

(I maintain that the necklace she wears as an old lady is the same one she had in childhood. The fact that it looks wonky in that one screenshot is nothing more than lackluster rendering.)

Anyway, I've gone a little off topic. I just think she's a really interesting study in how someone can rail against the negative parts of their culture that don't appeal to them, while also having an internalized fondness for some of those same traditions, simply because they are familiar and nostalgic.

Take Toph for contrast. I don't think she's the butch anti-feminine person a lot of people make her out to be. She just does what she wants. She's perfectly happy to go to the spa or wear dresses and makeup, but only if it's her choice to do so. She's railing against the repressive and oppressive culture of elite EK society simply because she previously had no agency over her life.

Meanwhile, Katara takes an active role in seeing to the physical and emotional needs of her brother/friends. And even though that 'motherly' role is largely a trauma response and something she deeply resents at times, I think it's also a source of comfort to her. Something about her culture that she desperately clings to.

I think a lot about her and Aang's life post-war. They would be very focused on reconstruction for years, most likely. Katara would have her own projects with the Water Tribes, but also spend a lot of time helping Aang. Some part of her craves the validation of appearing to be 'proper' concerning her relationship with him. Maybe she's a bit hypocritical about it: unwilling to wait until they've settled down to be intimate, but also reluctant to publicly break certain social 'rules'.

She keeps telling herself there's so much to do in the world, and maybe she feels this heavy burden to do as much good as she can before allowing herself to rest and slow down and create the family she's always wanted.

But then ten(ish) years have passed and suddenly! Baby on the way! Oops! Katara knows she's a public figure and cares a lot about how she's seen. She wants the respect of the people from her own culture. And so they stop. They get married. They settle down.

Katara becomes the wife and mother, which she definitely wants while also having some lingering regrets and conflicting feelings. She still wants to be a role model for other girls and women, but she likes not being constantly on the move and fighting people and playing politics. She likes getting up in the middle of the night to sing an old Water Tribe lullaby to her baby. She likes it the most when Aang is there because he's always seen her as an equal partner, not a piece of property.

Anyway, I didn't really have a point. Just rambling about my own headcanons. I've always put a lot more thought into Toph and Sokka's characters, but I guess Kataang has been on my mind lately. And tbh I never gave Katara the attention she deserved when writing fics, which is a travesty.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #katara #katara x aang #kataang #katara analysis

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victoriansecret · 1 year

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How did you get into living history as a profession?

In eighth grade, on my big school field trip, we visited my current museum. At the time I didn't think about it as a job, I just wanted to live here. Which I now literally do: I live in one of the reconstructed buildings inside the historic town. The same year, my history teacher was very good, and structured his class in ways that worked for me very well. For one thing, he'd tell the anecdotal, often amusing parts of history, not just pure dates and names. And more importantly, he had couches in the back of the classroom arranged in a circle, where after reading the chapter we were on the whole class would go back there and talk about it. I am a very auditory person, so this helped me tremendously. It also, not so coincidentally, is very similar to how this field works. The term for the work I do, internally, is called "historic interpretation". I try not to use that term with guests unless I can explain it, but basically, if you can imagine what a language interpreter does - that is, turning a foreign language into something a person can understand - that's what we do with history. Help people better understand it, who may not otherwise know much about it. There's a lot more to it, and for anyone interested in the field, I highly recommend the seminal work on interpretation (not just historic, but also nature, science etc.): Freeman Tilden's Interpreting Our Heritage. He had been contracted by the National Parks service for decades to observe how park service guides interacted with guests, and from that develop an understanding of what works and what doesn't, and did a lot of training for the parks. This book was the culmination of all that, where he breaks interpretation down to his six primary principles, to each of which he devotes a chapter explaining them in depth. There are updated works which expand on it, but part of why his work still stands up (and is, in my opinion, still far better than any of the others) despite being published in the 1950s is that he really gets down to the basic core of what interpretation is and can be. I am not ashamed to say I literally cried the first time I read it, because it exemplifies why I care so deeply about the work that I do. To quote what is, in my opinion, the most important and core of his principles, he writes that: "Interpretation is not information, but provocation." That is to say, all interpretation is based on information, but the goal is not to come away with every guest interaction having shared so many facts, but rather to have inspired them to be interesting in the subject more deeply and want to learn more. This is what happened to me, all those years ago. Between that class and that field trip, it made me realize I loved history. In hindsight I now realize I already did - I loved Jane Austen film adaptations, for example, and was already beginning my obsession with servants - I just didn't like or connect with the way it had been taught to me up until that point. And again, interpretation as an idea in and of itself, beyond just the things being shared, also became something I was enamoured with.

About 12 years later, I was working at a restaurant which was destroying my mental and physical health, and I knew I needed a change. I also desperately needed to get away from my home town. I thought about the things I liked (history), was good at (talking to people), and wanted to do (wear period clothing -- and again, get away), so I thought maybe I could work at a historic museum. Long story short, I began applying to various places, including my current museum. Eventually, I ended up working at a seasonal site in Michigan, where I spent four 'summers' (for the last three, I was there from beginning of May until end of October), and with that experience was able to get my first full time job at my current place. Which I eventually left to go to another museum, only to come back about a year and a half later. ..... as an aside, and I like to tell this story especially for anyone aspiring to get into this field, or really in general, my first boss once told me why she gave me an interview. My restaurant job was my only job ever, and while by that point I had my GED, I was a highschool dropout and have never been to college. I've worked with hundreds of colleagues since, and not counting people still in school, I think I can count on one hand the people that do interpretation specifically who are not college graduates (not to mention many with Masters and PHDs etc), let alone have never gone at all like me. In my cover letter for that first job, I made an analogy. My job at the restaurant was running the salad bar, and because it was in the middle of the dining room, I said something along the lines that it meant I was "always on display", so that would help me in being in such a visible job in period clothing etc. and always having to be 'on' for guests. Because analogies, and connecting to things people understand to help them better grasp the information being shared, are such a huge part of the job, she, in her own words, "knew she needed to give me an interview." And because I am, in fact, good at talking, I knocked it out of the park. ..... which is not to say I didn't have a lot to learn when I started, it was truly a struggle at first on a lot of levels, but these days I think I am an excellent interpreter. And considering I have very low self-esteem overall, it's one of the only things about myself that I'll say that about.

#me #living history #asks

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fierceawakening · 5 months

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I feel a bit afraid to even post this, for fear of someone else lashing out at me for questioning received wisdom but I still kind of feel like people are so invested in explaining their point of view (which I’m already saying is valid) that they’re missing part of mine

And that is that for me, part of my trauma is that I was both physically violated AND physically altered. And also I’m afab, and very often girls and women bear the brunt of purity culture in ways men and boys… definitely can but I’m not sure they always do.

And what purity culture says to little girls is that their worth is in their… well purity. Their innocence. That’s what’s beautiful and lovable about them.

So what happened to me… at least as I experienced it, I felt it stole my innocence. Destroyed my purity. I was still a virgin, but I’d kept a tight lid on any interest in anything dark or sinister or anything like that (and it turned out there was a lot to keep a lid on.)

After my trauma I was so angry and disillusioned I couldn’t do that any more. I got angry. I got cynical. I got bitter.

Which is all understandable. But here’s the kicker: I felt bad about it. Like a monster. Damaged and broken.

I kept getting diagnoses of situational depression. I’d get talk therapy until I felt a little better and then it would end and I’d need it again, later, like clockwork. It didn’t dawn on me that this indicated a chronic problem, not clearly enough for me to say “let’s look at diagnoses that include recurrence.”

In grad school, I read the book Trauma and Recovery which is an in depth look at PTSD, mostly as suffered by women who were raped or sexually abused.

In it, the women described my deep feelings of having been defiled so well it was eerie. They talked about feeling like there was dirt or oil or mud or sludge way down in their soul, where they couldn’t remove it.

That it made them fundamentally unclean in ways other people weren’t. Dirtied deep down, in ways that would forever separate them from other people who hadn’t been polluted.

Which is how I felt and still feel when things get bad, and what makes me feel suicidal. I can never be clean again, so I’m fundamentally unworthy, so I need to die and get it over with already.

Trying to frame it as that I’m still clean, or that the dirty one is the perpetrator(s), may work for other people, and I wish them the best. But trying to reframe it that way has never worked for me personally. As I said my body is literally altered surgically. I can’t avoid that something changed.

So what has worked to help me feel less like I don’t deserve to live?

Seeing the new thing that was created as worthwhile rather than poisoned.

Because of that, I get a lot of reassurance out of monster stories, especially ones where the monster isn’t fundamentally evil, just threatened and lashing out, or confused, or a child that doesn’t know its own strength or the like.

Which overlaps A LOT with “what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.”

It’s not quite the same but it’s a cousin concept, a sibling. “You tried to kill me. You really should have finished the job.”

So when I see people say “don’t tell me I’m stronger now, I get to be the judge of that thank you very much,” that version I get.

But when I see “the idea that I’m stronger now is bullshit, all I did was break,” that one twigs me.

Because it pulls me back to the broken doll oozing ichor. Nothing new came out of this. Nothing brave. That’s just a demon trying to justify continuing to exist, when deep down it knows all it is is pollution.

I make these posts not to tell people that they need to see themselves as stronger. I don’t know how they should heal. They know that.

I make them to remind people that there are a lot of different ways to reconstruct a self, and that it’s easy to overstep if you generalize too much.

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pb-dot · 2 months

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Film Friday: The Fifth Element

I've had One Of Those Weeks, and my participation in the writeblr summerfest has put me in a retro mood, so fuck it, let's talk about my childhood favorite movie. Before Luc Besson's The Fifth Element I don't think I had favorite movies. I loved 'em all, but then this absolute chaos of a space opera came along and showed me the wonders of obsession. Maybe it was the confidence of the worldbuilding, maybe it was 90's Kung Fu Waif extraordinaire Leeloo, maybe it was how unashamedly horny the whole affair was? I couldn't tell you, but the thing worked for me. So join me, why don't you?

As far as alien conspiracies with an interest in earth goes, you could do a lot worse than the Mondoshawans. These big steampunk-looking lads are working against the propechied coming of a great evil, and the perfect being, The Fifth Element, who is destined to defeat it. When something big, spooky and fiery manifests in the universe exactly as the mondoshawans predicted, future earth welcomes the mondoshawans back to deal with this entire business, were it not for alien mercenary interlopers who blows the entire thing up.

Now, this being the future and all, humans salvage enough of the assumed perfect being to reconstruct it. When the perfect being turns out to be a naked Mila Jovovich, this comes as somewhat of a surprise to humanity, but assuredly not to the audience. Leeloo, as the kickass nymph is called, flees from her re-creators and stumbles into the flying cab of one ex-millitary schlub Korben Dallas, played by Bruce Willis. A plot of shenanigans, mixups and crossing and conflicting plots ensue as Korben and Leeloo race to recover the four elemental stones needed to save the world from the vague space evil thing, at times frustrated by the machinations of arms manufacturer and full-time Bad Person Jean-Baptiste Emanuel Zorg (Gary Oldman.)

While the plot isn't what I'd call particularly complex, it is fun. The shell game of impersonations and near misses to get Korben and Leloo to the planet Floston in particular is fun, although it does saddle us with noted eccentric radio fuckboy Ruby Rhod (Christ Tucker.) There is this re-occuring note of Korben just kind of being along for the ride while Leeloo takes on most of the main character duties. Sure, they kick roughly equivalent amounts of ass in an absolutely preposterously "90's cool" fight scene and a very of-the-era shootout, respectively, but other than having the unpleasant task of extracting the macguffin stones from a side character, Korben is largely reactive, and you can see a fair bit of the late stage die hard movies where John McLane is an action movie badass first and an everyman in the wrong place at the wrong time second if at all, in K-man's role here. Now don't get me wrong, I can watch In His Prime Bruce Willis do cool action shit all day, but the lack of pluck does undermine his character's achievements a bit. Watching 1988 John McLane coming out of a fight scene mostly in one piece by the skin of his teeth feels astounding, watching 2007 John McLane take down a helicopter by launching a car at it hardly breaking a sweat just can't compete.

As for Leloo, ah, yes, Leeloo. This role, it seems was Mila Jovovichs in to the action scene, where she found a very Kate Beckinsale-esque niche as an action gal. Now, she looks like a stiff breeze could carry her away, but kung-fu girl power being what it is at the time, where there is a will, there is a way. With Jovovich I kind of always feel like there's a will. The roles aren't often all that flattering, Leeloo has this childishness to her in her non-ptsd moments that makes the building romance with Korben perhaps feel a bit... icky? Granted, she is a perfect warrior and at least 300 years old if we include her (apparent) genetic memory, but I do find myself wishing they'd gone more for elven agelessness instead.

This has all been very critical I feel, so let me underline how goddamn fun this movie is. The Diva Dance scene alone is worth the price of admission for the sheer indulgent spectacle of it, Zorg is a fun bit of future corpo villainy although he doesn't really interact with the main plot much, and although "love is the fifth element" is about as aggressively of a 90's note to end on as is at all possible, the earnestness with which it is delivered is almost enough for me to feel anything about a Bruce Willis performance and that certainly isn't nothing.

Also looking at The Fifth Element feels like a type of Sci-Fi we don't get enough of these days. It's old school B-Sci Fi with an unusually high budget. There's world building here, but not the kind of "bursting at the seams and spinning out into a million expanded universe" world building that is seemingly mandatory in the metatext-obsessed world of today. This is one french pervert deciding that he wants to make a big dumb movie about aliens and spaceships and saving the world, and going about to do so. It has rubber masks, it has needlessly sexy flight attendants on a journey that'll be undertaken in cryosleep, it has inherently villainous shape-shifting space orcs. It's not here to explain itself for one goddamn moment so take your franchise wiki-making ass elsewhere. Granted, it didn't make much money from what I hear, so there's maybe a good reason we don't get movies like this any more, but a boy can dream can't he?

#Film Friday #the fifth element

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myalchod · 1 month

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For the writer ask: 9, 18, 19, any or all, please and thank you! 💜

9. start to finish, how long did it take you to write the last fic you posted? Last fic I posted was make a mercy out of me. File created 11 June, though I think I started noodling about it as soon as prompts went up and might have started as much as a week earlier, and fic posted 19 June. Considering I had to change things quite a bit, I'm surprised it only took me two weeks, but sometimes the brainrot goes fast.

19. the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic In no particular order, things that pop into mind: medieval abortifacients and the Catholic church's historical attitude towards them, different ways of constructing ciphers, bat- and bird-wing rehabilitation, Pony Express travel timelines, reconstructive hand surgery, asphyxia timelines and what effects it'll have ... and a whole hell of a lot more about the Franco-Spanish war in general and the Fronde in particular than I ever anticipated. Yes, I am all too aware of how many of those things are whumpy. Not sorry!

18. if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic I do, in part because you never know if they'll be useful for something else, which means I have a metric fucktonne of word things I've saved. And I know this says sentence or paragraph, but because I'm in a stabby sort of mood and I don't think I'll ever be able to use this for anything else ... this is from make a mercy out of me, from the part that I had to change because Canon, and this is your one and only warning for pain. 😘

“Saul.” He turns to her; she’s standing with her back to the window, moonlight silvering her golden hair and throwing her half into shadow where it slants across the room. They had stood like this months before, when this all began, on a night that seems impossibly different, feeling the first rumblings of the seismic shift that awaited them. But whatever tomorrow brings they will face it together, and he can take solace in that. “No.” It takes a moment to register the word, another to realise that she’s answered his thought. He has known her for most of his life; sometimes he thinks he knows her better than he does himself. And that means that the single syllable tells him what is about to come. “Farah —” he protests, but it dies in his throat as her mind wraps around his. The bond has always been a comfort before, her presence a reassurance, but not now. Not like this. Don’t do this, he thinks, because she has taken his words and he has no other way to fight her — and fight he must, because his fairy has always seen herself as expendable and he can’t do this without her, he can’t, he’s lost too much and one more thing will break him — Silence, within and without, answers him — silence, and a complicated tangle of emotions, guilt and fear and love and something that might be an apology all weighing like a stone in his chest before they are muffled, the connection between them obscured in a way it hasn’t been since he first properly noticed it. It feels strange but no less so than his mind: every thought is like pushing through exhaustion, an almost impossible effort. Easier to sleep, he thinks. Easier by far to close his eyes, to let himself drift, until he can recover, to sink down … (All he knows is the silver moonlight, then nothing more.)

[ ask me another? ]

#asked and answered #writer memes #farah dowling #saul silva #silrah

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emblemxeno · 5 months

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Xenoblade 1 DE Main Story/Game Thoughts

Finished the main story! I didn't go full completion but I got full affinity for all areas and saw every Heart-to-Heart. More detailed thoughts-including spoilers-under the cut!

-For starters, DE is a great update to the original. Many QoL improvements trims the extra menu time down a lot (inventory management, art books, equipment/gems, etc.), especially swapping gems. Also hell yes to including the appearance feature from X, as someone who prefers the default outfits for everyone!

-Same applies to battle stuff and general gameplay. Quest tracking, gauges on things like Break and Topple, clearer status effects, chance arts being highlighted, even something as small as the scroll between Talent Arts/Running/Chain Attacks being more streamlined had many great returns on me not pressing the wrong thing.

-However... why did they not just go all the way with more changes? The two big ones that come to mind are trading and Colony 6 collecting. First, why can you not bulk trade? It is such a time sink having to constantly open the menu again and again. And since trading and skip travelling share a button, I clocked probably over a hundred instances of opening the damn map menu instead of trading since there's a second of cooldown before the option appears for the NPC again! It's an annoyance that is easily ignored once or twice, but absolutely brutal after the tenth time.

-Jumping ahead a bit, but I speak not just criticizing DE but XC1 as a whole. It's probably an unpopular opinion but I don't like the ongoing Colony 6 reconstruction sidequest. The first time I completed it-about half a decade ago I think-was magical! Seeing a ruined home blossom into a lively city due to my hard work was something I'll never forget as an RPG fan. But I don't have that kind of time on my hands anymore (or I simply have better management of time now that I don't stay up til 4 am playing video games anymore lol). Exploring Bionis and Mechonis is an undeniably wondrous and beautiful experience, but only when doing normal quests (well most of the normal quests) and progressing the story. Jogging around places trying to find each item is incredibly unfun and tedious. The big offenders are typically Ice Cabbages (luckily I got all the ones I need by playing through the Valak portion of the story), Rainbow Slugs (I spent an entire hour on the Fallen Arm ugh), and the Black Liver Beans. The last one was the breaking point, I can't stand the Bionis Interior and after an hour in there just trying to find one, I said fuck it and did the Time Attack trials to get them that way. It was just not... good! I don't like it a bit.

-Last thing on DE specifically, I found that the graphics are apparently controversial among fans? I'm understanding of the position, as there's definitely a charm that the original artstyle had, especially being on the Wii. But to me the original has more issues in its visuals than just being a different artstyle. Poor resolution, blocky models, souless faces when not in an important cutscene, absolutely diabolical pop-in. And some say that the original gave its characters more personality during cutscenes, which... I don't get whatsoever. Did we watch the same scenes, cuz it's very hard to distinguish emotion in the original, whereas DE has better mouth, eyebrow, and facial movements. Certain scenes may "look" more emotional in the original, but things get exaggerated all the time to compensate for poor resolution or graphics.

-Now on to the just XC1 in general! Holy fuck the main cast is better than I remember. Shulk, Fiora, and Melia were already my favorites, but honestly... Dunban is probably my absolute favorite out of all of them now. His story is just so succinct and he's just so cool and hot and kind and just ughhhhhh!

-Egil is still best villain in the game, no surprise. Revisiting this game honestly made it really fucking clear why I loved Dimitri from 3H so much cuz the two are so similar (to the point where you can pull line's from the game about Egil and put them in 3H). The others fair less well. Metal Face/Mumkhar is delightfully hammy and an amazing threat for the first half of the game, but is as deep as a puddle. Dickson and Lorithia I found I dislike even more, for the wrong reasons; they lack charisma, and it's noticeable in places where the game gets really anime in its hammy villainy, but they're written and played a bit too straight for it to come off as anything other than lackluster. Though at least Dickson has presence as Shulk's caretaker and the guy who everyone knows and respects; Lorithia though? Throw her away. Honestly if Yumea took her place and retained the bigotry against Homs it'd be much more entertaining IMO.

-Zanza himself is a definitive mixed bag. Were I ignorant to Klaus' entire story from XC2, I'd honestly write him off as a by-the-numbers arrogant (but secretly imperfect and prone to "human" folly) god figure that happens in many, many RPGS. But I can't dislike him because I do know the entire story, and Zanza being an utter dickwad is explained in great detail and makes sense. Honestly, he does work for the story that XC1 is telling without playing XC2 as well, but ehhh. I guess it's just really difficult to be the main villain after Egil does such great things in a limited time.

-Narrative is great, just as it was the first time I played. Highlights for me:

Singlemindedly fighting for revenge is destructive not just to your enemies, but to yourself and your friends. Ignorance and unwillingness to look beyond your own world or history means you may be hurting innocent people without realizing it. Chaining your life to the deaths of others rather than supporting the survivors is unhealthy and can lead you down a path of misery and disaster.

Ether is not just analogy for carbon/other base elements in our world. Philosophically it's analogous to light and fate as well. Shulk unlocks the Monado's powers when he stops treating it as a tool with functions, but rather as an extension of his will. He wills his wishes into his heart, and they are made manifest. He protects Reyn with Shield not cuz the Monado lets him, but because he desired it. Same with Sharla and Speed, and it's how Alvis taught him to unlock Purge. It's how he resists Apocrypha, and later gains Cyclone once the Apocrypha is destroyed. His will is so strong, it becomes resistant to Zanza's influence, hence why he starts suffering the more he learns of Mechonis' history. The truth being brought to light is painful internally and externally, as Zanza physically rejects anything that challenges how he sees the world. Shulk brings himself back to life, begins having visions without Zanza, and gains his own Monado-which looks purely made of ether and light-through pure willpower and the desire to create his own future.

Shulk's duality and inner turmoil when he realizes his yearning for revenge is destructive; Fiora's endless strength of heart when dealing with a machine body and carrying on Meyneth's wishes; Melia going through hell and back trying to find a balance between her sense of self and sense of duty (I imagine Future Connected is gonna touch on that more as well); Dunban grappling with his moniker of being a hero and mentoring the party despite being imperfect and lamenting his disability; Reyn's goal of being a protector developing into being a supporter once he becomes insecure over his strength and character compared to Shulk; Sharla trying to keep hold onto a sense of hope that her love is alive before coming to terms with the fact that she needs to cherish her life and love those within it; Riki just being the fucking best dad and friend in the world.

Having played XC2 and XC3 makes all these things even richer as well.

-Last but not least, gameplay:

-Most quests are good. Most. The generic quests weren't ever fun for me, and they cause significant bloat that could've been trimmed IMO. Especially since lots of quests ask you to kill monsters and collect items anyway.

-The method to get quests started though? Awful. I know that things like Community in Torna and Field Skills in XC2 are hated, but man I can't stand having to change the clock and track the damn NPCs in XC1. Especially since there are many areas separated between towns/villages and "wild" areas (Colony 6 and Bionis Leg, Frontier Village and Makna, Alcamoth and Eryth + Valak), it just makes things so drawn out. Going back and forth, changing time and all that, is a sour point on this game.

-Like I said a few weeks ago, the Xenoblade series as a whole is unmatched in gameplay story telling. Beautiful and large environments make curious exploration a treat, especially as you start getting pieces to puzzles that can get completed later. I payed a lot more attention to the High Entia and Giant related sidequests due to the fascinating lore, for example.

-The fights are great, if a bit centralizing. Shulk, due to Monado arts, is the best character to have in the party and is sorely missed when switched out. I have pretty standard opinions on the rest of the characters, so no need to speak on each individually. I will say though, holy fuck is the AI just as bad as I remember. Shulk wastes his Monado gauge, Sharla is terrible at using arts and always puts herself into cooldown, and Melia for the love of god, stop firing elementals as soon as you summon them you're made of tissue.

Topple locking is deffo the prime strategy, cuz there were fights I wouldn't otherwise have won were it not for it, and thankfully Reyn and Dunban have pretty good AI.

Two major gripes though. Spikes are a terrible mechanic, gross. Second, I hate that the enemy tags affect accuracy, it makes certain quests extremely brutal to complete without grinding. And I just hate having to fight tough/overlevelled enemies as a whole, it becomes routine and simple after a while.

As a whole, I like the gameplay still, but it feels very restrictive going back to it after seeing all the crazy tricks I could do in 2 and 3. And also auto-attack arts > timer arts forever and ever.

-Overall a very great experience getting to replay this game like this. Though more rough points than I remember, and with certain things that have not aged well whatsoever , XC1 is still a good game that I'm glad introduced me to this series. I'm taking a break before playing Future Connected.

#playingxc1 #shulk xenoblade #fiora xenoblade #xenoblade #xenoblade chronicles #xenoblade chronicles 1

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